Simplifying means different things to different people. For instance, there is something I call Geographical Simplification, wherein where you live dictates how simple you can be. Myself I live in the Deep South of the United States. Southerners have qualified and quantified simplicity in all its…well…simplicity. For instance we don't really move at any discernable pace after say May until around Thanksgiving. Much like the Patagonian giant sloth which unfortunately went extinct, we are prone to be prone simply for self-preservation. This is not aided by my phenotype which is currently MWoS (Menopausal Woman of Size) which does not lend itself to heat and humidity. By the way, don't you just hate people who say "it's not the heat, it's the humidity"? Listen bubba, it's the heat AND the humidity! And for six solid months here in South Carolina, it means that living simply can best be described as moist and funky (and not in a good way). Our Kimbo visited a year ago in May and after two short days her lovely hair had gotten a life of its own, moved out, and voted. So we have simply learned to live a little simpler, not to move much, to wait until sundown to enjoy a cocktail on the deck, to appreciate the exquisite itchiness of sweat drying on our arms, and to watch the Spanish moss, so paradoxically parasitic and courageous, simple yet decadent, sway gently in the warm evening breeze.
I am loving this. I may do an experiment with guest blogging later. Thanks to Terry Morris, my friend since I was a teenager (eek!), a soldier, and a young bride. She now makes her home in the deep south just a short golf cart ride away from the Atlantic Ocean where I plan to park my Gypsy Wagon for a good long while, happily sipping cocktails on her deck overlooking the marsh.
Up to 25 on the IOU list.
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