There are places that you live and there are places that are home.  I've been searching for home for nearly 70 years.  Now, mind you, I have lived in some pretty amazing places and befriended some absolutely wonderful people. I mean no disrespect to any of the places or the people, but sometimes when you happen upon a place ~ maybe even by chance ~ it becomes more of a home that anywhere else you have ever lived.  I choose it believe that it's a "God" thing.

My place is San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico ~ the Bahia to be specific.  

My journey began 3 years ago when I (along with my then husband) sold everything in Oregon and moved to Mexico.  I'd only been to San Carlos for a brief visit, but it just felt right.  We bought a house with a magnificent view of the Sea of Cortez and the Tetakawi  mountain.  It was a place to retire and relax.  Little did I know that 4 months later he would ask for a divorce and I would find myself on my own.  It felt like time to panic because I was the new kid in town and literally didn't know my way around.

Now, I don't know if you are a spiritual person or not, but I'm telling you that I was meant to be here.  Mostly I'm telling you that God brought me here and provided for all my needs.  When I needed to move out of the house, He provided a house sitting gig in a beautiful home on the golf course with a magnificent pool. Oh, and did I mention that it was rent free? The only requirement was to maintain the yard and that was absolutely what I needed to keep me occupied.  It was amazingly good therapy!

Then I needed a car because we had sold my car to purchase one that was Mexico plated to allow for freedom of movement out of the "free zone".  A new acquaintance from church had a  business here that had purchased a sub compact car (exactly what I wanted) and had decided to sell it and purchase a larger model.  So, I scored an almost new car,  even Mexico plated that was almost exactly the amount  I had withdrawn from the joint account I had held with my ex husband. 

When my house sitting gig ended and I needed a place to live, that same friend from church (who had lost her husband 3 years prior) decided that she was ready to take in a housemate, so I came to live in the Bahia, the neighborhood I had been vying to live in. The total irony to that move is that her house is right next door to the very first person I met in San Carlos (on Facebook when I was still living in the states.)  Who would have imagined?

Meg and I were soulmates in the sense that we were both healing from  tremendous losses, me from my pending divorce and her from her husband's death. She prayed with me and taught me to release some of my pent up stress, fears and frustration physically.  So, we kayaked the Bahia, hiked along the trail to the "fish village" and rode bikes to Pilates in the marina.  Whenever I felt down, she's tell me to literally take a hike!  After 2 years at her house, it was time to move on, but I was still fearful of living on my own given the costs, security, etc.  I really wanted to stay in the neighborhood because I knew people in the area and was very comfortable.  Remember that next door neighbor I said I'd met on Facebook?  She had a rental apartment across the street from Meg's house that was becoming available.  It was secured by a wall and a gate, just the right size, had a beautiful view of the Bahia and was just what I could afford!  

 My dog, Ollie, and I moved to the apartment in April with the help of friends.  The beauty of this is that my closest friends are within walking distance, and we frequent each others houses for dinners, brunches, beach bonfires and just basic gatherings.  Even better, we are constantly there for one another ~ the way it should be and rarely is.  One couple bounces around from their boat to various of our homes to pet sit.  It's a true blessing for all as several of us need reliable people to care for our pets, and Greg and Laurie often appreciate a taste of the other side of life on land. We share cars as need be and often accompany one another on trips up to the states for shopping or medical visits.  Now, mind you, I have always had good friends, but these friends, well, they're different.  Maybe it's because we're foreigners in a foreign land, but we all look out for one another, more so than anywhere else I've ever lived. 

Several months ago I adopted an amazing dog from a shelter on 100+ dogs.  Now, that's a whole story in itself.  

