Here's the setup and the scenario. You own a home in a subdivision. You have a huge back deck with a sound system and on rare occasions, you enjoy entertaining guests. Typically alcoholic beverages are served and while the music is playing and food is cooking on the grill, conversation is lively and can sometimes lead to controversial subjects that might make certain guests louder than normal in trying to get their point across. I enjoy that. That's summertime in the Indiana Hamptons, without the Hamptons. We pretend we're somebodies when we know we're nobodies, but amidst the depth of discussion, we're lively and animated.
Occasionally, a swear word slips out. Sh(It) happens. Bullsh(It) even happens when we discuss really controversial subjects, like the size of my head, or the relevance of Larry, Curly and Mo as they relate to our current day existence. It's family, and it can get heated at times, but the swear words are always spoken with love and respect.
The problem? The neighbors. God help me if they read my blog, but I'm totally p(isse)'d off that they'd have the gall to approach us and ask us to "tame it down." I've lived many places and have had many neighbors and have never been approached in this manner. Heck, if this were late night high jinx, I'd understand, but we're talking early evening here folks, and on a Saturday to boot.
I guess more than anything, my feelings were hurt. I practice tolerance and have accepted and put up with many neighborly transgressions through the years. Live and let live, I say. Love thy neighbor's potty mouth as thy own. It's an occasional thing, so live with it. Am I wrong?
Wishing you all a fantastic Memorial Day weekend and may your parties and cookouts be loud, boisterous and filled with fun.
This is my documentation of my life after turning 50. Lots of recipes, some healthy, some not so much... tossed up with a hefty dose of sarcasm and motherly love.
My email address: maggielauerrdh(at)yahoo.com