Cuz Sometimes You Just Need A Kota

Click, pound, pound.  There’s not a sound I enjoy more when first stepping foot in a new country. Another country. Another passport stamp.

This week I set foot in my 36^th country.

Traveling does something funny to you, after every click, pound, pound you silently rejoice, then think—“that’s not good enough, I’ve got to see more.” So while 36 may sound somewhat impressive. It’s not.  There’s always someone doing more “time”, doing something “cooler”, going somewhere “untouched”. Whatever you’re currently doing, it’s never enough. It’s just how this weird world of travelers works.  Who can travel farther, longer, deeper.  I set out writing this with feelings of inadequacy, but after a day or two in what most would describe as the Topeka of a state/country—there’s no reason to go, no reason to stay, and nothing to do—I’ve had a change of heart. Neither I, nor Kota Bahru, are inadequate. It is here that I’ve rediscovered what traveling was originally--and still should be--about. The everyday life.  The everyday experience. Not some façade put up to impress foreigners, or make you “feel” like you’re experiencing someone else’s culture.

No, it’s not the jungles of Papua New Guinea or some remote village in Africa or some exotic untouched island. No. It’s boring old Malaysia in the overdone, over-touristed part of the world—Southeast Asia.  True, in the normal sense of the word, there’s nothing to “do” here, but there is a whole lot to see. 

Everyday people living.  Living in a way that isn’t familiar to me. That is interesting.  It’s also relaxing, there’s no mapping out everything I “must see”—figuring out how I’ll get from one sight to the next and fit it all into the three short days I’m here.  Instead, it’s relaxing to know there’s nothing I have to see.  I’m free to roam. To get lost. To have no destination. In fact, my highlights thus far have been the grocery store, lunch at Pizza Hut, contributing my passport photo to a taxi driver’s book, being the only guest in my hotel that doesn’t have a reception desk or lobby, and oh—being the only tourist in the entire city.

No I didn’t discover an untouched paradise—I discovered everyday life. No frills. No fake smiles. Just life.

While here I’ve experienced life as an outsider.  The stares of someone (gasp) walking.  And by most standards here, walking around half naked (I have pants and a tank top on). I’ve changed my attitude towards the Chinese (they have the only restaurants in town that serve beer), and I’ve met two of the most sincere, nicest people on the face of this earth (Norma and Omar).

Is it trekking through the jungle or biking the Pan-American Highway? No, of course not, but it’s an adventure all of its own. A concrete jungle where I’m navigating Arabic and Chinese. Navigating a city not built for tourists (i.e. there are no cafes with Wifi – when I asked I was directed to an Internet Café with a million school children playing Grand Theft Auto). Navigating a city without a map (not having a hotel reception, means no map, which means each night I Google the area and write down “big roads” names of “notable buildings” and then use those as boundaries and markers). But on the flipside it makes it more like traveling used to be. I rely on the kindness of strangers for restaurant suggestions and directions.  Real life TripAdvisors! And throughout these past couple of days, I’ve had more people ask if I need help, ask where I’m from, and generally just genuinely smile at me than I have experienced in a long while. Here, I’m not seen as an intruder, an annoyance, or an easy target for quick money. I’m seen as a person taking part in their everyday, somewhat mundane, daily lives. Not special. Just accepted.

Kota, you may not be on many lists of “places to see”, but you’re on my list forever. You’ve put the meaning and feeling back into travel for me.  Real people, doing real things. Nothing fancy. Just living.

And for that I’m smiling for you today.  Smiling for everyday life.

More about Kota Bahru:

Kota Bharu was established by Sultan Muhammad II of Kelantan in 1844 as Kelantan's capital. Pantai Sabak, about 10 km from Kota Bharu, was the initial landing point of the Japanese invasion forces on 8 December 1941 in their Malayan campaign, when they successfully engaged the British in jungle warfare and ultimately captured Singapore.

