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Wendi & Eric's house lies in the area in eastern Dallas, towards the suburb of Mesquite. It is in a brand-spanking-new gated community nestled between a cemetery full of Civil War ghosts (well, some Civil War coffins, at least) and a pleasant-looking psychiatric hospital. I was puzzled why several acres of centrally-located land could go undeveloped for so long. Eric explained that it belonged to a ranch tycoon who died before WWII and willed that these acres be a cow pasture indefinitely. Well, indefinitely apparently has ended in the 21st century.
They live on "Chackbay," oddly named street which according to Mark Thames (Julie's bro-in-law) looks like the "shortest street in Dallas." It's getting longer, now, with the concrete stretching out to accommodate new upper-middle-class homes, the double-car driveways of tomorrow.
The road leading into the neighborhood is Vacherie Lane. The structure of the French word suggested to me "place where cows are kept" (i.e., a cow pasture), but when I looked it up in an online dictionary, I saw it's a slang word in modern French, with a wide range of indelicate meanings. "Cette vacherie de tele," for example = this piece of **** TV. Hmmmm.
Another quirk of the neighborhood is the inconsistent mail service. I know the old USPS slogan, but some days the mail truck doesn't make it at all, and other days, it comes anywhere between 10 a.m. and 9 p.m.
I met the very cute, very "gaydar"-setting off neighbor yesterday. He has a friendly and firm handshake, and according to Eric, knows a lot about garden plants. Should I offer him some of my poppy seeds, perhaps?
Eric & Wendi's baby (that they finally got around to bringing into the world after 13 years of marriage) is two months old and adorable, of course. Non-biased opinion, of course. |
