When you move out to the suburbs, you're somehow able to convince yourself that your not really that far removed from your old life in the big city -- it's just a short jaunt down the highway, after all. Hit it during the right, low-traffic period and it's practically like you never left. And then one day, you look out your front door and you see this:
Yes, that was the view of my yard the other day, offering up sobering proof of my bumpkinhood. And they stuck around for quite a while, clearly comfortable with the thought that no one could possibly harm them while they were this deep in the wilderness. All I can say is, they were lucky they weren't in Sarah Palin's front yard, or they would have found themselves under blistering automatic weapon fire from her helicopter.
Anyway, I guess my city days really are truly behind me, and I'm OK with that -- the good news is, after you have kids you never go out anyway ... you might as well be in Iceland. And to keep with the spirit of this particular week, I'm thankful for my hearth and home, even if it's many miles from the nearest WiFi coffee shop.
Thanksgiving related note: Check out my Blogness on the Edge of Town blog for downloads of every song I could think of with "thanks" or "giving" in them.