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Speaking of heaven, do you know what happens to a $2 hollow St. Joe who's been buried for six months? He gets filled with dead earthworms. That was a little grisly. Not as grisly as the unearthing, I understand. I wasn't there; B., PKB's awesome son, and a little guy named Thumper excavated the front yard of the Crapshack in search of Joe as their last act.

When I buried Joe, I put him six inches down and jammed a big stick to mark his space. A few months later, B. covered that section of yard with 15 feet of mulch and he removed my Joe marker. Not that it would have been visible under the mulch, but still. They called me at 7 PM Friday night, "Where did you bury that thing?"

PKB's awesome son and Thumper asked B. if it was really necessary to go through such a production for a $2 plastic saint filled with dead worms. Yes. Yes, it was. As B. told them, "We almost lost her cat how many times today? She'll kill us just for that. If Joe's missing on top of it, there's going to be real trouble."

The cat's fine. She's just good at hiding, but I guess there were several occasions when the guys were sure she'd gotten out of the house. At one point it was dire enough that B. went across the street to Tattoo Face's house. He was outside with his wife-type person, several other local drunks, and I don't know who else, since I wasn't there.

A few hours early, at 1:30 PM, PKB's awesome son noticed Tattoo Face outside, drinking a beer. To which he said, "Dude. That guy's drinking a beer at 1:30 on a Friday afternoon." B. replied, "Oh. He's running behind today."

Anyway, B. went The Tattoo Face Round Table Discussion Group to see if any of them had seen, or perhaps ritually sacrificed my cat. No, they hadn't (like I said, she's fine and adjusting well to the new digs). They did ask B. if he knew who would be moving into our old house. You see, these people, who have drunken cookouts in their front yard most nights, scream at each other, scream at their children, zoom not-quite-street-legal dirt bikes up and down the street at all hours of the day and night are concerned that they might get bad neighbors.

!!!!

That's exactly what they said to B. "Well, we sure hope they're good neighbors. We don't want anyone bad moving into the neighborhood."

Bad? From what I've witnessed of this gang, I don't even want to know what constitutes a bad neighbor. Flesh-eaters? Post-doctoral students? The Amish? I just don't know.

I got a call from my next-door neighbor on Wednesday when we had the 26-foot U-Haul in the driveway and an army of people hauling all our worldly belongings into it. When I see her name on the caller i.d., I never answer because I don't like to talk to her. Besides, I think she has a little crush on B., so I figure I might as well allow her that little thrill.

So in the middle of what she knows is moving day, with moving chaos occuring right before her eyes, why did she call me? Because she had some questions about a doctor's appointment she'd recently had.

I'm sorry. I'm moving. I'm also not a doctor. Unless your uterus is hanging out of your body and I'm the only person in the world with the kind of stick required to put it back in, THIS ISN'T A GOOD TIME TO CALL!!!!!

So there you have it. Two final tales from the Redneck Jungle. From here on out, it's nothing but tales of Catholic high school principals who are really nice and will help strangers move. Not nearly as interesting. Thank God.

We're nowhere near being settled. Much unpacking to do. But all of our stuff's here. Our family's all here. Clara Jane, the dogs, the somewhat errant cat, B., me. Even with our stuff piled all over the new house, and the exhaustion, it couldn't feel more right to be here. It's already home, and we love it.

1. Kate - Johnny Cash
2. Fast Cars - U2
3. Joy Inside My Tears - Stevie Wonder
4. On and On and On - Wilco
5. We're Going to Be Friends - White Stripes
6. What a Difference a Day Makes - Dinah Washington
7. Crab - Weezer
8. Dinner at Eight - Rufus Wainwright
9. Amazing Grace - Mahalia Jackson
10. Sunrise Always Listens - Paul Westerberg

Damn. Even the shuffles are better in Prettytown.