Lately, I’ve kind of fallen in love even more with my neighborhood even more. Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t, but this neighborhood just feels like it’s the place I should love. The character, the proximity to everything, the extremely reasonable rent – it’s pretty much perfect for me.
On Sunday, The General and I were hanging out on the stoop (so urban, right?) waiting for the return of our foster dog, Simon. Two kids were racing up and down the street on their BMX bikes yelling at each other, but clearly having a good time. When 9 year olds yell at each other, I don’t get all that concerned. Then this conversation transpired:
Boy #1: How about BFK?
Boy #2: What does that mean?
Boy #1: Brothers and friends.
Boy #2: Yeah, I like that.
Boy #1: Okay, Brothers and Friends Killings.
Boy #2: Yeah! BFK!
Appropriate? Not really, but I’m pretty sure my younger brother and I had names for our crime spree companies we wanted to develop. We were just probably a little more discreet about it. I kind of applaud their creativity! Clearly if they’re riding around thinking up names of what they’ll have embroidered on their uniforms, they’re not going to be actually killing people, right?
And last night, our drug-dealer-owing neighbor spent a good two hours trying to learn how to ollie on his skateboard right outside of our house. I should have been irritated by the incessant noise of the skateboard landing upside down in the street, but I wasn’t. I was all, you go, chubby boy, and you show Tony Hawk’s who’s boss.
I ♥ Northeast Minneapolis. A lot. And I think I also love spring.