Back "home"

Last week was running camp in New Orleans. It was just me and the pavement for most of the runs, but I decided to get back at it by running 6 days in a row. I probably haven't achieved this frequency of running since college. And I haven't done that much mileage in a week since at least last fall. I had a great time running down the trolley line on St. Charles with all the beads decorating the trees; into the Garden District neighborhood with all their big old houses and bumpy sidewalks; down the median of Esplanade, where I had much more success with actually running than last time I tried it (NOLA 70.3); along the riverwalk listening to the Natchez play its music; on the treadmill because it poured all day. Every night to reward myself for an excellent run, we went to a delicious restaurant to fill the tank. Actually, we would've done that anyway, but it helped me feel less guilty. I was back at home in the humidity, around people with familiar accents, who conversed over such topics as SEC football. 

But now we're back "home," to the still slightly unfamiliar terrain, where people talk in an assortment of accents, but not about football. For me, the hardest part of coming back had to be the neighbor. This neighbor is hands down the nosiest person I've ever met. Not only does he have keys to our house, but he also has the trust of our landlord who, ironically, has never had to live next door to him. I almost can't go in the backyard without him either appearing in his side yard, with me in perfect view, or actually coming over to bother me. And forget the front yard! We have to sneak out to get the mail. He is semi-retired, and spends 98% of his time in his open garage, wearing nothing but jean shorts and 8 gold chains. His beady little eyes are always there to see my comings and goings. Upon arriving home from our trip Sunday, we caught him guiltily coming out of our back gate. I hadn't made it in the door before he was ringing our front bell to deliver our mail (don't remember asking him to get it) and explain why he needed to take care of the house and cats next time we're out of town. I completely missed his reason, since all I could hear was, "I'd like to snoop through your stuff." And by the way, his wife is the nicest person you can imagine! I have many more stories of his creepiness that just add to reasons to change the locks. I have no experience with this type of thing; any advice?

The excitement of coming home had to do with my garden. I've planted a few things out back, and I was happy to see that nothing died! I ate my first cucumber today, and have two tiny tomatoes, a small squash, and a microscopic eggplant. Now if I could just go out back and check on them... let's see if the neighbor's around!