indiana

Not here again

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 19:03 on 23 June 2008

Gah. Why didn't I learn last time?

I can't believe I was retarded enough to rent this week's car from the same rental agency that made me wait an hour and a half for a compact car last time I was here, only to give me a mid-size car when the line of people waiting for cars grew to five people, all of us waiting longer than 45 minutes.

I am not happy with my choice.

Trespassing!

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 19:51 on 11 June 2007

ad managed to arrange to leave work early today, which meant we were able to spend more time together today before I flew to Arizona to spend most of the week with Mom, Eric, Sam and Jackson (pronounced with enthusiasm as Jak-sooooo-own). I had taken the dog on a walk earlier, and had something I was dying to show him. He eventually agreed, and off we went to walk the dog for the second time that day.

At the end of the street, I pointed to the street sign. Dad looked up, and, after a few moments, started laughing.

Lincoln never spelled his name so well.

Off to the left of the bend in the road (or the right if you're facing the other way, of course), was a dirt drive. I've often looked at this road, and assumed it led to the road close to the elementary school I attended as a child. I leashed up the dog and started walking down the road, forcing my dad to follow me. He was surprised when we crested the hill and saw a vineyard. I was surprised when we crested the hill and saw fields and woods for a much farther distance than I realized. Sure, this was the short cut to school when I was small, but it was still a long, long walk for a 10 year old.

We walked back along the fields talking about not much. Dad commented several times that we were trespassing, and seemed far more nervous about doing so that I expected him to be. The fields are ones that I'd really like to own, as well as those across the street. Have to get a move on if I actually want to have that happen.

While talking on the walk, I mentioned the tournament and how I had met Alex Thorne. I commented that he was 5'6" 115 pounds, and that the 115 pounds was the weight I wanted to drop to. I told Dad I was rethinking that weight, as Alex seemed awfully skinny: more that he hadn't grown into his height than undernourished, a few more years and he'd be bigger. Maybe 115 wasn't such a good idea for me.

Dad then commented that yeah, he always thought I was too skinny growing up, that he was happy I finally gained some weight. He agreed that 115 would probably be too thin for my height.

The opinion surprised me. I never knew my dad thought that. I can't say I ever thought that about myself except in passing maybe once. It's interesting what you can learn when you just start talking to someone and his guard is down because he's worried he's trespassing in his neighbor's yard.

Howdy, neighbor!

Blog Instead of being asleep at 15:43 on 11 June 2007, kitt created this:

I met the neighbor today. She's tall!

I went over to look at the Larson's house. Turns out, it has a for sale sign on the door that isn't really just a for sale sign: it's also a notice of foreclosure. I called the realtor (after taking one of those little tags off the sign with the phone numbers to call), made the showing appointment for today and went over with Dad.

I should have taken my camera with me. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking.

I'm trying to convince Kris that we should put an offer on the house. I may do so over his objections (likening the action of his ignoring my passenger driving directions by listening, evaluating what I have to say, and rejecting it to my listening to his objections, evaluating it, and making an offer anyway).

If real estate is all about location, location, location, in my mind, this one wins.

Besides, according to Dad and Linda, I'd have a GREAT neighbor. Come on, what's not to love about that.

P.S. Mom later commented when I talked to her about making an offer on the house that the Swets (sp?) house next door and the Larson house were both owned by the same people at one point (the original owners), who moved from the big house to the Larson house when their kids moved out and the house was too big. The two properties may have a shared well, which is why Dad and friends couldn't find the well on the Larson's property.

The usefulness of vans

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 15:42 on 8 June 2007

I'm on my way over to Ohio today. When I arrived at Dad's house, I promptly complained (Imagine that. Me. Complaining. Strange thought, eh?) about the fact the car rental company had run out of compact sized cars, a size I had specifically requested so that I could sleep in the back seat at Poultry Days.

I opened up the van and showed Dad the small back back seat, the only bench seat I could actually sleep on, given the bucket seats in front and in the middle. Dad took one look at inside of the van, and turned to look at me with an expression of, "Are you insane, child?"

An expression which I've noticed heading my way more frequently as of late.

"Looks like a good place to sleep," he commented, as he turned to open the back of the van. Three pulls, two pushes, one grunt and an old heave-ho later, and the back-back seat was folded down into the floor, the two middle seats were folded up, and I had a large flat surface to sleep on, no tent required.

Well, well, well, what do you know? These vans are good for something, eh?

Funny how...

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 13:30 on 8 June 2007

... everything's the same, yet everything's different.

I went for a walk with the dog today. We went around the neighborhood, walking down Dad's street and around the bend, back along the parallel street. I didn't leave enough time for a complete walk, and had to decide whether or not to run along the road, dragging the dog behind me the whole way, or cut across the yards as I used to do when I was 10.

Given the time crunch, I decided to cut across the yards.

Up the driveway I walked, looking up the hill in an attempt to decide which yard to trespass on. When I actually started walking through the neighborhood backyards, I couldn't help but think there are a large number of activities 10 year old girls can get away with that, well, women in their 30s really can't do so easily.

Trespassing through unfamiliar backyards is one of them.

Fortunately, the neighborhood is much (much, much) smaller than I remembered it being, and I was across the yards in no time, back home in time for my phone call.

So much of the neighborhood is the same, though. Sure, it's smaller because I'm bigger. And, hey, there's a really cool playground in the back of one neighbor's yard complete with a really cool merri-go-round and swingset and awesome tree house (oh, to be 10 again!). But the houses are as I remember them. The hills are as I recall them being. The yards are still way green, the road still rough and interesting.

Bharat and I often talked about how cool it would be to have all of our friends living together in one neighborhood. As I walked with the dog I couldn't help but think that this is the neighborhood I'd like all my friends to be in. This is where I'd really enjoy being able to walk to my neighbors, my friends, to see if they wanted to come out to play a game of ultimate, or for communal dinner, or bridge, or Carcasonne.

Not gonna happen, though.

Gulp

Blog Posted by kitt at 23:44 on 7 June 2007

I went to dinner with Dad and Linda tonight. It's funny to watch the two of them are together. Dad is completely ornery and I can say that, Dad, because that's a Hodsden trait as much as being late or being distracted are.

We also drove to 1406, which Linda walks by on some morning walks. The house is looking way run down, which is a shame, really, because it's a lovely house: the original farm house for the area way, way, way back when.

More importantly, the first house i lived in, so it has to be important.

At one point, Linda casually mentioned that a neighbor of hers reads this site, and sometimes updates Linda on my whereabouts and events.

I think the dumb look on my face must have registered to the people I'll be visiting in Ohio tomorrow. I know my jaw took a few moments gathering dust from the restaurant floor.

The only thing I could thing of to say was something along the order of, "Uh....."

So, uh, hi, neighbor who lives next to the house where the Larsons used to live (the Larsons whose son died when I was in junior high school and Chris inherited his motorcycle, not that I can remember the Larson boy's name. Oh, and the trees have grown up a LOT in front of their old house - you can't really see the house for the trees any longer).

Linda asked if that was okay, that her neighbor reads this. I said, sure! because it is. (Did I mention? Hi, Neighbor!) I'll just pretend it's just me here. I hope you don't mind.

Hi, Megan! Hi, Mom! Hi, Roshan! Hi, Cads! Hi, Chookie! Hi, Kris! Hi, Liz!

Oh, and there's a tornado watch on right now for Northwest Indiana. Note to self: when you run downstairs after noticing the sudden drop in air pressure, run to the side with the furnace. That's the southwest side of the house, and the most likely safest spot if the house comes tumblin' down, crumblin' tumblin' dowwwwwwn.