Sometimes the best part of the week is remembering what happened last week.
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We’ve been living on the farm full time for a year now and as I’ve told several people there are only a few downsides. One is a lack of ethnic cuisine within drivable distance. We’ve discovered two good Mexican restaurants within twenty miles but when we go to Tulsa I want to eat – give me Thai, or Indian, or Lebanese food and I’m a happy camper.
The lack of a bookstore can be half-way met with shopping on Amazon. Although Amazon doesn’t have the same vibe as Borders in Midtown Tulsa. You know the kind of bookstore I’m talking about. It’s not just the books it’s the people. Booksellers who aren’t just reading the latest romance or thriller but can tell you which translation of Tolstoy they prefer, or the newest travel narrative worth reading. A store staffed with people who are well educated and care about books not just getting a paycheck. You can ask the music guru about the memoir whose author you can’t remember but is an old time gospel and bluegrass singer who is known for lining the verses and he doesn’t bat an eyelash before responding Ralph Stanley’s Man of Constant Sorrow. It’s a place where you’re likely to run into a local artist or musician just hangin’ out. A bookstore where you feel so comfortable that you can cop a squat and just read Neruda for half an hour.
The main draw back to living on the farm for me though is lack of time with Hillarey. I miss her. Several weekend mornings this winter we drove to Tulsa to have breakfast at the diner where she works on weekends just to watch her and catch a few minutes of her time. She’s a busy gal my daughter. School, work, life… One of the main goals of parenting is to have enough impact on your child when they are young that they grow up to be their own person and live their own life. I can’t say I’ve been a great parent but I think I managed to reach that one goal.
Which makes it ever more sweet when said daughter comes out of her way for an afternoon visit. Hillarey dropped by the farm last Saturday after visiting the Cherokee Museum in Tahlequah on a field trip for her Native American Art History class.
We talked. We shared a pear and peanut butter. She told us about her classes. We showed her what’s happening in the studio and the green garage. She met Tess and wanted to take her home. We laughed. Then we walked up to the mowed part of the North Pasture and we hooped.
This memory will fuel me through a really crappy week and beyond.
eta: a crappy week can turn into a good week with a simple shifting of thoughts…