So my weekend in the country was a little different than expected. Instead of gaining happiness from my sales, I was happy because of the people I met. It's amusing how much fun it is to be thrown in the middle of people you would ordinarily never meet in your daily life. To my right I had the good old Irish/Italian/German/Americans, waiting for their grandchildren to come. Lovely people with interesting stories. Sad stories, the death of 1 of their 5 children. Great stories, of the lady taking time out of her career to raise all of her children at home, and her strong beliefs that I was doing the right thing working from home, in order to raise mine. She ran a cheesecake business during those years, and look at me and my love of the cheesecake art? Totally different but yet the same. Stories of their trips to England, and losing all the photos they took in the x-ray machine at the airport. They said how quaint my accent is, and how funny the word differences are. Then to my left, the "country" biker folks y'all. The man was in his late 40s with children varying from 30 years old right down to 18 and several grandchildren. Plaid shirts abound. He was selling hunting gear, gun cabinets and the like. He had a full table of back issues of Easy Rider. He talked excitedly about all the party's he'd been to where he had picked up those magazines, and quite a few girls along the way. I was captivated. I loved the way he talked so passionately about the bikes, the hunting, the life. He was pure country. I felt at home, even though sometimes we couldn't understand a word either of us were saying. I told him of my love for Harley's. So he told me all the ins and outs of getting the right one, where to go, who to trust, what to look for. He showed me centerfolds in those magazines of pictures drawn by an artist who died recently. He spoke of them like they were Monet, or Vargas for that matter. His eyes were alive. Some people label guys like him "red-necks". They call them uneducated and they are portrayed in comedy sketches like Larry the cable guy, as being dumb. But to me for the most part, people like him are people who are dedicated to working to live, and not stuck in the rat race of living to work. That's important you know. Why is it that every week I am thrown a new hurdle in my struggle to like City life? I miss not caring what time it is. I miss fields and trees. On Saturday night we went for a twilight stroll. We came across a fat frog sitting on the road. We closely examined it with my husbands flashlight, I want to say torch, but don't want anyone thinking I go around with a flaming beacon of any kind ;-) Anyway we presumed it dead, and as I was putting my son back in his stroller it hopped away into the hedgerow. The excitement and laughter that followed made my night! Then we came across 3 horses. We all petted them and I delighted in that long forgotten smell, of years past. It's the simple things that count in this life. Monday, April 23, 2007
So my weekend in the country was a little different than expected. Instead of gaining happiness from my sales, I was happy because of the people I met. It's amusing how much fun it is to be thrown in the middle of people you would ordinarily never meet in your daily life. To my right I had the good old Irish/Italian/German/Americans, waiting for their grandchildren to come. Lovely people with interesting stories. Sad stories, the death of 1 of their 5 children. Great stories, of the lady taking time out of her career to raise all of her children at home, and her strong beliefs that I was doing the right thing working from home, in order to raise mine. She ran a cheesecake business during those years, and look at me and my love of the cheesecake art? Totally different but yet the same. Stories of their trips to England, and losing all the photos they took in the x-ray machine at the airport. They said how quaint my accent is, and how funny the word differences are. Then to my left, the "country" biker folks y'all. The man was in his late 40s with children varying from 30 years old right down to 18 and several grandchildren. Plaid shirts abound. He was selling hunting gear, gun cabinets and the like. He had a full table of back issues of Easy Rider. He talked excitedly about all the party's he'd been to where he had picked up those magazines, and quite a few girls along the way. I was captivated. I loved the way he talked so passionately about the bikes, the hunting, the life. He was pure country. I felt at home, even though sometimes we couldn't understand a word either of us were saying. I told him of my love for Harley's. So he told me all the ins and outs of getting the right one, where to go, who to trust, what to look for. He showed me centerfolds in those magazines of pictures drawn by an artist who died recently. He spoke of them like they were Monet, or Vargas for that matter. His eyes were alive. Some people label guys like him "red-necks". They call them uneducated and they are portrayed in comedy sketches like Larry the cable guy, as being dumb. But to me for the most part, people like him are people who are dedicated to working to live, and not stuck in the rat race of living to work. That's important you know. Why is it that every week I am thrown a new hurdle in my struggle to like City life? I miss not caring what time it is. I miss fields and trees. On Saturday night we went for a twilight stroll. We came across a fat frog sitting on the road. We closely examined it with my husbands flashlight, I want to say torch, but don't want anyone thinking I go around with a flaming beacon of any kind ;-) Anyway we presumed it dead, and as I was putting my son back in his stroller it hopped away into the hedgerow. The excitement and laughter that followed made my night! Then we came across 3 horses. We all petted them and I delighted in that long forgotten smell, of years past. It's the simple things that count in this life. 
