Life Lessons...just keep comin'

Remember when I introduced our great neighbor The Recluse Artist? I mentioned then how I wanted to have the whole thing all thought out and go in order down my street and how that never seems to be how things work out in the Shooter house.

Well, I actually had a post ready to go to introduce you to Fruitcake Mary this week. Instead, you're going to meet the newest additions ~ Bugsy & Precious.

Before I formally introduce them, I need to explain the change up...

Y'all know our precious Sweet Girl, our Eula Mae.

Girl Child's buddy. Her confidant. Her playmate.

Her friend that she misses more than words can explain.

(It's a whole other post. Maybe for tomorrow in fact, cause I need some Momma advice.)

Well, things are happening over at our Sweet Girl's house that are turning out to be very difficult to watch.

First, Harley Momma (I'm tellin' ya, I have great neighbors!) and I had to find a home for Miss Daisy the shitzu. That about killed us all from the git-go.

Then, the lady-who-we-all-trusted-with-our-Eula Mae, and her son backed a truck up to the door and proceeded to steal several very large items. We all watched. We thought she was taking them to our Sweet Girl in the nursing home.

Next have been the countless, daily prospective home buyers. I don't know why it's so hard to watch strangers go in and out...but, it is. My protectiveness of Eula Mae is overwhelming. I don't want people looking at her stuff. Touching her things. My littlest Crumb Snatcher is not dealing with it pleasantly. She starts a fight with her brother and acts hideously if she's outside at the time of the showing. I finally figured this out the other day when I witnessed the whole thing from start to finish. My heart hurt for her. I guess she figures if she makes a big enough scene, the people looking will not want to live near her.

Girl Child came in yesterday with a stricken look and that precious chin quivering. Because now there's a trailer parked in the drive-way for the auction house...

It's tough being 40 and watching all this going on. I get it. I don't like it, but I understand it.

Crumb #2 is 9. She doesn't get. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't like it. And she's struggling.

I've been having a long conversation with God about this whole thing.

His answer couldn't have been more perfect.

And here they are...

That's Bugsy with The Belly. And Precious, her finance'.

Why those names?

Since I've only lived next to them for two months I haven't come up with any permanent names yet. The Recluse Artist, Harley Momma, Sweet Girl, The Newlyweds, Hot Head Tom, Crazy Larry and Fruitcake Mary are all appropriate because I've lived with them for a long time! Know what I mean?

So Bugsy is Bugsy because that's her real nickname. I can't call her it. I don't know why. I call her by her beautiful given name. It fits her. She's beautiful. Inside and out.

The beautiful artwork on her chest? It is a tribute to her momma. She died at 36. It's literally a piece of art. She's a trained classical musician. She rides a unicycle. She knows more about cars than Big Shooter. (I know. He has a big crush on her.) She used to make reeds for Yamaha. She paints. And she's about to bless The Neighborhood with June Bug. (Girl Child and I have a big crush on her too. I think Crumb #1 does too. But I think it for reasons this momma doesn't want to contemplate at the present. Thankyouverymuch.)

Precious will roll his eyes when I tell him that's what his name is...for now. I tried a bunch. Tat Boy (he has a bunch you can't see in the pictures). Dreadlock Dude. Bugsy's Boy. Cool Cat. They all work. But none fit. He is, by far, the most thoughtful, hardworking, responsible and loving 21 yo I have met in a loooong time. So what does a over bearing, compulsive momma call that? Why, Precious, of course.

And he is.

And they are.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: It's been a while since you've experienced the Compulsive Nurturer. I must first give you my condolences and second, my gratitude because you are handling it beautifully! Thank you, Love.

Welcome to the Hood

I so wanted to have this introduction to my "charming neighborhood" all thought out and planned in order of the houses.

And typical of my charming neighborhood...it ain't gonna work out like that.

Today you get to meet the Recluse Artist. By meet I don't mean get to see and make his acquaintance. You get to hear about him.

• He has lived across the street from the Shooters for about 14 years.
• He did not talk to us for the first 9. (Don't think I didn't try. Alot.)
• He leaves his house every day between 4 and 4:30pm.
• He returns with a case of beer.
• He has long hippy hair.
• He walks with a cane.
• He is thoughtful enough to make sure his Pink Floyd is heard by us all. In our houses.
• His art is unbelievably fantastic. Fantastically scary. And fantastically creative.
• He threatened our other neighbor, a former Vietnam vet, whom I'll call Hot Head for a very real reason, with a hammer one morning. (I guess he'd eaten his Wheaties.)

Things always seem to happen to his house. During the Ice Storm of the Century, the Crumbs and I watched in disbelief as giant tree limb after tree limb crashed down on his roof and car. Someone recently decided to use the side of his house for bottle rocket target practice. And today...

Young Pedro decided to park his "borrowed" ride on Artist's porch.

He was showing off for Girlfriend.

Their date ended in the backseat.

Of a police cruiser.

That'd be Young Pedro getting the cuffs.

Recluse Artist is in the blue shirt.

He's leaning over on his cane so you can't enjoy his long hippy hair.

(Yes. I was just standing out in broad daylight snapping pics with my phone. I figured it wasn't me who should be embarrassed.)

That would be Girlfriend standing beside the car talking/crying/confessing her undying love to Romeo.

I was concerned about what kind of life lesson the whole thing was teaching the Crumbs when Girl Child pointed out to me what a fool young Girlfriend was. When I gave her the Momma raised eyebrow look, she pointed out, "She should be embarrassed. She should re-think her boyfriend choices. She needs to change purses."

????

I looked more closely.

Sure enough, as bold as Dallas, her purse said, "I (heart) Bad Boys"..

Yup.

It couldn't have been a better life lesson today in the hood for the Crumbs.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Oh the fun we have while you are away!