'Bout Time...

The Toolsons (somehow) got temporary custody of their two kids about a week and a half ago.

Don’t worry. It didn’t last long.

Apparently, upon receiving Jet and Savannah, both Chase and Jane Doe decided to celebrate. By drinking. Excessively.

Then, they decided to drive somewhere, and loaded the babies into the back of the car.

They pealed out of the driveway and drove approximately 50 feet before being pulled over by two uniformed police officers in a clearly marked DPD squad car. This took place directly in front of Kyle's house.

To give you a better idea of exactly how far the Toolsons' traveled before the cops stopped them, please refer to illustration below:

Yeah. Not far. Not far at all.

Jane Doe was arrested for public intoxication and Chase was slapped with both a DWI and child endangerment.

Parents of the year, those two.

The good news in all of this is that the state now has permanent custody of both babies. I know foster care is no picnic, but it has to be better than living with dumb and dumber. At least this way Jet and Savannah have a chance at a better life.

My Question: For the cops to pull Chase and Jane over in front of Kyle’s house, they must have been parked and WAITING in front of mine. Were Chase and Jane so completely wasted that they didn’t notice a police car sitting on the curb 20 feet away? Because – WOW – talk about making it easy for the arresting officers.

Dumba$$es.

Here's to hoping that something is better than nothing...

You will have to take my word for it, but before my neighbors had their two children temporarily removed, from their custody there were loads of toys all over their yard. I used to accidentally run over a plastic action figure or rubber ball from time to time if it was left in my driveway.

In a matter of days, however, all evidence that an individual (or two) under the age of four lived next door is now gone. It's bizarre. Trevor was the first one to notice this phenomenon. I find it disconcerting.

Chase and Jane Doe are also keeping weird hours since the kids left. I'll hear them screaming at each other in the driveway at four or five in the morning as they are trying to get their car started. They will still be gone when I leave for the gym, but will be home by the time I return around eight. What could they possibly be doing? My guess: Nothing good.

I also keep thinking about the last time I saw Jet about a week and a half ago. Bert and I were preparing for our camping trip in my garage (sorting through food, counting gallons of water, making sure we had enough sleeping bags and tents for everyone, etc.) when Chase and Jet came outside. Chase started neurotically locking and relocking his car, and Jet announced that he could see “the bad lady” in my garage. The “bad lady” apparently being Bert.

But Jet didn’t stop there, though. When I walked back to Bert’s car to get grab the rest of the water, I clearly heard Jet say, “Look, Dad! I see the n*gg*r! I see the n*gg*r!”

I stopped short and just stared them. Oh, how I wanted to give them both a piece of my mind! But what could I do? Jet isn’t even four years old yet. Such language has to be learned somewhere, and I’m guessing it isn't at day care.

Chase’s constant locking and unlocking of the car door suggested that he was going through one of his hyper-paranoid phases. I knew yelling at him would get me nowhere (Chase confessed to my handyman two weeks ago that he was a bi-polar heroine addict. That coupled with the whole Chinese Throwing Star incident makes me a little nervous for my own safety) but it was still hard to suppress my rage.

I know foster care isn’t a picnic, but it has to be better than living with the alternative, right? I just hope the state doesn’t give them back. If they do, I will have totally lost faith in the entire system.

Drama…

Last night, in the span of less than an hour, the following things occurred:

• My neighbors had a fight in the driveway (the kids were temporarily taken away by CPS late last week, so to say it is a little tense next door is a gross understatement).



• Bert got locked out of her apartment. Trevor and I went over to sit with her while the locksmith did his thing (being a woman on a dark night with a strange man can be scary!). On our way over to her house, she texted that the locksmith was harmless and came prepared “with headgear”. Trevor thought this meant that he had a Bluetooth in his ear. I thought he was sporting orthodontic equipment. Sadly, all Bert meant by "headgear" was that the locksmith had a headlight. I found this slightly disappointing.



• My sister tripped in the attic of her apartment, fell approximately 15 feet through the sheetrock and landed next to her bed. If she had fallen five inches more to her right, she might have been impaled by her bedpost. If she had fallen backwards instead of forwards, she would have fallen two stories down to her living room – most likely killing her. Thankfully, she escaped from this ordeal with only a couple of bruises.

Here’s to hoping for a boring Thursday evening! I could use a quiet night on the couch with no drama or near-death experiences. I see a 9 PM bedtime in my (VERY near) future!

Tidbits...

Story Number One:

This morning, I had my greater and lower saphenous vein in my right leg closed. This involves making a tiny incision around my ankle and running a catheter up the vein. Then, the vein is slowly burned closed with a laser. Pretty cool considering this procedure used to be done by literately ripping veins from the body.

Anyway, I was awake for the procedure (although the two valium and the local anesthesia do make one a little loopy), and was surprised when I suddenly smelled something burning. This odor alarmed me – especially since I didn’t remember the smell from the first procedure last January. So, I asked the doctor about it:

Me: “Um, is something burning? I smell something burning.”

Doctor: “Oh, really?”

Me: “Yeah. Don’t you? It is really strong. I can even taste it.”

Doctor: “No, only you can smell it. It is very normal, though. As the laser is burning the vein closed, the ‘smell’ is being carried through your blood stream, which is why you can smell and taste it. But we can’t at all. Sometimes we might get a whiff when we remove the catheter at the end of the procedure, but not always. Out of curiosity, what does it smell and taste like?”

Me: “I dunno. Kind of like a combination of garlic and exhaust.”

Doctor: “Well, that’s a first! I don’t think anyone has ever described the smell as ‘garlicky’!”

Story Number Two:

My grandmother, Moo, is in the hospital with a staph infection. Yesterday, we all went to have holiday communion with her, and today Mimi and I stopped by after my vein procedure to check on her. Both times we loved on her and gave her kisses.

As we were pulling into my driveway (about 45 minutes after leaving Moo at the hospital), Mimi’s phone rang. It was one of my grandmother’s nurses calling to let us know that anyone visiting Moo needed to wear a mask and gown because her type of staph infection is highly contagious. A piece of information that would have been good to know, say, an hour and a half BEFORE we got it.

