Joy…

Emily and I had a discussion recently about the dichotomy that is our life here on Pollywog Creek – simple, unassuming, ordinary small-town life versus celebrity interviews and gatherings with dignitaries.

One afternoon Emily met the vice president, changed her clothes in a grocery store bathroom and raced home to babysit for a friend.

And so it goes.

Today I wore my holey jeans and the worn out flip-flips I bought two years ago at Target. The same holey jeans and flip-flops I wear three or four days a week. We cleaned toilets and washed feet. Tomorrow we’re off to a fancy-schmancy gala.

Is it okay to admit that I’m much more comfortable in my holey jeans in the obscurity that is our rural home?

Saturday I took photos of the sugarcane fields and the mill and refinery as we drove along the southern tip of Lake Okeechobee. It was not a picture-perfect day, but even under the clouds and through the car window, the dark soil, the bright green fields, and the mill smoke stacks were irresistible attractions.

Speaking of irresistible. How about that Lion King, Diego and baby skeleton? Are they not just too, too cute?

We were in the local drivers license office yesterday when a young man in his twenties came in and requested an ID card.

He was obviously surprised and annoyed when the worker behind the counter told him he needed documentation.

I don’t know who you are,” she told him.

I’m Pedro Rodriquez.” Not his real name, but close.

Okay.” She stared at him, and he left.

I read a sign on the counter:

“Everyone who comes into this office brings joy. Some bring joy when they come in. Some bring joy when they leave.”

Not hard to figure out which “joy bringer” was Pedro, but it sure made me think about which one was me.

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