Kota Bharu's population is 70% Muslim with the remainder consisting mainly of Buddhists and Christians. Social activities that do not contradict Islamic norms are allowed. Government offices and many stores are closed on Fridays and Saturdays, but the vibrant markets remain open except for Islamic prayer times. The Kota Bharu Municipal Council, the local government authority, discourages the use of "indecent attire" by female employees in retail outlets and restaurants. Those who are caught for "dressing indecently" may be fined up to RM 500. The definition of "indecent dressing" includes "body hugging outfits which show off the body, blouses which show the navel, see through blouses, mini-skirts and tight pants."

The Kelantanese culture is highly influenced by Thai culture because of its geographical proximity to Thailand. Kota Bharu features a tropical monsoon climate bordering on a tropical rainforest climate. Kota Bharu does not have a true dry season although the city experiences noticeably heavier rainfall from August through January. 

It’s currently raining.  I’ve broken every indecent exposure and inappropriate social activity rule (except for the navel showing blouse), and for some reason this SE Asian country has more cars than motorbikes on the roads and a scarcity of 7-11’s.

Kota thanks for keeping it real. See you again soon (sooner than I’d hoped I think).

Happy Birthday My Goat! Love, Your Monkey.

60 years. 31,536,000 minutes. 21,900 sunsets. All measurements of time, but not of the heart.

Today, mom, I wish you the happiest of days, from my heart to yours.  

I needn’t go into all the ways in which your friends love you; you already know.  I needn’t go into all the ways in which your family loves you; you already know.  But most of all I needn’t go into all the ways in which your daughter loves you; you definitely already know I love you.

Therefore, I’ll let you know why you’re a goat!  We all know the Chinese are good at ping pong, math, and producing iPhones – but they hit the nail on the head with their zodiac signs.

Hailing from Southwest Asia and Eastern Europe, the goat’s characteristics include:

• Creativity, intelligence, dependability, and calmness. (Yup; you have your moments of brilliance; you’ll always be there, just late; and yes you’re definitely composed)

•  Nurturing, natural care-givers. (For sure. I’m living proof, as is dad and Drew. You were also always there for your mom and dad. And well almost everyone else I can think of that are important to you…)

•  Artistic, and enjoy expressing themselves in that way. (Everyday with your clothes and your shop)

•  Appreciate the finer things in life, but are not snobbish. (Dad and your credit card bill can attest to this)

•  Power or status at work is of very little importance. (Thank god, as you’re not going to ever achieve much power or status at MMGG)

And all those 60 year old “wood goats” out there, enjoy being helpful but this generosity is sometimes taken advantage of.  Therefore, this type of goat must spend more time on themselves. (TRUE! Couldn’t be any more true)

So happy birthday you old goat.  Like you said you’re still “young at heart”…just slightly older in a few other places. 

Do know that you’re in some good goat company, others in your flock include:  

•          Bill Gates
•          McDonald’s
•          Reba
•          Disneyland
•          Whoopi
•          Legos
•          Kevin Costner
•          Velcro
•          Bruce Willis
•          Fish Fingers
•          Steve Jobs
•          The Guinness Book of World Records
•          And of course, Karen Braun & Julie Lieungh!

Happy 60^th Birthday mom!  Enjoy the day, and every day after it!

Love,

Your Monkey

“No daughter and mother ever live apart, no matter what the distance between them.”

Still working for the man…

Many have been asking, what is it exactly that I’m doing? 

Well, contrary to popular belief, I’m not on a constant vacation.  Closer than before.  But not quite. 

Yes, I do live at the resort, which I will say has it’s benefits. No cooking, cleaning, or laundry to be done. The gym is a flight of stairs up and the beach bar a flight of stairs down. There’s a private beach, two swimming pools, and a spa.    

But living on-site does also have it’s downsides (very few and relatively speaking here), but I basically live on an island, on top of another island.  Trapped. Double-style. I now feel like I know what it’s like to live and work on a cruise ship.  Here, the entire staff lives in dorms just down the road and are essentially one big family; the management team lives on-site, so everyone always seems to be here.  No need for a phone, big brother (or a little Thai worker spy) always knows where to find me. Obviously the benefits outweigh any of this by far…but it is an interesting lifestyle change.   

