I think when I most realize I am out of place is when I get excited talking about something. I start sputtering a mile a minute about the pathway I want to put in or how I am going to fix the driveway or re-tile the bathroom. And then the person I'm talking to will give me that courtesy pause when I finish and move on to a new topic, or maybe an old topic that was being talked about before I got excited about fixing stuff. Maybe it's because I haven't actually fixed all that much yet and I talk more than I walk. But, it's not just fixing stuff. It's horses, or good starry nights, or fires. The stuff that gets me going maybe isn't the stuff this city is made of. Or maybe I just talk about it because I'm not doing it, often. I suppose it's pretty dry material. But, I just don't get into the bar scene. It's too much for me. And I feel like the bar-scene is why you live in the city. Otherwise, I'd just live here...

But, the trouble is is that people talk like they want the fires, the yard, the fresh eggs, the quiet, but then, when it comes down to it, I think they'd rather be in a bar or maybe watching TV. Not everyone, no. But, some, maybe lots, of people. And, even though I talk a lot, I do think it's what I want. If it wasn't, I am not sure what it is that I do want. It's all I've ever wanted.