My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Rebecca, I wish you were here at the moment. There are two nice men with tight tee-shirts snaking the  drain in my yard. They're buff and hearty and cheerful. And they stride with purpose. We like that. I dare not think about their bill. As an old girlfriend used to say, 'it's only numbers'. Well, but heck. My tenant was complaining of a backed-up toilet and a 'bubbling' kitchen sink, neither of which sounds right to me.

I'm digging up a hollyhock in my garden that has gone nuclear. It's halfway across the walkway with no signs of abatement. With the garbage/recycling/green waste strike, our parking strip resembles a post-moving situation. And my neighbors saw the kids from the corner house eating from the garbage.

They're Somali refugees and there are many children, small children who run back and forth all day, unsupervised. Some of them look to be about 3 or 4. I've never seen the parents. They have a few bikes which they leave strewn about, once behind my car. If I hadn't seen it, I would have run over it. My bigger fear is that I'll run over one of them or a passing car will. When I heard about the garbage eating incident, I looked up food of Somalia : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somalian_cuisine and I found that I can't go to a regular store and buy any of their foods. I thought I could leave them some food.

I don't know what to do. I think the mother has a baby so she never appears.

I don't know what to do.