This is my daily commute.  It’s so relaxing.  My neighbors get very irritated with me because I drive so slowly.  But isn’t this why people move to the country?  We want life to be relaxing, scenic, more enjoyable.

I call the donkey Manny, and the cows Daisy and Belle.

Number 1: You know you live in the country when the water company is closed due to a family emergency.  I am not kidding!  I drove down today to pay my water bill-that’s what we do here in the country, rather than using an online bill pay (they don’t exist).  I drive up to park and notice everything is closed up tight.  There were a couple of other people already there, just as confused as I am.  I did have an advantage:  I had a check that I could just drop in the payment box.  My fellow compatriots were not so lucky-they had cash and no envelopes.  So they were more upset than puzzled (as I was) because they didn’t know how to pay their bills.  And of course the deadline is today, so the two angry customers stayed to criticize the water company employee (I’m assuming there is only one and apparently no backup employees.  Or maybe there are several employees but they are all related so the family emergency affects the entire staff.)  At any rate, I had to laugh-after I got into my car and drove away of course-because this could only happen when living in a small country town.

I love senior citizens!  They have so many interesting stories and can really put things into perspective.  Today I met a wonderful couple: Henry and Jeanette.  Jeanette informed me upon introduction that the doctor says she no longer has to give the receptionist the year she was born as part of her birthdate when she checks in.  I find that a definite plus to growing old. 

Jeanette entered the doctor’s area for her appointment-she had gone into great detail as to why she was there, but frankly I just don’t remember any of it.  I do remember it was for the results of a lab test, but beyond that I couldn’t recall.

While Jeanette was gone Henry and I had a chance to talk.  He and Jeanette share the cooking and he keeps a little notebook in his front pocket with grocery lists and recipes.  He shared a recipe for tomatos that he said is “just wonderful.”  I’ll put it later in this post.

Henry told me he and Jeanette have been married since 1944, but he couldn’t remember how many years that was.  I told him it was 65-he was surprised at the number.  I should have asked him the secret to a happy marriage, but instead I smiled and said, “that’s quite a long time!”  Then he shared his recipe with me:

5 tomatos, cut up; 1 cup olive oil; 2TB balsamic vinegar; 5 cloves of garlic; 2 fresh basil leaves

He emphasized the basil must be fresh and suggested I buy a basil plant and put it on my kitchen windowsill like he does.  He also shared with me that although he puts 5 cloves of garlic in his recipe, his wife prefers 3 and often won’t kiss him after he’s eaten the tomatos.  That didn’t seem to bother him much though-he just smiled as he told me.

Jeaneatte appeared and said it was time to go and we exchanged our goodbyes.  Henry held the door open for Jeanette and she smiled sweetly as she exited.  I hope I meet them again.

I smiled and nodded, then went on my way.  But several questions popped into my head.  First, what about the men?  Are they all reasonably attractive, or does he only notice the women?  Second, is this true for every Wal Mart or just this particular one?  Are the majority of women that shop at Wal Mart fat and unattractive?  Where do the attractive ones shop?  Target on Hwy 259?  Or maybe Albertson’s on the Loop?

Which made me wonder: if I am categorized in the attractive category (and who knows if I was correctly categorized but we’ll assume for this blog that I was) then should I be shopping at Wal Mart?  Am I causing the other women to feel uncomfortable?  Will my attractiveness be highlighted or minimized by the other women as I’m shopping? If I continue to shop at Wal Mart will I become more like the women that apparently shop there?  Animals adapt to their environment in the wild; will I adapt to survive as well?

I still haven’t figured out whether I’ve thrown the universe out of kilter by shopping at the wrong grocery store but one thing is certain: I will definitley go to the gym today.

I must admit I was a little shocked-it seemed so soon! I mean, we get along and all, but that’s getting pretty serious. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of relationship. I was enjoying the once a week get together to drink coffee and knit-introducing our husbands to each other just seemed too soon.

But the whole family went to Yvonne’s house to eat hamburgers and hot dogs and potato salad-we even brought Blue Bell ice cream. And it was fun! The kids watched a movie while the adults sat in the dining room and got to know each other better. We even promised to get together again, presumably at our house.

So I did it-I took the friendship to the next level. And it was good.

