My neighbor reported me to the HOA over some plastic skeletons and cobwebs I put up for Halloween. Less than a day later, she was at my door, begging for help. Why the sudden change of heart? Well, you’ll soon find out!
At 73, I’ve seen my fair share of life’s little dramas. But let me tell you, nothing quite prepared me for the Halloween hullabaloo in our sleepy little neighborhood last year.
I’m Wendy, a retired schoolteacher, proud grandma, and apparently, public enemy number one, according to my neighbor, Irene. All because of a few plastic tombstones and some cotton cobwebs.
“Wendy! Wendy!” I heard Irene’s shrill voice cutting through the crisp October air. I was on my knees, arranging a plastic skeleton by my front porch. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
I looked up, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun. There she was, all five-foot-two, hands on hips, looking like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
“Why? I’m decorating for Halloween, Irene. Same as I’ve done for the past 30 years.”
“But it’s so…” She waved her hands around, searching for the right word. “GARISH!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s Halloween, Irene. It’s supposed to be a little garish.”
“Well, I don’t like it. It’s bringing down the tone of the neighborhood.”
As she stomped away, I sighed. Welcome to Whisperwood Lane, where the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence unless it’s half an inch too long, of course.
“You know, Irene,” I called after her, “a little fun never hurt anyone. Maybe you should try it sometime!”
She turned, her face seething with shock and anger. “I’ll have you know, Wendy, that I know plenty about fun. I just prefer it to be tasteful.”
With that, she marched off, leaving me to wonder what her idea of “tasteful fun” might be. Competitive flower arranging, perhaps?
A week later, I was enjoying my morning coffee when I gazed at the mailbox. Among the usual bills and flyers was an official-looking envelope from the Homeowners Association.
My hands slightly shook as I opened it. “Dear Miss Wendy,” it read, “We regret to inform you that a complaint has been filed regarding your Halloween decorations…”
I didn’t need to read further. I knew exactly who was behind this.
I looked at the HOA letter again. Irene had no idea what real problems looked like.
I picked up the phone and dialed the HOA office. “Hello, this is Wendy. I’ve just received a letter about my Halloween decorations, and I’d like to discuss it.”
The receptionist’s voice was polite. “I’m sorry, Miss Wendy, but the board has already made its decision. The decorations must come down within 48 hours because your neighbor has a problem with it.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to issue a fine.”
I thanked her and hung up, my mind boiling. I had bigger things to worry about than fake tombstones and plastic skeletons. But something in me just couldn’t let Irene win this one.
The next few hours were a blur of phone calls and preparations. I was so focused on my Halloween decorations that I barely noticed Irene’s smug looks every time she passed by my house.
It wasn’t until the next morning that things came to a head. I was sitting on my porch, trying to calm my nerves with a cup of chamomile tea, when I heard excited laughter coming from Irene’s yard.
To my surprise, I saw a young boy, probably 10 years old, running around with one of my carved pumpkins on his head. It took me a moment to recognize him as Irene’s grandson, Willie.
“Look, Grandma!” he shouted, his voice muffled by the pumpkin. “I’m the Headless Horseman!”
I couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was enjoying my decorations.
Then I heard Irene’s voice, sharp and angry. “William! You take that thing off right this instant!”
Willie stopped in his tracks. “But Grandma, it’s fun! Miss Wendy’s yard is the coolest on the whole street!”
I leaned forward, curious to see how this would play out. Irene’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.
“That’s… that’s not the point,” she sputtered. “We don’t need any of those tacky decorations. Now, give me that pumpkin!”
But Willie wasn’t giving up so easily. “Why can’t we have fun stuff like Miss Wendy? Our yard is so boring and ugly!”
I almost felt bad for Irene. Almost.
“William,” Irene’s voice softened slightly, “you don’t understand. These decorations aren’t appropriate for our neighborhood. We have standards to maintain.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Standards are no fun, Grandma. I wish we could be more like Miss Wendy.”
As the boy trudged back to the house, pumpkin in hand, I couldn’t help but call out, “You’re welcome to come carve pumpkins with me anytime, Willie!”
Irene shot me a glare that could have curdled milk, but I just waved cheerily. Let her stew in her bitterness. I had a Halloween to prepare for and a family to celebrate with.
As the sun started to set, I was surprised to see Irene making her way up my driveway. She looked different. Smaller somehow, less sure of herself.
“Wendy?” she called out hesitantly. “Can we talk?”
I nodded, gesturing to the chair next to me. “Have a seat, Irene. Tea?”
She sat down heavily, wringing her hands. “I wanted to apologize. About the HOA complaint. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s just…” She took a deep breath. “My grandson loves coming here because of your decorations. He says it’s the highlight of his visits. And I realized I’ve been so focused on keeping up appearances that I forgot what it’s like to just have fun.”
I felt a pang of sympathy. “We all get caught up in the wrong things sometimes, Irene.”
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “The thing is, Willie’s parents are going through a nasty divorce. These visits are the only bright spots in his life right now. And I almost ruined that with my silly rules and complaints.”
A tiny baby, who was kept in a sandwich bag for safety, is finally going home.
The parents of a baby named Robyn, who was born very tiny at just 11 ounces (328 grams), have finally brought her home after 18 months in the hospital.
Robyn was born five months early in March 2023 at Grange Hospital in Cwmbran, Torfaen, and she still needs special care all the time. Her parents, Chantelle (34) and Daniel (38) from Malpas, Newport, are raising money for her treatment. Chantelle said, “It’s like a dream come true to have Robyn home.”
Robyn was born at just 23 weeks and 2 days and was so tiny that she could fit in the palm of a hand. To keep her organs warm while she grew, she was kept in a sandwich bag.
After six months in the hospital, she spent another seven months in the pediatric intensive care unit at Noah’s Ark Children’s Hospital in Cardiff. She then returned to Grange Hospital until she was finally discharged in September.
Chantelle, who works part-time as an accountant, said, “It’s just so nice to do normal family things… and just all be together under one roof.”
Daniel, a self-employed bricklayer, mentioned that it’s much less chaotic at home now. He has had to cut back on work to focus on taking care of his daughter.
Robyn gets oxygen and nutrition through tubes in her nose and mouth, and her vital signs are watched all the time. She takes 30 doses of medication each day.
Her mom, Chantelle, explained, “She can’t cough, so we have to suction her mouth and nose throughout the day when she needs it.”
Daniel described Robyn as doing well and enjoying the “peace” of being at home. He added that they do a lot of physical therapy and play with her to help her senses.
Chantelle said it was tough to bond with Robyn in the busy hospital ward, with doctors and nurses always coming in and out.
“All you can do is sit next to her and watch,” she explained, “keeping an eye on the numbers on the screen and hoping she will be okay.”
“When Robyn was born, we weren’t sure if she would survive.
“As time went on, she grew bigger and stronger, but she still faced many problems. It became clear that her brain damage would have a big impact on her.”
‘We know nothing is impossible’
“We didn’t learn about her brain damage until about six months after she was born,” Daniel said.
“You have all these plans for how life will be, and then everything changes,” he added.
“But we try to stay positive.
“We know that nothing is impossible for Robyn because she has been told so many times that she wouldn’t be able to do things or even survive, but she keeps proving everyone wrong.
“She’s full of surprises, and I believe she will create her own story.”
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