Sunday, January 24

You know you live in a small town when...

1...after filling out a P.O. box application form, the postal clerk says, "Oh, so you're moving into Bob's house, eh?" Startling. No where on the form had I written my grandparents names, just their house address. This guy is good, real good.
2...upon introducing myself to some students studying at a table in the special education room where I am now working, one of them says, "Are you related to Steve, the realtor?" I replied that he was my dad, and he continues with, "I need to talk to him!" Okay, that was a little too much. Here is a 17 year old student who evidently is interested in fixing up old houses, and wants some purchasing advise from my father. Weird.
3...as I was bending down to pick up a 4o lb bag of dog food that I had just paid for at the Wal-Mart register, I hear, "Hey, ex!" What? I turn and look, and there is my ex-neighbor, Dave, shouting out a friendly greeting. I was a little taken aback, being that the term 'ex' could be associated with just about anything, but most commonly, ex-spouses. He quickly realized that yelling out the word 'ex', in the middle of Wal-Mart, was a bit awkward and immediately corrected it with "ex-neighbor", as I looked up to see who was addressing me. Hilarious!
4...you get mistaken for your brother's wife. Wait till you hear this...I was called to substitute teacher in one of the local elementary schools for gym class. I arrived and was directed by the secretary to call the gym teacher to get the lessons for the day. When I called her (she happens to be my old elementary gym teacher), I first gave her my name and then asked her what we were going to be doing for the day. She immediately starts with, "So, are you Evan's, Leslie?" I started to answer yes, because I had no idea what she was talking about, but then I corrected myself and told her I was Evan's sister and Steve's second daughter. She proceeded with, "I heard Evan married a Leslie, so you are his wife?" Um, no. I'm his sister, Evan actually married an Emily. There are two Emilys in the family, not two Leslies. Her next remark continued to confuse me, "Oh, so who are you?" I couldn't think of who I was, besides Evan's sister and Steve's second daughter. So I just repeated that statement. The connection must have clicked after that, because she immediately exclaimed, "Oh, are you the hiker?" Whew, we got that cleared up, I guess. I'm 'the hiker', here in Rochester, evidently. Good to know.

Tuesday, January 19

Moving Day

Imagine that - I've moved again. Four times in 365 days. And for the first time in four years, I can't haul all my belongings in my Jimmy. Makes for more of a headache on moving day, eh?

After reflecting on my random and sporadic moves hither and thither, I've made, what I consider, a wise decision to get a P.O. box this time around. At least for the next 6 months. So if anyone needs my address I'd be happy to send it your way. Just shoot me an email.

Tuesday, January 12

the beauty of frigid temperatures


I've missed ice skating. Ever since I moved away from Indiana (2001), the timing of my return at Christmas has been too early to reap the benefits of lake frontage in Indiana winters. So year after year, I would gear up for my flight home to Fulton County at Christmas time, hoping this year would be the year the ice would be thick enough for a long overdue ice skating adventure. And time and time again I was disappointed. Only to get a phone call a week or two after returning to everyday life in North Carolina, Montana, Washington (wherever it was I was living) to describe the depth of the ice that had now formed on the lake.


To the best of my ability to recall past events, I haven't laced up a pair of ice skates since I was 20 years old. Now crunching the numbers, and doing the arithmetic, that calculates out to be about 11 years of winters absent of the beloved activity of ice skating.


This realization lead me to endeavor the great task of shoveling about ten inch deep snow off of a small section of frozen Lake Manitou. Thankfully Dad made his way out to the rink to aid me in my obsession. And together we carved out of snow a perfect little rink. Admittedly, a small rink for ice skating, but just enough ice to enjoy on skates.