You know you live in a small town when…. your new gynecologist asks you what your husband does for a living and when you tell her, she pops her head up and exclaims, “I have your honey on my shelf!” while her hands are still in your hoo ha.
This is the town where everyone with internet reads the county jail’s booking logs every morning at their desk at work to see if anyone they know was booked in the night before. Then they run into them at the co-op or one of the two good restaurants in town.
I can’t drive/bike down any street without one or more of my clients shouting my name from the street.
I find all this charming because I did not grow up here, I think. I understand why the young folks move away as soon as they can, and don’t come back until they are ready to settle down.
Speaking of my clients, I had the most adorable conversation with one the other day. It went a little something like this:
Me: So, why are you having such a hard time getting to school on time these days?
Him: My blankets are just so, so warm, and I can’t get out of bed.
Him: They’re the Mexican blankets. You know what I’m talking about?
Me: Oh yeah, the ones you get in the outdoor markets in Mexico.
Him: Naw, the velvet blankets they sell down by the truck stop. I’ve got six or seven of them. I gots the 2-Pac one, the one with God praying with his hands like this, the one with Mary with her feet up, the Frisbee one, and a couple others that my dog tore up. Man, they keep you warm, though.