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Life just got smaller. Or so it seems. Ironic in this all-inclusive (all-intrusive) Facebooking, skypeing universe we live in. With the downturn, I know I'm getting back to my roots. Bob and I both live in small towns outside of San Francisco, and my take on "the late unpleasantness" is that folks are looking more to family and friends not only for support but for flat out recreation. Bottle service nightclubs? Not so much. Family playdate with the French Laundry cookbook and the last of the 97 cabs? You betcha. But of course, Togetherness is the mother of Distraction. And although President Obama surely seems to sing the sweetest lullaby these days, the hint of suburban ennui occasionally nags. The divine American dream, the rural stream outside my window, the glittering starry night, the misty mornings and clomping horses, occasionally leave me on edge. Not that I want to change, but I want to grow. Like, what am I doing to make my tiny corner of the world better, exactly? Flinging myself in all directions with the hope of moving forward in one, I suppose. (Bob hates me when I get like this- restless, manic, but without any compass.) Onward! (I think...)
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