Throughout the week I rarely leave the resort. My typical day consists of: waking up with the sun (and the roosters and the sounds of breakfast being set-up), going to the gym, eating breakfast at the restaurant overlooking the Andaman Sea, showering, heading down to the office (a 3-minute commute), and working until 5pm (exactly). And my evenings are generally spent reading or entertaining a special guest, watching the sunset with a drink, relaxing by the pool, dining, and then heading off to bed to do it all over again in the morning.

So, I’m still working for the man…he just happens to be a bit more easygoing.

I had to laugh when I Googled “working for the man”, and this was Urban Dictionary’s definition:

Performing a task, manual labor, or any type of assigned duty for a stupid, spineless, gutless, lazy, self-serving, worthless, anal retentive, unappreciative, disrespectful person, or organization, for money.

Yup. Sounds about like what I was used to.

In my opinion the office culture here is pretty much how it should be everywhere. Work the hours you’re supposed to work.  Take breaks, real breaks.  And smile and have a good time all while doing so. Performance-wise, meh, a little bit less stress and a little bit more fun never completely ruined any bottom lines.

Working for the man there v. here.
	USA	Thailand
Lunch	A lunch break?  Those are still a thing? You must mean the lunch I take every day from my desk as I answer emails, right?	The clock strikes noon, bam, off go the office air conditioners and lights. We all head to the lunchroom together (there’s a kitchen that makes lunch for everyone daily – I seem to have thrown them for a loop being vegetarian, but each day there is fish or meat they have a bowl of eggs ready and waiting for me).  The lights don’t go back on until 1:01 pm.  You take the whole hour, or you work in the dark, like me.
Meetings	“My Outlook calendar is up-to-date, find some time for us to meet...”  The utter inability to perform any task or project without first meeting has always been mind boggling to me.  Then, you must check-in on said project by again meeting.  And so on and so on.  It’s a vicious cycle.  Pretty soon you’re meeting to schedule your next meeting.	I haven’t seen one Outlook request in the past two weeks.  I also haven’t attended one single meeting.  And somehow this resort hasn’t collapsed?!
Emails	Have question.  Send email. In the past, on a normal day, I would see about 100+ emails going in and out of my inbox.	Have question. Ask in-person. Here, I now see about 4-5 emails per day.
Working 9-5	Every organization always says how great their work/life balance is “our hours are 9-5”. But what they are really saying is, “we expect you to work much longer hours if you hope to remain employed for your family.”	I actually have no clue what the starting time is here, was never mentioned as it wasn’t high on the priority list.  What I do know is that come 5 pm, half the staff is already out the door and the others are asking you to wrap it up.  The lights, A/C, and internet are all off by 5:15, at the latest.
Always “online”	Work never stops. With work emails on your phone, you’re always accessible.  If you don’t respond during “off-hours”, well then…you obviously don’t care about supporting your family. See above.	You get emails to your phone?!  Why don’t you just chat with your friends on Line or Facebook?  I don’t understand? Not once does it cross most of their minds to “do work” on their phone.

Ahhhh so here I am.  Working for the man, trying to gain awareness in the American market for “his” business.  But you know what, for once in my life I don’t mind trying to make him money.  It truly is a little family here and the teamwork it takes to seamlessly run a resort is not a small task. So all of our successes are actually ours.  And all of our failures, also ours.  It’s just a different feeling. Almost as if “he” doesn’t actually exist.  

It’s “our” resort.  It’s “our” home.  And with that, comes pride.

So I leave you with a bit of shameless promoting: Like us on Facebook, Follow us on Twitter and Instagram, or Find us on Pinterest!!

“Do what you love, love what you do.”

"I Smile For _____"

Writing again from the Land of Smiles I thought this would be an appropriate place to start.  I have a million reasons to smile, but today, ‘I smile for me.’  

I smile because I made a life change.  

I smile because I made a life change when things were actually going right in my life.  

I smile even harder because making this decision wasn’t easy, but I did it.  

All my life it’s been easy to run from my unhappiness.  In fact, it’s been the easiest and most exciting thing to do.  Just leave it.  Seek out a change of scenery. But what isn’t easy is to leave when you’re happy, and could possibly be happier.  Now that takes some real guts.