This is Diva.  I was told she's a dachshund, but I swear there's some Bassett hound mixed in because of her enormous paws and ears.  And sweet!  She's one of those dogs that you fall in love with instantly. Everyone who met her was captivated by her charm.  She came to live with Ollie and I and it wasn't long before she started having some medical issues.  After numerous trips to various vets, it became apparent that she couldn't manage the stairs at my apartment.  In swooped one of my amazing friends, Connie, who offered to foster her until we could hopefully resolve the problems.  What a blessing because Connie was a nurse by profession and knew all the "tricks" in helping to care for Diva.  

And Connie was a blessing in more ways than one because she went to the vet visits with me, not only for moral support, but also to brainstorm on what the issues might be.  There were theories, but no one could absolutely say what the problem was, and the problems manifested in several different ways.  One of the common practices here with veterinary care is a series of injections of antibiotics, pain killers, etc.  The regimen is generally for 5 continuous days.  The vet provided all 5 injections with instructions on how to administer them.  Connie was squeamish about doing it, but another friend, a former vet tech, was willing to do it.  Yet another Godly provision.

After a while, it became apparent that Diva was not experiencing a good quality of life.  Her breathing had become labored and she basically didn't get up off the couch.  I had to make the decision on what to do and believe me, I had a difficult time letting go.  Diva didn't make it easy as, in her sweet little way, she'd life her head and wag her tail profusely when she saw me and I was so hopeful that one day she would be well enough to come back to my home.  That, as they say, was not in the cards.  On her last day, Diva and I were surrounded by people who love us, Connie, Laurie and Beverly and Paula from next door.  We just quietly cried together and held my little girl.

We made an appointment with a local vet to put her down.  Again, I was never alone.  God provided my angels, Connie and Laurie to accompany me.  And Diva, wagged her tail weakly from her bed up until the end, and even administered kisses to our faces.  And then, once her spirit was gone, what do we do with her beautiful little body?   In the morning, Greg prepared her and, together with Laurie and I, we released her into the Sea of Cortez.  Diva will always be a glorious memory of the little dog who came from a multitude of dogs to grace my life, and the lives of all who knew her.  When I gaze out upon the Sea of Cortez, I cam fondly remember that little dog who was such  joy to all who met her.

And remember how this story began about home? I can say without a doubt that San Carlos is my home, not because of the shining sea and the glorious landscapes, but truly because of the people who inhabit this place who have forever found their places in my heart. I thank God for bringing me to this place.

Only in Mexico!

With all the clamor from the current US administration about the criminals, rapists, drug addicts seeking asylum in the States, it kinda makes you wonder about who exactly the people of Mexico are.  Yes, I realize that there are others seeking asylum from other Latin countries, but I want to speak specifically about Mexico.

I have wanted to live in this beautiful country since 1994 when I was a part of a missions trip to Mexico City and Oaxaca.  It took me until 2019 to accomplish this, but at present, my home is in the state of Sonora, Mexico.  Yes, there are challenges here. Re-learning the language would be the first one.  Acclimating to the culture of "manana" is definitely a challenge, as is the way "business" is conducted.  For example, as a homeowner, you are responsible to pay your utility bills whether or not you receive a written bill.  Given the fact that there is no mail service where I live, this can definitely be an issue.  The water bill is hand delivered to each residence and it may be a simple case of stuffing it in the fence, or in the door handle.  You may or may not find it where it was left.  It may, in fact, show up in the neighbor's yard along the fence line.  Nevertheless, no one is going to buy your excuse that you didn't receive it.

There's are a myriad of other examples of challenges that can be addressed, but on the positive (very positive!) side would be the people here.  They have to be the most gracious people I have ever encountered!  

The first time I encountered this was when buying an oversize armoire  at a second hand store.  We thought that it would be a simple matter of loading it into the back of our pick up, but in spite of the fact that all the measurements had been taken to ensure it would fit, it didn't!  There was a group of men across the street at the local convenience store watching this fiasco.  When it became clear there was no way we were going to load that furniture, they came over and offered their truck.  Four men hoisted the piece into the open bed of the truck and drove it home for us!  No one would accept money for their time, but a couple of cans of beer was plenty.

