The term 'backyard' is used rather loosely in the great state of California. What is called a back yard isn't really a back yard. For example, my yard is not quite as large as the public bathroom at my favorite bistro. There literally isn't room to accelerate into a jog. No I'm not kidding.
I'm sure in fancier, more 'upscale' neighborhoods in California, the yards are large enough to do a cartwheel in, but not in my 'low income' neighborhood in the quaint little metropolis of RP, CA. I never thought I would have yard envy, but I do.
But skimpy yardage aside, there's lots to be said about sketchy California neighborhoods. One of them is free live music, 24/7. How many people can say that they can enjoy live entertainment in the comfort of their very own pint-sized patio? Not many.
Within walking distance of my home, I can enjoy the following amenities: two, count them, two gas stations, each with the cheapest gas in town (4.09 per gallon), one liquor store, one Pueblo Market, and one community center. Truly, I think this community center might also be a church. But just when I think I've figured out what kind of church it is, it throws me a curve ball. Yesterday, the Mister and I were enjoying our usual Sunday barbecue in our "outdoor space" to the tune of...was it Arab jive classics? Jewish folks tunes? Not sure, but the Jerusalem Food Festival happening next door at the community center/place of worship was drawing quite a crowd and those folks know how to party. We didn't want to be left out (not that we could even if the wanted to). Nothing says 'suburbia' like two all-American white kids belly dancing in the back 'yard'.
Let me tell you, when it comes time for resale, this little feature will definitely be an asset. It's sure to offset the fact that you can't leave your car unlocked for even a heart beat without your ashtray being robbed of change. Play-pin sized yards notwithstanding, who knew that the other side of the tracks was so rad? Hats off to you Cali, always breaking the mould.
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