Life in Sherman Oaks So it's eight at night and the sky is fading from a dark red and it's still just barely hot. I've just finished unloading a truck full of boxes and I'm pulling my car into the garage. As I get out to open the door, I notice a kid -- nine or ten -- watching me from next door. He's got his elbows on the kitchen window sill and his fists are pushing his cheeks high. "Hi there," I say. "Hi," he says. "My name's Greg. I'm your new neighbor." One eyebrow cocks up and he says hopefully, "Do you have any boys?" "No," I say. "Sorry... But we're going to get a dog." He pulls back one corner of his mouth in disappointment. "We've already got two dogs," he says, and turns and walks away. And the next day I got to see the obligatory fat-guy-who- lives-across-the-street-and-likes-to-walk-around-without-a-shirt. ★