Case of the Appearing Peaches and Case of the Flowery Smell

15.5 oz of formula by bottle
2 oz of milk/juice hybrid by cup

Total ounceage isn't bad, but we're really dwindling on the cup. Daycare has the opposite problem we do. They can get her to take the bottle but not the cup. Maybe I need to back down on the milk content of the cup.

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I like our neighbors here in suburbia. We bought our house new in 1999, and by now most of the houses have been sold at least once. There is one original owner in the recent vicinity, and it's been interesting to watch her boys grow from 2nd graders to high school graduates now. I sure miss Agnes. She was the older lady across the street who was the neighborhood gossip and lookout. After talking with her for half an hour, you knew everything about who was having an affair with whom, and you learned about every car that even slowed down in front of your house. Then she got lung cancer, and the two story house became too much for her. Now Diane and Bill live there. They're really nice. I get the vibe that they're former hippies who really, really enjoyed the 1960s and 70s.

Lance, his wife, his adult son, and his teenage granddaughter lived next door for most of the time we owned the house. They kept to themselves mostly. The adult son was outside smoking or playing with his remote control car a lot of the time. They had the granddaughter mow the lawn. Then they finally got granddaughter off to college (hopefully she had a brighter future than her dad, who was still living with his parents at age 40) and decided to sell the house and live out of an RV. Whatever floats your boat, but please never make me live out of an RV.

When they sold the house, they told us it was being bought by a single woman and her daughter, and the woman was engaged. I had Julia around then, and the first time I met the woman was when Julia was a month old. It was around this time last year, and I was trying to get her down for a nap by taking a walk. And for once, it worked. So I had a sleeping baby in a stroller. Becky was out doing yardwork, and she pounced on me.

Yes, pounced is an apt term. People tend to talk to me, but this was a very weird experience. I guess I'm in that awkward age group now where I don't know if I'm a young adult or an adult. I'm used to people talking to me about their problems, but usually it's people I know well or people my age. I thought of this lady that I had just met as more someone on par with my mother. It was odd to have a conversation with someone who I thought of as a mother type from my perspective on a peer level. Becky didn't hold back given that I was her new neighbor she just met. Becky basically told me her whole life story in her front yard, and then she insisted I come through her house (we have the same floor plan). She had ditched the fiance and was talking with some guy she met on the Internet. And she asked me, the person she had met a few minutes earlier, for advice.

Fast forward a few months, and he came up from California to meet her. Fast forward another few months, she had a tummy tuck for him. Fast forward another few months, they had a quickie wedding. He has moved in with her and brought his two disabled vehicles that he tries to constantly fix. He also brought his table saw. He has been unemployed, but recently I've seen a semi truck parked in the vacant lot behind us. Somehow I don't think the semi truck belongs to the single mother, the doctor, the ex-hippies, or anyone else nearby. I think Becky's new husband got a job as a truck driver. But who knows?

So what is the point of this rambly post? Well, two of my neighbors have given us food in the past few days. Becky gave us homemade tamales and Yakima cherries. And we found peaches on our doorstep today. My suspicion was that it was the ex-hippies. I went over this evening, and it was indeed the ex-hippies. I love neighbors that give us food.

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The work bathroom has had this odd odor for quite a while. The first time I smelled it I was reminded of some really bad perfume. Kinda flowery, but no real specific flower. Someone was standing at the counter, so I thought perhaps she was wearing the obnoxious perfume. The next time I go in it's the same smell even though no one's there. And so it's gone on for about a month now.

More people are on vacation this time of year, and my curiosity got the best of me today. I knew there had to be some tacky air freshener in that bathroom somewhere. It took me a few minutes, but I finally found it under the sink.

I really wanted to unplug it. Nauseauting fake flowers smell far worse than any alternative because the alternatives actually dissipate over time. Somehow I repressed the desire to unplug it. Now that I know where it is, it will call to me every time I open the door, "Unplug me. Save me from my misery of being a nauseating air freshener plugged into this wall."