It's been awhile since I posted. I really want to get back into the habit - hopefully with school winding down I will find more time for it. To be honest most days I become a zombie by 8:00, and blogging just doesn't make the list. There are always things I want to write about - like taking care of the farm so that Luke had a chance to go fishing, updating on the pigs, and discussing my new vendetta against the chicken coop (I may share that story at the end - it is sure to get some chuckles).
But first I'm going to start with this - I have been planning it for awhile. You see, I live 15 minutes away from where I grew up. I was never the adventurous child who moved across the country and started up a new, I mean honestly, what is so great about Seattle anyway? (Kidding, Becca and Greg.) The reality is that part of living on a farm means living in a rural region, which means I now live in a cozy little farm town. There isn't a stoplight in town - there used to be, but they took it down. Ironically, the stoplight use to double my commute to work if I caught the red light - now with the roundabout I can quickly buzz in within 4 minutes.
Living in a small town is a very unique thing, and while I used to feel a little claustrophobic, I now love it. And I mean love it. At a school district meeting, our superintendent was discussing a possible referendum and updating the school's pool. He made a joke, saying "Do you want to know what Pulaski is without a pool?....Bonduel." I laughed out loud, literally, and trust me, you have to be a part of the small town to find that one hysterical.
You can't escape the gossip around here - nor can you escape the old ladies talking gossip. From my dear neighbor and grandma-in-law, to the elderly stylists at the only hair shop in town, to my co-workers and students, you learn about everybody. I know some intimate details about people I don't even know, but hey - in this town I'm sure I will meet them eventually.
I also live one minute from the grocery store - so close that sometimes I think to myself, "Well, I don't have to put my seat belt on - its practically in my driveway." But then I remember the statistic that whatever percent of accidents happen within one mile of home, and my hypochondriac self makes me put it on anyway. The local grocery store is called Super Ron's. It has a nice little selection - though my students (several of which work there) tell me if you dig deep enough in the shelves then you will find canned goods from 2001. I go to Super Ron's frequently - there is always something I am missing for a meal - today it was mushrooms. I have gone 3 times this week already, and every time I run into 2-3 students, maybe a parent of a student, or someone I work with.
One morning I was up really early on Saturday, hair a mess and pajamas on. I was in the mood for some baked item for breakfast - probably cinnamon rolls, and needed flour. Without thinking twice, I ran to Super Ron's. But Super Ron's in Pulaski is like the paparazzi for celebrities - you can't go there without seeing someone that might judge your appearance. A former student gave me the weirdest look of my life, and one of my current students just chuckled and said "morning Mrs. W." I took that one to heart, and now always make sure to at least straighten my pony tail before bopping in there.
And the old ladies of Super Ron's - I love them! Luke always chuckles when he goes with me - because I act like they are my dear friends. Donna, who almost always opens the store, sometimes recognizes my car in the parking lot at 5:55 am and opens up for me early because she knows I need school supplies. Sandy - my favorite- she always perks up when she sees me. One time I complemented her on her haircut and then it was like we were best friends. She tells me I look nice, asks how I am doing, last time she politely told me that even though I look really young she knows me so well she doesn't have to card me anymore. Haha - too cute.
And then of course, I have to deal with other small town grocery store elements as well. Luke and I had a bonfire last week, so I bought two thirty packs of beer. Well, as I was paying and gave the cashier my ID, she said "Wojcik? Are you possibly my sister's teacher?" Well then first thing 5th hour on Monday, that student didn't hesitate to ask me how my weekend was and chuckle. All part of being a small town girl I suppose. It is all worth it - there is comfort in the familiarity of it all.
So with that reminiscing over, I will end with a humorous story. On Monday, Luke was very busy getting ready for our CSA membership meeting, and he was feeling pretty stressed. Being the supportive wife, I offered to feed and water the pigs and chicks. The pigs were easy - I knew enough to wear my rubber boots so that when they nip at my feet they couldn't get me. Those little piggies are entertaining.
But then it was time to feed and water the chickens. Luke designed a light-weight, user-friendly portable coop - for MALES. It is a little to tall for me, I have to stand on my tip toes on one half of a tiny little 2x4, straddle the fence, and try to hop over while on my tiptoes to avoid any..."damage." This isn't easy - it is a very technical, Olympic-worthy maneuver. While balancing on my tip toes of one foot and looking for a spot to set my other foot, I'm also shoeing away the chicks so I don't step on any. And that is how disaster struck.
There I was, on my tip toe, one leg over the wire fence, shooing away chickens and getting ready to plant my other foot, when it happened. A chicken ran under my foot and I had to change my trajectory last minute. And then...I lost my tippy-toe balance, and wound up both feet in the air, straddling a wire fence with no feet touching the ground. I may not be a man, but ouch!!!! Seriously, I'm semi-scared that there might be permanent damage. It was a painful few seconds, trying to shimmy back and forth on that wire fence, just trying to get a footing. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least. Needless to say, my temper slipped as well and the cuss-words were flying at the chickens. Good thing that swearwords don't affect the quality of the meat, or those birds would be pretty nutrition-less by now! Once I freed myself, I filled the water, filled the feed, and then quickly went to inform Luke that we may never be able to have children because of the emotional scarring and possibly long-term physical damage. Okay - I'm over-reacting, but it hurt!!! Guess I will work on my balancing skills for the future.