Of course, staph lives on everyone all the time, and – generally speaking – only those with compromised immune systems come down with infections like the one my grandmother has. Most likely the risk is one of us exposing her to something else – not the other way around. But still. Not cool. Especially with all the reports on the news nowadays with young, healthy people coming down with invasive staph infections after manicures or a trip to the gym.

Sigh. Poor Moo. Now will all look like alien doctors whenever we drop by to say “hi”.

(Do say a little prayer for Moo if you get a chance, though. She’s 98 years old, and infections like these are never a good thing for someone her age. Plus, she’s probably going to have to spend Christmas in the hospital, which is never fun.

Anyway, all thoughts and prayers would be greatly appreciated. She's a dear, sweet lady. Granted, I'm biased, but she's worth it. I promise.)

Story Number Three:

Gypsy Kitty is afraid of my support hose. She keeps sniffing my leg nervously, and when I have to hike up the hose (which happens frequently) she runs from the room and watches from a safe distance 20 feet away.

Story Number Four:

Chase keeps staring at me. And not in a friendly way.

Story Number Five:

Yesterday, I had a chocolate craving that could not be satisfied. It was disgusting. To remedy this, I ended up watching TLC’s documentary on the world’s fattest man. For the rest of the afternoon I was convinced I was next, and vowed to never eat again.

Of course, I promptly broke this promise at my mother's tamale dinner/holiday party last night…

Sorry, if this post is a little unorganized. I’m still a little woozy from the drugs this morning, and my first pain pill is WAY overdue.

Really?

My next door neighbors have taken to covering the hood of their car with a blanket at night.

...?!

I have nothing else to say.

On frozen brains and ice…

"Nothing spoils a party like a genius."

- Elsa Maxwell

While getting dressed for work this morning, I overheard the following conversation:

Chase: “Jane! Get the kids into the car! Do you want them to get frostbite and die?”

Jane: “I’m trying!”

Chase comes outside, cigarette in hand, and watches Jane trying to maneuver Jet and Savannah into the backseat. Not bothering to help her or close the back door to the house (which is wide open), he jumps into the driver’s seat, turns on the car and starts violently pumping the gas while the car is in park. The car dies.

Jane: “What’s wrong with the car?”

Chase: “Jane! Are you stupid? It is seventeen BELOW zero out here! Nothing works when it is this cold!”

Jane: “Oh. I didn’t realize it was THAT cold. Wonder how your mother got her car to work this morning?”

Chase: “She had to wait for her car to warm up. It can take hours. She – like me – knew it was going to be cold today. We watched the weather last night.”

Jane: “No you didn’t. You were with me.”

Chase: “Well, it is COLD out here, isn’t it?! Doesn’t take an idiot to know that it is almost twenty below zero outside!”

Of course, it was really only in the mid twenties this morning. Cold? Yes. But not seventeen below zero. Maybe in Montana or North Dakota, but not Dallas.

Finally, after swearing and banging on the car for 20 minutes, Chase gave up and went inside. The last thing I heard him yell before slamming the backdoor was, “Jane! Did you turn off the f**kin’ heat? It’s freezing in here!”

Maybe if you didn’t leave the backdoor wide open for half an hour, the heat would still be INSIDE your house. But what do I know?

My neighbors drive me crazy.

Watching a situation go from bad to worse...

"Love thy neighbor as thyself, but choose your neighborhood."

- Louise Beal

So, my neighbors, a.k.a. “the Toolsons”, are completely out of control.

I haven’t posted about them in awhile, but not for lack of material. In fact, a bunch of us (i.e. most of the people on my block, a couple of cops and a CPS agent) got together and had a meeting about the Toolsons back over the summer. We decided that we would all track the Toolson’s odd behavior on a private blog in an effort to help the police and CPS case agents gather evidence against Chase and Jane Doe. It worked for a while until too many people gained access to the blog, and we decided to delete it. Not that Chase and Jane have access to a computer or the internet, but one of my other neighbors down the block has seemingly befriended them. Since there is no way of knowing if this neighbor has access to the blog (as many on the block do), we decided to be safe rather than sorry. The last thing any of us needs is to have Chase and Jane seeking vengeance against us. They are already weary of most of their neighbors since CPS started making regular visits to their house earlier this year.

Anyway, I might go back through my original posts on the private blog, change the names and repost the material here. I think it is important to have it all documented somewhere – even if I’ve changed the names and addresses to protect the true identities of those involved.

But to give you a better idea of what has been going on next door over the last several months, here are some Toolson highlights:

• Chase is back on drugs, and his teeth are falling out of his head. Literately. He is only 30 years old, and he is missing six or seven teeth. Teeth freak me out, and I’ve had nightmares about finding his missing teeth in my driveway. Luckily, this hasn’t happened so far, but I don’t think it is outside the realm of possibility.



• Chase is a self proclaimed “expert” with the Chinese Throwing Star. During one of his practice sessions in the driveway, my bedroom window was broken. Of course, Chase didn’t own up to what actually had happened to the window for several days. I later learned that, thanks to his long criminal history (which includes charges such as possession and assault with a deadly weapon), Chase isn’t allowed to possess weapons of any kind.



• I’ve had to call 911 on my neighbors 5 or 6 times in the past four months. Once it was because Chase was running around after Jane in my front yard with a stick threatening to kill her. Their two kids (ages 3 and 18 months at the time) witnessed the entire thing.



• Both Chase and Jane have redirected their anger towards a same sex couple that live across the street. The two girls who live there (I’ll refer to them as L&L from here on out) are about my age, and have completely restored the old home they purchased about a year ago. L&L are good people. Very sweet and the kind of individuals who go out of their way to help out their family, friends and neighbors. I really like them.
  
  Anyway, for whatever reason, Jane got it in her head that Chase was sneaking out at night “to sleep with the lesbians across the street”. This prompted Jane to violently lash out at L&L – even though the very notion that L&L would even be interested in Chase is absolutely ridiculous. Jane would scream at L&L when they’d walk outside on their front porch, harass them in the street and even stole their house keys one day while they were bringing in groceries from their car.
  
