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January 17, 2006


Lynn Tidd

I'm icky too. And it's not for the same reasons. I am of the same gene pool as barbie, or so I've been told and my husband currently makes buckets of money, although it has not always been so. My nice neighbors and nice neighborhood have those same nice policemen who stop my step son on the street when he takes bart to our house because his skin is brown and his pants baggy.

Just wait until you live there long enough and start to notice the brown skin people with baggy pants just because they're not around very much. You see them slumping down the street and wonder if you should call the police. Because if they lived here they wouldn't be walking, they'd have a bmw. It took a couple of years, and I was surprised when I noticed I was alarmed at someone who looked just like my own family member walking down the street.

I am icky because we have to many big loud cars. My neighbors daughter wakes up to my husband's f350 diesel engine warming up every morning at 6:00. My house is never done. My husband left 6 yards of dirt in our driveway last winter for an entire winter. It was a huge unsightly mud mountain. Our yard always looks like crap because I can't make myself hire someone to do it because it feels weird to me. And even though we make buckets of money spending $100.00 a month for 3 guys to spend 40 minutes a month mowing my lawn feels like a lot of money. I always have good will bag, strollers and shoes on my front porch. My street, the street itself is perfect, spotless, the neighbors houses are like picture postcards, you know, of boring perfect ranch style houses. I don't see my neighbors much, they pull their cars straight into their garages and enter their house that way. They leave the same way. We park all of our huge cars in the driveway. Even if they could fit in the garage there wouldn't be room because the garage is really a storage unit/laundry room /office.

My side driveway is always full of paint cans and ladders and saw horses. Plastic storage boxes full of somethings. You can see it from the street of either side of my very unglamorous 15 passenger van. I wish I remembered to work on my front yard or put the crap away anytime other than when was pulling into my driveway with a car full of kids. I liked before I had kids and my house looked really nice because I had no life. But I felt icky then too, I just didn't realise until now what that ick was. It was smug. Smug was lonely. I'd rather be the lady who has too many kids, who never brushes her hair and wears slippers out regularly and needs to wash her cars than be smug. Maybe we all are icky a little.

To me you are not icky. You make me pee my pants I laugh so hard and you make my daughter feel great and your kids are poster children for kindness and friendship. I don't see anything icky about that.


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