Caren Explains the neighborhood

My new neighborhood is a strange but wonderful place. There are plenty of old houses -- some renovated, some in need of renovation -- and beautiful trees that have been growing for years and years. There is an ugly cinderblock building, though, across the street from our loft. It is painted forest green and has been the target of some graffiiti artists as of late. It is especially unfortunate because the graffiti is ridiculous and not in any way artistic. For example, someone wrote about Gaelic breasts? Huh? But luckily the graffiti seems to be contained to that corner, including a STOP sign that someone altered so that it reads "STOP Punishing Yourself."

Our loft is above a yoga studio and for some reason that yoga studio makes a lot of noise. Loud music, bongo drums, chanting. One night it was so loud that I went down to find the source of the commotion and discovered a naked yoga class in process. Yikes.

The sidewalks here are crooked but get a lot of foot traffic. This morning there were people passing through to go to the salon, the yoga studio and the bakery. Most of them were wearing scarves and winter hats, which makes sense since it is December. But it is 70 degrees outside. December outfits do not need to be wintery if it is summery outside.

My roommates and I sometimes see a man walking up and down the street in the mornings. We thought he was homeless but it turns out he actually owns a large but undeveloped plot of land around the block. He sleeps there at night and does construction work in the daylight from what we can tell. He carries his shoes over his shoulder sometimes and seems to be very shy, because my roommate tries to talk to him and he doesn't say anything in reply. If we were in trouble, I bet he would save us. He could be our Boo Radley.

Kitty likes to go on the back deck and watch the trains go by. She has never tried to venture away from the deck, and only once has she gone out the front door. She was too scared to go any further than the doormat.

One of the coffee shops down the street serves Superman ice cream, which is my favorite flavor simply because it is red, yellow and blue. In reality, I think its just vanilla ice cream with food coloring, but I like that It turns your tongue different colors. I will order this type of ice cream until I am in my 90s.

And though I can't find the source, I know that one of my neighbors runs a delicious-smelling bakery out of his or her house. I don't know how that sweet brownie aroma travels so far, but it is terribly tempting and terribly frustrating not to know where it is coming from.

Just another day in the neighborhood...