What's Yours is Mine?

Looks like there is a 2 for 1 special on the neighbor kids' bikes today.
See my front lawn for further information.

If you feed the stray cat once, it will keep coming back...and next time it will bring the whole litter.

A few words of advice for the neighborhood kids:
(Jenny and Jamie's kids excluded, because I like them. And also because they are awesome kids and would never do ANY thing to require a lecture like this.)

-There is a community swing set at Kingsdale Park. Not in my backyard.
-I know you've been there when I go outside to find all the swing chains raised up to 4 ft off the ground. This bugs the crap out of me, by the way.
-Just because my garage door is OPEN, does not mean you can go inside it to play.
-The next time I find a dang razor scooter on my driveway, I will NOT get out of my car and move it before I back out.
-I don't like your "potty mouths". Please set a better example for my children. And Aaron was pretty pissed when you told him to "shut up" the other day. You should be nice to Aaron. He is super cool. And he has a boat.
-The old man in the house behind mine has a gun. And he is blind.
-the crawlspace under my house is full of black widows and snakes. Don't open the door. And don't throw your bike against it's wooden door at 6am. It makes more noise than you think. Also, that's a compost pile next to it, sooo...you might reconsider leaving your bike there at all. It's only .2 miles downhill to your house. Walk, boys.
-My daughters are at least 4 years younger than you, and you are boys. They can't come out to play.
-I am out of popsicles.

"Can't You Hear The Thunder? You'd Better Run, You'd Better Take Cover..."

Long, wordy post. Advice needed at the end. Hang in there.

Story updates:
First of all...Thunder. Was let off his leash/dog run and he went down the street and BIT the crap out of my friend, Carrie's thigh. Seriously, if she'd have let me, I would have taken a picture of the bluish/blackish/purplish bruised bite mark he left behind. The dog is EVIL.

Carl-
I went outside to get the mail yesterday. Noticed that Carl's lawn has been mowed. "Hmmm, I wonder who mowed for them?" I think...CERTAINLY it isn't Carl, who just suffered a heart attack/stroke or whatever and is forbidden to drive ever again.

Why yes. It IS Carl, and HE is on the riding mower himself. He is now driving his mower back and forth through the weeds in an empty lot next to him. He appeared to be having some trouble going the direction he wanted, and I was hit by a flying rock when he went over some gravel. something doesn't seem right about the situation, but I decide to mind my own business and go inside.

Later that night, Aaron is out front talking to Barb, (Mrs. Carl) and it turns out that only minutes after I went inside, Carl drove the mower down into a ditch and got it stuck between some trees.

Carl. You are old. Don't Drive. Even the mower. Just don't drive.

Barb offers Aaron the riding mower for $200 just so Carl can't sneak out and drive it anymore. Then, poor Barb tells Aaron that the POA stopped by their house, and another (way down the street) and made them clean up stuff from their yards. Carls yard is immaculate, but apparently, someone had a problem with the house down the street, so on their way to ticket the other neighbors, the POA also decided they have a problem with a scrap wood pile that Carl and Barb had back behind their house (neatly stacked under a tarp) next to the empty lot. She had a huge hassle getting rid of it, being all old, and not having access to a truck anymore. I wish they'd called on us for help. They're trying to sell the house to move into an assisted living facility, and I feel so bad that they had the stress of dealing with the POA over stuff in the yard that no one can even see.

I think they might suspect that WE are the one's who called the POA on them. I assured her that if I am going to call on ANYone, it will be on the house behind mine.

Marge and Ross-yeah the one's with the underwear clothesline and all the tacky yard crap ornamentation. Their yard is like a freaking Mary Poppins Bag. Evertime I look outside, there is a new 6 foot bird feeder stand, or windsock nailed to another tree. It never ends.

They PAINTED their cement walkway for crying out loud! The rocks, the front porch...turquoise and purple. The wind sock. The pinwheels, the plastic geese, the spray painted STUMPS, the new clothesline that was put up ONLY to house 3 NEW bird feeders last week. I can't take it anymore. It's like a yard flamingo and a garden gnome mated, and then the evil tacky spawn threw up out there.
I've had enough. I decided to confront Marge about her yard crap. It's starting to spill over into OUR yard now. I can't take it anymore.

I WANT to call the POA (architectural committee) so I don't have to stare at 90 yr old underwear on the line every couple of days (sadly, someone over there is incontinent, as they are washing a LOT of chonies lately).

I can't do it though. I fear that technically, my daughters's swingset is also against POA regulations, because it is not wooden. If I call on Marge's underwear and ceramic fairies and 100 bird feeders and purple driveway and red and yellow boulders that are bright enough to stop traffic in the middle of the night...I might be asked to take down my swing set. So instead I suffer in silence for the sake of my children having a play structure.

I DID, however, politely let Marge know (in my best fake concern voice) that the POA have been making rounds in our neighborhood, and she should probably do something about (at LEAST) the painted rocks, or they are going to be flagged and asked to take everything down.

Her response was surprising.

Marge: Oh, I KNOW they're making rounds. I called them.
Meg: YOU called?! (that the?!) On WHO?!
Marge: Oh that house on your street, down aways. The one with all the antiques in the backyard. I pass them on my walks once in awhile, and I don't like looking at their junk. I called the POA.

Meg: YOU. No. Seriously... YOU. Y-You? With all the yard stuff? YOU called the POA on someone else? Really? (I'm speechless. What do I even say to that?!)
Marge: I certainly did. They should know their yard is tacky. The POA asked for my name, but I wouldn't give it to them. I don't want the neighbors to be mad at me.
Meg: Well, they also stopped at Barb and Carls...and they'll probably be at your house next.
Ross: We're not moving ANYthing until they tell us we HAVE to.

All is fair in love and War, Marge. Game on.

Here's where I get ghetto fabulous. Is if bad if I tuck a letter like this in Marge's mailbox?

Dear Resident:
An anonymous complaint has been placed in your neighborhood regarding excessive yard ornamentation. The following items in your yard are against village code and must be removed from your property:

yadda yadda yadda (detailed list of yard crap that bugs me most)

Please take care of this problem immediately.

and that's it. No, "sincerely the POA", or anything. Just a note letting them know they violating village code, to scare them out of putting up more windmills or painting more rocks. They've even hung a bunch of hanging flower pots with FAKE flowers in them next to their topsy-turvy tomato plants.

Will it be enough? Will they suspect I wrote it? Is it too deceitful to convince them that the POA will be hunting them down any day now?

Is this a bad thing to do, or am I justified?