The Simple Life
We had a flurry of birthdays celebrating four generations in March, April, and May. We had family gatherings at the Homestead in addition to a lot of birthday dinners at restaurants. My son was discussing with me where he and his fiancée planned to go to celebrate their birthdays, which are seven days apart. They enjoy fine dining, as does my daughter and her husband. I, on the other hand, do not have a refined palate, heck, I don’t even like my food to touch on my plate!
My son asked me where I planned to go for my birthday dinner in August. Without hesitation I answered, “I would be happy with 2 plain hot dogs, an order of Mac and Cheese bites, and a Slushie drink from Sheetz!” My son chuckled and remarked that my answer did not surprise him. I wasn’t joking. This is the perfect birthday dinner for me – or a stop at one of those roadside Dairy Doodle places that serves sandwiches and ice cream. Runner-up would be a Chef Boyardee pizza baked in my own oven.
Maybe I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I’ve spent years reflecting on my lack of class and taste buds and I have come to the conclusion that I just like the simple life. I like running around in my bare feet and wearing comfy clothes. While I dream of going to Scotland and Ireland before I die, I’m content with seeing the local sights when we travel the USA to attend truck shows.
At the beach, you will find me at sunrise and sunset, taking hundreds of photos and then ignoring the lure of the ocean during the day when hordes of people descend upon the sand. I spend Mother’s Day morning/early afternoon by myself, by choice in a marsh taking photos of birds and deer. I love taking leisurely rides on backroads and I get giddy when I spy old barns and cows grazing in the fields. I’ve been known to roll down my car windows and have lengthy conversations with deer, turkeys, raccoons, and other critters. I love lighthouses and old cabins and Churches. Fields of wildflowers and blossoming trees make my heart race with joy. I can spend hours going through old photo albums of my ancestors.
I was taught whole language in school instead of phonics and I have a tendency to mispronounce words, which makes my kids snicker. Hey, I know what the words mean, cut me some slack.
I’ve never aspired to have a big house on the hill – and I am thrilled that my husband and I now live in his parents Homestead house with the nearest neighbors ¼ mile away from us. You’ll never see me putting on airs and trying to act high-classed. It’s not me. It’s the simple life for me.