I hate to sound like some country bumpkin, but I'm finding suburbia overwhelming. On two occasions this week, I've driven up near where we used to live here in Ohio and about freaked out. Did it look like this when we lived here? My Dad says yes. My Mom says yes--sort of.
I can't believe how many restaurants and shops have opened since we moved. And, I also can't believe how many people are at these shops and restaurants. I thought we were in a recession. And I also thought that Ohio was one of the states on the worst end of the recession. I've nearly snapped my neck a million times already looking around at all of the "stuff."
I don't know what to make of all of it.
On another note, today I took the boys to one of our favorite parks near my Mom's house--Selby Park. This is a park I have loved since "I was a girl," and then took the boys to when we lived here. Lots of big shade trees, huge play area on one of those spongy surfaces, and it's located in the neighborhood where my Mom used to teach school so I feel very at home there. We spent several hours there while the boys played Hide 'n Seek with some random kids. I played with them for awhile, but then when my quadriceps were screaming because I chose to crouch behind some low object, I felt it was time to bow out gracefully before I maimed myself at my favorite park, thus ruining whatever good memories I have of it.
So I sat and read my latest juvenile fiction for the summer: Anne of Green Gables. (Cinda, I'm about a third of the way through it in case you're wondering.)
And finally, a story which no one but my Dad, Erin and I will find amusing, but I feel like recounting it here.
Near Worthington is a little bookshop called the Village Bookstore. It's housed in an old church and carries a combination of new and used books. It's a crazy jumble. They have no catalog of their inventory and they carry lots of stuff on consignment. If you buy a consignment book, you'll open it to find there's just a piece of paper clipped inside saying who should get payment for this book. It's really quite hilarious in its disorganization, but it's also a great place to spend an afternoon browsing around.
So last night I stopped in there with my Dad who wanted to find a used copy of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Of course, the man working hadn't the faintest idea whether or not this book was in the store, but he told us in which room we might find the book. Room. A huge room with thousands of books. And my Dad couldn't remember who wrote the book (it's John Berendt for those of you aching to know). We trekked upstairs to the appropriate room and Dad started looking book by book.
In a very loyal fashion, I got sidetracked by the Nancy Drew books. Dad wanted to buy my niece some Nancy Drews, so I called Erin to see which books Ellie has. During the course of the phone call, I realized it was probably rude to stand talking on my phone in a bookstore (even though I didn't see anyone else, there are a zillion little rooms, like honeycomb, and I didn't know if someone was going to pop out and make angry eyes at me for chatting). So I stepped into one of the many used books rooms and talked to Erin about Nancy. During the course of our conversation, I got lazy and leaned up against the bookshelves, resting my hand on a bunch of books. A few seconds later, I glanced at the books on which I was leaning (Erin must have been saying something boring and my mind wandered).
I did a double take.
And then a triple take.
And then I screamed.
I had put my hand down on the very book my Dad was looking for. And I wasn't even in the room where the man had told us to look. It totally freaked me out.
Freaky stuff like that makes my whole day.