Now I’m Cyber Friending-much like cyber dating.  I went out to www.ravelry.com and found several knitters in the area and friended them.  One in turn invited me to a local knit group and I went.  I had a great time and they in turn invited me to 2 other knit groups and a book club. It’s fun, it’s interesting, and it’s a bit scary.  But I think it’s going to be okay.

Now everyone is someone new.  And I’m the one being classified.  Well, I’m assuming other people compartmentalize like I do-maybe they don’t.  But at the very least I think we all feel we have just so much room in our lives for new things and new people.  And sometimes even the nicest people just don’t “fit” into our lives.  So I’ve got to get out there, make myself  “fittable”.  You get the picture.

This Saturday I’m going to Books A Million in Longview to meet with a knitting group.  I’ve been knitting since July and I’ve found this is a great way to make new friends.  Even if I have nothing in common with the person knitting beside me, we can always discuss yarn.  And needles.  So I’m good to go-I know enough about both topics to sound reasonably intelligent. 

I’ll let you know how “fittable” I am.

The family moves to the country to recapture whatever it is they think they’ve lost-their time, their togetherness, their sanity.  Then little things start happening that make them question what they’ve done.  Like going to the grocery store and not finding any Kool Aid.  Being able to buy hominy but not cous-cous.  Meeting people that think it’s perfectly natural to drive 20 miles to see a movie in a theatre.

Then stranger, more disturbing things happen.  A skunk appears in the backyard and appears to be right at home.  Coyotes howl at sunset to the tune of “Happy Trails” (okay, maybe I just imagined that.)  The stars at night really are big and bright (deep in the heart of Texas).  People aren’t in a hurry to get anywhere-they’re just happy to be where they are. 

The family begins to question their values: is having the ability to eat at 25 different restaurants really worth the traffic, the noise, the stress?  And the transformation begins: the family actually enjoys eating dinner together every night, taking walks in the woods, turning off the TV and just enjoying the nighttime sky.  Oh sure, on the outside they appear the same; but the inside has metamorphosed into something altogether different.  Something strange and new, yet wonderful.  And one day the family might even think it’s perfectly acceptable to drive 20 miles to go to the movies.  Maybe-the jury’s still out on that one.

Anyway, here is my mom’s Pumpkin Dream Bar recipe from the weekend-hope you enjoy it.

1 stick margarine 1 cup sugar
1 cup old-fashioned oats 4 eggs
1/3 cup sugar 1-16 oz. can pumpkin
3/4 cup flour 1/2 cup Karo light syrup
2 tsp. cinnamon Cool Whip

Beat margarine and 1/3 cup sugar until fluffy. Add oats and flour and mix well.
Spread onto bottom of 9 x 13″ greased pan. Bake 18-20 minutes until golden brown. Bear cream cheese and 1 cup sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time. Add remaining ingredients and mix until smooth. Pour over baked crust. Bake 45-50 minutes. Cool. Serve with Cool Whip.

I thought it was much easier than a pumpkin pie.

Early one Saturday morning 11 people showed up to help us load the truck.  We had a washer and dryer, my great grandmother’s buffet, a refrigerator, and a 500 pound gun safe.  Not to mention the assorted beds, toys, bikes, etc. 

My friend Tracy found one of my unmentionables on the kitchen counter-apparently it had been behind the washer and dryer, retrieved by the men when they moved the appliances.  I spent the next few hours trying to determine which men I should be embarassed in front of.  Tracy told me that the garment was in great shape, was an attractive size, and looked really nice so I should be proud.  Tracy really is a great friend.

5 of the 11 made the trek to Gilmer with us and spent another 6 hours helping us unload the truck.  I don’t remember the person that assured me unpacking is much better than packing, but she was delusional.  I think moving is like being pregnant.  People come out of the woodwork with stories and advice that really aren’t helpful, the pain really is as bad as you think it’s going to be (sometimes worse), and you should definitely spread them out so you can forget the bad parts and focus on the excitement.  And it takes longer than you think it will to get the new routine down. 

It’s also more expensive than you anticipate, just like having a baby.  Case in point: our refrigerator.  We moved our old refrigerator from Arlington and the men lugged it up the stairs to the main floor, only to find it doesn’t fit.  So we have the joy of purchasing a new refrigerator and figuring out how to lug the old one downstairs to the garage.  Ah, the joys of home ownership.