It's present time! It's present time! Open a present and see what's inside!"

Carl and Barb have accepted an offer on their home.
At the end of the month, they'll be moving to an assisted living apartment, and we will have a new neighbor. (oooh I know you are on the edge of your seat with excitement)

Barb brought over some "parting gifts" for me.

Today's Treasure:
her spice cabinet!
No. Not the cabinet itself. The contents.
How thoughtful, right? Since I'm the neighbor that's always borrowing an egg or a cup of sugar on Sunday's when I get the crazy urge to bake.

But, Um. Don't spices like....expire?
She told me she remembers moving some of these spices with her from her last house.

I mean, I KNOW they "last forever" or whatever, but they've lived in that house for 14 years. And look closely...
When's the last time you remember paying 33 cents for a metal tin of All Spice?
When's the last time you bought All Spice in a metal tin?
When's the last time you saw a white price tag on a non-clearance item at Walmart?

The packaging on some of these brings back memories of the spice cabinet from my childhood.
Which is really scary, because I am certain that everything other than the garlic salt and coarse ground pepper in MY spice cabinet growing up was at least 15 years old then.
My favorite is the Wyler's boullion cubes.
They look more like this now:
And it's really too bad the imitation brandy container is empty.

I can't wait for the estate sale. Geriatric spices aside...Barb has collected some awesome stuff. The glass bird collection, costume jewelery, and vintage clocks have my name all over them.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Due to Carl's recent stroke, he and Barb have decided it's time to move into an assisted living apartment. Sad, right?! They have lived in that house for 14 years.

Wanna be my neighbor?

Get this...(my California siblings will especially get a kick outta this)
they listed their 2352 sq ft home for $129,900
yes, it is outdated...but with a fresh coat of paint, updated light fixtures, white doors and new flooring, it's really a great house. There's a walk out basement, wood burning fireplace upstairs, and wood burning stove insert downstairs. Not to mention the fact that it's like $55 a square foot and you'd be living across the street from ME! (the best amenity of all).

I hope someone normal buys it.

"Get Out! {leave} Right Now {go}....It's the End of You and Me..."

"...It's too late. {now} and I can't wait for YOU. TO. BE. GONE...."

Yesterday:

Meg had a bad day.
Meg fed Big Willy and they took a nap.
Meg's doorbell rings.
Meg is not expecting anyone else, but quickly remembers that she did not lock the front door after her last visitor left.

Door opens.
Marge.

"....MEG?"

Yep. She let herself in. THEN she wandered down the hall until she found me.

Meg: Um. Hi Marge. I'm resting right now, and I am NOT ready for visitors yet. Can you come back next week?

Marge: I'm ready to hold that baby now. (holds shaky old lady arms out) Hand him over.

FO. REALZ.

Might as well get this over with. She's nice. and old. and considering that she didn't see the BABY SLEEPING sign taped OVER the doorbell, she probably doesn't remember the phone conversation a few days ago when I told her I am not feeling well and that I'll come visit when I am ready.

Meg: ok, let's go into the living room (and out of my bedroom) there is soap at the kitchen sink where you can wash your hands before you hold him. (THAT I will not budge on).

Marge: I just washed them before I left.

Meg: There is soap at the kitchen sink where you can wash them again.

Marge went to the kitchen sink and like a stubborn child RINSED her hands for 5 seconds and patted them dry on her thighs. Nasty.

She held the baby for 2 minutes while I opened the gifts she brought.

Yes. Gifts.
I'm trying this thing where I'm nice. It isn't working out so well. Let's just say that the gifts had to join the other gifts she's brought by in past months. BUT, it was very thoughtful of her to bring them by.

Corbin made a barely audible squeak and I decided it was time for him to eat.
Marge let herself out. (and why wouldn't she after so comfortably finding her way in?)


Was she giving me a taste of my own medicine? I mean, I DID let myself into her house a week ago...but her SMOKE ALARM was going off for crying out loud!

Aaaah, the joys of the uninvited neighbor guest.

An unbeatable epidemic that normal people have had to deal with for years. I guess everybody has their own version of an Urkel, a Mrs. Pool, a Ned Flanders, a Wilson, an Eddie Haskall, a Six, or a Kimmy Gibbler.

I have a Marge.
Lock your doors, people.