weekday errands

Oh small town America how I love you. I love the characters who live in you, the quiet streets you have that I go for long runs on, and the seeming ease and overall relaxation way of life. I love the businesses that have bells on the doors to let the shopkeepers know I’m there there, and friendly “Hello!” greetings. I love hand written receipts covered in greasy fingerprints from those carbon-copy spiral-bound notebooks that your auto shop hands me after changing the BLR-Mobile oil. I love that restaurants are called Mr. Chicken:

…that have picnic tables, and painted signs with slightly creepy looking beach bum guys on them, making sure to let everyone know you have good eats:

I love that your volunteer ambulance garage has a sign outside that’s missing a letter:

(on both sides) but no one really wants to speak up and tell you because it’s the thought/thanks that counts anyway, not the spelling.

My intention yesterday was simple: Drive “into town” for an hour or so, get an oil change, go for a run and pick something up from the store. Regular ol’ get things done business-day chores turned into once again being presented with the lesson that if I keep my eyes and ears open, stay curious about my surroundings, engage with new people, and keep appreciating the simple, small things- whether I’m “there” for an hour or a year, and whether it’s a teeny town or big city, I will always have soul-filled days and great adventure.

Not bad for a Monday.