A couple of days ago my car developed a leak of some sort and the smell of gas was horrific.  I got the name of a local repair shop, gave them a call, and the next thing I knew someone drove to my house to check it out.  He advised me not to drive it, and that he would bring someone by later that day to take it to his shop.  I was okay not having a car for a day (and his loaner car wasn't working), but DID need to stop by the local convenience store to reload the minutes on my phone before I ran out of time/minutes.  This sweet man stopped off at the store on his way back to his shop and reloaded my phone.  
He also offered to let me use his car the following day for a meeting I had in the case my car wasn't fixed yet.

Today when he brought the car back to me, I drove him back to the shop and we chatted about life in general.  His father had wanted him to go to medical school, and had paid his tuition and living expenses.  When my (new best) friend decided that wasn't the path he wanted to take, all the benefits were withdrawn.  Long story short, he didn't find anything wrong with the car and, in spite of the fact that he'd spent numerous hours trying to diagnose the problem, he charged me nothing.

Now, I ask you:  would either of these scenarios have happened in the U.S?  I think probably not.  All these people were basically strangers to me, yet they helped above and beyond.  And we're not supposed to want "these people" in the United States?  I think many Americans could take a lesson from the people of Mexico in hospitality, honesty and graciousness.  True, not all are that way, however, the ones I have encountered so far have been stellar!

Paydirt!

I must confess that the past several months have been a bit slow for this fashion consultant.  I depend on the availability of others for my income, meaning that women need to be available to sponsor a home show in order for me to showcase my clothing line and make a sale.  In Hermiston, well, May and June women are caught up in family time ~ baseball, soccer, graduation, vacation ~ all those wonderful things that the family thrives on.

So, I've been enjoying my time, watching the river flow by my window, sipping wine, catching up on a few good reads until this past weekend when I hit the skies and flew to SoCalifUSA for the CAbi scoop.  Oh my goodness ~ talk about a wake-up call!  There were 2,900 women there, so lots and lots of energy flowing through the Long Beach convention center.  Most of it was focused on Friday afternoon when the new Fall collection was unveiled. If you've never been to a fashion show with the runway and all, then you've missed a rare treat.  It was simply amazing and to use a much used phrase, "The crowd went wild!"  Every new grouping brought new rounds of shrieks of delight from the crowd and you can only begin to imagine what 2,900 shrieking women sound like.  There was confetti littering the air, balloons floating everywhere and being batted about and streamers draping themselves around heads and shoulders ~ all CAbi pink, of course.

We all tried to absorb as much as we could, went to our product training classes and buried ourselves in our MP3 players with the collection notes on our flights home in hopes of learning every minute detail, not to mention the names of the nearly 100 pieces.  Now today, I lie in wait of the UPS man, my new best friend.  He's due with my boxes of CAbi clothes.  YAY!  Then it becomes a mad scramble to unpack, tag, steam/iron every garment, organize the rack into groupings and memorize each piece ~ all in an attempt to be prepared to present it next week to an excited group of women, eagerly awaiting the new collection.

Two preview shows next week.  It's so exciting to see the enthusiasm of the women at the shows.  Such a great time with them as they play "dress up" and try things on.  (of course, the margaritas at the one show and wine at the other help to loosen things up :-) !)  And such a great way to begin a new season of encouraging women to gather, to get away from their every day routines and have some fun!  It's not necessarily about spending money on clothes.  It's just a fantastic way to get out of the house and meet new friends or spend time with old ones.  And CAbi is such an awesome company, not just in the way they treat their customers and consultants.  They are truly a company that gives back!  So far, that means donating 1.4 million garments to women in need in 40 countries, 15 U.S. communities and also making 400 microloans.  It has been a privilege to be a part of this great company!   christinahoell.cabionline.com

Adventures in Nashville

Late in the month of January, more than 2,700 CAbi women descended on the unsuspecting town of Nashville. CAbi?  you say.  The name represents Carol Anderson by Invitation, a clothing designer out of the Los Angeles area who sells her distinct collection through her independent consultants who host "trunk shows" in homes across America. 

