Oh well, whatever. On the way back home I did my usual re-integration into society thang and blasted Korea pop on the radio. I wouldn't give up my life for all the world, really. Then I'd have to give up guilty pleasures such as:
Maybe because it is the farthest thing from Hutterites I can think of existing in the world today, I just need it as a tincture in recovering from all these naughty children who have their own built-in cell phone ring tone that no adult can hear (i.e. that old dialect of German that is so removed from modern German as to be even less intelligible than Quebecois is to a speaker of Parisian French. Thus one cannot learn it from a book).
Anyways, Digression. I was driving back to the city (The City out here) on this long dirt road that threathened to turn into mud and it occurred to me: these strange adventures and misadventures on this great vast plain are exactly what I've always wanted my life to be. No, I never thought I'd be teaching children of an Anabaptist sect in the Canadian midwest -- that's not what I mean. But how many people from when and where I grew up can say that they've done this?
And the best part of all this is that this is only the first adventure. We'll be here for two years at the most -- and then on to the next adventure. I suppose what I am saying is that I am feeling grateful for finding a life with a man who is as much an adventurer -- and wanderer -- as I am. And I'm not talking vacations here. I've had my feminist moanings about how I have to follow his career around...but honestly...I'm deep down more glad than sad that I do. After all, even before I met him it was difficult for me to stay in one place more than a year.
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