House Anniversary

It's almost our one-year house anniversary, a very sentimental moment. Not really. But it's made me take stock of what I've grown to love (and still detest) about our tiny country town.

I'm not only going to share those lists, I'm also sharing a few pictures of other houses and cute/cool things we have in Garnett, Kansas. Because ours may be my favorite, but that doesn't mean it's the only fabulous one. While there aren't very many things I'd call 'cool' about our town, I'm breaking this into at least two posts anyway. Doesn't that make it seem more exciting? "Oh yes" I'm pretending to hear you say. Excellent.

Things I Adore

1. My house. Forever and always, this creaky old thing will probably be the coolest house I'll live in. I may still want to move away from Garnett, but I will miss this house.
   
2. Our antique store is fabulous: cheap and plush with treasure. I always find something there, but can occasionally persuade myself to walk away. I can (and have, twice) buy four vintage cloth napkins for 50 cents.
   
3. I can ride my bike to everywhere. Or I could walk, though groceries are heavier carried. It's really a toss-up, considering that watermelon didn't fit in my bike basket either.
   
4. Some of my sweetest new friends are Amish or German Baptist. Before living here, I didn't know German Baptist was a thing. The people here may all be white (yeah, like 95%), but at least they're religiously diverse.
5. I am comfortably far away from shopping. Close enough to get there, if I'm desperate; yet far away to make it a thoughtful excursion. Surely my credit card companies are upset.

Things I Detest

1. Bugs.
   
2. George cannot get the yard work done. The neighbor across the way, yeah, that guy, the unemployed one, wanders over to chitchat every time he spies the lawnmower. This means that I normally mow the lawn, since all he does when I'm out there is wave.
3. Farmers market aside, there's nowhere to get good produce.
4. People want to know where you live exactly. So they can stop by. I work from home and am uncomfortable giving that out to literal strangers as we discuss varieties of sweet corn. I'm politely vague, then I fear I seem stupid when they insist and I sidestep, which is still better than that oh-s0-hurt look they give me when they realize I do not want them to stop by. I'd rather not be that asshole anymore.
5. Not living near the mountains, even though the summer-long greenery is pretty great.
6. How Dairy Queen reminds me of biking with my family and 25 cent kids' cones which is so bittersweet that I can't hate the franchise even though I'd rather have ice cream that's not made entirely of chemicals but now I make George walk there with the dogs every time he has a craving (I am a monster) and lately he's really into the girl scouts' thin mint blizzard which is horrible for you (disastrous, really) and so I've made him share the small one (I savor, he gulps) and now he wants to go every night but I veto and am afraid he'll go on the sly without me on his way home from work (just sounds like something he'd do).
7. We have army-style yoga. Seriously.
8. Crackling heat.
9. The way my garden explodes with plant life yet it's a fruitless growth. My eggplant is 7 feet tall with only tiny yellow flowers to show for itself. I have 18 tomato plants and have eaten, so far, a single homegrown tomato before that plant passed away (gasp). I am waiting for the first day of frost when I'll no doubt be packing still-green tomatoes into cardboard to let their mushy insides ripen indoors.
   

Okay, I could actually go on and on a bit on the 'detest' list, but I don't feel like looking at it anymore. How sad is that? I remember when I moved here, how I thought that rural folk would be so different (they're not, just behind the times a bit), how I thought I'd adjust easily (I did), how I thought we probably wouldn't have many friends (oh we don't). The good news is that George and I get along quite well, even stranded alone together for a year. We have planned trips to KC when we need to socialize, to pull ourselves from the web of quiet. Yesterday George announced that he likes being a hermit, and I laughed. Aside from all my walking, that's really all there is around here to do.