  Then, Chase decided that L&L weren’t really interested in him, after all. Instead, Chase twisted it around that L&L were actually trying to steal Jane away from him. This prompted a whole new level of violence against poor L&L, who have now decided to put their house on the market and move away.

Things have only gotten worse since, and the Thanksgiving holiday was an absolute nightmare. Twice on Thanksgiving Day alone, Trevor and I had to call 911 at the request of Mrs. Toolson because Chase and Jane were completely out of control. Whatever drugs they had taken caused both of them to become extremely violent. Chase had ripped the phone lines out of the wall, and Jane had attacked Mrs. Toolson.

The cops finally arrived (it took almost half and hour because Thanksgiving is – tragically – full of domestic violence and drunk driving), and hauled Chase and Jane off to prison – but only for the night. They were back early the next morning, and poor Mrs. Toolson did everything she could to try and keep them from getting back in the house and away from her grandkids. She even filed for double restraining orders against Chase and Jane, and has supposedly filed for custody of her grandkids as well. The cops were called again on Friday, and Chase and Jane spent yet another night in jail. But they are out now, and still living next door.

I feel especially bad for Mrs. Toolson. She desperately wants Chase and Jane to leave (and they would be gone if Jane could find a shelter with enough room), but the last thing she wants is for her grandkids to go with them. Until she has custody, Chase and Jane can take the babies from her and she is powerless to stop it. It is a horrible situation.

This morning (when Jane rang my doorbell and demanded to use my phone), Jane told me that she’s still trying to find a shelter, but they are all full this time of the year. Apparently, once there is an opening, both she and Chase are gone (at Mrs. Toolson’s request, not theirs). I tried to ask what would happen to their kids, but Jane wouldn’t say. I just hope she’s not planning on taking them with her when they leave. It doesn’t look good, though. Jane thinks Mrs. Toolson is “crazy”, and I got the impression that Jane would take the kids for no other reason than to hurt their grandmother.

When it comes to the Toolsons, suddenly all my problems don’t seem like problems at all…

Not a good start to the day...

For reasons I do not understand, my alarm clock didn’t go off this morning. When I checked, it was set for 7:45 AM, like normal. And, yet…nothing.

I woke up at 9:12, and only then because I could hear the Toolson’s yelling at Jet in the driveway.

I hate oversleeping, because nothing makes any sense:

My Brain – “9:12? Why does the clock say 9:12? That can’t be right. I’ll check my cell phone. Hmmmmm…9:13. Wait, 9:13! I was supposed to be at work 13 minutes ago. Sh*t!”

Leaping out of bed in nothing short of a frenzy, I somehow managed to feed the dogs, dress myself, and get my stuff loaded into the car by 9:25. I was at work six minutes later.

And, yet, I am not awake. I think it has something to do with the fact that I was sound asleep in my bed less than an hour ago. My body may be moving, but my mind is still very much asleep. And I have a meeting that starts in less than three minutes that I need to be very much awake for.

Thank goodness for coffee…

Not going well...

Incase you were wondering about my next door neighbors, the Toolsons, here is an update. Brace yourself:

• I came home to find Jet, now three, standing on the roof of the black jeep that has been rotting in the Toolson driveway for the past nine months. Jet, wearing swim goggles, brief underwear and a blue blanket tied around his neck like a cape, was preparing to launch himself of the top of the vehicle. He clearly expected to fly. No one was out there with him despite the fact that the three year was approximately six feet off the ground. Assuming this could only end badly with an emergency trip to the ER, I talked Jet off the roof of the Jeep and back onto solid ground. Jet’s mother appeared shortly thereafter. She claimed to have briefly lost track of Jet while changing Savannah’s diaper: “One second he was in the living room, and then he was gone”.



• I’ve come home twice now to see the kids playing unsupervised in a blue wading pool in the driveway. The other day, Savannah was in there by herself – splashing away. Not only were there no adults around watching her, all the doors to the house were closed. I was about to knock on the door, when I heard yelling coming from inside the Toolson’s home. I have no proof, but I think Chase is using drugs again. The yelling seemed to be escalating, so I decided to watch Savannah play in the pool (under the guise of watering my plants incase Chase or Jane emerged from the house). I was out there for about 20 minutes before Jane finally came out to check on her daughter. Unbelievable. Don’t they know how quickly babies that age can drown in water?!

Sigh. Things seem to be heading downhill next door. Although, I think CPS is now involved. Thank goodness! Hopefully, they will be able to talk some sense into Chase and Jane before something happens to their babies!

Last Thursday was a doozy…

It all started with my next door neighbor dying in my driveway. Yes, Mr. Toolson died in my driveway. I woke up around 6 AM to the sound of (what I thought) was Chase doing pushups outside my bedroom window. All I heard was loud counting and someone shouting. Then, I saw the lights from the fire engine and ambulance, and realized what the commotion really meant: Chase was performing CPR.

The ambulance backed into my driveway, and loaded Mr. Toolson inside. At first, I didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. I just kept waiting for the ambulance to speed off to the hospital. Instead, though, the EMTs lingered around and questioned Chase about what had happened. At one point I heard Chase say the following:

“I don’t know. I checked on him at 3:30 and he was fine. But when I came back in at 5:30 he wasn’t on the couch where I left him. That’s when I noticed the back door was cracked open, and I found him lying there in the driveway. He wasn’t breathing.”

That is when it dawned on me: Mr. Toolson was already gone. Probably died before Chase discovered his body.

Quite frankly, I had no idea that Mr. Toolson was even back home, yet. Less than four days before, he had been rushed to the ER after collapsing from an apparent stroke in his living room. He spent Sunday night through Wednesday evening in the ICU at Baylor. Why Mr. Toolson would be back so soon was completely beyond me at the time. Later, though, I learned that he was released mainly due to insurance woes. Namely: the Toolson’s didn’t have any, and it wasn’t financially realistic for his family to pay the ever-mounting medical bills involved in an extended stay in the ICU. Sadly, such a decision proved fatal. A mere twelve hours later, Mr. Toolson was gone.

