On Sunday, we went to the city to join some friends at a minor league baseball game.
Minor league baseball is a blast!!
Especially if you have children.
Especially if you live in America.
But, this isn’t about the game.
While I was there, my sister sent me a text.
She’s a city girl like me.
She lives near a large city in Oregon.
I don’t live near a large … anything.
She sends me a text asking what country folk do in the city.
She can be random. It’s weird. I’m glad I’m not like that. … Oh. Never mind.
So I tell her what I know.
Which isn’t a whole lot. …
If you’re Texas Guy/country folk your stress level rises the closer you get to the city, the traffic makes you cranky, the humans you see and the knowledge that there are many many more in the vicinity makes you grumpy, and you go back to the country as soon as possible!
If you’re me/country folk you start to get excited as soon as you know about the trip, by the time the trip arrive you’re about to EXPLODE, you barely keep yourself from screaming when you see traffic and freeways (OK, sometimes there is screaming. I can’t help it.), you embrace the traffic with much admiration, and as soon as you enter a crowded area, you raise your arms and yell, “MY PEOPLE!!!!” … OK, I’ve never done that last one. But I always want to. Really bad.
I should point out though, that I’m really a city girl transplanted to the country. Not real country folk.
Oh. That didn’t need pointing out?
That obvious, huh?
I can’t help it. I’m a city girl. And I love the country.
Except for the bugs.