Life in Oxford, Pt. 1

Angela and I now live in Oxford, OH, which is approximately 35 miles north of Cincinnati. It reminds me somewhat of Lexington, primarily because they're both cities that host major colleges. The difference between Lexington and Oxford, however, is that Lexington seemed to host UK, while Miami seems to host Oxford. Everywhere Angela and I go, whether it's a Kroger run at night or a bike ride to the Library, the city is crawling with college students.
We live in a two-bedroom townhouse, which is nice because of the space it affords us. Our second day here, I walked some move-in trash out to the dumpster, and on my way back, a blonde fellow in a sleeveless shirt pulled up on his bike in front of my door.
"So, you're the new neighbor," he said. We talked for a minute, he told me his name was Neil and that he was working on his master's in geology, and then with a wave of his hand toward the row of townhouses behind us, he imparted some information I found interesting.
"Actually, that whole row of townhouses are people getting their master's in geology," he explained. "And about half the next one, too."
I found this somewhat bizarre. Everyone? All geologists? Is there a dramatic need for geologists on the job market today? Should I put an extra lock on my bike tonight? Will I have to phone the police often because of all the loud, geologist parties?
Fortunately though, the only concerns I've had so far in the week and a half I've spent here, is that one of my neighbors in the row behind me, whom I can only assume is getting his masters in geology, is continually practicing with juggling sticks on the lawn, which I honestly don't believe I've seen since approximately 1999. I'm not talking about real juggling either, I'm referring to the activity where the participant holds a baton in each hand, and then tries to keep another baton in the air with it.
The other concern I've been forced to consider today (and this isn't really a concern, as much as a possible future trust issue), is that Neil was selling me baloney that wasn't manufactured on the farm. This morning I saw a short plump boy with a rat tail, who looked nine or ten, emerge from the back of one of said townhouses with an unopened packet of saltine crackers. He kept looking over his shoulder. Unless one of the geologists was using him for some sort of experiment, I don't think that boy has anything to do with Miami's Geology department.
I'll wait before I confront Neil. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Meanwhile, Angela and I will continue enjoying the benefits of Oxford's Public Library, and the warm Spring weather.

This is our kitchen.




This picture has no relation to anything I blogged about. But there was a cat that was living illegally in the attic of the Strickland house in Perry MI, and we had no choice to set a trap for it. Here is Angela and my dad posing with the cat, before he was deported to my garage for the night.