Pickles by Brian Crane for July 11, 2019

I’ve had that: where I ask a question and while asking the answer pops into my head. Annoying as (bleep)!

I don’t even know my neighbors’ names. In fact, I don’t see them that often nor get to acquaint myself with them.

The only reason I know my next door neighbor’s name is because I sometimes get their mail. Turns out some of the family has my last name even though we’re not related.

I have a neighbor woman who’s kind of a pain. I refer to as “Osama bin lady”

Dave’s not home (Cheech and Chong routine).

That’s not very imaginative. Every Tom, Dick and Harry is named Dave.

Last time I had this conversation, I just skipped the hard part and asked, “What’s Dave’s name?” Alas, the answer I got was, “I don’t know.”

My neighbors name is Dave. The other ones are an old, sour, cranky couple with a grandson who lives next door.

So if Earl sees him doing something, he asks “What are you doing, Dave?” (2001 reference)

I had an old friend who always called me Buddy. I felt honored, until I found out he called everyone Buddy. Now it’s the same with my mom, who calls everyone Hon.

Dave lives behind on the left and David lives behind on the right.

It can be unwise to get too chummy with your neighbors, in case relations turn south. But in my neighborhood we do all know each others names, which helps for watching the house, watering plants, picking up packages, etc. when we or they are traveling.

I want to see Roscoe’s reaction to that conversation.

Some of my neighbors would step over me if I were dead in the drive…growing up we knew practically the whole street. Never locked our doors, and had coffee and or tea with some. Now, no one bothers…no kids playing outside, both parents working….BOO HISS. A neighbor across the street knows everything and everyone…hmmmm.

Dave, “Dave’s not here, man”

Oh That Dave!

well that sure was a no brainer!!

My dad: Where’s whats-his-name?

Me: Who’s whats-his-name?

My dad: Mike!

Me: Why didn’t you say that in the first place!

We’d do the same thing with “Hand me that whatchamacallit”

Sadly now that I’m older i understand. : (

There are about 10 homes on our street. Everyone knows each other and we occasionally have cookouts or new years parties together. We know each other’s dogs and cats too. It is a pretty diverse group but we have fun.

Whatever works.

Had it not spurred his memory, he could have said, “The short, bald, Indian one with the red 2017 Buick and buck teeth.”

I know the neighbors on either side and a lady across the street. They are nice. The other ones on my block are detached but quiet. I need quiet, so I like them, too.

I’ve always been bad with names, which isn’t a good thing for someone like me who worked in sales most of my working years. In spite of the flaw I did well though. I can tell you the names of most all of my neighbors dogs and cats though. Weird but apartment living can do that for you I guess.

We call my neighbors Sanford and Son. Thank goodness they moved!

I was once in a group where someone asked in all seriousness, “Who wrote Dante’s Inferno?” And several were stumped.

This made me laugh so hard! And all the comments, too!

Pretty sure Dave won’t want to know Earl’s or Opal’s names. But he will know Nelson.

The old man’s losing it! . . . as if he had “it” to begin with.

⇧ bloodykate3

doubtless they moved to get away from you…

That little bit of misdirection works for me about 15% of the time. The rest of the time, neither of us remembers it until we’re getting ready for bed, when one of us says “Dave” and we both feel better.

I know more of my neighbor’s dog’s names than my neighbor’s names. The big black Nuffie is Olive, the Papillion is Geordi, and the Australian Shepherd is Rex.