So, most of you who know me, know that I am not really contented in my one horse village. It's not that it is a bad town, it's just that it is so small. But I have been asking the Lord to make me more content here, if this is where he wants me. In my opinion this is a tiny town that doesn't have much to offer.
Giving people directions I feel like a hick.
Go down the county hwy that brings you into town and take a left at the lights. Don't worry, there is only one set of lights in town and you can see my house from there. If you can't find it, stop anywhere in town and yell and I will peak my head out the door and wave ya over, quick like.
Seriously, from one end to the other is a total of 11 blocks. But it can be a nice place to live, and normally I can forget that I live in hickville. Normally.
I went to the park today. It is a nice park. A car pulls up after we had been there for a while. Four adults and a toddler get out of the car. Honestly I wouldn't have paid that close of attention except that the mom was obnoxiously talking to the kid.
"Come here sweety. Honey come on. Sweety...Sweety....Honey.... Blah Blah Blah". And then yelling across the playground for people to come catch the kids at the bottom of the slide.
The dad comes to help with the kid and that's when I notice it. He has his newly acquired marriage license hanging out of his back pocket. Then I start looking at the couple with new curiosity. She is wearing jeans with writing and holes all over them, but she does have on a sleeveless white button down shirt (blouse would be pushing it) and a black hat. He has on jeans and a black t-shirt with some type of sport logo on it. They are both sporting wedding bands. The other adults look just as frumpy. I don't consider myself a snob (even though I probably sound like one right now) but I thought to myself that this could only happen in WI.
"Yeah baby, let's go to the courthouse and get hitched, then we can take the baby to the good park in the next town over. Don't forget to wear your goodfer jeans and t-shirt."
Romance. Gotta love it.
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ROFLOL! De, you're a hoot. Although I have to say, when you were explaining the directions, I thought you were telling 'em how to get to my old house. When it was our turn to host bible study, people used to tell us we needed to make it a retreat weekend, not just an evening. We were o.u.t. in the sticks. Let me just say, when you're awakened at 3am to things like, "Tom, we're here to help you so put the gun down," (flashlights bouncing through the cornfield across the road and a chopper overhead) or you hear a loud SNAP and discover a drunk driver took out your mailbox (and is asking your neighbor, who is one of 4 policemen in the nearest town, what will legually happen to him if he just up and walks away), you KNOW you're livin' in Stixville.
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