My lovely granddaughter gave me a cute garden gnome to make my yard more cheerful. But my nosy neighbor, who can’t stand a little fun, reported me to the HOA for “ruining” the look of the neighborhood. She thought she had won. Oh, how wrong she was!
Hello there! Come on in and take a seat. This old lady has a story that will make you laugh and maybe teach you something, too. Now, I know you might be thinking, “Oh no, not another story about lost love or cheating husbands.” But hold on! This story isn’t about my dear Arnold. Bless his heart; he’s probably up in heaven, flirting with his old crushes!
No, this story is about something that could happen to anyone.
So listen closely because Grandma Peggy is ready to share how a little garden gnome stirred up a lot of trouble in our quiet neighborhood.
But before we get into the details, let me describe where I live. Picture a cozy suburban paradise, where the streets are lined with maple trees and the lawns are greener than a leprechaun’s vest.
It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, and the biggest excitement is usually the latest gossip at Mabel’s Bakery.
Oh, Mabel’s Bakery! That’s where the real fun takes place.
Every morning, you’ll find a group of us old-timers, all nearing 80, sipping coffee and enjoying Mabel’s famous cinnamon rolls and croissants. The smell of fresh bread and the sound of laughter spill out onto the sidewalk, drawing people in like moths to a flame.
“Did you hear about Mr. Bill’s new toupee?” Gladys would whisper, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Land sakes, it looks like a squirrel took up residence on his head!” Mildred would reply, and we’d all laugh like a bunch of hens.
It’s a peaceful life filled with the simple joys of tending to my garden, sharing recipes, and, yes, the occasional bit of harmless gossip. Then one day, my granddaughter, sweet little Jessie, gifted me the cutest garden gnome I’d ever seen.
This little fella had a mischievous grin that could light up a room and a tiny watering can in his chubby ceramic hands.
“Gran,” Jessie said, her eyes sparkling, “I thought he’d be perfect for your garden. He looks just like you when you’re up to no good!”
I couldn’t argue with that. So, I found him a prime spot right next to my prized birdbath.
Little did I know, I’d just planted the seed for the biggest fuss our neighborhood had seen since Mr. Bill’s toupee blew off at the Fourth of July picnic.
“Oh, Peggy,” I muttered to myself as I stepped back to admire my handiwork, “you’ve outdone yourself this time.”
I had no idea how right I was.
Now, before we dive into the thick of it, let me introduce you to the thorn in my side—my neighbor, Carol, who’s also in her late 70s. Picture a woman who’s never met a rule she didn’t like or a bit of joy she couldn’t squash. That’s Carol for you.
She moved in two years ago, but you’d think she’d been appointed Queen of the cul-de-sac the way she carries on. Always peering over fences, measuring grass height with a ruler, and shooing kids away for no reason.
I swear, that woman’s got more opinions than a politician at a debate.
One afternoon, I was out tending to my petunias when I heard the telltale clip-clop of Carol’s shoes on the sidewalk. I braced myself for another lecture on the “proper way” to trim hedges.
“Well, hello there, Carol,” I called out, plastering on my sweetest smile. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Carol’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed my garden. “Peggy,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, “what on earth is that thing by your birdbath?”
I followed her gaze to my new gnome. “Oh, that’s just a little gift from my granddaughter. Isn’t he a darling?”
Carol’s nose wrinkled like she’d smelled something foul.
“It’s certainly unique. But are you sure it’s allowed? You know how particular our HOA is about maintaining the neighborhood’s aesthetic.”
My smile faltered. “Now, Carol, I’ve lived here for nigh on 40 years. I think I know what’s allowed and what isn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If you say so, Peggy. I just wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
As she clip-clopped away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that TROUBLE was exactly what she had in mind.
A week later, I found out just how right I was. There, stuffed in my mailbox like a dirty secret, was a letter from the HOA.
My hands shook as I tore it open, and let me tell you, what I read made my blood boil hotter than a pot of Arnold’s famous five-alarm chili. The letter said that my gnome was against the neighborhood rules and I had to remove it immediately.
“Violation notice?” I sputtered, reading aloud. “Garden ornament not in compliance with neighborhood aesthetic guidelines? Why, I oughta…”
I didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who was behind this. Carol’s smug face popped into my mind, and I could almost hear her nasally voice: “I told you so, Peggy!”
Now, some folks might’ve caved and removed the gnome, but not this old bird. No sir, I’ve got more fight than a cat in a bathtub.
