The blessing of fences.

I live in an old house. In a wonderful old neighborhood. A stone's throw from our church. It is so idyllic.

A few weekends ago my sister came to pick me up, I was getting out of the house. Freedom! Yippee! As I got in her car, I saw a woman climb out the window of my neighbor's house and walk onto my property. I did not recognize her, so I watched her. This was not the first time our lovely neighbors have used our backyard as  their personal shortcut to where ever. I did not want to allow that practice to continue.

As I watched an older gentleman began to heft himself out the window as well. At that point I unrolled the window and kindly informed the woman that she was on my property and I would appreciate her vacating my property. Yes, of course I sounded that put together and proper. My sister and I continued to sit there as geriatric man struggled to get out the window. He hit the ground with a thud and had a hard time straightening up. What possessed him in the first place? As we continued to watch, I pasted my "oh, bad choice" look on my face and continued to watch. The woman laughed nervously and said "we were just trying to be sneaky." The man was still attempting to stand upright. "Yea. Great," was my response.

We watched them until they exited the front of our property and made it to the sidewalk and finally crossed the street.

As my sister and I continued on our merry way, I called my husband to let him know what had just happened. (And to toot my own horn a little bit. . .I handled that like a star!) Needless to say he was less than impressed with out illustrious neighbor.

A few mornings later, I awoke to screaming outside. Wonderful trespassing lady was in my yard again . .. but she was being kindly escorted out front by our local police. As I watched out my window, a DIFFERENT man popped his head out that very same window to follow her and was immediately apprehended by the police. (what the heck! Are both doors in that house broken?)

I know I am biased, but that man looked evil. Yuck. Gave me goosebumps. Bad news. There were numerous police cars around my house for over an hour that morning. It was not looking good for my house, but the boys LOVED it. Oh they were waving at all the policemen and the policemen waved back.

The policemen however, did not have the courtesy of telling this obviously interested homeowner WHAT our neighbor was doing on my property. . .or what the heck was going on. I watched them for the entire hour, isn't that code for "Hey officer, care to fill me in?"

That's okay. I have it all figured out. It must be crack. Or meth. Right? That crap is everywhere and it could be the motivating factor that had Grandpa Moses thinking he could climb out a window unscathed the other day.

My dear hubby visited our neighbor recently to get the scoop and to let her know that next time someone is on our property we will be calling the police. Turns out that our REAL neighbor moved out of the house when her mentally ill son brought some friends he met on the street home with him. She did not want to live with her son and his new homeless friends so she went and rented an apartment a few miles away, leaving the house next door occupied by her mentally ill son and his formerly homeless peeps. THAT is who I saw climb out the window. Awesome. There is a flop house right next door to me. . .a flop house whose only apparent means of exiting is by the window that borders my property. Wonderful.

As I was cleaning the kitchen today I saw that Ms Crack-Jailbird was back. Uh, I mean my lovely neighbor was home, and in the back yard. What was she doing? Whatever it is. . .it looked strange. I grabbed a chair to better see out my window and over our fence. I discovered it was easier to perch on my countertop, so I did just that. Eli walked in on me and said, "um, not safe, mama. not safe."

He was right, I got down. Booo hiss.

As I was making the boys lunch, I could see her head out in the back yard again. What is she doing? It looked like she was washing her clothing in a very large brick oven. Yes. .. like I said, strange. Once the boys were sitting and eating, I could not resist. . .I grabbed the chair again and climbed up on the countertop to see if I could figure it out. Nope. I gave it my best shot and am lucky she didn't see me pressed up against the kitchen window in my robe....

I start to get down. Oh wait. . .flames? Did I just see flames?

When I took Eli upstairs for nap time and I made the fantastic discovery that I had a wonderful bird's eye view of my neighbor's back yard from the window on the landing. Score. There was a fire. In an outdoor brick stove of sorts. What was she burning? SO strange. .. clothing? Is that turpentine next to her? What is going on? How can I justify the length of time that I have been watching this? Why can't I figure it out? Why am I not more embarrassed by my watching?

At this point I am tempted to go outside and be neighborly. Perhaps I should pull a Wilson and peak over the fence. "Hidey ho neighbor. I see you are out of jail. Whatcha burning?" I resist. I am glad the fence is there, even when it gets in my way.

Hubby gets home from his work trip today. The laundry is not folded and put away....dare I explain? Welcome home, hun. I am sorry the laundry is still sitting there. . .I was busy minding someone else's business and maybe losing my mind in the process. *uneasy chuckle*