Five years ago, almost to the date, I ran to Thailand with $700, a TEFL certificate, and no real plan.  And I’m a planner.  Such a planner.  Which has always shocked me as to how I could have done that.  But recently I stumbled across a quote and every word just made total sense to me, “Happy people plan actions, they don’t plan results.”  Traveling makes me happy. Mystery solved.

I, of course, had no idea as I was fleeing the US five years ago that as a result I would end up back in DC where I’d be introduced to a great group of irreplaceable friends and a loving boyfriend.  I mean how could one even begin to plan for such great results?  You just can’t.

Today I have no idea as to what my recently planned actions will result in, but I am proud to not be running from something, but rather towards something.  And, all the while keeping in the back of my mind, that if my dreams don’t scare me, at least a little bit, I’m not dreaming big enough.  And who wants to have small dreams.  Dream big, and know you can always go home!

Welcome to Crown Lanta Resort & Spa, my same same, but different new Thai home.

What are you smiling for today?  #ISmileFor____

Lost and Found in Colombia

My latest adventure may just be one of my greatest to-date.  It was an experience in every sense of the word.

On a whim I booked a trip to Colombia.  And then a 4-day trek to The Lost City.  With less than 3 days to prepare at home beforehand - I had no clue as to what I was getting myself in to.  Had I known - I´m not sure I would have followed through - which would have been a shame to have missed this eye-opening, life-changing, and definitely once in a lifetime opportunity and experience.  In this case - my ignorance turned out to be truly blissful.

The trek was just 4 days. 4 days of walking only 4 to 6 hours per day. A total of 44 km. Sounds easy enough.  Who can't walk?  What I failed to factor in to the equation was that this walking was done uphill and not on what would be considered a "path" in any other country. Picture deep sand with land mines of rocks and mule poop. Picture precariously placed mossy rocks across fast-moving streams. Picture one-person-wide slippery mud paths with sharp rocks all alongside a sheer jungle cliff. Picture a seemingly never-ending windy path to the sky. Picture 1,200 "stairs" built more than 3,000 years ago.  Well you get the picture - but now picture all of those things going UP!

The good and the bad news in all of this was that there was only one way in, and therefore only one way out.  Good in the sense that we couldn't theoretically get lost.  Bad in the sense that every time we walked down we knew that in the not so distant future we would have to walk up this part. Like I said, knowing what you're in for is not always a good thing.  To add to this challenge we carried our personal belongings - who knew just how heavy 2 pairs of shorts, 2 bras, 4 shirts, underwear, a swimsuit, bug repellent, a camera, toothbrush, and a bottle of water truly could be after 4 days!  Needless to say gravity and I were at war for most, if not all, of the trip.

I thought I could walk. I thought I was somewhat fit.  I thought I had an above average level of strength. I thought wrong.

This trek kicked my ass.

My group, to be fair to myself, was all guys - two of which this wasn't their first rodeo. All of which were younger than me. And did I mention - all. men.

The group consisted of Peter (an accountant from the UK in month 6 of travelling for a year), Pepe (a chemical engineer from Mexico who takes gym selfies), Daniel Jr., our Colombian cook who has been walking the 44 km for the last 14 years, and Alejandrino, our guide, a native to this jungle region, of the indigenous Wiwa tribe, and therefore obviously super human in our eyes.  I was definitely the weakest link.  I can't tell you how many times I found myself fallen way behind Peter and Pepe, only to be escorted by either Daniel or Alejandrino.  Every time I shouted "no mas" I could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads ("all you lazy gringos are the same...why is this so hard?  It's just an inclined piece of earth - move it!")  My slowness and their annoyance with it did have its perks - more often than not from behind me, and in between my gasps for air, I would hear "me help you".  Which would then be followed by me turning over my bag to one of the two with the trade off being that I would then pick up the pace and walk faster.  This time spent in the back was for the most part spent in silence or to the beat of Daniel's singing or Alejandrino's coca chewing and spitting.  We ran out of our shared English and Spanish words quite quickly - there's only so much you can say on the topic of family, music, and nature when you have my Spanish vocabulary and their English.  Mostly it ended up me asking "mas minutos?" with the answer hardly ever being one I liked.

