We have people who make our lives far more surreal; these are the individuals who—when they knock on our door—that we don’t even pretend that we aren’t home. We open the door…every. single. time they knock.
I had just moved into my townhouse back 2007 and I only knew a few of my neighbors—three to be exact. I remember walking out to get the mail one night and thinking to myself, “Teachinfourth, you don’t know hardly anyone around here.” I decided then and there that the next person I saw, I’d introduce myself and make them my friend.
I met Marc.
He was heading out to his car to get something, and on my way back to my house we struck up a conversation; that was the day we became friends. I’m happy to say that Marc and I have been friends for somewhere in the vicinity of four years.
One day—not long ago—Marc and I were talking about how we didn’t know hardly anyone who lived around us; well, we decided to do something about it. We decided that we would host a block party, a Festivus for the rest of us. Fittingly, we’d christen it, “The Summer of George” and invite all of our neighbors (as well as bloggers who felt like coming).
I can’t tell you the feeling of awesomeness I had whenever someone approached out little gala and I was able to cry out—with hands in the air mind you, “The Summer of George!”
When our little afternoon celebration concluded, the world wasn’t changed, and we didn’t get to know all of our neighbors, but we did get to meet a few…and a blogger or two to boot.
Here’s to The Summer of George. Here’s to taking the time to taste the fruits, and letting the juices drip down our chins…
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