So did anyone else catch the end of the Federer-Djokovic match? What a shot!

So we took the kids to 9 today. Definitely not light and fluffy, but we knew that going in and I think that allowed us to enjoy it immensely. As opposed to one of my friends who took her kids and they all hated it-- she called it tripe. I think she's nuts, but that's okay, we have wildly divergent tastes in movies as a general rule.

I think ultimately, the thing I enjoyed the most about it was the aftermath when, on the way home, we got into a pretty in-depth discussion with the kids about themes and meanings and symbolism.

Am I being a monumental egotist if I say I have some pretty freaking amazing kids? I really do love just talking to them.

I did, Burrell. Pretty awesome.

Yes, it was awesome.

I'm mad I missed Del Potro-Nadal. This last weekend of Tennis viewing has been most confusing. . . and in order to make sure I can see the women's final, I had to tivo the second showing of Mad Men.

So there is a Situation in my new apartment building. Remember the guy who was playing loud music at odd hours? Well, I talked to him and asked him to stop playing loud music after 10:00 PM. Which he's done - he's been very nice about it and to me. But he sometimes makes odd, loud noises in the middle of the night. Like loud banging (door slamming?) and loud moaning/weird vocalizations and what-not. Usually just for a minute at a time, so I wake up thinking, "What was that?" and it's quiet again. For example, last night I woke up to what sounded like a cymbal being dropped down a flight of stairs. With the moaning and other odd vocalizations, I don't know what it could be besides some mental illness? But he sounds fine when I talk to him. (I see him around the building and neighborhood a lot.)

But there's another guy on my floor who's really angry at Peter (they guy below me) - he's been ranting about Peter being a psycho because of the noise. Also, Peter's dog is old and sick and today the dog defecated in the stairwell. So the guy just called the cops on Peter because of the noise. I left to go to the cafe half a block away and Peter followed me. Peter apologized to me, explaining that the guy hates him because of Peter's music.

I don't get it. So far I haven't asked Peter why he makes the odd loud noises and vocalizations at night. But so far that hasn't bothered me that much, like his loud music did (I tend to be a deep sleeper once I'm asleep).

Oh, and this is unrelated, but the angry guy said when he first saw me, I scowled at him. Obviously I didn't intentionally scowl at him, but sometimes people just read me wrong, and sometimes I apparently give people odd looks even though I don't mean to. Anyway, the guy's not mad at me for scowling at him.

edits for clarity.

Good lord, tommyrot. That's a lot of interpersonal drama. I've lived here five years, and know two neighbors' names!

Speaking of interpersonal drama, I just saw a 60 Minutes piece on the end of Guiding Light. Sad!

That's a lot of interpersonal drama I've lived here five years, and know two neighbors' names!

Yeah, at my last place (where I was for 8 years) I hardly knew anyone's name. Actually, I would talk to someone, learn their name and then never run into them again for months so I'd forget their name.

It's weird - the neighborhood I live in (Rogers Park) everyone is super-friendly. I feel like I've moved to a whole new city with a higher friendlyness level - like moving from NYC to Minneapolis or something. Actually, this neighborhood reminds me of Madison. Some people are kinda' hippyish....

Oh god, mojitos. Plied with too many this afternoon. Was late to MK's shot because I had to sober up. But the on is still on, and got some teasing for it. Thank god my friend's husband is a big old harmless flirt. We had people on the floor, laughing.

AND I got out to the lake AND a half mile swim in. Wanted to do more but was running late to the bbq. Of course, when I head out with bedhead in my grimy workout clothes, I run into someone from work and their friends and then at the lake, my next door neighbor on his bike. And coming back, my neighbor from down the street. I do clean up nice, really!

At my place, there's the Purple Lady. Everyone in Los Feliz knows who she is, and some dress as her for Halloween. She dresses in head to toe purple every day, and has wicked blonde hair. She's like Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.

Anyway, Purple Lady stands outside and cries a lot. Then there's Dorothy, who sometimes cuts the lawn late at night with a pair of scissors. I leave her piles of books sometimes because she doesn't drive and can't get to the library easily.

Next is Jay, who is a very angry old man who hoards newspaper. Ophelia doesn't speak any English at all and is suffering from senile dementia. We're all afraid she'll forget that the stove is on and kill us all.

Kathleen is normal, and leaves me her old Gourmet mags and sometimes we go to Costco together on my off Fridays.

That's my building.

I have Opinions about people -- the unfriendly old lady with the yappy dog, the nice mom who smokes out front, the slow-moving man, the crazywoman next to me and her son who climbed through my window that one time -- but I still don't know their names, or talk to anyone about any other neighbor.