Micah's Fault + Rumfrazzled

This blog entry can be blamed on Micah L., who told me to come back to blogger. No matter how many times I run away from blogger, it always takes me back with arms wide open. .. Thank you blogger. Okay, that's taken care of, see you in two months. (



Just kidding.

News Flash 1: I'm almost addicted to World of Warcraft. Sometimes I'm not, and sometimes I am.

News Flash 2: Emily believes I am becoming a gypsy. She may be right. Tomorrow I leave Florida for Michigan, and thence to Iowa a few days after that. I'm not going to summarize my time in Florida, but I'll offer up a couple of stories.

So here is a story about loving your neighbor. [The rest of this paragraph got really stupid, so I decided to make it optional. If you'd like to read something really stupid, just highlight the rest of this]: (Actually it's about someone else loving their neighbor. Actually it's about my neighbor. Actually it's about me. Technically "Love thy neighbor" implies at least two neighbors, the loving and the loved; in this story you'll find out which one I was.) (If you haven't figured it out yet.) (Do you really think I'm going to write a story about how wonderful I am?) (That pretty much gave away the ending.)

Downstairs lives the evil neighbors. I live upstairs with the good grandmother (who speaks no English.) I've never actually talked to the evil neighbors. Even if they spoke English (which they don't), why would I want to talk to neighbors that are evil? I only know they're evil because they get mad at the good grandmother because we're upstairs and walk around and on occasion that makes noise. I won't deny that it does make noise; just how upset they get about it, I couldn't say. Point is, there's no point in wasting my breath on them. (They also supposedly tried to get me kicked out at one point. Wait a second, maybe it worked....!)

So today I'm on the sidewalk with all my possessions (save my mac) on the sidewalk in front of the apartment. Unsmiling Cuban neighbor walks past with trash bag, disposes of trash bag, returns past me. Five minutes later, I hear some foreign mutterings directed directly at me. Cuban guy (60-ish) hands me a chilly beer, I say thank you, and walk back in.

A moment before he does this, I am complaining in my mind about bad neighbors, and how the bad neighbors downstairs should learn a little about good neighbors from Jesus. Whoa is me.

So I'm trying to drink this beer, feeling just a little ashamed. Generally I hate beer (I eventually poured half of it out he wasn't around), but the point is that the second of my first interaction with him he popped out of his evil neighbor pigeonhole by being neighborly. Five minutes later, he steps out again and asks me, "?Quiere Comida?" I try to say that I have to pack "muy rapido" before it rains (point at sky and say "agua"). He isn't deterred at all but promises "Poquito". So I go inside to eat with them. (The only word to describe what I'm feeling is "rumfrazzled".

The man is Cuban, is 64, has an amazingly jolly face (I'd never noticed before), has lived in florida for 15 years, thinks Castro is bad (there's no comida in Cuba), and went diving and harpooned his own fish the other day. His wife is Dominican, has a son 24 years old, (or maybe a daughter), and cooks amazing food. An hour and a half later I'm still stuffed. (Un poquito indeed.) The table has beautiful roses, they have beautiful plants in general, the wife's stereo was playing wonderful Dominican music (with wonderful guitar) - it was just a wonderful place. Communication was a struggle; I tried to tell them I loved Florida; I think I told them that I wanted Florida. Heaven knows what they thought that meant; maybe they think I want to get into real estate. In that case, why am I driving to Florida? For all I know I've misinterpreted half of what they said.

I finished my meal, said muchas gracias many times, finished packing (it never rained), poured out what remained of the beer, and went inside to cool off.

So then, I look forward to having my assumptions about my neighbors utterly flambazzled.

In the future I may or may not write about post-modern trends in journalism, storks, everglade fires, warcraft, depression, wonder, and idiocy.