It was tough. It was hot. It was humid. But it was beautiful.  A beauty in which I had very little time to appreciate as most of my views were that of the ground and figuring out where to place my foot next so as not to slip, slide, twist an ankle, or fall to my death.  I continuously wondered what the protocol was for medical emergencies as there was no cell service, very little walkie talkie services, about 3 communities consisting of 2 huts each, zero electricity, and at any given time a day's mule ride out of the jungle to then be followed by at least a 2 hour ride down the mountain to any sort of proper "village".  I would not fall.  I couldn't.  My life depended on me for maybe one of the first times ever.

The days were broken up by lunch and snack stops.  The food was amazing (and I'm not just saying that because anything in my mouth would have been amazing) - Daniel really and truly was a great Colombian cook that served American sized portions!  What was even better though than eating were the breaks which included a piscina!  Most of the journey was along a crystal clear mountain stream, and when it pooled we were more than happy to jump right in for a refreshing and much needed swim and bathroom break.  We did notice that as the stops got higher and higher, the pools became colder and colder.  With our last stop being body numbing.

Body numbing too were the evening showers.  But you had to do it - had to.  After a full day of walking through the sand, the mud, and the mule poop it wasn't a choice.  Each evening spent in the camps were pretty much the same - shower, inhale your dinner via candlelight, drink a beer (sometimes even 2 on a crazy night), chat, inspect your bodies for new bruises, bites, and ticks, be in your hammock and ready to sleep by 7:30 or 8 pm.  Mornings too were much the same - awake to breakfast being prepared around 5 am (that is if the cold didn't already have you awake and shivering), lay in your hammock for a half hour cursing your decision to do this, dump yourself out of said hammock and begin to find soreness in muscles you didn't think possible, inspect your body for new bites, ticks, and bruises, brush your teeth, eat breakfast while dreading the words sure to come "vamonos", put on your pack (now full of wet clothing items as nothing fully seems to fully dry in the jungle), curse yourself for bringing "so much" - again run through the list of your bag contents in your head and reassess if you can live without anything as the thought of attaching this to you for one more day just seems unbearable.  And then.  Begin walking.  And walking. And walking.

On the morning of our 3rd day we "summited" the never-ending deadly stairway to heaven and got our first glimpse of The Lost City.  A city that by this point I was beginning to prefer had never ever been found again.  But what was found and we'd been walking for days to set eyes on was truly worth it.  The views were breathtaking.  The magical feeling you had walking through the ruins left you speechless.  And the fact that the small military camp slash shack just above the city had Dish Network - utterly amazing.  Alejandrino shared with us the history, the details of each relic and ruin, and the stories from this long lost city - a city which pre-dates Machu Picchu.  He did this with a pride in his eyes and a strength and excitement in his words.  All of which was spoken in his second language - Spanish.  That morning he had made sure that our group was the first to the top - wanting to give us a private and intimate tour.  In addition to the Lost City history we performed with him a purification ceremony, he showed us tree bark and leaves which were used as natural clothing dye, he pointed out Toucans and Squirrels, coca bushes, and a special type of bee's nest.  He was in his element and you could feel his passion and excitement to share.  We wandered around for hours as the only guests in the city before stopping to have a Coke (of course!) in the "store".  Not only did this 3 shack Lost City establishment have Dish Network but they also had the Internet!  We spoke with the shop woman and found out she left the city once per month.  Which to me sounded absolutely dreadful - that was far too often for my liking!  In fact at this point I even asked, no threatened, to move-in as the thought of walking all the way back made me nauseous.  But as with many things in life - we had to suck it up and keep moving.  There was no other choice.  So, we gathered our things, had one last look at a city and view that very few people would ever set eyes on and began our death-defying descent - down.  Straight down the stairway from hell.  Before starting Alejandrino demonstrated that to go down the one bazillion steps we must walk sideways as they were not large enough to fit the length of our foot.  Talk about having to watch your step!  One misstep or slip and you'd definitely tumble to your death.  This descent which took us nearly a half hour and numerous shouts of "mucho cuidado", Alejandrino is able to do in 5 minutes.  Like I said. Super human.

