Right where I belong

Today I took Sammy to a birthday party in Galena. Well, not really in Galena so much as 10 miles outside Galena way up in the woods. No kidding.

Chad had been to this classmate's home before, so he warned me that it was way the hell out there. "You will think you are going the wrong way," he said. While I pretty much always assume I am going the wrong way (mostly because I usually am), in this case, his warning was particularly accurate.

This classmate lives up in the boonies--down a dirt road, past an old tin looking trailer with a rusty old car and a wire pen of goats in the front yard, and behind a campground. As I was crawling up the rocky hill to her home I wished for the first time in my life that I was driving Chad's truck (Note: I typically HATE driving Chad's truck--it is big and bossy and I find it kind of scary). But I truly feared for the safety of both my tires and anything bolted to the undercarriage of my poor not-designed-for-this-type-of-near-off-roading mini-van. At one point, I literally found myself in the middle of a forest with only a grass path in front of me. (In spite of balloons tied to the mailbox I had managed to miss the turn to the house and gotten lost). It was truly that rural. So we backtracked (to a chorus of Sammy's "Mo-om? Are you SURE this is it?", "Mom? Do you know where we are?") and made our way to the party.

Then I turned around, and crawled my way out of the woods (the campground is called "wooded wonderland") and back to the safety of pavement and civilization. As I drove back towards Galena, I thought "I'm really not much of a country girl." Don't get me wrong. I like (the idea of) camping, and we go hiking as a family probably 3 times a month. I like being outside and I'm okay with not wearing (a lot of make up) and getting sweaty and dusty. But, to be perfectly honest, gravel roads make me a little bit nervous. I hate that shifty feel under my tires and I'm always paranoid that some creature is going to dart out of the woods and fields and in front of my vehicle. And I don't like driving much more than 15 minutes to get anywhere. I've never driven a tractor (the first time I drove a Gator at work I felt so proud and brave that I am embarassed to admit it). I've never grown much of anything besides kids.

I can't really call myself a "city" person either. I hate crowds. I hate waiting in line. I hate traffic. And I don't like driving much more than 15 minutes to get anywhere. I'm not really a museum or theater type person (though I enjoy them on occasion). And I don't mind not having infinite options in terms of dining out. I also don't like the limitations I envision a big city putting on the size of my family (distance between kid events, cost of things, more limited living space).

So, I guess my middle sized, beloved Dubuque is just about right for me. Everything is about 15 minutes away. I can get myself surrounded by trees in a matter of minutes. And, I can go to the symphony or the theater on a regular basis (should I so desire). Big families are pretty commonplace. And I can time most everything to avoid much waiting.

There's a line from that Alabama song that I always think of when I think of my hometown: "But I'll always miss that middle sized town in the middle of the middle West". I can't really say I miss it anymore, obviously, since I live here. Maybe I should change that "miss" to "love". Yep, that about sums it up.