Later on that morning, I found myself crying in my office. Yes, I’ve made fun of my next door neighbors here on my blog, but never out of spite. They’ve always been…well, a little interesting, but primarily in an “I’m utterly fascinated by them” kind of way. Plus, most of my “Toolson Incident Reports” have been about Mr. Toolson’s son, Chase, Chase’s girlfriend, “Jane Doe”, and their two babies, Jet and Savannah. After all, it isn’t every day that a baby comes crawling out from underneath your car.

Mr. Toolson, though, was always looking out for me and my wellbeing. When work was being done on my house, he’d inspect the progress and keep an eye on the workers. If I went out of town, he’d park his car in my driveway and leave his flood lights on all night to deter criminals. He’d even clean out my gutters if he noticed that they had become full of debris during a recent heavy rain. Mr. Toolson was a really good neighbor – the kind of neighbor you read about in books set in the 1950s: watchful, helpful and kind. Yes, he was a little odd, but I always felt safe knowing that he around and keeping tabs on everything.

Then there is his family. Mr. Toolson had recently come out of retirement and taken two jobs (one at CVS and another at SAM’S) to help support his flock. His son Chase, released from prison late last year, was having a hard time holding down a job and providing for Jane, Jet and Savannah. Consequently, when Chase and Jane could no longer afford the apartment they were renting, Mr. Toolson let them move back in with him and his wife this past spring. As the grandparents, Mr. Toolson and his wife would take turns watching Jet and Savannah while Chase and Jane tried to save up enough money to get back on their feet. Yes, the Toolson’s might be a little dysfunctional, but they take care of one another. Something I’ve always respected.

I don’t know what the family will do now that they have lost their patriarch. It is so sad. The family relied on Mr. Toolson so much, and now he is gone.

Even more tragic: When Chase called 911 after he discovered his father in the driveway, he was put ON HOLD for 10 minutes. Is that even legal? Granted, it sounds like Mr. Toolson was most likely DOA, but no one could have known that for sure at the time. In a situation where seconds count, being put on hold could have been the difference between life and death.

I know it is silly, but I just keep wishing I’d shown Mr. Toolson my pictures from Africa. He asked on several occasions to see them, but I hadn’t finished compiling them into an album, yet. It is just one of those projects I started, but never got around to finishing. Now, of course, I wish I had gotten my act together and completed the silly scrapbook in time to show him before he passed away. I bet it would have made Mr. Toolson happy to see them. He told me once that he had always dreamt of traveling to Africa and going on a safari. He was like a little kid when I told him about all the animals I had seen – his eyes literately lit up with excitement.

Sigh. If only…

"For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?" - Jane Austen

It is THAT time again, folks! Yep, time for yet another installment of “Toolson Tidbits”!

I know, I know. It’s been waaaay too long since my last update on my next door neighbors. Not that I have been without material, mind you (that would be impossible!).

Anyway, like before, I’m going to do this in INCIDENT REPORT format. If you need to be reminded of previous stories about the Toolson’s, please visit HERE and HERE. Otherwise, I now leave you to the following:

INCIDENT #1

“Jane Doe” had baby number two on the day after Christmas. As you may or may not remember, there was some initial confusion as to Jane’s due date. She thought she was only three months pregnant this time last year, which was odd considering:

1. The size of her “baby bump” (i.e. third trimester BIG).



2. Her last period had been back in February.

But whatever. She had done the whole pregnancy thing before, so she obviously knew more about the process than I did.

She finally DID make it to the doctor, though, and not just over the phone, either. Apparently, both doctor and pregnant Jane were astonished to discover that she was in her sixth month. As if there was ANY doubt!!!

The news, albeit shocking, was also a relief to Jane who was thrilled to learn that baby number two may be born before the New Year (thus making it possible for her to claim two dependents on her taxes in 2007). Because that’s why people have babies in the first place – as a tax write off! Jane was so excited about the prospect that she actually scheduled her labor to be induced on December 30th (just, you know, to make sure!).

As luck would have it though, little Savannah came out on her own the day after Christmas.

Thank goodness…


INCIDENT #2

In the spring, I was asked to hold Savannah while her mother ran inside to grab something. This was when I learned that babies vibrate just before they blow their diapers off.

[Note: Baby poop does NOT smell sweeter than regular poop.]


INCIDENT #3

I could not figure out why Gypsy Kitty was always so traumatized when I left her inside during the day. So, like any good investigator, I started coming home randomly during the day to check on her in an attempt to figure out what the problem was.

During one of these mid morning visits, I learned that Jet (the two year old) found it amusing to run up to my front door, bang on it, hear my dogs bark and then run away.

Ah-ha!

Since this activity was stressing Gypsy out so much (she’d literately start trembling when she heard him coming), I politely asked “Jane Doe” to keep Jet from running over and banging on the front door. Jane seemed to understand, and promised to keep Jet away.

Things got better for awhile, but it wasn’t long before I started to notice the same traumatized-dog behavior from Gypsy when I returned home each day. Thinking the problem must still be Jet running over and banging on the door, I started randomly returning home again during the morning or mid afternoon. My thought process was: I’d catch Jet in the act and confront Jane about his behavior once again.

What I discovered, however, was slightly different from before. Now, instead of Jet running over and banging on the door, I found Jane walking over to my front porch with her son and repeatedly ringing the doorbell. This evoked a similar reaction to Jet’s banging (i.e. barking dogs).

Trying hard not to lose my temper, I again asked Jane to stop bothering my dogs. She explained to me that her son just wanted to see them, and didn’t see the harm in going about it in the manner described. I persisted, though, and again she promised that such activities would stop.

Like before, things calmed down for awhile, but it wasn’t long before I started returning home to find BOTH a traumatized Gypsy Kitty AND teeth marks on front door. After doing a little more reconnaissance, I discovered that Jet was back to his old “bang and run” routine. Gypsy, unable to handle the stress, was now nervously chewing on the front door while she waited – terrified – for the screaming child to return to taunt her.

Knowing it would do no good to confront Jane again about the situation, I decided to buy a pet gate and barricade the dogs in the kitchen AWAY from the front door. This worked for almost an entire week before I returned home to find evidence that Gypsy had started chewing on the BACK door. Further inspection revealed several cigarette butts littered around my deck and backyard. Apparently, when Jane and Jet discovered that the dogs were being kept in the kitchen away from the front door, she started to bring her son to the back door instead.

