socially inappropriate behavior by the parents

Kyler is my ear child. He would be a perfectly healthy child except for those darn ears of his. The child has had multiple sets of PE tubes, a tonsillectomy, an adenoidectomy, and even a frenectomy (He was tongue-tied.). We spent New Year's Eve getting another set of tubes placed. If you'll recall, I'm a speech-language pathologist, so I was familiar with this physician outside of being my son's doctor. Kevin and I both went.

OK. Now that I've set the stage. . .

The doctor comes in and introduces himself to Kev (who had never met him). The doctor then procedes to tell us what they (himself adn his wife) will be doing to ring in the new year. The doctor, whom we saw at his main office also has an office/home in Paradise, which he made reference to. In response, I announced, "I WONDERED what you were doing."

I really hadn't. . .

But at that point, it was more uncomforable to correct myself.

The doctor once again mentioned Paradise, stating that he would be driving there when he finished up with Kyler. Kevin, being the completely-friendly-but-total-smart-aleck that he is, said, "You could just ride with us," which was never intended as an actual solicitation. . .I mean, we were in the "big city," with specific shopping needs ahead of us. We were not missing this opportunity.

The doctor was very quiet for a L O N G moment before replying, "Um, thanks, but I'll just drive myself."

As the awkwardness died away (i.e., The doctor left the room.), Kev and I had one thought: Our first restraining order was approaching.

Parents. . .you just can't take them out in public.

just doing my part

It's now official. Arkansas is sin-filled. I am now living in a gambling state. . .and loving it. Really, I'm just doing my part. I'm stimulating the economy, while providing scholarships for the students of my state. I like to think of it as investing in my children's college education. And so far, I'm investing a lot of money. If our so-called "educational crisis"can be solved by throwing money at our educational system, I'm pretty sure we've solved it in about 30 days. And the new vocabulary. . .double down. Quick pick. One pick. Power play. Addiction. Fascinating stuff, I'm telling you. If you'll forgive me, I have to get my scratching quarter ready. . .I've got a winning ticket headed my way. Ooh, and now there's Powerball. . .

Life in Paradise

Last week, I took my son out to dinner and a movie. While eating out, we saw my high school science teacher and my childhood Girl Scout leader. (They were not together.) It's certainly interesting living in Paradise. Paradise, as you know, is a town small enough that you always know or know of someone wherever you may go. It's more than just interesting, however. When you go to town and see someone like your former Girl Scout leader, the nicest woman who ever lived, you sit up a little straighter. You think before you speak. You worry about what others might think or say.

I was not perfect as a child, and I was even further from perfect as a teenager in Paradise. However, there is an accountability in small towns. I knew that whatever I did would probably get back to my parents at some point. Even if my parents didn't hear, there are somethings you don't want everyone in town talking about. . .

In these days of violent town hall meetings and constant bickering, I wonder what the world might be like if we all lived like we were in Paradise. . .If we all took the time to think before we spoke. . .If we were careful and considerate of how our actions affected those close to us. . .I know I'm not proposing any novel idea, but I do believe I'm proposing an idea that's long been abandoned by some.

small town life

Living in a small town is all about making connections. I don't mean the type of connections where you know the dirt on the mayor or city council members (although I just might. . .). Life in a small town is about finding common ground with those around you. It's just what you naturally do. If a small-town citizen meets someone from Los Angeles, the first thing they'll say is, "I once had a cousin that moved to L.A." It's not that we think you might know said cousin. It's that we need that common ground. We need to feel that connection to you in some way. Why? Because life in a small town is made up of those very complicated, twisted, convoluted connections. After having lived in the same area for most of my life (and now working in that same small area), my connections are sounding something like this.

Her mother was once married to my husband's father.

Her father is the one who ****, and her mother used to work for ****.

Her ex-husband is the one who ***, and she graduated with ****. She used to work at ****. Her mother is the one who ****.

Her grandmother is the one who ***. Her aunt works at Dr. ***'s office. Her mom works at the **** school. She's ****'s cousin.

We went to grade school together. She once ***. Her little sister is the one who ****. She married ***.

These are honest-to-goodness descriptions of people I know. This is how your brain works when you live in a small town. This is also how you describe people to others. Eventually, you find a way to explain who you're talking about. Usually, it's not that they don't know the person, it's simply that you haven't found your mutual connection.

This was made clear to me this weekend when we took M and L (my nephews by marriage) to the rodeo in our small town. These boys are used to living in the "big" city. They are not used to knowing everyone at a community event. Every time Travis walked by, they would shout, "THERE'S TRAVIS!" or "HEY, Travis" or "Kyler, there's your buddy, Travis."

The only problem with this? Travis is a grown man. He was meeting his girlfriend's friends for the first time. . .who just happened to be sitting right below us. I can only hope they didn't hear the two wild hooligans sitting behind me. . . Those are connections you might not want to make.

Life in a Small Town

I'm sitting here in the clinic where I work, wondering just how exactly I got stuck babysitting the man who's van broke down outside our office. It's bone-chilling cold here, so we couldn't just lock him outside. Rachel to the rescue. . .Ok, so basically I'm guarding the place from someone who looks like I could drop kick him into place, but couldn't you act like it was highly important work?! OK, now I feel like a jerk, since the dealership is coming to repossess it. Bad day, anyone?

Yesterday, I found out just how small our town is. If you've never lived in a small (as in teeny, tiny) town, this post may seem hard to believe. Everything I am about to tell you is true.

The blue monster beckoned yesterday. I was in need of several items, in particular items of a very personal nature. I was seriously contemplating driving else where to purchase said PRIVATE items, when I decided to just go for it here. (Call me crazy. This was when I believed that there was still a semblance of privacy in Paradise. . .)

I found everything except the VERY PRIVATE item I needed. I made my way to that aisle and found my item. However, on the way, I came across the mom of a friend. She wanted to talk. and talk some more. Eventually, I eased my cart away enough to escape and find the item. Kady had taken her coat off and I place the VERY PRIVATE item under her coat. (I was more concerned about someone I knew seeing me than blue monster security. I'm crazy like that.) Now, all I had to do was find a check-out line where I didn't know the checker. Easier said than done, especially with 3 lanes open. . .[sigh]

I found a line with nary a familiar face in sight. I managed a relieved sigh, when someone in the (very empty) express lane was waving me over. OH NO! It was the mom of one of Kyler's friends. I couldn't pretend I didn't see her. I couldn't not go over there. I did not want her to think I was rude. I slowly, with head held (somewhat) high, made my way over to the express lane with my (only 3 items above the limit) cart. She talked the entire time she checked me out about our children's' teacher. (She's great. We love her. Apparently, everyone else does, too.)

I made my way towards the exit. I see previously mentioned wonderful teacher who takes the time to ask about Kyler and his headache. We talk. For awhile. I look down and Kady is searching desperately for her tictacs--and throwing my VERY PRIVATE item in the floor while she searches. So much for privacy.

What's your best small-town story? Embarrassing story? Crappy day? And if you ask what the VERY PRIVATE item was, I will not be your bloggy friend anymore. : )