So the neighbors (who are about our age, super fun, and have 3 kids…obviously) invited us over for dinner the other night (because that’s what good neighbors do) along with another couple with whom they were old friends (who were also our age, super fun, easygoing, and do NOT have any kids…miracle…I think that’s why they introduced us). So we all had a great time at the end of the night we were exchanging numbers and I asked the woman what her last name was, and she was like, “Hatfield.” Yes, for real. Her husband is a Hatfield, as in THE Hatfields of the Hatfields and McCoys. I kind of freaked out, considering just last week I added the Hatfield-McCoy Driving Tour to my list of Things To Do. He grew up in Pikeville, right on the West Virginia border, and was telling me about all the family heirlooms they had in the house that had to do with the feud (mostly guns).