My Neighbors Threw Me A Baptist Tent Revival

So something to note about moving back into my house that wasn't expected is how warm my neighbors have been towards me. I didn't really realize that while I was married I was pretty much a total shut in. I didn't talk to my neighbors or have much to do with them. Probably something about how I was getting treated at home reflecting outwardly towards others. I dunno, I'm no Freud. So anyway, one of my neighbors happily mows and weed whacks (huh huh huh huh, she said whacks) for me every other week - and I pay him of course.

But something else totally awesome happened the other day. My other neighbors who I purposely avoided the five years I lived here before sort of cornered me and wanted to know the story of where my ex-husband was at and why I'm living here alone.  As some back story, I've always considered these folks to be crazy. Not awesome weird crazy like me but crazier-than-shit-house-rats crazy. They (Mr. & Mrs. C) get extremely animated during conversations with each other, which I came to the conclusion early on, as they were in constant arguments out in the open. To Mrs. C's credit - she's pretty cool, seems pleasant, smiles and is good at making neighborly small talk. But Mr. C? He's got crazy eyes. I'm pretty sure he was in Nam, as he's about the right age for that, and has a very explosive personality. Oh and everything and I mean EVERYTHING is a conspiracy to that man. I can't tell you how many times I would see him outside in the driveway wiping down his car or whatnot and talking to himself about this that and the other being a conspiracy. And when you hear snippets of people crazy-talking to themselves it's just like it is in the movies, like when they show a homeless person walking around shaking their head or throwing their fist in the air all the while mumbling and occasionally throwing out an expletive. Yes,this is Mr. C.

He got into a fight with the neighbors across the street during our first two weeks here and mind you, it was a brand new neighborhood at the time so nobody really knew each other. Not exactly the start of a nice neighborly relationship. The fight was over something about the other guy's kids riding their bikes ACROSS his driveway, you know, where the sidewalks connect the driveways? Yeah.......... So maybe somewhat understandably, I avoided him. He is also a total freak about anyone walking on his yard - learned that one the hard way when a visiting friend of mine stepped over the invisible line that sits between our yards so that they could get out to their car that was parked on the sidewalk....yeahhhhh......

OK. So back to the story - there I was taking out my trash, in basically a tube dress and slippers, bra-less nonetheless, thinking it was dark and late and no one was out.

WRONG.

There they were.  All smiles, while they began luring me over with the phrase of "HAAAAYYYYY GIIIIIRLLLLL!!!!" urging me to come to the edge of my yard for a conversation. So I obliged and quickly found out that they wanted the scoop - and if anyone I know in a semi-acquaintance way asks about where "the husband" is I generally give them the short version of the story including the scum bag move he pulled with special regards to the timing of when he asked for a divorce and subsequently what he did after the divorce that really should earn me the right to throw a Molotov cocktail through his fuckin' bedroom window as he sleeps. So they listened, fascinated, mouths gaping open with wonder.

And then.

The Southern Baptist tent revival was ON!

After I was done talking they burst into animation with a lot of physical churchy but hip hoppy dance type moves, shuffling, swinging of the arms and emphatic hand gestures. Then many phrases like "all females are SNAKES, that's why I don't keep other females around" were thrown out by Mrs. C. She then proceeded to launch into some story about why they never go and play cards at anybody's house (as I'm standing there blank faced and kind of stunned about what was going down).

She showed me gestures with her hands and feet as if in the past when she's gone to play cards at a friend's house, she's noticed some under the table footsie being played, or perhaps one of the other husbands was being given an under the table hand job by a woman who wasn't his wife. I wasn't quite clear on what she meant because my brain was too busy screaming at me "OHMYGOD YOU HAVE TO SOAK IN EVERY NANO SECOND OF THIS LIKE A SPONGE SO YOU CAN BLOG ABOUT IT LATER". So Mr. C, not wanting to be excluded from the girl talk, obviously, started crazily hopping around and throwing in his two cents on the issue shouting out phrases, like "LAAAAAAWD, YOU CAN'T TRUST NO WOMENS, NO WOMENS!" whenever Mrs. C would take a breath to regale another story about how you can't trust any woman. And oh yes people, he said "womens" that's not a typo. Right. And as a final note, I love how they placed all of the blame on "the female" that "stole" my ex-husband but no words got thrown out about him.

So I'm of course totally relishing this crazy as hell moment and decidedly am marking it down in my brain as one of the best events ever to happen to me in 2013 so far. As I had to remind *A* after telling him all about this story, I see humor in my every day. And I consider it a totally precious gift in regards to a way of looking at life.

For your enjoyment - below is a snippet of a church service which is much like what went down out in my driveway.

AAAANNNNNNNDDDDDD just so you realize what I'm dealing with over here - I snapped a picture of Mr. C's "classic" car that he keeps covered in his driveway, as he explained to me many years ago while I stood there with a frozen smile on my face. Now, now, keep in mind, I wasn't even having a conversation with him, how silly of you to think that. I was simply carrying in groceries one day when I foolishly made neighborly-smiley-eye-contact with him. He then had to tell me all about his classic car. And you want to know what's under the "car cover"? 

A POS Pontiac Sunbird.

Hey, as long as I don't get strung up if a civil war breaks out he and I are on cool terms.........let's just hope he doesn't come out of his house shooting one day..............

Don't mind the tire that's holding the cover down so it won't blow away or the rope tied around it so people can't lift it up - under there is a true piece of classic American steel.


Yeah buddy.