afternoon to myself

it's blazin' hot on the front porch and the neighborhood children are screaming bloody, bloody murder while they splash in their kid pools. my boys are at the zoo with nanny and boppy. lead belly is singing about the rock island line. the iced coffee has gotten warm and totally unappealing. the whole world can go hang itself, i'm off duty.

this street goes nuts when the weather warms up. all the crazies, ahem, the neighbors, come out. some of it's kind of charming like the guy who practices his trumpet with his windows open and the easy front-porch chats with people. our block has a ton of kids and they stop by, walking dogs or getting their guinea pigs some fresh air. last week two little girls set up a lemonade stand and shouted about it all afternoon. i'm a firm supporter of local business so i bought some even though they were charging one dollar a cup. it was from a powdered mix, which was a wee bit soul crushing. but what the hell. if a kid's selling something, i'll buy it because some day my little butter beans will be hawking lemonade themselves. i'll just make sure it's real. in case you come over to buy some.

the downside of summer on chicago street includes drunken frat parties at the rental house next door and odd, shifty folks at the door selling magazines. many, many of them. last summer this weird guy came to the door selling snow-globes and paperweights with plastic roses inside. we also get jehovah's witnesses in droves. and the skinny white kid with the afro who regularly ambles through our yard yelling for his mom's dog, violet. there's also someone on the block who's fond of revving his motorcycle and zooming up and down when it's really late at night. and DO NOT get me going on july fourth.

but right now there's a meadow lark in the tree and things are nice. come over.