What do you wear to a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” barbecue on a really hot day? After trying on everything in my closet and rejecting it due to back fat issues, I went with camouflage capri pants and a black tank top - and flip flops, of course. In other words, I showed up looking like my own pleasingly plump version of Cammo Barbie. Yes, it was an interesting choice.

We arrived 20 minutes late hoping to avoid the “first people here” award. We placed second. Our host and hostess, The Housers, were very welcoming and friendly. I took to them immediately. We stood around the kitchen, met the dogs and the other set of neighbors that were present, Sally and Rich. Sally and Rich live at the other end of the street- in sin. She looks to be around 50 and totally reminded me of an ex-nun. I had already heard that Sally is a neighbor to look out for because she complains about everything so I laid it on thick. I’m good with the ex-nun type as I have 2 in the family.

“So, how long have you lived here?”
“Ummmm….about 12 years if you count tent time.”
“Tent time?”
“When the house was being built, I lived in a tent on the property for a few months.”
“Oh….wow.”
“It was fine until the snow collapsed the tent.”
“You lived in a tent out here during the winter?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow…you’re quite an adventurer. That’s amazing!”
*cough* Amazingly bizarre, that is…

People drove, walked and ATV’d down the drive with various dishes and coolers in tow. As each came in, they stood around what was becoming a very cramped kitchen. I felt myself beginning to sweat. Luckily, my husband is never timid. He ,too, was feeling claustrophobic in the kitchen of 20. He walked right into the empty adjacent living room and helped himself to the couch and whatever munchies the table held for us guests.

We made the rounds from different angles and mingled with all of the 30 some people that came to partake. Usually, I’m more of a shy first time acquaintance-maker but I felt the need to really get to know these people. There seemed to be a pecking order in place that I was determined to sniff out. I’ve moved around enough to know that ignorance is not bliss when it comes to your neighbors.

While my better half talked car language to his new gaggle of boyfriends, I was on a mission. The neighborhood has had a long running feud as I mentioned in my last post. That was on the very top of my menu.

The feud in a nutshell is this: We are situated on a private road here. All of the homes gave up a portion of their land (some more than others) to create the road that we all live on and use. The road is not state maintained so that means the neighborhood has to plow, grade and collectively keep it up. There are some people (like Sally) who are upset with the road being used at all. She and Rich live down in what’s been coined “the turnaround” (it’s a cul-de-sac) and she does not like big trucks or ATV’s using it because she says it disrupts her land (which is really the road - but she still lays claim to it). Mr. Walters, the man who previously owned this house, slapped his sweet neighbors with a lawsuit a few years back that they are all still very salty from. He wanted every home to improve the street line of their property by adding trees and who knows what else. Some did and some fought him in court. This action split the community into two groups - the Democrats and the Republicans.

There are some who seem to think we, as the new owners, should rectify the situation - like we give a shit. There are others who think we should jump in and pick up where Mr. Walters left off - like we even care. I could give two hoots about what anyone wants to do on their own property so long as they are not breaking any major laws or hurting kids (that’s against the law too, but I always count it twice). We’re not into HOA’s, neighborhood watch programs or litigation. We like peace and more peace. You need help? We’re there but please don’t tell me that our trees have to match yours or that my kids are making too much noise. This is the freaking country, dammit.

Dinner was served, we ate and my husband was very ready to make our exit. He lasts about 3 hours in a setting like this one and we had already pushed 4. We were almost finished shaking hands when someone decided to call a “Road Meeting”. This fine person thought that since the majority of neighbors were there, they should take the time to go over “neighborhood policies” and vote on the amount needed to be distributed into the “Road Maintenance Fund”.

Right away Sally blurted out,

“I’m not happy with where the turnaround hits my property. I think it needs to be moved.”

Move the road??? She thinks that the other neighbors (really just us and our adjacent lot) should give up some land so that hers is not being driven on. Hmmmm….

I could tell that my husband was getting uncomfortable with the conversation and what felt like a forced vote that we knew nothing about. I was getting uncomfortable with the potato chip that fell down my tank top and was now wedged. It was prime scooting time. So we did just that.

As we sat on our back patio last night, we shared some wine and rehashed the evening. Here are a few of the clues we each unearthed.

1) Mr. Walters did not die in this house - thank God.
2) Everyone at the party could not stand Mr. Walters and many said they were glad he was no longer among the living.
3) Sally has too much time on her hands and loves to call & email with her list of you-shouldn’t-be-doing-thats.
4) There are too many car nut men like my husband living within close proximity to us now.
5) Most of our neighbors have never seen the inside of this house. They were never invited.

We are fixing the last one soon. I think in a couple of weeks, we’ll have our own party. And we’ll invite both sides of the feud because we’re nice like that.

I almost snorted wine through my nose when my husband said,

“At the next road meeting, I think we both need to stand up and state our case.”

What the hell? Do we even have a case?

It looks like life on West Drama Dr. is going to be less peaceful than I thought…

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