Craving the simple life

Geez, I hope I don't sound like a chronic whiner. "Whaaa, we have so much to DO. Whaaaa, we have to go on a PLAAAYNE. Whaaa, our house is falling apart." Sorry. Got to remember we have a good life.

Snaps to So The Fish Said for reminding me of that in her July 12 post -- "Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough." And for reminding me how great Garrison Keillor, coin-er of that phrase, is. I SO need to listen to Prairie Home Companion on NPR. Husband doesn't get things like that -- therefore, I try not to subject him -- but I love it. Here are some more gems from the genius himself:

"Librarians, Dusty, possess a vast store of politeness. These are people who get asked regularly the dumbest questions on God's green earth. These people tolerate every kind of crank and eccentric and mouth-breather there is."

"I want to resume the life of a shy person."

"A minister has to be able to read a clock. At noon, it's time to go home and turn up the pot roast and get the peas out of the freezer."

"Beauty isn't worth thinking about; what's important is your mind. You don't want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head."

...and this inspired wisdom, which really spoke to me this morning:

"People will miss that it once meant something to be Southern or Midwestern. It doesn't mean much now, except for the climate. The question, 'Where are you from?' doesn't lead to anything odd or interesting. They live somewhere near a Gap store, and what else do you need to know?"


How refreshing it would be to give up (the Gap and) City Life and move to a small town. Last whine, I promise: I WAAAANT it. I have been dreaming of small-town life, the kind you see in movies where the road's a little dusty and you can find a spectacular old house with pane glass windows and the prettiest little flower garden. And they put those hanging banners across the road during the County Fair. Y'know? I thought of it especially on July 4th this year. I told my Mom, "I just want to go to a Main Street parade, catch some bubble gum from a float, help AJ hold a sparkler, eat some watermelon, and not have to fight for an hour to find parking." (Instead, we shied away from Any and All July 4th activities this year). I think Husband should open an EB Games franchise -- because Lord knows, the kids in the sticks need their video games just like the rest of us! -- and I could help him run it or get a job at the local school. I could teach, right? AJ should grow up enjoying the clean air, the neighbors' dogs, and the chance to ride his bike all day long. Does that exist anymore? (Whi-i-i-i-ne.)

Now I'm done.