(no subject)
Today was the day of our annual neighborhood party, which sounds a little scary and suburban, but if it is, it's the best kind of scary and suburban I know. Our neighborhood is comprised of mostly young, liberal families with a lovely smattering of older hippies and a couple of seriously cool, really old hippie ladies who are the original owners of their homes (built in 1950). In the eight years that we've lived in this 'hood, there has been a veritable explosion of childbirths, so the kids have the run of the place. Picture maybe 50 kids with full-on free rein, maybe 150 adults, seven long tables loaded with food (everything from burgers to homemade peppermint ice cream to tempeh/brown rice "krispie" treats), a DJ (we have our own neighborhood DJ, who has the best music collection EVER), tons of beer, and two or three dudes pulling obligatory burger-flipping duty, and you've got our neighborhood party. I sometimes dream about moving into another house because ours doesn't have enough natural light, and then I think about leaving our neighborhood and I forget all about liking the sun.