Friday, April 1, 2011

A Conspiracy in the Making

It's a conspiracy, or at least my mother is convinced it is. The phone call yesterday finally got around to, "Well, our neighborhood is never going to be the same?" "What do you mean?" OK, I was game, like I had a choice not to ask the question. "That florist is going to take over. He had a homeowners meeting and didn't invite three of us." "Now wait a minute, even he could not do that." "Well, he didn't call it a 'meeting'. He invited them to a dinner party at his house and they discussed the neighborhood."

"But why do you think he is trying to take over?" "Because he didn't invite the three people who disagree with him." I was already exhausted, but she continued. "They just don't understand what he wants to do. We had such a good thing before he moved in." "How much damage can he do? Paint everything pink?", throwing gas on the flames. "No," she said failing to enjoy my humor. "For one thing, he wants to restrict who can live here." Well that's a new one. 

"In what way?" "He thinks you should be at least 60 years old to buy a house in the neighborhood." "Well, that would keep out families with young children." Then to make sure she knew I had not joined the enemy, I added, "I'm not sure he can do that." "And, he still wants to re-do the entrance." And, the mail boxes, I thought. "And, the mail boxes," she added. "Well, just let him. It'll keep him occupied. Besides, you said that the developer never finished the entrance when he left." "Can you only imagine what it would look like?" A little over the top came to mind but 'eye catching', given his partner (and fellow florist) had done a program for my garden club informing us that lime green was the new neutral. 

"Well, it's not like he's going to have cars on concrete blocks or washing machines on the front porches." "No, but he'll want us all to have those stupid urns he keeps around his house and topiaries - he loves topiaries."  I guess at 78 you have earned the right to fight over urns, topiaries, and mailboxes. Personally, I'm glad I don't have a dog in this fight.

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