Sacrifice, Suburban-Style

I hope my neighborhood appreciates the sacrifice of time and brain power that I pour into my Jamison Place HOA Architectural Committee duties. The work is daunting. Reviewing countless fence proposals outlined by thoughtful and intelligent homeowners. Meeting with my other ARC cohorts to painstakingly review clearly laid out plans and either approve or disapprove. Often within a few minutes worth of palavering and a several blinks of an eye. The forms state that the process will take at LEAST two weeks but we knock 'em out in often less than a week. Phone calls. E-mails. Meeting at each others' homes.

For example, just today I showered, shampooed and shined, donned my perky 'Target' red and white summer dress, and marched to the other end of my cul-de-sac, an entire long block in 85 degree weather, mind you, for one such powwow. I didn't return home for TWO hours. There was that exhaustive fifteen minutes spent reviewing and signing the proposal, we'd all cruised or strolled past the house in question earlier; that was followed by an hour and a half of conversation spent getting to know one another better after a few months of serving together on the committee. All that mutual admiration and smiling and sharing lives sure taxes a weary neighborhood volunteer! And then the return trip to my house! I even crossed a major street. Two cars sped by at 20 miles an hour. Sacrifice.

And then later in the evening, calling the new neighbors eagerly awaiting the go-ahead on their fence plans, hoping to deliver their copy of the signed forms as soon as possible. After leaving a succinct message and hanging up, I figured they'd call me the next day. Instead, a return call kept me on the phone for over an hour. We could have been enmeshed in a deep discussion of easements and fencing materials and projected timelines, you know? Sacrifice.

As it was, we clicked, and swapped life factoids. She was hungry for local company, only two weeks in our suburb, working full-time out of her home, her husband often traveling, all her three kids out of the house. It became evident that we shared a common affliction: diarrhea of the mouth (my mom coined this phrase to describe me in my toddlerhood). We both have Sarahs. Sons in the Army. Like gardening. Are quick to laugh. I invited her to Bunco; she accepted the invite with evident pleasure. I promised to drop off her paperwork tomorrow during my walk. We laughed at our inability to hang-up our phones. And then we did. Sacrifice.

I'll probably remain with the committee next year, despite the long hours and intense research and interpretation of official, well thought out, concise forms. It's in my nature to help. To assist. To aid. Sigh-h. I grow weary after such an exhausting day of looking out for the best interests of my neighborhood.

Sacrifice, I tell ya.