Now, when my dogs have to be left inside (due to weather or extreme heat or cold), I have to barricade them in the back bedroom with the shades drawn and a portable radio playing soothing, classical music.


INCIDENT #4

While celebrating Gypsy Kitty’s 4th birthday last May (yes, I throw birthday parties for my dogs), my aunt noticed an odd odor wafting over the fence that separates my yard from the Toolsons. My aunt’s friend, Harriet, decided to investigate. She was gone approximately two minutes before returning and announcing in a loud whisper:

“Ya’ll! Her neighbors are sitting on their porch overlooking the driveway smoking marijuana! I recognize the smell from the 1960s!”


INCIDENT #5

I returned home one evening from the grocery store to discover Jet in my backyard digging a hole behind a bush with a plastic, yellow shovel. The backyard gate was closed, so it was unclear how he got in (the gate latch is too high for him to reach).

Anyway, not knowing what else to do, I picked Jet up, carried him across the driveway and knocked on the door. At first there was no answer (which almost sent me into a panic), but finally the grandmother walked past the door and I got her attention by waving at her through the window at the top of the door. It was clear she had just gotten home from the office.

Grandma Toolson: “Oh, hi! Were you babysitting Jet?”

Me: “Uh, no. I just came home from the store and found him digging in my backyard with his plastic shovel.”

Grandma Toolson: “Oh. That’s…that’s…well, it is NOT good, anyway. Where are his parents?”

Me: “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them. I was hoping they were inside.”

Grandma Toolson: “Hold on. Let me see if they are here. I just walked in the door. CHASE? CHASE? ARE YOU HOME?”

Chase: [From the other room] “Yeah? I’m right here, Mom.”

Grandma Toolson: “Where is Jet?”

Chase: “I dunno. With his mother?”

Grandma Toolson: “No. Want to try again?”

Chase: “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since I was working on the car in the driveway.”

Grandma Toolson: “When was that, exactly?”

Chase: “I dunno. An hour ago?”

Grandma Toolson: “Well, [Deals] from next door just found your baby in her backyard.”

Chase: [Running in from the other room] “Whaaaaat?!”

Grandma Toolson: “Yeah. My thoughts exactly. [Turning back to me] Thank you for returning my grandson.”

Me: “Sure. Anytime.”


INCIDENT #6

RR and JLR picked my dogs up from the doggie hotel one day last June. They agreed to do so as long as they could, A) do their laundry at my house, and B) watch my cable TV (a fair trade in my books).

Anyway, my flight didn’t get in until late that evening, so I didn’t make it home until almost 10 PM. However, NO SOONER did I pull in the driveway did I see my neighbor’s side door open and Mr. Toolson come barreling out towards me.

Mr. Toolson: “There were people in your house this afternoon. Two women. Did you know about that?”

Me: “Yeah. They picked up my dogs and delivered them here.”

Mr. Toolson: “Well, it also looked like they were planning on doing some laundry. By the looks of it, it was at least 4 or 5 loads. Did you know about THAT?”

Me: “Yeah. They asked me if they could do a few loads in exchange for picking up my dogs. I agreed.”

Mr. Toolson: “Well, did you know they ordered pizza, too?”

Me: “No. I didn’t know that.”

Mr. Toolson: “Well, they did. A pizza delivery man showed up with it and everything. Anyway, just thought you should know.”

Me: “Thank you, Mr. Toolson. I really appreciate you keeping tabs on my house while I am away.”

Mr. Toolson: “Just being neighborly.”

The best part of THIS incident was getting to call RR the next day and ask her how the pizza was. I think she thought I had my house bugged!


INCIDENT #7

Mark, my mentally challenged across the street neighbor, was recently put in a long term care facility because his parents became too ill to care for him (they are both in their late 80s).

Anyway, the day that Trevor and I were scheduled to leave Dallas for our Colorado vacation, Mark went missing. His family was literately going door to door in the neighborhood looking for him. The thought process was that he may try to return home – even though his parent’s house was on the market and no one was living in it anymore.

The lady who came to my house looking for him asked if I would mind letting the Toolsons know about Mark’s disappearance. Apparently, they weren’t home, but she thought if Mark DID show up in the neighborhood, he’d probably stop by the Toolsons house. After all, Mark had lived across the street from the Toolsons for almost four decades, so he’d probably go to them if/when he discovered he was no longer able to get inside his house.

About half an hour came and went before I heard the Toolson’s car pull into the driveway. I immediately went outside to greet them.

Me: “Hi.”

Chase: “Oh, hi.”

Me: “Have you seen or heard from Mark?”

Chase: “Uh, no. Why?”

I proceeded to tell Chase everything I had learned from the lady who stopped by my house looking for Mark.

Chase: “Oh, my! That’s horrible!”

Me: “I know! I’m worried about him! Poor guy!”

Chase: “I bet he’s with Jerry.”

Me: “Jerry?”

Chase: “Yeah. Jerry. You know Jerry, right?”

Me: “Uhmmm, no. I don’t think so, anyway.”

Chase: “Oh. Well, Jerry is the neighborhood crack head. He and Mark are friends. I bet Mark went to Jerry’s house.”

Me: “A crack head?”

Chase: “Yeah. Never give Jerry any money. He’ll say it is for a soda or something like that, but he ALWAYS finds a way to score crack with it.”

Me: “Oh.”

Chase: “Me and Jerry used to be close friends back when I was a crack head, too. I mean, Jerry is a good guy and all, but sometimes it’s hard to stay friends with someone when they are a crack head, you know?”

Me: “I could see that.”

Chase: “Yeah. Well, it is true.”

Me: “Well, here’s [the lady’s] phone number. Call her if you see or hear anything from Mark, okay? Or if you know where Jerry is, I bet she’d be interested in that information, too.”

Chase: “Oh, I bet he and Jerry are crashed out in one of the many East Dallas crack houses right now as we speak.”

Me: “Right. Well, if you figure out which one, let her know, okay?”

Chase: “Yeah. I can do that.”

