Easy as Pie

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm not a favorite in my neighborhood. And, quite frankly, my efforts to up my popularity have dwindled tremendously.

For many a moon I thought I could thaw their obvious distaste of me with friendly waves and home baked pies. They would melt like snowmen in sunshine, I thought.  Not so, my kittens, not so. They remain forever, it would seem, glacial.

So, I've thrown in the smelly towel and I can give you the exact date and time of when that towel was thrown - 8:21 a.m. yesterday. 

Why, you may shriek? Because, I shriek back, my crazy ass neighbor who loves nothing more than standing on her porch taking imaginary phone calls from her invisible cell phone, threw the N-bomb my way and she threw it hard.  Yes, I know, she's crazy. Yes, I know, I'm a whitey. But none of that really matters, does it? Especially at 8:21 in the a.m. when you're trying to help your 17 year old dog pee on the front lawn. 

You see, she has hurled many things at me before and I will now formally list them: Tin cans (large and small), old newspapers, insults, side eyes, mud, shade, and now, racial epithets. 

I'm pretty loose when it comes to hard and fast rules in my life, but with the handful I have, the N word is pretty much tops. Just don't say it. Super easy to follow. 

So the die has been cast. I remain the unpopular-pie baking-waver, but as of now, I just don't care. 

Have they won, you howl? No, sweet angels, we are the victors, I howl back. 

Or so I'd like to think.