Where Everyone Knows Your Name

I’ve always had the best neighbors. I was born into great neighbors. Like the kind of neighbors that set the bar so high that any potential neighbors are destined to fail. I spent major holidays with neighbors. I still spend major holidays with neighbors. So, when it came time to buy our first home, we stalked every potential neighborhood and watched the neighbors. We chose a neighborhood, a block, where we basically set-up shop (I’ve always wanted to be a P.I.) and watched the neighbors. (Word count on the word neighbor(s) so far, 8.)

It was a Sunday. We had a stroller and a dog, and they had a handshake and divulged important details about the reason behind moving. A toddler and a dog provide the perfect amount of cover for collecting evidence even on a dead-end street.

The worst part about any of our moves has always been leaving beloved neighbors behind. This move was the toughest yet, because we were leaving literally perfect next-door-neighbors behind. Like the friends for life neighbors, that only know you for two weeks, yet feed you upon bringing your newborn home, who save you during car troubles and walk you through your first skunking neighbor friends.

But we found it. The house. The location. The neighbors. And let me tell you, when you move hugely pregnant in the month of January, and not one, not two, but three different sets of neighbors leave freshly baked cookies on your porch, you’ve hit the jackpot. And it doesn’t even matter that a squirrel got to one of the batches before you did… we know how to share in this neighborhood.

I have kind next-door neighbors who look out for the girls. I have a next-door neighbor that does my hair and she and her husband are patient and lovely to our girls who have stalked them upon their arrival. I have a neighbor that made one of those initial batches of cookies who has set up a fund to help get me and the Mr. to Germany. I have a neighbor that had to give up her best friend that lived in my house, yet still shows me the way and has made me part of the hood. I have neighbors that let their daughter babysit our girls and always have the time and patience to offer us insight. I could keep going… 

George collects the garbage. Rhonda drives the bus. Gayle delivers the mail. And everyone knows my name, well maybe not everyone.

Free Lunch

We found one of my husband’s journals from elementary school. As I paged through it, it was very clear there was only one subject that he had any interest in during the fourth grade - food. “Today we had tacos for lunch. Yum.” “Today was pizza. Yum." Every single lunch he had consumed as a nine year old was fully documented. "Yum."

I am quite confident that it’s genetic. My oldest daughter is already planning the next meal before even finishing the present. And there isn’t a chance at eating out that she won’t attempt negotiating. One time, she negotiated with us so much that she offered to buy her whole family lunch. And we said yes, of course. 

Every town needs a beef joint. And we have several great options in Algonquin. But there is one that is downtown and walkable for us, Downtown Dogs. They have a fantastic hot dog deal: 2 dogs, fries and a drink, 4 bucks. A fantastic two-fifty Sunday gyro deal. And these days, the husband journals regularly about the combo.  "Yum."

Yes, we allowed our five year old to pick up the tab for her entire family's lunch. And her little sister’s first ice cream cone (thank you Downtown Dogs for the on the house soft serve cone for the kids). Thanks for lunch G! 

I'm happy to report, it didn’t break G's bank. Downtown Dogs is a steal of a deal. Visit Downtown Dogs at 107 S. Main Street, Algonquin, IL. Closed Mondays. Tell them the Algonquin General sent you.

The Path

Our family’s favorite way of unplugging is going up on the “path” and going for a hike. Just kidding. It's our (the grown-ups) favorite way of unplugging. We bribe our children with goldfish and juice to get them up there and hope that in how many ever years to come, when they look back they will get it. And they will have happy memories of learning to ride bikes, and meeting new people and standoffs with angry turkeys and walks with our dog Henry.

The great thing about dogs is that bribery is rarely involved in convincing them to go on a walk. Henry approached the "path" with the same amount of overwhelming enthusiasm every time. I think that’s why our enthusiasm kind of died when he died. Sorry, I imagine I should have included some sort of disclosure.

BUT, the “path” is another amazing Algonquin backyard brag. The 43 mile Fox River Trail and the 19 mile Prairie Trail connect in Algonquin. In the warmer months, the trails are covered with hikers, runners and bikers. There are parks to play at and places to fish. And the trails deliver you directly into many downtowns, where you can grab a coffee, a beer or a bite to eat.

We’ll get back up there. And you should too. We just need a different M.O.. Perhaps it’s time for some family biking.