Hey, it's a living.

Door to door panhandler dropped by today. First we saw him walk by the neighbor's place. We saw him out the window and were like - What's this dude up to? So about 30 seconds later our doorbell rings. I don't get up to answer it but the ringing and then the door knocking are insistent. Mimi is like - Get the door, dummy! so I get off the couch and open the door.

The guy is standing there, looking pretty shabby. He says to me, "My niece died of Leukemia and we need money for the funeral".. I am thinking to myself that the poor girl must be rotting by now because the metal can the guy is holding is worn with the dirt from his hands. The picture of the little girl taped on the can is old. I look into his dilated eyes- and in them I see the person behind the storytelling. I see he is in a tough spot. his teeth are worn and his clothes are rotting. Despite all that, I see a few of the people that I've loved in my life who were in a similar position. I am reminded of the times I felt bad about not supporting them. I know I'm not the person to help them. I just nod my head back and forth before I shut the door.

Sex Offender

We have befriended a Vietnam Vet that lives next door. He helped us plant our tomato plants in the 95 degree sun. A nice guy, very friendly, not creepy, (although while he was planting he told a story about a guy that had to call 911 because he got his dick stuck in his asshole). Anyways, we often talk to him over the fence every night, he is known as "The Watchdog" of the neighborhood, calling the cops when there is a party that gets out of hand.

On Saturday the idea popped into my head, because I'm pregnant, to look on the sexual predator website, a site where you can view a map of your neighborhood and it plots out where any registered sexual offenders live. There was one, right next to our house, and when we clicked on the red square a picture of the Vietnam Vet came up.

Here's the sex offender website for anyone that's wants to check out their own neighborhoods:
http://www.familywatchdog.us/

Lady with Gun

Roger lives across the street, in his late 40's and gay. He knocked on my door the other night, introduced himself and went on to tell me that a lady has been coming around our block looking for her husband's gay lover. She apparently is wielding a gun and a knife and is pissed. She's described the guy she's after, her husband's lover, as a young smiley guy with a truck much like the truck belonging to the guy Seth that lives in the back of our house. Seth is a geeky 26 year old Jewish grad student that just moved here about a month ago and has since left for Ohio for the summer. I tried to explain to Roger that there is no way Seth has had any time to strike up an affair with a married man as he was only here for about 2 weeks, and during that time his mother was staying with him while she received Ayurvedic treatments from her guru. I added that Seth is pretty geeky and doesn't seem much like the torrid steal another woman's man type. Roger didn't seem convinced and instead went on to explain to me that you never know who is gay, and tried to prod me for personal info about Seth. Obviously Roger is interested in Seth as well.

Two days later, I get a knock on my door at 9am. I'm wearing a robe, pregnant and tired. I go to answer and there stands a lesbian looking woman, "Is there a Jason that lives here?" she asks me rudely. I tell her no. She asks me if I'm positive, and if there ever was a man named Jason living here? I say no Jason here, and let her know we just moved in.

Suspicious, she asks, "Well isnt there a guy that lives in the back? What about him?"

I said his name is Seth, not Jason, just then my cat ran out the door and I became frustrated grabbed him and said sorry I gotta go. She gave me a pissed look and said "OK".

Of course the next day I walk out of the house and Roger yells at me from across the street, "You know that lady is still coming around here!"

Somehow this woman has become my problem.

Welcome to Albuquerque

Somewhere between Lead and Coal, stories drift like clouds in the afternoon. The mind wanders, as do the neighbors.