The closer I got to Nashville in my cross country trek from Oregon, the more obvious it became that I was "on the right track" towards my destination of the CAbi "Scoop" convention.  Airports became inundated with women fashionably dressed in CAbi designs.  In fact, it became common to see groups of women dressed in their CAbi finest gathered together exchanging names, sharing photos of children left at home and gleefully calling out not only the names of the fashions they were wearing, but also the season they were from!  Wow.  Nothing like being the new kid on the block!  It was my first season and they left me in the dust.

I arrived at the Gaylord Opryland Resort after midnight, exhausted after a full day of travel, ready to fall into bed. . . .if I could only find my room!  The resort was a maze of lazy rivers, cosy restaurants, winding paths and couples enjoying them. (Note to self:  Great place to come back to for a vacation!)  Even my map was of no use to me!  Thankfully the resort staff was still out and about and able to help me find my room.

Morning dawned (early!) and it was off to the show.  I was blessed with an awesome room mate who had been here before and knew her way around.  Registration, (check) breakfast, (check) class schedule (check, well, a moment of panic when I realized I'd have to find my way around to all of those places).  Remember I mentioned all of the women at the airport wearing the same Carol Anderson clothes?  Well, here were 2,700 women wearing them!  Obviously there were duplicate items but it wasn't as if anyone had a problem with it.  And every woman had a different way of wearing it.  The effect was amazing.

My hours were crammed full of details, information, helpful hints, you name it, along with meeting some pretty amazing women.  For being the "new kid", I was sure getting a lot of attention and the information! well, let's just say a week's worth of information  was crammed into 3 days. But, you know the old adage about all work and no play?  We had some fun as well.  One night we donned our jeans and a pink plaid cowboy-inspired shirt we were each given and kicked up our heels to some live music and line dancing.  And if that wasn't enough,  back by popular demand were the CAbi Cowboys!

The ladies went wild!!  I mean, we could have watched them all night but, alas, it was for a brief set and we had to console ourselves by learning a new line dance.

And what trip to Nashville would be complete without a trip into town for bar-b-que and some more live music? Four of us piled into a cab and headed into Nashville proper. And the food we had was nothing fancy.  Oh no, no fancy tourist place for this girl.  It was a locals-only order-at-the-counter place for pulled pork, mac and cheese, slaw, fries and of course, a great selection of sauces.  If I'd had my way, we'd have spent some time boot shopping at one of the places where you get two-for-one.   Then on to the music!  Lots of choices ~ and all but one of them no smoking!  The best one featured Willie Nelson's former stand up bass player.  I would have payed good money to see any of the bands, but there was no cover charge anywhere we went.  Sincerely, I enjoyed it so much I tried to share it with my girlfriends back home by calling them on my cell and holding it up so they could have a "listen".  Apparently, all they heard was garble.  Bummer!

It's difficult to choose what  was the highlight of the trip.  The music? the food? the resort? the people?  All things considered, I'd have to say it was the incredible things I learned about the company I now represent.  The final morning was spent learning not only about the minute details of the business from the CEO and President, but mostly about the very heart of the company, its Foundation.  Those people who know me know that I have a heart for missions.  I've participated in or co-lead more that 15 trips to Mexico and New Orleans.  I also participate in KIVA where I can provide micro-loans to people in 3rd World countries who are just trying to support themselves and their families.  CAbi has, in the 5 years since their Foundation has been in place, donated more than 25 million dollars through their partner organizations.  In addition, they have donated over one million (and counting) garments to women in poverty or effected by natural disasters.  And if that isn't enough, they also provide micro-loans to women in 3rd World to help them get set up in business for themselves and get a "leg up" on poverty.  Another one of my highlights?  I got to help assemble hygiene bags that were bound for AIDS victims in Africa.

