Crappy Neighborhood

I need to move.


I sort of feel that this blog has turned out to be one big complaint but I swear this will change. Let me explain why I put this picture on the blog. When we first moved to Salt Lake we were shocked when we found out someone was stalking us because of our house - this is all old news now except now that Erik is a cop he found out the same guy has threatened cops and they are now looking for him. Anyway, shortly after that a stolen car was dumped near the front of our house and lit on fire to mask evidence. If you notice, the car in front of the burning one was Aaron and Jessie's. Along with the lack of parking, noisy fights, dogs barking, drunk guys lying on the sidewalk outside our house, last month there was a shoot-out a block away at Sears and two people died. Nice neighborhood huh? So, since Erik became a cop we have had multiple people knock on our door with reports or complaints.

As most of you heard, I am having one heck of a few days. I thought Ewan's leg breaking was difficult. Erik left yesterday for interviews in Port Angeles. On cue, Ewan got a fever and started throwing up and having diarrhea. Yesterday I had to stem the tide of a poop explosion with my hand so it didn't get on his cast, which can't get wet. I change us both and not five minutes later he pukes on me. I change us both and later he poops and pukes on me again. He is only sleeping around an hour at a time. Exhausted, last night I put him in bed with me. The only way he would be calm was for me to put my finger in his pacifier. He fusses, I stroke his face and ask if he is all right. He pukes in my face and down the front of me. It gets better. Today he pooped on me again and puked on me again. He won't sleep or be consoled and we smell gross with no time to shower and only being able to sponge bathe him.

It gets better. I get home from dropping kids at school and start laundry. I am feeding Ewan when there is a knock on the door: "Oh Great!" I think as a mostly toothless drunk-looking man looks back at me and asks, "Does the cop live here?" "Yeah," I reply. "Is he around?" "Nope," I reply skeptically. Then the man says, "mmmphfff dead man phlupb alley." "What?" I reply trying to understand him. "There's a dead man in the alley between your house and the bar." "Uhh" I reply illiterately. After he stares at me I say, "There's a dead man in the alley behind the house?" "Yeah," he replies, "I was walking down the alley and I saw a guy lying there. I moved him with my foot to see if he was alive and he didn't move. He's dead." "Well, is he a bum?" I ask because of the large amounts of bums around. "No, he has blood all over his face." (Mind you it is difficult to deduce this is what he is saying so I make him repeat it a few times. "O.K. I'll call the cops." I say. I go inside, call dispatch and say, "Hey uh I didn't know if this is where I call but my husband Erik Smith is a cop and told me to call if there were any problems and well..." I tell the dispatch lady, I have to spell my name out for her, and I say, "I live in a great neighborhood." She gets my address then states, "Wow, you do live in a crappy neighborhood." As if I needed her to point that out for me. She says a cop will come over. I get off the phone with her and call Aaron. He answers and I say, "Good, you're not dead." He says, "What?" I said, "Good, you're not dead. Some guy was murdered and shoved in the back and I was making sure it wasn't you. You are the only one I know that goes back there." Then I tell him the story. He decides to start bringing his gun when he comes over. Cops come over. Sure enough, a man was beaten to death and shoved in our shed. In the picture you can't really see it but the shed is the one right behind the small one on the right. So, I talk to cops, homicide detectives, firemen (they needed a ladder to get on top of the building to search for weapons), and newsmen. (Channel 2 if you are interested. Ignore the way I look, I mean give me a break.) All day people are knocking on the door and climbing on rooftops all around, helicopters circling. Meanwhile, Ewan is still pooping and puking on me while not sleeping. I have felt between hysterical crying and laughing till I decided to just shut it all off. The newsman asks me, "Were you shocked to find someone murdered behind your house." "No," I reply. Now he seems shocked. "No?" He asks. I reply, "It's the nature of this neighborhood."