Ain't No Party Like a Neighborhood Party

....Cause a Neighborhood Party Don't Stop.  Until all of the food is gone.  Then it stops.

On Saturday afternoon we attended our neighborhood block party.  This was actually my first block party ever.  Apparently our neighborhood used to have them once a year, but hadn't planned one in the two and a half years we've lived on the block.   

So, wagon in tow, we headed down the hill to the cul-de-sac where the party was in full swing.  Of course we strapped Katherine's bubble machine into the wagon with her, making our very own bubble parade down the street.  

Katherine had a great time, "drawing" on the sidewalk with chalk and eating her weight in fruit and baked beans.  It was all fun and games until a huge dog decided to give her a "kiss."  We quickly recovered just in time for our 90-year-old neighbor to randomly play a couple of unrecognizable tunes on his French Horn, while another neighbor informed the group that the hot dog originated in St. Louis.  I love our neighbors.  Some of them have lived on our street for as long as I've been alive.  They are probably silently judging me for not keeping up my messy flowerbeds.   

It was nice to get out and mingle with our lovely neighbors and to put faces with the houses we pass on our walks.  I hope we have more block parties in the future.  It's nice to know your neighbors.  Most of the time.  

I spent the rest of the day sipping a Lime-a-Rita while making homemade squirrel repellent.  Don't ask.