Last Saturday was a beautiful day in the neighborhood; this one is a gloomy day in the neighborhood. Perfect for staying inside and knitting, you say? Well, maybe, except your father didn’t want you to drive him around taking pictures for a DVD he’s making for his classmates to commemorate their 50th high school reunion.
Yep, I said 50th. This means that for a class of 28 students who graduated in 1958, you drive around and take a lot of pictures of where things used to be.
The new Dairy Queen where the old Dairy Queen used to be.
The Lowe’s where student A’s house used to be. The Jiffy Lube where student B’s house used to be. The subdivision where student C’s house used to be. Ah, suburbia. I once heard someone call it the place where they name the streets after all the trees they cut down.
I live in a small town myself, more or less next door to this farmland-turned-suburbia my father grew up in. I personally love my small town and the convenience of being near all this suburbia, without actually living in it. I guess that’s a little hypocritical, but it is what it is.
In contrast to the gloomy day and overcrowded highway that I could show you, my sister sent me some pictures from her latest hike near her home in Utah. Jen, I hope you don’t mind me posting your pics. If you do, well I guess there’s not much you can do but chew me out when you see me next. [This is the bloggy equivalent of sticking out your tongue and giving the sisterly “nyah-nyah.”]
Aspens (for those of you like me who are close enough to suburbia to be tree-identification-challenged).
Red Pine Lake.
I guess my sister the outdoor freak and myself the-not-so-much-outdoorsy-type wound up in the right places respectively.
And so did Lady Jane.