 I'm proud to be a part of a company that's not just out to make a buck. CAbi has proved to me it has a conscience, a purpose to improve the plight of those in poverty, particularly women so often seem to be stricken the most.  I had an awesome time while in Nashville!  Someday I want to return when I can have the full experience of the music and the food in the summer time when it's not so stinkin' cold.  But the experiences of learning about the heart, the core of CAbi will do nothing but motivate me to work that much harder to provide the resources for those in need.

THANKFUL

This is the season that we usually take stock of what we're thankful for.  I know we all have the usual things:  our families, our homes, our spouses, our jobs.  I never thought I'd be thanking God for my very life.

It all started innocently enough with a trip planned from eastern Oregon to Portland to spend time with my daughter for her birthday, which just happened to fall on Thanksgiving this year.  The weather being what it was, it became a last minute decision to go with frequent log-ins to tripcheck to check on the latest road conditions.  But it wasn't the white knuckle drive through the icy Columbia Gorge that had me thanking God for my life.  It was something as mundane as attending the Christmas tree lighting at Pioneer Courthouse Square in downtown Portland.


Now, I'm not usually one for hordes of people, and this gathering was definitely a horde.  It was estimated that there was somewhere in the neighborhood of 12,000 people there - families with their children in tow out to celebrate the beginning of the Christmas season.  I've never attended the tree lighting festivities, even when I lived in Portland.  I was always content to watch it on the evening news.  Traffic jams and being jostled about by strangers is not my idea of a good time.  But when I mentioned  to a good friend I was going to be in town, she suggested that I join her and her husband for the event.  I thought, why not?  I'm not driving and it might actually put me in the holiday spirit.


The crowd was actually very well behaved, no pushing, no shoving.  They lined the amphitheater like stadium of the square, bundled up in their coats and hats with green buttons, courtesy of Cricket, flickering throughout the crowd.  The 75 foot tree loomed above the square waiting to be illuminated at the push of a button.  Across from the tree was a stage for the symphony and a choir headlined by Pink Martini leading the crowd in carols.  Children were gleeful, amazingly so, in spite of the cold winter's chill in the air.  Many had multi-colored glow sticks in their hands in the shapes of batons and butterflies on sticks. Starbucks was doing a booming business with patrons lining the street in wait for a latte or hot chocolate. Another amazing point:  it wasn't raining - in Portland - that is something worth remembering.


Everyone was anxious for 6:00 when the tree was supposed to burst into light.  The program had begun; the master of ceremonies had spoken, the mayor was introduced, and then the newscasters spoke  bearing the grim news that the lights wouldn't go on until 6:10.  A groan went through the crowd.  But that was the only negative I saw the entire evening.


Then,of course there's me, with my own negative thoughts, struggling not to think about the recent events in Cambodia where 300 people were trampled to death when a crowd began to stampede.   I couldn't help but wonder what might set off a crowd like this one.  

But the evening concluded with cheers of delight when the button was pushed and the tree was at last aglow.  It was amazingly beautiful and here I was with 12,000 people, sharing this magical moment with me.  One minute, we were as one, the next, we peeled off in singles, pairs and groups towards our own commitments with just this memory in common, this beautiful shared instant when we were one together in spirit.


It wasn't until the next day that I discovered that I'd been standing one short block away from "six 55-gallon drums containing inert material, inert detonation cord, inert blasting caps and approximately 1 gallon of diesel fuel...".  The purpose had it been "real" was, according to the 19 year old responsible because, in his own words, "I want whoever is attending that event to leave, to leave either dead or injured."  The blast was intended to level several city blocks.  Had the FBI not been watching this young man, by all accounts, he would have succeeded in his plan to kill thousands of people.   I suppose I could lapse into all sorts of political comments at this point.  Certainly, the Sunday Oregonian was awash with controversy as to whether or not this Mohamud Osman Mohamud was "set up" by the FBI, but I'm not even going to go there.