I marched inside, pulled out my reading glasses, and dug up that HOA rulebook. If Carol wanted to play by the rules, then by golly, we’d play by ALL the rules.
I flipped through the pages until I found the section on garden decor. It stated that residents could have one decorative item in their front yard, as long as it didn’t exceed three feet in height. Well, my gnome was only two feet tall! So I was in the clear!
Feeling triumphant, I decided to send a response to the HOA. I crafted a letter detailing my findings and politely requested that they reconsider their stance on my delightful gnome. With a triumphant grin, I dropped the letter in the mail and waited.
As I flipped through page after mind-numbing page, a plan started forming. A devious, delicious plan that would teach Carol a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.
“Oh, Carol,” I chuckled, “you’ve really stepped in it this time!”
For the next few hours, I was busier than a one-armed paper hanger. I pored over that HOA rulebook like it was the last novel on Earth. And boy, did I strike gold.
Turns out, our dear Carol wasn’t as perfect as she thought. Her pristine white fence? An inch too tall. That fancy mailbox she was so proud of? Wrong shade of beige. And don’t even get me started on her wind chimes… those things were about as welcome as a skunk at a garden party according to the noise ordinance.
With all this juicy information, I could hardly contain my glee. I carefully documented each of her violations and decided to send a little note to the HOA about them.
After all, if Carol wanted to poke her nose into my garden gnome business, I was more than happy to return the favor. “Let’s see how she likes it when the tables are turned!” I said to myself, giggling as I sealed the envelope and sent it off.
That night, I made myself a cup of chamomile tea and settled in for some well-deserved relaxation, eagerly anticipating the chaos that would unfold.
The next morning, I was up with the birds, perched by my window with a cup of coffee and my binoculars. At precisely 7:15 a.m., Carol’s front door opened.
What happened next was better than any TV show I’d ever seen. Carol stepped out, took one look at her lawn, and FROZE. Her mouth hung open. Then, she let out a screech that could’ve woken the dead.
“What in the name of all that’s holy?!” she shrieked, her voice hitting a pitch that made dogs howl three blocks away.
I nearly spilled my coffee laughing. “Oh, Carol, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
It turned out that while I was busy gathering evidence against her, my friends from the neighborhood had come together to have a little fun of their own. They had all pitched in to cover Carol’s yard with colorful inflatable lawn decorations. Flamingos, unicorns, and even a giant inflatable Santa were now crowding her once-pristine lawn, turning it into a carnival of chaos.
As Carol stood there, mouth agape, I could barely contain my glee. She stomped around her yard, her indignation growing with each inflatable she spotted. I could practically hear her thoughts racing: “This is unacceptable! How could this happen?!”
Every squeal of outrage made me chuckle harder. “That’s right, Carol. Welcome to my world!” I whispered to myself, feeling like I had pulled off the greatest prank of all time.
I knew I had to see her reaction up close, so I grabbed my trusty hat and headed over to “help” her sort out her lawn situation. After all, I was a good neighbor, right?
As I toddled off, leaving Carol sputtering in my wake, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. Some people never learn, but sometimes, a garden gnome can teach an epic lesson.
When I arrived at Carol’s yard, I could see her pacing back and forth, hands on her hips, looking more flustered than a cat at a dog show. “What am I going to do about this mess?” she muttered to herself, completely ignoring my cheerful greeting.
“Oh, Carol, dear!” I called out, trying to keep a straight face. “Need a hand with all these delightful decorations?”
She shot me a glare that could have melted ice. “This is not funny, Peggy!”
“Of course it is! Look at how festive it is now!” I giggled, trying to lighten her mood. I offered to help her deflate the colorful invaders, but secretly, I was loving every moment of this small victory.
As the day went on, we worked side by side, and I could see her beginning to calm down, despite her initial outrage. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” she finally admitted, a hint of a smile breaking through her stern facade.
And my little gnome? He’s still there by the birdbath, grinning away. Only now, I swear his smile looks just a little bit wider! It seems he’s not just a decoration anymore; he’s become a symbol of our neighborhood’s spirit, reminding us all to embrace a little fun and laughter, even in the face of a neighbor’s strict rules.
As I looked back at my garden, I felt a warmth in my heart, knowing that sometimes, a touch of whimsy can go a long way in softening even the hardest of hearts. And who knows? Maybe Carol will be inspired to add a little joy to her own yard next time!
