But they play in people's yards. And by "people" I mean my yard. And by "play" I mean "run around screaming like they are being disemboweled, while waving sticks and leaving random things, like shoes and golf balls." And their screaming makes Murphy bark indignantly, because he can't see them but he can hear them In His Yard, and he does not hesitate to register his objections. I really don't want to be the "You kids get offa my lawn!!" lady, but seriously, WTF is going on here? They have 4 yards to play in and they are always on mine, and the yard that belongs to the two senior guys across the street.
I really am old, because I can't help thinking that "Back in my day" (way back in the ancient 80s, when my kids were little) "we taught our kids to play in their own yards!" And yes, I've spoken to at least two of the little
This has deteriorated into a Blah-g, and I apologize, but my days are full of not blog fodder lately. Layla needs to visit once a week.
As proof that I am Old, I have to confess that I haven't stayed awake to watch Saturday Night Live since Eddie Murphy was a new face. Apparently I should watch, because this freaking slayed me. (For the non-US readers: Rahm Emanuel is White House Chief of Staff, and known for his outspoken and profane language.) I'm thinking he must have enjoyed this if/when he saw it, because it's so dead-on, especially "What are you, FOURTEEN?" which is exactly what I thought at the time. Anyway, enjoy, and I promise an actual blog post that isn't full of "You kids get off my lawn!" crap tomorrow. ;-)