My point is a simple one:  I'm thankful.  I'm thankful to God, to the FBI for keeping me and my fellow 12,000 new "friends" safe for that one glorious evening where we could come together and share in such a special time.  Where we could put also our religious and political differences and celebrate the joy of the season.  Thankful that a van load of explosives that was meant to destroy was thwarted and that love prevailed.

Sugar Makes The World Go 'Round

Ever feel like you're moving at warp speed?  I work with a woman who moves like that......constantly!  I don't even need to look up from my desk to see who's coming. If I hesitate looking up, she's gone!  Ever wonder what makes them tick?  Caffeine?  It could be.  I used to think that enough caffeine could keep me going.  When I was younger, a coffee drink in the evening would pretty much guarantee a restless night.  Over the years, however, I've become an espresso affection-ado and 6-8 shots of the thick, rich stuff does nothing to effect my sleep.   On the other hand, give me a piece of chocolate or something laden with sugar and I'll toss and turn all night!

Ah, sugar!  That sweet wonderful stuff! This time of the year I'm wallowing in it, up to my neck in it, rolling in it......get the picture?  I'm already sick of it and the holidays are barely getting started.  But allow me to digress a bit.  My pantry boasts two 25 pound sacks of the white granulated stuff and I'm hoping that'll be enough.  It's fudge season!  When I was a child, my mother stumbled upon a recipe that was touted to be the recipe for See's fudge.  We made a five pound batch for Thanksgiving and that had to last a family of five for the holiday season.  Let's see, a pound a piece for 2 months, maybe more if you had to wait until Easter when you were assured that the Easter bunny would bring a fudge egg from See's Candies.  Needless to say, it was a scramble to get your share.

For me, I take that recipe, which is over 50 years old now, and put it to good use.  I spend my "free" time standing over a pot of bubbling milk and sugar, almost like a witch at her cauldron, stirring it up at the stove until it's just the right temperature to blend with the chocolate, butter and marshmallow cream to transform into the most delightfully delicious fudge ever!  It used to be when my daughters were home, this was a popular time to be around the kitchen.  The privilege of licking the bowl and the beaters had to be divied up.  Now, it's just me and if I had to sample every batch it'd put me into a diabetic coma!  I had to laugh recently when I posted on my facebook page that I was making my first batch of fudge.  I lamented that my daughters weren't around to help "clean up" the bowl.  Now, mind you, I post things all the time and rarely get a response, but all three of them responded to this one!

So, the production is well under way.  By the end of the 'season', I'll probably have made somewhere between 75-100 pounds.  Some gets sold at the Highland Hills Elementary school bazaar in November, some is sold by special order, and some is given (as demanded) by my friends who will not let a year go by without their annual "fudge fix".

A year or so ago I must have decided that making fudge wasn't enough work.  I just couldn't bear to throw the marshmallow cream jars away.  They were re-recyclable, but where I live, recycling is no easy task!  I stumbled across a way to use them for something totally unrelated to fudge, but - you guessed it - more sugar.  I started producing a Lavender-Rosemary Sugar Scrub for the bath and shower.  It was another instant success.  Again, more friends I had gifted it to are clamoring for refills.  On a positive note:  I definitely have my Christmas shopping done ~ fudge for the men, sugar scrub for the ladies (oh and fudge for the ladies, too!)

So if you see me later this season, blurry eyed, incoherent from lack of sleep but wired and moving at the speed of light, it'll only be because I've not only ingested a load of sugar from doing the "quality control" sampling of every batch of fudge, I've also been using the sugar scrub and have it oozing both into and out of my pores!

Never Underestimate

When I moved to my small town nearly 8 years ago, I must confess, I felt like I was moving to outer Mongolia.  Having grown up in Southern California, lived in San Francisco, then Portland, Oregon, the idea of living in a town of 18,000 didn't sound very exciting.  But, the traffic in Portland was getting crazy as was the cost of living.  At the core of the issue was the public schooling which left much to be desired.  So, we packed up the last daughter, who was entering high school, and moved to eastern Oregon.

