Porch Stuff

The petunias are a bit past their prime. The remaining blooms still try to keep the intensity of early summer going into August, but the leaves have gone brown and even the soil they're planted in seems tired of the heat. There are five little pots of them that are arranged in a tiered planter sitting beside me.

The pots were originally for herbs that I bought. I thought it would be nice to be able to just trim off herbs when I wanted, so we went out looking for seeds, cheap terracotta pots, and organic soil. After upgrading from terracotta to different colored glazed pots, I commenced to plant. Nothing grew. Nothing. Five pots with herbs, and not a single green leaf survived. So, Jen took them over, put some flowers in them, and now here they sit between our two wrought iron chairs.

Out front we added a bird bath, a bug candle, and we drag out a little round table from inside to set our drinks on. As I sit here now, Jen is fussing over one of the hanging baskets and dripping water on my ankles as she empties the watering can.

Usually, it's Sunday mornings that find us out on the porch, but this morning the air was stagnate and muggy, so we kept to the indoors and watched "Coraline". Now, a breeze has blown the heaviness out of the day, and we've moved outside. For a tight packed little neighborhood, it really is pretty quiet here. There's no real sense of community that I've ever felt here, but we're also hermits, so that could be totally our fault. Sometimes, someone walking by will stop to talk to us about a break in or something else bad that's happened in the neighborhood, but no one just stops to chat.

When we first moved here, there was a large woman who lived on the corner that would provide some entertainment. She had a big raspy voice that was accustomed to the strain of shouting orders. If you happened to be outside when she would go into a rage, you could hear her even though she was indoors. When she brought the yelling outside is when the real entertainment started though.

"I TOLD THAT MOTHERFUCKER HE'S NOT ALLOWED BACK IN THIS HOUSE, AND I COME HOME AND THERE THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS! I DON'T GET NO RESPECT AROUND HERE. NONE!"

I miss her.

We bought this place around six years ago because real estate is always a good investment. We walked into it with nearly 10% equity with no money down, and I was feeling pretty smart about it. Now, $40,000 upside down in the home because of the market and the foreclosures, we're trapped. If it weren't for this property, we'd have a place out in the country out near my brother. If it weren't for this property, we'd be living in St Paul and I wouldn't have nearly so much trouble finding someone to see Wilco with me. If it weren't for this place we'd be living downtown so we could walk to dinner, drinks, and exhibitions. If it weren't for this place, we'd be in Wisconsin where we'd
be close to friends and would have someone we trust to watch our children.

We're making the best of it for now. In the meantime, at least there's the porch, the breeze that sneaks around the corner of the house, and a smooth Sunday Merlot buzz.