Small town life

Small town life can be both a blessing and a curse.  Although I was raised in a smallish city, I can empathise with those who want to flee the confines of their dot on the map as well as though who prefer to venture no farther.  I often wonder how my kids will feel when their adulthood arrives.  However, if you can hack it, there is a lot of humour to be found in small town living.  Even when you happen to be the topic of gossip.

But first the blessing.  I was at the grocery store yesterday with two kids in the double jogger and one walking beside me.  I often do this when I need to pick up a few last minute items.  In fact, I once heard myself referred to as that lady with the big stroller ... who's always walking.  At the cash I got talking with a retired teacher from the kids' school.  She looked at the stroller and asked for my address so that she could drive my two bags home.  I welcomed the offer and arrived home to find both bags waiting beside the front door.  There is something very comforting about such care.

However, before I arrived home, I hollered a hello across the highway to a friend waiting at the chip truck.  She motioned wildly indicating for me to stop.  Then, two year old in hand, she stood at the side of the road and yelled, "I hear that you're pregnant."  Except, instead of saying pregnant, she made a ballooning motion in front of her stomach.  I responded, "Really?  I didn't realise that we were having a seventh.  Have you talked to Dave?"  "So you're not?" she yelled.  "Not today anyway.  Let this one grow up a little."  After a bit more questioning she told me that someone at her work had told her the big news.  I don't even know anyone at her work.  I told her to spread the opposite rumour.

I have resolved to do more stomach crunches.