Back at the camp with the Lost City having been found, we had our fullest day of walking yet ahead of us.  And what to look forward to at the end? Oh yeah. Not being wet, hot, and walking in a jungle. "Vamonos!!"

The next day and a half was pretty uneventful - a lot of walking down, but surprisingly and horribly a lot more walking up than I wanted or expected.  We had seen all the "sights" before and the excitement and urgency to be done, finished, never to walk again was in us - it pushed us.  Some hills Daniel pushed me.  Literally.  Again, it was tough.  It was dirty.  It was a physical and mental struggle.  But was also an accomplishment.  Seeing the ground we had covered was surprising - we really walked up a lot. How we did it.  I don't know.  But it was a great accomplishment.

By lunch on the 4th day - we had finished.  Covered in sweat and dust and bites and bruises we had made it out.  And boy were the beers cold.

Describing the trek just now was just the physical and outward characteristics.  Much of which seems to be horrible. Yes it was. Don't get me wrong.  But what I haven't mentioned are the numerous positive and utterly undescribeable moments.  What I went through with myself as well as with my four teammates made every impossible step worth it.  I would even go so far as to say that multiplying each challenge by a million - the good times would still far outweigh the not so good.  And man did we have some good times!  From singing and dancing to Colombia's number one hit song, to belting out Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer", to card games, and conversations without the use of Google or Wikipedia as a referee, to sharing intimate details of our lives with seemingly complete strangers - to sharing everything and just knowing we're all in this together.  That is all something that cannot be taken away by all the challenging hours and days in the world, or the the times along the way you thought you just couldn't go on.  We shared cultures, languages, different ways of living, and different measures of success and happiness.  We shared the good times, the hard times, the silly times, and the magical times.  These are moments that aren't easily forgotten.  They now live in you.  They are a part of you.  And, you a part of them.

Saying goodbye to Daniel and Alejandrino was tough.  Leaving them in the jungle while we "returned to our lives" felt wrong.  I did however leave with Daniel my hiking boots he had coveted since day 1.  So for awhile at least a literal piece of me and my memory will live on in the Colombian jungle.  And now I have an excuse to never pay to walk for fun again :)

Much like the City, which was lost and then found - I too have experienced being lost as well as found.

What I lost along the way:

• Self-consciousness of my appearance
• My fear of birds and ticks 
• Sense of time
• Need for Google, my phone, or any other connected device
• The need to be entertained
• Inhibitions
• Feelings of loneliness
• Ability to communicate with words
• The need for anything more than the basics in life
• The want to be on The Amazing Race
• A lot of sweat
• A piece of my heart

What I found along the way:

• Inner strength
• A new appreciation for nature
• Friendship and companionship in unexpected people, places, and things
• Beauty
• The courage to continue moving forward
• The art of conversation
• The urge to survive
• A new appreciation for rest
• Physical and mental strength
• Appreciation for another lifestyle
• Ability to communicate with your eyes and smiles
• The actual need for food as fuel
• The love for life
• The sounds of real life
• My inner voice
• The power of gravity
• Positive thinking
• The realization that ignorance can be bliss
• 4 blisters, 14 ticks, and 23 mosquito bites
• Knowing and believing that I really can do anything I set my mind to

What a wonderful life this is.

Note: please excuse all misspellings and punctuation errors - this Spanish keyboard is making me crazy. Also, pictures to come, as I'm still resting and recovering on flat land in Santa Marta, Colombia.

Pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/share/received/welcome.sfly?fid=1ee2dd585eb24817&sid=0ActmrNi0atWLQDg

Where I come from...

Fields. Football. Flyover. Fried Food. And Fat People.

Cows. Conservative. Camo. Country Music. And Car Racing.

Midwestern stereotypes. Yes. 

True?  Sure.   
But it’s certainly not all there is here.  There’s so much more to the Midwest.  So much more. 

Having spent the past several weeks back in a small town, there’s something to be said for them.  Something good.  Something amazing really.  Something that has re-instilled my faith in humanity actually.

