Nancy and George are a sweet retired couple that live behind us. Super great neighbors. Friendly, but not all up in our shit. Sometimes when George goes to the garage for a cigarette, our Coonhound just hauls off on him. That crazy baying only a coonhound can manage. It’s cool at first, and then I feel like a complete redneck. Quiet Owen! George always will say something neat like, “Cool your jets there tiger!” He takes it well.
So they dropped off a present for Rhen a few months ago. It’s a kitten-nook-blanket thingy. Her name is Lynn. It says so right on the tag.
They also sent a card along with it too. At the end of the card there was a reference to God which normally sort of bothers me because it always seems like people feel they can bust religion on us with our child, but this time it didn’t. All I’ll say is George makes a lot of trips to the liquor store down the street and his recycling tub is filled to the brim with plastic bottles of canadian whiskey every other Wednesday.. I do not judge nor care, but every Sunday morning, I see George sporting a fresh shave and a suit, having a cigarette before they head off to church. That’s old school religious folks to me. The kind that put on a suit when they visit God. I like to think of God as an upright very busy guy, but he doesn’t use the web or email or none of that crappy stuff. God likes to use a telephone (land line) and has a good working relationship with his old pal Satan and when you go and visit the Creator of Everything, you can at the very least put on your seventy dollar suit you bought ten years ago at Pennys. I might not believe in him, but at least I know enough to respect my elders. None of that, I talk to God when I’m sitting in my underwear picking my nose crap.
Anyway, I think Rhen likes Lynn well enough, but he really hasn’t declared it as a favorite. Only time will tell.
(Rhen in the morning. Wakey, wakey.)