My friends pitied me.  I mean, who wouldn't?  There was nothing in this town!  The nicest restaurant was a Shari's.  The closest mall was a 40 minute drive and Costco, well, let's say you definitely had to plan your trips. But that wasn't even the worst of it.  Little by little I began to recognize the tiny snips of snobbery that would pop up over the 'big city' and all it had to offer versus the 'small town' and all its limitations.  I actually caught myself apologizing for the place I lived, making excuses for its, well, smallness!

I felt a little guilty about my attitude.  I mean, shouldn't I have a sense of pride about where I live?  Probably.  I actually wrote a blog about "You know You Live in a Small Town When...." which brought a touch of humor to the topic, siting all sorts of things like drive through animal feed stations and traffic jams brought on by goats in the road.  It helped......a little.  What didn't help was the fact that I'd moved from the lush, green side of the state to the dry, barren side of the state where everything has to be irrigated in order to grow.  Brown was just not my color.  I missed all those gorgeous trees!  But somewhere during all those times driving back and forth to Portland through the gorge to visit friends I came to appreciate the beauty in the browns.  I caught myself commenting to a friend the other day how I choose my interior home colors from the pallet of muted browns and greens that line the highways where I live.  Imagine that?  When I go to Portland, I actually look forward to returning home.  Wow.  When did that happen?  I guess the green got to be overwhelming.  Obviously I've adjusted to the landscape.

But I've learned a few other things about small places and the people who live there:  Never, never assume they are ignorant, backwards or behind the times.  I can actually puff myself up now and crow about my town.  We are in the forefront of some important advances.  I thought it was rather impressive a few years ago when my daughter, an IT person (from Portland, no less) told me about an article she'd read about the largest WiFi cloud in the world.  Guess where it is?  Yep....right here in my town.  So farmer John, who some people may think is beneath them, can sit in his field, open his laptop, control his irrigation system, or even take a picture of his crops and send it to one of his customers.  My police department is ahead of the game as well with laptops in their cars where they can file reports.

You can imagine my surprise also when a week ago I learned of another area where we are ahead of the game.  I had to have fingerprints for a background check.  The list of approved agencies from the capital city was extensive, but there was nothing listed that was close to where I live.  I  called Salem and asked if it was alright for me to go to my local police department to be printed and was reluctantly told, yes.  I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing since my new job depended on getting these prints done and processed in a timely manner.  I couldn't afford anything to go wrong and I was concerned that I wasn't going to one of their "approved" agencies that had the LiveScan machines.  I showed up for my appointment at the police department and was ushered into the room with the "machine".  Oh my goodness!  it was none other than a LiveScan!  I told my story to the officer about them 'not making the cut' on the list of approved agencies and he just laughed.  Apparently, my police department was the first one in the country to have this machine!  In fact, when Salem was determining whether or not to purchase one, they called here to ask their opinion.  Go figure!  But they didn't want to include them on the list of approved agencies.  A touch of snobbery there?  Possibly.

Do I still live in a small town?  Well, yes I do.  But it's a great little place live.  It still does take close to 40 minutes to drive to the mall, but I've learned to plan my trips to include Costco, the pet store and anything else in the general vicinity, even the possibility of dinner.  Is Shari's the best restaurant in town?  Not any more!  We have a great local place and more places opening up all the time.  We have awesome community events where I actually know the people in them and people take pride in them.  The high school football games are very well attended.  Church parking lots are full on Sundays, and other times during the week as well.  Community involvement is appreciated and encouraged.  The grocery store can be a social gathering place.  And we all seem to share the same sense of pride in this great little town we are building.  Are there still goats blocking traffic?  I wouldn't know.  I moved to a different neighborhood.