Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Air is sweet

We live up the hill from the City Waste Transfer station. On the odd August day the winds from the river send the scents of the urban detritus across the neighbourhood. But, I don't mind. The occurrences are few and once I confirm that the origin of the stench is external and beyond my control I am usually delighted to put down my OxyClean and try to make it up to whichever cat I had been blaming.

Besides, this neighbourhood is THE BEST. We live on fucking Sesame Street!! Until the kids are 5 I think we would be totally stupid to move from here. P-man, are you out there?

Where we live is pretty plain. We bought a very typical starter home after living in my apartment on the westside for a long time. We were not alone. It seems in the aftermath of people who fly into buildings a bunch of Gen X'ing ME generation types -- like us -- put plans for worldwide domination aside and instead got it together to make the commitment to real property, debt, and procreation. Everywhere you look there are kids. Nice kids, too. Their parents aren't slouches either.

Surrounding all of us are the neighbourhood's pioneers, da Germans. Interspersed are the big new houses with multigenerational families, mostly from South East Asia -- Punjabi market is 6 blocks away. On the high street we've got tons of cheapo dollar stores, the obligatory Starbucks (this is the city after all), about 15 highly competitive green grocers, Filipino Barbeque, and 10 Chinese bakery/restaurants of varying quality. Average annual household income is around $50,000, so I guess you'd call this 'hood working class. There are trees and parks, little homes with people inside them who are nice and I love it.

We go out everyday. Our neighbours are nice. They always greet us. For example, en route to daycare, by foot, about 8:15 one day ... the child and I pass the new Sikh neighbour. He is muttering. Some morning prayers? Child smiles and this grandfatherly man halts his morning.. reaches a gentle hand to cup her chin, and smile in lieu of saying good morning in likely his second language... I could feel something like a blessing pass on to her.

Miss Fancy even got a new nickname this week: Bubbles. Since I've been home and have gone to Starbucks with her I was met with "Oh, YOU'RE Bubbles Mommy!?!" Last week, I was trundling home from the park and got accosted again by charming neighbour #257. "Ah, you finally had your bayeh-beeeee! There is a block party Saturday you know? Come to the block party; bring your bayyyubeee! D. would really like to see E., too, its been a while" -- "What's that E? Ah, yes the Skwhirhills are very snu-heeky. Well said my daughter."

We have lots of easy and breezy relationships around here, it's vital to our family. Our neighbourhood helped my daughter through that "will she be shy or not?" phase -- HA she's King of Kensington now! They relieve me at the playground when my head is buzzing with these responsibilities; provide arms for a child when my hands are full with another. When we had kids I knew we would need stuff. I certainly didn't have a clue it would be this sort of stuff.

2 Comments:

Blogger Mrs. Chicky said...

I now have total neighborhood envy. I would love, LOVE, to live in a neighborhood like that. But, unfortunately, I live in a Massachusetts suburb where people, mostly, keep to themselves.

You and your family are lucky to live in such a place. Tell p-man to stay put for a while.

7:01 PM  
Blogger nonlineargirl said...

I am sure your neighborhood is good (it sounds excellent) but even more I love how positive you are about life. Thanks, it makes me happy to read about your world.

10:39 PM  

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