The Neighbors Are Restless

Apparently the neighbors really haven't gotten a good look at us; or, they are just that curious because we've been invited to the "Bluebird Springs Neighborhood Soup and Salad Supper." I kid you not: is there anything more domestic and homey sounding than that title?! The invite was placed in our mailbox by the neighbors across the street, I think. It's a flyer that has pictures of little bluebirds and birdhouses on it. Seriously. As if that wasn't cute enough, here is the caption at the bottom:

"We hope you can all come before winter sets in, as we will only be able to wave to each other through snowflakes or across the frozen landscape." Oy. That thought scares me--lots of snowflakes, folks. Lots of snowflakes coming.

I leave you with this mental image: October 24th rolls around and it is the evening of the neighborhood supper. Gray-haired Bill shows up in his Border Patrol hat with his young, blonde wife who is wearing a wife-beater tank top under denim overalls--tattoos hanging out--with her big furry winter "Cousin Eddie" hat on, and a chihuahua in a backpack.
Quick--someone Air Mail me a rattlesnake: we're supposed to bring an appetizer!