The neighborhood that I want to move to reminds me of the Caribbean. The houses are all mismatched: different sizes, ages, colors, and less of that suburban putty colored paint that I loathe. I like junk in front yards and on porches, I like seeing people sitting on porches, strangely garbed, smoking cigarettes and watching traffic. If you walk around you smell cooking--maybe it's chile verde. It is utterly without pretensions, but when you turn a corner from what street to the next you never know what you'll see.
The people who live there are not rich. They improvise. Or they fill their front yards with gnomes, green ceramic frogs, and a Bathtub Mary. My friend John and I went walking around there on Sunday and he taught me a new verb: "to Home Depot" as in (looking at a house) "they don't seem to have Home Depot'd it to death." He took this photo with my iPad.