And, for the most part, that's a great thing, like when you're paying your mortgage. On other days (when it seems everyone believes their cigs and fried chicken are consequence-free) I think I'd rather live in the 20-teens.
So, on a day like today (a great one; more on that later), I get to thinking of the pros and cons of the Midwest, mid-century life:
Pro: When I leave the boys' bikes out all night (or the garage door wide open), all is well in the morning.
Con: Apparently Wichitans don't find our vehicles to be worth stealing.
Pro: When we need the heat & A/C guy, he's at our house that same day.
Con: When I ask the heat & A/C guy, "Oh, which one is your son?" he says, "He's over there with the brown guy." (And, no, the guy's last name wasn't Brown.)
Pro: We never wait (or pay!) for parking and, at a restaurant, we rarely wait for a table.
Con: Most of the (fried, creamed, refined, candied) food offerings make me think I'm stuck in a lifelong Biggest Loser Temptation Challenge.
But today was a total pro. It was 50-degrees (not bad, February...not bad) and, as the boys rode home from school, three cars full of Blessed Sacrament friends stopped, rolled down the windows and greeted us. As I choked down my cig and chicken leg (just kidding; it was chardonnay in a sippy cup), I thought, "Am I in a Norman Rockwell painting?"
And the answer was 100 percent yes, based on Benny's comment, which makes me realize decades don't matter to these kids. "Hi," he'd say, "I hope you have a fun time at your house until tomorrow!"
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