If you ever feel bad about your life: GO HERE
If I had a blog called "Snapshots from a Small Town" I would type in tiny little entries like this:
Yesterday at the city council meeting I got up from my chair and got my foot caught on the leg of the table and nearly fell down. A heavyset lady about my mom's age chuckled and said, "You're as bad as me. Look at this bruise I got..." and then pulled her top down and showed me her black and green breast.
During the summer I rode in the back of a truck for a parade and to make things more interesting I blew bubbles all along the parade route. Now there are people in town who call me "Bubbles" which is a stripper name.
Every year my town dams up a creek that runs through town next to the kiddie park and stock it with fish. The weekend before July 4th we have our summer festival and a fishing derby for the kids. Two or three nights before the derby the police have to sit by this pool and keep grown redneck men from fishing in it. One year someone didn't adequately aerate the pool and the day of the derby we all sat on the banks with our children and watched fish float to the top, belly up, one at a time. The kids were wading in catching comatose fish and yelling, "I got one!"
I grew up in this town and am the daughter of an often-known business woman who is well-respected, but not always popular. (People either really like her or really don't like her.) In my town when you meet people they want to know who you are related to. When I tell them who my mom is they say, "Oh yeah, I know your mom..." except I can never tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
... Except I don't have a blog like that.