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ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Ode to Mulletville (ok, half-ode, if there is such a thing)

Last year at this time I was mentally preparing to go back to work after spending a year at home with Junior. It was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made. For old time's sake, I took a stroll down memory lane. If you'd like to join me, I offer this.

Despite all the things that have changed in a year—Chuck getting laid off, Junior learning how to talk (incessantly)—there are things that haven't changed. I'm still pissed off most of the time (maybe it's time for a kickboxing class or yoga), and we still live in Mulletville.

Last night, though, as I was walking around the neighborhood with Junior, I decided to try to focus more on the positive. Even though I'm afraid to leave my downstairs windows open at night because we were robbed by a crackhead (minor detail) and every bump makes me jump, there's a historic green within walking distance, and a park nearby with a pond (everyone loves a good pond). We don't spend much on eating out because our only options are Wendy's, the 99 and Fred's Fry Shack. We rarely sit in traffic. We're far enough and close enough that in-laws can visit; they just need to make a phone call before hopping in the car.

We live by a beautiful stone church and hear church bells all day. All.Day. When there are weddings, I am reminded of all the ways friends and families celebrate their love for each other and hope for the future. I've been really successful at not yelling, "Don't do it! Run!" When there are funerals, I am reminded that we are here for such a short time. Seriously, a blip.

One night, a few weeks ago, I walked Junior up to the church door to admire the flowers. A priest appeared. Italian accent; like something out of the movies. He touched Junior's head and blessed him.

Now, I'm not an overly religious person. I believe what I believe and I'd prefer to keep that to myself, but I often look back at that moment. Blessed on a walk. Sure we had to step over some crack pipes to get there, but it was a touching moment. And remember, this post is a half-ode.

20 comments:

Keely said...

I'd be suspicious that he was excommunicating or exorcising, not blessing, but that's just heathenistic me.

Mulletville sounds like a bit of a dichotomy - no culture or population, but you have crackheads? Usually those are the trappings of a much larger city, no?

The Mother said...

There are benefits to living in a small place. You just have to look for them.

blognut said...

There's good and bad everywhere. I'm glad that you're finding the good in Mulletville.

Brandy said...

good job looking on the bright side!

Baby News said...

Funny, I know of a town that sounds quite a lot like this one. Glad I don't live there anymore.

Your brave for taking the walk. Last place I lived I wouldn't even step out of the yard lest I be harassed by druggies and prostitutes. Yuck!

C.B. Jones said...

That wasn't a priest. He was trying to get to the crack pipes, and you two were in his way.

He tried to perform some kind of drug induced witchcraft, but failed.

Pricilla said...

Small towns always have the good and the bad. The publicist has lived in several. She hated that everyone knew when she burped but when she got sick they were all there to help take care of her and the male person.

mo.stoneskin said...

Are you sure that priest wasn't C.B. Jones?

Actually I really liked this post. I live in a gorgeous town, river, sea, sun, little bakeries and cafes, great pubs. Beautiful flat and family yet sometimes my attitude is so negative and yet I have so much to be thankful for.

Roshni Mitra Chintalapati said...

in the end, you can be happy anywhere if you choose to be! (wow! Such philosophy from me this early in the day!!)

Lindy said...

Wendy's??? Come on - at least throw in a good charboiled burger or something.

I am always touched when my daughter receives a blessing. Unlike me, she deserves it. :)

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

It's great to find good amongst the bad...and doing a 'half-ode' to them? Brilliant thinking! :)

Otter Thomas said...

Mulletville sounds like that terrible old joke. It's not the end of the world...but you can see it from there. I grew up in the same type of place. Even a half-ode is good work.

Suzi said...

Mulletville can't be all that bad, you are still living there. If it was truly awful you would have packed up Junior and Chuck and relocated by now. There has to be something more to it than the crackheads. Think of the priest as a good sign....I'm not very religious either. It could be worse.

Ashlee said...

I think there are blessings in disguise everywhere...if ya can look hard enough. Sounds like you do a great job of it.

HoodChick said...

Great post. I live in a pretty run down area, but the location has a rural feel, it's close to a river, bike path and it's not to far to get to anything (except a mall, which could be a good thing too!) I worry more about meth labs in the area than crack.

andy said...

i'm a big believer in thinking what you will about the world, from a spiritual point of view.

it sounds like it was a special and profound moment for you:)

andy

p.s. keep reminding yourself...it's okay to trip up and be negative. what isn't okay is to never recognize it.

Petra a.k.a The Wise (*Young*) Mommy said...

what an awesome half-ode. seriously, it sounds like it's not half bad there in Mulletville...

Jeanne said...

There have been 3 killings within half-a-mile of our house since we moved here 8 years ago:
1) The son of the mayor of a nearby town tried to rip off his drug dealer and said dealer shot him.
2) A conman was ripping off old people in the public housing nearby. I gather the occupants warned him to knock it off. He didn't. They took care of it.
3) A woman on the street behind our house was chatting on the phone with her girlfriend after her kids left to catch the bus on the first day of school when her estranged husband broke in and slit her throat.

And because my capacity for denial is so well-honed, I still feel relatively safe -- about as safe as I would anywhere, I guess.

Mulletville or Palm Springs, shit happens.

mom911 said...

Tweakers are EVERYWHERE! They're like f'ing cockroaches - can survive anywhere. EW!
I, too, have to force myself to focus on the positive in my small town. Luckily I escape 40+ hours a week to civilization (AKA: work).
BTW - this is my first visit to your blog, good stuff!
~Stephanie

kyooty said...

I miss The 99!

It's hard to be all sunshine and daisies some days