Giving life character

Photo:
http://www.iho-ohi.org/wp-content/scilla-calabria-italy.jpg
For close to 20 years the same neighbours lived on the other side
of our semi-detached house. One concrete block and, lathing and drywall
barrier away. In places the walls were thinner than others, but we
were lucky that the family spoke Italian (Calabrese) and we knew
only a smattering of words. When we moved in the couple were
sitting on the old front seat of a car on the front porch -- a young
dark haired man, and what looked like a much older woman with
a grumpy expression.

That was Angela. Over the years I grew very fond of Angela,
in the way that loving people do. In the early days she'd offer
me small cups of espresso, and comment lustily on my marriage,
frequently giving me unwanted tips on how to keep a man, then
laughing. She had a dyed red hair, a big nose, thick lips, glasses,
and a squarish body with large breasts. In summer she wore tight
black skirts, bright sleeveless low-cut sweaters, and told us what
to do with our fledgling flower garden over the low chain-link fence.

Everything we grew was stupid. We loved flowers, she grew
massive zucchinis supported on pieces of white cotton, that
guided the huge leaves and vines up and over the tomato
plants. Her beans supported by six foot high poles, created
a shady nook for us on the other side of the fence every other
year. About ten years ago she suffered a brain aneurysm,
and she changed.

More later...I'm going to the movies

Have an entertaining night.