National Night Out.

Last night was the annual potluck dinner for "National Night Out." I don't know if every state does this, but one night a year is chosen for all the neighbors to get together for either a coffee and cake get-together or a potluck dinner. We used to do this in Clear Lake, but they chose a Tuesday night in August-- almost always, the temperature was 100 degrees or better. We participated the first couple of years, then we just got tired of fighting the mosquitoes. We knew all our neighbors there anyway-- mostly all of them came to our parties during the year.

This community in the hills here chose October for their National Night Out--- the reason being that October usually has cooler nights than August. The weather gods, however, tossed in their own little potluck-weather for the occasion. All day yesterday, the sun was out and it was close to or over 100 degrees. About half an hour before the potluck dinner was set to start, the sky opened up and down came a pouring deluge that lasted for about 15 minutes. Then out came the sun, along with the humidity to keep it company, and the temperature stayed around 100 degrees.

The potluck dinner had been scheduled without a rain date.... so there everyone came, over the ponds and through the woods, to the host's house we go. Everyone takes a turn at hosting the annual potluck dinner, and this year's hosts live down the road and then up on the hill at the left. On a beautiful day, we would have walked down our own hill and up their hill, but with the humidity being what it was after the rain, and then having to walk home in the dark-- now that just wouldn't do. I refuse to walk on these roads at night, for fear of snakes. Our neighbor J keeps telling me that a snake is more afraid of me than I am of it--- I don't believe that for a second.

We met people last night from all sides of every one of these hills in our little community. And we are indeed a community, with just a few roads winding around all these hills, some houses visible from the roads, others tucked way back and hidden in the woods. Honestly, I didn't realize that so many families were in here to begin with-- so there are more houses hidden by the woods and the trees that I imagined.

The potluck dinner was amazing...... smoked brisket and sausage (which our neighbor D had been cooking for the past couple of days), baked salmon (Norwegian style, made by our hosts), three kinds of homemade bread (baked by our hosts), vegetable casseroles, potato salads, fruit salads, baked beans, pasta casseroles, deviled eggs (all different recipes-- and I'm guessing that those people have lots of chickens and an abundance of eggs). The desserts were enough to send your sugar soaring without even tasting them-- pecan pies, cheesecake, cinnamon crumb cake, apple cake, chocolate chip cookies, and BlueBell ice cream (from the neighbor who works at the Ice Cream Factory).

I know I'm forgetting to mention so many of the potluck items, but there were just too many to remember, and way too many to taste. For my own dinner, I ate the salmon, and the fruit salad, and a delicious slice of the homemade bread. I just looked at all the other stuff and kept telling myself to save some room (and some calories) so I could splurge a little on the desserts. The homemade apple cake was absolutely the best, and I could have eaten just that for the entire night. (In fact, whoever made that apple cake can adopt me if they'd like to.)

Everyone talked about the summer's heat and lack of rain, and all the rain we've had these past couple of weeks. One of the neighbors told us that they were happy to see that our pond had filled up because they drive by it every day and thought it was sad-looking when it was empty. Well, we thought it was sad as well, but without the rain, there was nothing we could do about it.

The conversation turned to the scorpion problem, which everyone seems to have as well. They said the scorpions tend to come out when it's very hot and there's been no rain (they're looking for water), and they also come out when there's been too much rain (they're looking to get dry). Well, that about sums up the problem right there-- the scorpions come out all the time, wet or dry, hot or cold. One of the neighbors was saying that in order to get a scorpion off of her ceiling, she puts duct tape on the end of a broom handle, reaches up and gets the scorpion stuck onto the duct tape, then just cuts away the tape and folds it up around the scorpion, and then into the trash it goes. (Yet another inventive household use for the very versatile duct tape.)

We heard conversations about cows (our neighbor B is wanting to sell her cows because they're too much work and one of them bellows all day long), about chickens (the hens would be better off if the roosters didn't keep bothering them all the time for you-know-what), about horses (such beautiful animals but very expensive when they need medical attention), about cats (can't have property like this without at least one barn cat), about dogs (is there anything better than a dog?), and donkeys (well, a donkey is a better watch-dog than a dog). Snippets of conversation about everything under the sun, and then some. So many new faces last night, so many new names... all of which I have most likely forgotten.

The bottom line to everyone's conversation last night: I don't care how inconvenient some things get to be out here... you couldn't pay me enough to move back to the city. All that noise, all that traffic, all those people... they don't know what they're missing.

A little part of my brain wanted to say "Well, I'll tell you what I'm missing--- SteinMart, ShoeCents, the Greek restaurant, the Moroccan restaurant, the Turkish restaurant, my next-door neighbor V singing to her cat, our Charades parties with 30 of our friends, a piece of property without one scorpion on it, the girl who cut my hair, chatting with J and L at the antique shop, the Hobby Lobby store....."

Of course, I didn't say all of that. And even as I thought of all those things, the next thought I had was how nice it is to be waking up to the sounds of the roosters from the other side of our road, the sad moans of B's cow from the other side of our hill, the traffic-free roads, the 1950-ish style of our quaint little "downtown" shopping area, our own chickens walking around our yard and singing out to me when I say Where are my little ladies?! And I don't think the magic is ever going to wear off at the sight of a just-laid egg in one of the nesting boxes in The Coopacabana.

And then we came home from that potluck dinner last night, and as we drove down their hill and up our own, there was our house. This big Victorian doll house/farm house with the wonderful squeaking screen door that goes into my big kitchen, and there's the built-in cupboard that looks so much like the one in my grandmother's house, and the wrap-around porch that goes on forever. It's home. This house is home. This property is home. Our dog is here, and quite happy. Our cats are here, and very content. Our chickens have adapted quickly and easily to their new coop, and the sight of them walking and scratching around in the yards is just indescribable.

And, quite honestly, I can't wait to try that duct-tape-on-a-broomstick thing with the next scorpion I see.