Me: “Thanks.”

[NOTE: Mark was found and is doing fine.]


INCIDENT #8

Chase asked Trevor if he could borrow a dollar to buy baby formula. Trevor didn’t have any cash, so he gave them the $10 I keep hidden in my car for “parking emergencies”.

Trevor: “I’ll pay you back if they don’t okay?”

Me: “No problem. I feel bad for them, anyway. They live paycheck to paycheck. Plus, no telling where they buy baby formula for a $1. I know I’ve seen stuff at the grocery story that is upwards of $15 for a 12 oz. can. In fact, the cheapest I remember seeing it for was around $4 for a small jar of that concentrated liquid stuff. Sigh. It makes me feel bad when I consider how much I spend on my dogs every month, you know?”


INCIDENT #9

“Jane Doe” rang my doorbell one day because she:

1. Wanted to borrow an iron, so Chase could iron his pants.



2. Wanted to know if she had done the right thing by getting her tubes tied.

INCIDENT #10

Jane Doe was sitting on the driveway smoking a cigarette late one evening. Chase was busy cleaning the interior windows of his dad’s car with his white t-shirt. One swipe with the shirt on the window, and the cotton turned completely black with ash.

Chase: “Maybe we should start smoking with the windows done when the babies are in the car.”

Jane: “Why?”


INCIDENT #11

Was telling Jane Doe about our trip to Colorado and all the hikes Trevor and I went on…

Jane: “Did you see any animals?”

Me: “Oh, yeah. Lots of animals.”

Jane: “Like what?”

Me: “Geese, deer, marmots, beavers, chipmunks...”

Jane: “Any bear?”

Me: “No, no bears. Although, we saw evidence of bears on our hikes.”

Jane: “Like what?”

Me: “Feces and…”

Jane: “…Feces?! Oh, you mean like footprints?”


INCIDENT #12

Jane was outside late one night with Jet. I was just returning home after taking the dogs out on their evening walk. After chitchatting with Jane for a couple of minutes, I told her I was tired and started heading toward the door.

Jane: “Hold on, [Deals]. I want Jet to say, ‘Night, night’ to you. He’s really starting to talk a lot now and can even make sentences. Jet! Come over here for a second!”

Jet runs over. That boy RUNS everywhere. Always with his arms stuck out like wings on an airplane.

Jane: “Jet? Can you say, ‘Night, night’ to [Deals]?”

Jet: [With his hands on his hips for dramatic flare] “GOD D*MN IT!”

Both Jane and I watch as Jet turns around and runs back up the driveway. I think we are both too shocked to say anything. After all, it isn’t every day that you get sworn at by a two year old.

Finally…

Me: “It’s funny what kids pick up, huh?”

Jane: “Yeah. It is. I just wish he didn’t say THAT all the time.”

Me: “All the time, huh?”

Jane: “Yeah.”

Me: “Oh. That sucks.”

So, does anyone else have stories about their weirdo neighbors? I can’t be the only one, can I? Uh, hello? Anyone? Is anyone there?

"Your next-door neighbor is not a man; he is an environment." - Gilbert K. Chesterton

I think I’ve mentioned before that my next door neighbors are a little...ahem...“white-trash”. That said, they are very, very sweet people, and would probably do anything to help me out in a pinch (within reason, of course). Whenever I go out of town, they watch my house, park cars in my driveway (to make it look like I’m home), etc. They have all of my emergency contact information, and I am confident that it will be my next door neighbors (not my parents, siblings or boyfriend) who will first sound the alarm should I ever go missing or something of that nature.

Because they are such sweet people – and so protective of me and my belongings – I don’t get irritated when, say, the wind blows the trash from their yard into mine. Or when I discover “Mr. Toolson” wandering around my backyard at 10 PM, “just checking on the progress of the landscapin’ project”. I honestly believe that they have my safety and wellbeing at heart. True, they are a bizarre bunch, but harmless. Completely harmless.

Anyway, “The Toolsons” never cease to fascinate me. I really should start a BLOG to track nothing else but their odd behavior. Seriously. They crack me up, and give me loads of stories to tell. However, seeing as though I hardly have enough time to update this BLOG, I’ll stick with giving everyone periodic updates on what's going on next door.

Speaking of which, I hope you enjoy the following “Toolson Tidbits”:

Incident #1:

As I mentioned in THIS POST the daughter-in-law of Mr. and Mrs. Toolson is pregnant with her second child. However, despite the fact that she was already showing in early July, “Jane Doe” still hadn’t been to the doctor by Labor Day. When I asked her about this, she shrugged her shoulders and told me that it wasn’t a big deal. After all, she was only in her first trimester.


“First trimester,” I exclaimed! “But you’re already so big! Are you sure you’re not further along?”

“Well, that’s what the doctor thinks,” Jane Doe explained.

“I thought you said you hadn’t been to the doctor, yet.”

“I haven’t, but I called one on the phone. He thought I sounded like I was only in my second or third month.”

“Oh.” (I wanted to say something super sarcastic here, but bit my tongue. She’s sweet, but not-the-brightest-crayon-in-the-box, if you know what I mean. It would only confuse her if I asked what the difference in sound was in a woman three months pregnant versus six.)

“He thinks my due date will be in late February or something, which kind of sucks. I was hoping that this one would be born before the New Year, so I could get a tax benefit for having two kids.”

“Bummer. Did you tell the doctor that you haven’t had your period since last February or March?”

“Yeah, but he still thinks I’m only a month or two along.”

“Maybe you should get a second opinion? I don’t think you’re supposed to start showing until second trimester, and you are definitely showing.”

“Well, he’s the doctor. I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Uhmmmm…okay.”


As it turns out, I only had to wait about a week for “Jane Doe” to finally go to the doctor. Apparently, it didn’t take long for him to discover that she wasn’t in her first trimester at all (duh!). Yeah, she was in her sixth month (which, incase you are keeping track, is the last month of the SECOND trimester). So, “Jane Doe” will be welcoming baby #2 (a girl) into the world sometime in mid-December. Looks like she’ll be getting that tax write-off after all…


Incident #2:

A couple of days after I returned from Africa, I ran into “Mr. Toolson”. This is the conversation that transpired:


“Oh, good! I was hoping to run into you today,” exclaimed “Mr. Toolson” as he ran towards me.

