I pretended to ignore the aniversary of us driving out of Plevna. Although I did go back and read the blog entries for the move (which you can find here if you really want to take that trip again). We're putting up decorations slowly, lights, tree, nativity set...
So there's this thing that I want to write about- it's the thing of where, someone asks us where we moved from, and we tell them we lived in Montana. And they think we're from Montana, which we take time explaining away. So to people we are meeting for the first time now, we're not really from Montana. Montana isn't really part of what they learn about our lives. That makes me sad. Yeah, I know, still (sorry Melanie).
There's this other thing- it's the thing of where, when you meet someone new and you're not 'from around here' you have lots of questions and things to learn from each other. It's fun being from somewhere else. It's fun comparing stories about how different things are in different places. Meeting someone here you can say, "have you been to the Trader Joe's on Rand Rd?" and they will say, "no, but I've been to the Whole Foods on Dundee" and that's just not very interesting.
Then there's this other, other thing- it's the thing of where, when people ask me about my Ariat boots, or about my old job (owning Anjali Bodywork), or about where Sawyer was born, I start telling the Story. You know, the entire three-years-of-blog-posts Story. But guess what? People don't really want to hear about it. Yeah, yeah, you're the chick who lived in Montana and can't get over it. Yeah, it was cold, you lived in a small town, there were lots of cows, and you made really good friends. I've already directed two people to this website, just to try to explain what happened to us... but it really feels more like an elaborate story we made up. Or a dream. Or a really, really vivid, multiple-year, dual hallucination. But we did come back with a baby, so I guess there's the proof that it happened. And the boots.