Neighbors are well, neighborly.  Mowing each other’s lawns without being asked. Dropping by with freshly baked cupcakes.  Just because.  Grocery store aisles blocked and lines held up by neighbors and friends stopping to chat.  Hell, even the people that don’t know one another act as if they do.  In fact, I have to say, I haven’t met a single stranger while here. 

People are trusting and honest.  My grandmother doesn’t own house keys.  She leaves her car keys in the car.  The local eye doctor (who doesn't know me from Adam) let me bring home a box full of frames to try on – and didn’t even write down which ones I took or how many.  Even the mechanics are honest.  The local garage did a full check of my grandmother’s car and couldn’t find a single thing wrong.  And told us just that.  And didn’t charge a penny for his time, the check-up, or the fluids he topped off.

Community members work together and take care of one another.  Whether it’s setting up a church garage sale, a community fundraising dinner, or the building of a home.  The community comes together and works together.  Just because that’s what you do.  

The National Government isn’t the only thing to have shutdown in recent weeks.  The town’s meat packing plant, which employs a large portion of the population, had a fire and has had to temporarily shutdown.  Difference - the plant is paying it’s employees throughout the closure - because it means more to keep, and take care of, their workers - many of which live paycheck to paycheck - than to lose even more money.

There are a lot of trucks.  But they serve a purpose - such as hauling vegetables. Here the farmer’s markets were in existence long before it was trendy.  Buying organic and local isn’t just for the hippies and yuppies.  It’s the way of life.  Always has been. 

A simple life is the happiest.  The past few weeks have been just that simple and happy. Along with...stress-free, comforting, slow, beautiful, and refreshing...there's so much more to the Midwest, so many more reasons, than just corn and country music, to love it:

• No rush hour. No traffic.  Ever.
• Homemade meals.  Very little eating out.
• A lack of pretention.
• Home ownership is the norm. 
• Open spaces.
• Everything is 5 minutes away.
• The nights.  The quiet.  The crickets. The stars.
• Garage sales.  With “treasures” at reasonable costs (read: practically free).
• Support for sports. High School. College. Professional.
• Non-judgmental attitudes.  Especially regarding possessions and what you have (or don’t have). I’ve been driving around in a late 90s large Mercury. No one has looked twice.
• Summer tomatoes. Summer sweet corn.  Summer in general.
• More nurses, teachers, doctors, clerks, factory workers, and mechanics as lines of work than being in “marketing” or “consulting”.
• When moving there will always be someone with a truck, or two, you can borrow.
• No standing in lines.  Anywhere.  Not even at the DMV.
• The vast possibilities.
• Low cost of living.    
• Four real seasons.
• Hard-working people. 
• Going “to town” means an hour’s drive to a Target and sit-down restaurants.
• Real people. Skinny. Fat. Smart. Stupid. Real.
• The fact that everyone is famous in a small town.

These are my people.  This is where I come from.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.

These are my people
This is where I come from
Were givin' this life everything we got and then some
It ain't always pretty
but it's real
It's the way we were made
Wouldn't have it any other way
These Are My People

We fall Down and We get up
We walk proud and We talk tough
We got heart and We got nerve
Even If we are a bit disturbed

-Rodney Atkins

- Happily living the life in small town America - Arkansas City, KS.  

I'm not perfect, but I'm worth it

I’m not perfect. Not even close.  But guess what, perfect can be boring.

Perfect doesn't say ‘yes’, when I should say ‘no’.

Perfect doesn’t say ‘let’s go’, when I should say ‘let’s go home’.

Perfect doesn’t take the hard road, because the easy road is right there.

No, I’m not perfect – but I am definitely worth it.

I will always be there for you. No matter the hour.

I will always go the extra mile to make you feel special. No matter if that ends up being an extra 100 miles.

I will always tell you the truth. No matter how hard it might be to hear.

I will always be up for anything. No matter what it is, as long as it’s important to you.

I will always stand by your side. No matter how prickly that side might be at the time.

I will love you with everything I have. No matter what.

All I ask of you is that you accept me for me. Accept my faults. Embrace them even. And see what fun it can be. 

Because trust me, it’s worth it.