From Dancing Queen to Mystery: What Made Cynthia Rhodes Leave the Spotlight
When Cynthia Rhodes wasn’t “Staying Alive” on the dance floor with John Travolta, she was “Dirty Dancing” with Patrick Swayze.
Rhodes, who will turn 67 in November 2023, had a great career with famous dance movies from the 1980s. However, she chose to step away from the spotlight at the height of her fame.
Keep reading to find out why this talented actress, singer, and dancer retired so early!
Cynthia Rhodes was born in Nashville, Tennessee. She started her acting career with a small role in the 1980 musical fantasy film **Xanadu**, which starred the late Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly.
Her role as Tina Tech, a dancer in the 1983 film **Flashdance**, led to a bigger part later that year as John Travolta’s love interest in **Staying Alive**, the sequel to **Saturday Night Fever**, directed by Sylvester Stallone.
In 1987, she played her most famous role as Penny Johnson, a dance instructor at a resort hotel in **Dirty Dancing**.
In her role as Penny, Cynthia Rhodes shows off her amazing dance skills with graceful and flashy Mambo moves alongside the late Patrick Swayze. She also shares some very emotional and heartbreaking scenes with him.
Rhodes described her character Penny as having an “edge.” Penny both charmed and shocked viewers as she dealt with a difficult storyline involving a botched illegal abortion.
The film includes a socially relevant subplot about reproductive rights, with Rhodes at the center of it all. This helped position the three lead characters—Swayze as Johnny, Jennifer Grey as Baby, and Rhodes as Penny—for stardom.
“She’s from South Philly and she’s had a rough life,” Rhodes said about her character. “She’s got a sweetness about her, but it’s hidden because she’s been through a lot, and she has sort of put up a wall.” Rhodes added, “In the end, I think she finally realizes that life does go on.”
Life went on for Cynthia Rhodes, but not in the way her fans hoped.
After training for ten hours a day to prepare for her role as Penny, Rhodes found dancing to be “really hard.” She shared, “That’s why I keep saying I’m never going to dance again. I’m tired of dancing. My bones are hurting, and my back hurts all the time.” She added, “Every time I say, ‘That’s it, I don’t want to dance anymore,’ I get another film. I’m not going to turn down work! I feel very fortunate to be in films that involve dancing. But I just want a chance to do some dramatic work without dancing. Just give me a straight acting part.”
In the same year that *Dirty Dancing* was released, the 31-year-old Rhodes, who had many role options and admirers, appeared in the music video for “Don’t Mean Nothing” by Richard Marx. He is also known for the song “Right Here Waiting,” which was famously written for Rhodes in 1989.
In 1989, Rhodes married the Grammy Award-winning singer Richard Marx, and the couple welcomed their first child, Brandon, in 1990. They later had two more sons, Lucas in 1992 and Jesse in 1994.
According to Marx, Rhodes, who had previously trained for the Olympics, decided to retire in 1990 to focus on raising their children. He mentioned that this choice was also due to the “intense physical pain” her dance moves caused her.
“I thought, ‘This won’t last; she’s definitely going to want to come back to work and do films.’ But she found fulfillment in being a mom that completely overshadowed any desire she had to make movies,” Marx, now 59, explained. “Even if you’re her biggest fan, as good as you think she was as a dancer, singer, or actress, you should see her as a mom.”
Rhodes, who began dancing at just three years old, found that she was much happier being a mom and giving her body the rest it needed.
“The thing was, I used to never be sore. In fact, I was a gymnast. Now it’s frustrating… I never used to stretch, but now I have to stretch before I dance. I love to dance, but if I never did it again, I wouldn’t be sorry,” Rhodes said.
Since then, she hasn’t looked back. The last time she appeared on screen was in the 1991 film *Curse of the Crystal Eye.*
The former Hollywood starlet divorced Marx in 2014, and he married MTV’s first Latina host, Daisy Fuentes, the following year.
As for her sons, all three are following in the footsteps of their famous parents. Brandon is now a music producer and singer, while Lucas has made a name for himself as a singer and actor, appearing in TV series like *The Chicago Code*, *The Mob Doctor*, *Chicago P.D.*, and *Parenthood*. The youngest son, Jesse, has joined a metal band and is working on his own music.
Dancing requires a high level of athleticism, so while we miss seeing Cynthia Rhodes, we completely understand why she chose to leave Hollywood.
What are your favorite films featuring her?
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