Welcome to the Neighborhood

When we first looked at our house way back in March, we weren't super impressed.  Everything was covered in dirty snow and it wasn't the best looking house on the block to begin with.  We had lived in Northeast for so long and were unfamiliar with this new part of town.  I think I called the neighborhood Kingsfield about a hundred times on Twitter before I realized there was no 's'.  I had a difficult time making the decision to move South but we just were not finding what we needed in Northeast.

The house, although not the prettiest on the block, met all of our needs. 

- It was in the city, we really wanted to stay in Minneapolis.
- It was close to the boys school and the school they were to attend in the fall, which has now changed, so, ugh.
- It had a driveway, no more Winter Parking Rules!
- It had a yard, an itty bitty yard, but a yard nonetheless.
- It had a basement, I was tired of living with all of our things, I wanted a gigantic junk room.
- It was a quiet neighborhood, someplace we can break out the grill and not worry about it being stolen off of our back porch at night.

So, we snatched it up.

When we finally moved in two months later, we quickly started meeting neighbors.  Every single one of them asked the same question. 

"Did you buy the house?" 

Apparently the house was a foreclosure that had been empty for a year and everyone was interested the in what was going on in that house.

Our answer? 

"No." 

Quickly followed by a song and dance about how the new owner only lives like 3 blocks away and how we are a stable family of five with little kids, two with autism and look at us planting plants and seeding the lawn and OMG please don't think we are bad people because we rent!!!!!

And for the most part, I think our new neighbors have all been super welcoming.  We've had invitations to barbecues and offers of lawn tools and gardening supplies and the neighbor on the corner with the most gorgeous flowerbeds even donated plants to us the day we were toiling in the soil out front.

Everyone is cheering us on in our attempts at gardening and giving advice on what outdoor projects they would tackle next.  The weird window on the front porch.  Painting the trim on the garage. The gutters.  Finishing the fence.  Tearing down the fence. 

It's pretty much the exact opposite of our old neighborhood, where we knew about 5 people after almost 6 years, including the priest across the street and the woman next door who would leave nasty notes on your car if you parked too close to her garbage cans on Monday mornings.

I think you could say I am very happy to be here.