“Hi! Is everything okay,” I inquired?

“Oh, sure. I just wanted to get something off my chest.”

“Okay…”

“I owe you money from 8 PM last Thursday until 4:30 PM last Friday.”

“For what?”

“Well, I didn’t pay our electric bill again last month and they turned the power off. So, I called with my bank card number, but they couldn’t get anyone out to turn the lights back on until the next afternoon. So, I plugged into your tree right there and ran extension cords across the driveway so we could have electricity. I would have asked first, but you were in Africa.”

“Oh…”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I’m glad I could help. I’m just trying to get a mental-picture, that’s all. You must have one long extension cord!”

“Actually, no. I just hooked about 15 of them together. I even ran one line up the stairs, so we could watch TV in the bedroom.”

“Oh.”


Incident #3:

I returned home one night to find the Toolsons cooking on the grill underneath their carport. At one point, “Jane Doe” walked calmly outside with Jet (her 18 month old son). She waited patiently while Mr. Toolson and I finished our conversation before very matter-of-factly announcing that the stove in the kitchen was on fire.

It was at that moment that I first noticed the flames on the other side of the kitchen window.

Later, after the fire was put out, Mr. Toolson asked “Jane Doe” why she waited so long to tell him about the blaze. Her answer: “Well, the stove catches on fire all the time over here, so it didn’t seem like something important enough to interrupt the conversation over.”


Incident #4:

Last Monday I returned home to discover that someone had run over my front yard and walkway with their car. Two of my solar lights were shattered, a couple of my landscaping bricks were cracked into several pieces, a strange “dent” was visible in the bark of my pecan tree and one of my sprinklers heads was laying in the middle of the driveway. Thank goodness I had turned the sprinkler main off the day before (because of an unrelated sprinkler issue in the backyard the previous afternoon). Otherwise, the broken sprinkler head would have sprouted some sort of geyser.

Anyway, while I was cleaning up the mess, I was approached by my across-the-street neighbor, “Mark”. Everyone in the neighborhood knows “Mark”, and if you are patient enough “Mark” will tell you everything he knows about the people in the neighborhood. He has lived on the street with his parents for his entire life, and loves to make new friends. If someone new moves in, “Mark” will most likely be the first person on the block that they meet. He’s like the unofficial neighborhood “Welcome Wagon”.

Now, “Mark” is in his mid-fifties, but has the mentality of someone around the age of eight or nine. I’m not saying this to be mean, but because “Mark” is mentally retarded. So, when I heard “Mark” call out my name (he thinks my name is “Let’s Make a Deal, Gamble”) and saw him walk (he normally runs) across the street with his head down (it’s normally up with a BIG smile plastered from ear to ear) – I knew something was up.


“What’s up, Mark?”

“I dunno. Not much. Your light’s broke and you can’t fix it?”

“Yeah, it’s broken. Not a big deal, though. They weren’t expensive. Do you know what happened?”

[Mark looks at me and hesitates…] “No.”

“It’s just so weird. It looks like a car drove up and hit my lights and tree.”

“Oh. Yeah, it does look like that. I bet that’s what happened. Car hit the tree.”

“Well, I hope everyone is okay.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” [Mark hesitates again…] “I got a secret. Promise not to tell?”

“Okay…”

“Well, you know [Jane Doe’s] mother?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, she’d had one-too-many-beers or something. That’s what my dad always says when my brother has too much to drink – one-too-many beers. It looked like she forgot which driveway was which. She drove right up and hit your tree. There is a dent in her car, too. She was real mad. She screamed real loud. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. I don’t think she even told [Mr. Toolson]. She smelled bad. Don’t tell that I told, though. I don’t want to be a no tattletale or nothing. It’s just that she broke your lights and didn’t tell you or say ‘sorry’. That’s not right. It was just an accident. Nobody means for an accident to happen. You just say ‘sorry’ and it will be okay. She should have said ‘sorry’. It’s good to be honest.”

“Thanks for telling me, Mark.”

“Okay. I’m sorry about your lights. They were pretty at night. Don’t tell nobody I told.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

“Maybe she’ll tell you later? I hope so. Just don’t tell her I told you first. It was just an accident. She didn’t mean it.”

“It’s our little secret, Mark.”


Anyway, I’ve never heard about “the incident” from the Toolsons, so I’m guessing “Jane Doe’s” mother never told them about it, either. Plus, the solar lights were cheap, so it wasn’t a big loss. The most expensive thing was the sprinkler repair, but the sprinkler guy was so amused by the tale of the drunk-driveway-sprinkler-hit-and-run, he just threw that in for free.

I guess I now know why Benjamin Franklin once said:

“Love thy neighbor, but don't pull down your hedge.”

When babies crawl out from underneath cars (or why some people shouldn't be allowed to have children)...

I just got some rather distressing news.

In order for everyone to fully grasp the level of “distressing” here, I offer the following back-story:

About six months ago, Trevor stopped by to pick me up for lunch. Since it was the weekend (and I hadn’t gotten out of bed until Trevor called to see if I was hungry), I wasn’t quite ready to go when he arrived at my house. So, I invited him to come inside while I finished getting dressed.

It wasn’t long until I was good to go, however (my winter weekend attire generally consists of blue jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a hooded-sweatshirt. No make-up allowed. Hat to cover undone hair, optional). So, Trevor headed out to the car, while I locked up my house, set the alarm, etc.

I live next door to an older couple. They are very nice people. A little white trash, but sweet. If I ever go missing, I’m confident that they will be the ones – not my parents, friends, family or coworkers – that will first notice my absence. I swear they keep a log of my comings and goings. I might find it creepy, if it wasn’t kinda reassuring.

Anyway, this older couple (who I’ll refer to as “The Toolsons” to protect their identity) has a son that is about my age. We will call him “Chase”. Chase has always been nice enough to me, although you can tell that there is definitely another side to him. Since I’ve lived in my little house (which, by the way, has been just under a year), Chase has:

Been beaten up by his ex-girlfriend (who lives directly across the street).

