Time flies whether you're having fun or not --
certainly proof of that adage.
And I will confess that while many things have been done this week, there is still a mail pile rendering it almost impossible to use the kitchen counter in any truly meaningful way. But that's what the weekend will be for, right?
After I move the pile so I can bake some chocolate chip cookies that is, because I've been dieting so faithfully this week trying to make some headway against my vacation sins, I've earned a dozen-sized reward . . .
And when I move that pile to bake, I will most likely forget about it until something happens like I miss the party for which there is an unopened invitation there . . .
Do I sound like this could be familiar territory?
Draw your own conclusions.
ANYWAY -- I was having a conversation with someone about how Facebook (and all things social media, really) may be the new small-town America, and I've continued thinking about it.
Aunt Lillie's house, American Fork, Utah
As a child waking up in Aunt Lillie's house, you could rely on the fact that Lillie would be on the phone. She had her morning circle of friends to call every day, and I remember laying in bed listening to her end of those conversations and trying to piece together the bits of gossip into some kind of plot line.
Then when she got to work at her shop, people would stop by all day long to "chew the fat" and swap gossip about anything and everything that might have happened since they last talked, which was very recently. Everyone knew who I was, and I was just a weekend visitor. But then everyone knew my mother, and her parents, and and and . . .
. . . a bad place to try to hide, but a good place if you really wanted a sense of community.
My generation seemed to move away from that way of living, by and large, and I have not stayed in contact with any but a very small handful of friends from my youth (until Facebook, of course).
Plus my own family has moved a lot, so our roots have been shallow and mostly contained to a pretty small plot of ground, easy to transplant should it become necessary.
Now I am watching my children remain in contact with just about everyone who has ever been in their lives, and I'm also re-establishing some old contacts of my own . . . and it feels good. Because I notice that we suddenly know the kinds of insignificant details about people's lives that Aunt Lillie might have been able to tell you after her morning phone calls were completed.
Who stopped by for dinner last night, or what new recipe they tried, or what was making them cranky on any given day, or where they found a great price on blueberries -- it's pretty much all there for the picking. And I guess we'd gotten far enough away from it as a culture to be hungry for it again.
So I've been very pleased this week to receive a variety of notes from previously-unknown blog readers (who so kindly stepped out of the woodwork!) because it makes my circle seem just that much wider.
Friends in the virtual realm comprise
a kind of personal "small town"
that we can take with us
wherever we happen to go.
So to all my Small Works friends, who take the time to reach out to me
(to ask a question, or make a comment, or just wave and say hello) . . . thank you!
I didn't even know I missed you,
but now I know you're here,
my neighborhood feels just that little bit friendlier . . .