Had his tires slashed by said ex-girlfriend…TWICE.

Been beaten up by said ex-girlfriend AGAIN (this time he was dumped in the driveway, and was bleeding so badly that an ambulance had to be called to take him to the hospital).

Been imprisoned for six months for illegal drug possession.

Now, until recently, Chase has been living at home (with the exception of when he was in prison, of course) with his parents, his current girlfriend (who’s name I’ve never known), and his infant son, Jet (yes, like the plane).

Since Chase’s current girlfriend is so central to this story, I’ll call her “Jane Doe” from here on out.

Now where was I? Oh, yes. So, Trevor heads out to the car, while I finished locking up my house and all. My front door is a little tricky to lock properly, and it was giving me an especially hard time that day. This was particularly frustrating because it was a tad on the chilly side that morning, and I was looking forward to being in the nice, warm car. Trevor, as if reading my mind, got inside and started the engine.

Meanwhile, Jane Doe walks up to Trevor and asks if he’s seen her baby.

Trevor: “Your baby?”

Jane Doe: “Yeah, Jet. He was just here a second ago.”

Trevor: “[Starting to look for baby…] Uhmmmm…”

Jane Doe: “He couldn’t have gone very far. I mean, I was just inside for, like, two seconds. The phone rang, and I stepped inside to grab it. I bet he’s in a bush or something. Jet really likes nature.”

Trevor: “[Now looking under the bushes…] Uhmmmm…”

This was about the time that I finally finished locking my front door, and I turned around just in time to see the baby CRAWLING OUT FROM UNDERNEATH TREVOR’S CAR!!

Me: “Uh, I found the baby.”

Trevor: “Really?”

Jane Doe: “Oh, good. Where is he?”

Me: “Right here. He just crawled out from underneath Trevor’s car.”

Trevor: “[Loosing all color in his face…] Crawled out from underneath…WHERE?!”

Me: “Your car.”

Jane Doe: “[Picking up baby…] Oh, how funny! Jet just loves cars! I bet he’ll grow up to be an auto-mechanic someday! He’s always crawling underneath them. I guess I should have thought to look there first, huh?!”

Me & Trevor: [Staring at Jane in shocked silence…]

Jane Doe: “Well, thanks for helping me find him! You two going to lunch?”

Me & Trevor: “[Nodding slowly…] Uh huh.”

Jane Doe: “Cool! Well have fun. Bye!”

Me & Trevor: “[Still in shock…] Bye.”

So, that was a tad disconcerting! I still cannot believe it! We could have run over a baby! There was a baby under Trevor’s car! AGGGGHHHH!!!!

It is six months later, and I STILL find myself looking under my car before I get in it!! Is that normal?! Is it normal to have to check for babies underneath one’s car?! Does anyone else have to check for babies underneath THEIR car?!

Anyway, as if this event wasn’t bad enough, a few days later I returned home to find Jane Doe smoking in driveway (she’s a regular chimney, she is):

Jane Doe: “Hey.”

Me: “Hey.”

Jane Doe: “What’s going on?”

Me: “Not much. Just working. Any news from Chase? Doesn’t he get out [of prison] soon?”

Jane Doe: “I hope so. He was supposed to be out already, but they won’t let him go, yet. It might be another three months, which really, really sucks. I mean, he knows he did wrong. He misses his family. He has a kid. Let him out!”

Me: “Well, hopefully he’ll get out soon.”

Jane Doe: “Yeah. I write him a letter everyday. I think he is going to miss Jet’s first steps.”

Me: “Really? Aw. That’s too bad.”

Jane Doe: “Yeah. It is.”

Me: “[After long, awkward pause…] So, how is Jet?”

Jane Doe: “Sick.”

Me: “Oh, no! Really?”

Jane Doe: “Yeah. He has bad diarrhea. He’s had it for a couple of days now.”

Me: “Have you taken him to the doctor?”

Jane Doe: “Yeah, but there was a really long wait at the clinic. Plus, the doctor there doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, at least not enough at what he charges. So, I left.”

Me: “Oh.”

Jane Doe: “Do you know what to do for babies with diarrhea?”

Me: “No. I’m not a doctor. I don’t even have kids.”

Jane Doe: “Yeah, but you’re smart. I can tell. You’ve been to college and sh*t.”

Me: “But that doesn’t mean I know anything. Much less about babies.”

Jane Doe: “C’mon. Please?”

Me: “[Long pause…] Well, have you tried Pedialyte? I mean, I dunno, but I’ve seen commercials on TV for it. I think it can help with the dehydration.”

Jane Doe: “Jet’s dehydrated?”

Me: “Yeah, I bet he probably is. I think that’s what happens when you have diarrhea. It takes the fluid right out of you.”

Jane Doe: “And the Pedialyte will help?”

Me: “Well, I don’t think it will hurt anyway. I’d still take him to the doctor, though, if he’s not better by tomorrow morning.”

Jane Doe: “Okay. I’ll try it. Thanks.”

And try it she did. The next time I saw her, she ran up and thanked me for helping Jet when he was sick. Apparently, the Pedialyte “cured him” (Jane Doe’s words, not mine). I’ve spent the past six months worrying that I’d be summoned again for more impromptu pediatric medical care for the baby next door. Luckily, Jet has been blessed with an immune system that doesn’t “do sick” often (thank goodness. I’m sure Pedialyte only goes so far…).

Plus, Chase finally got released from prison, and (after holding down a steady job for two months) was able to move his small family out of his parents’ house a few of weeks ago. They now live in an apartment complex several miles away.

Now to the bad news…

It cannot be medically confirmed because she hasn’t been to the doctor yet (what is it with doctors and her, anyway?!), but Jane is pregnant again. Notice I didn’t say “thinks she is pregnant”. The word “thinks” is totally moot at this point. She’s already showing. So, by the looks of things, I’m guessing that baby Jet will have a new brother or sister before Christmas (possibly Thanksgiving).

Sigh.

Some people shouldn’t be allowed to spawn be parents – especially those that think the undercarriage of a parked car is an appropriate place for their baby to play.