Midwest Nice

Last week, while I was drinking my coffee and working on my laptop a woman started up a conversation with me. Did she mistake me for someone else? Was she a neighbor? Would this conversation end with a multilevel marketing pitch? Apparently not. She was just being friendly.

Midwest nice is a thing.
Is it genuine?
I have no idea but it’s refreshing and disconcerting at the same time.

When we arrived here in Sun Prairie, I had some questions about garbage and recycling pick up. I posted on the neighborhood Facebook page. The guy next door responded immediately, introduced himself, answered my questions, offered to mow our lawn, spray our wasp nest and take a load to the recycling center. He and Mark are now in a Fantasy League.


My daughter loves to talk to strangers, especially older strangers. We took a cruise once and were having trouble locating her. We found her on the Lido deck, literally, surrounded by senior citizens. She introduced me to all of her newfound friends. Throughout the cruise she would enthusiastically wave at random strangers who would call out to her by name. She was a celebrity.

Needless to say, this was one of the things that she loved the most about Wisconsin. “People talk to me here!” she said excitedly when we were trying to gauge her interest in moving to the Madison area. This entire region seems to be as friendly and chatty and helpful as the people who work the checkout lines at Trader Joe’s. Even my experience at the DMV was a positive one.

It’s not a Utopia, just last week, tensions were running high on a local Facebook page when a newcomer questioned the absence of sweet corn at the annual Sweet Corn Fest. I guess Midwest nice has it’s limits and sweet corn apparently touches a nerve. Boy did they get an earful...see what I did there? Corn?

There are things that take some adjustment, like not losing my S*%t at four way stops when someone insists on letting everyone else go first. I’m working my way towards saying hello to everyone I pass on the street, waving at the neighbors and taking friendliness at face value. I am so used to the Seattle Freeze that I have to remind myself that just because someone strikes up a conversation with me at the checkout line, it doesn’t make them a serial killer.

It's not you. It's me. Wait, actually it IS you.

Dear Seattle

You may have noticed that I have moved out. It was a good run, but after 25 years together, our relationship has run it’s course and I need to call it quits.  Yes, we had some really good times together. I was always your biggest supporter and avid cheerleader, but we have grown apart.  We want different things in life. You want to continue your self destructive spiral and I want to not get stabbed on my way to the drugstore. I will always remember our great times together but I ran out of funds and energy to support you. You will always find new and fascinating people.  Hopefully, you will find what you are looking for, perhaps someone with unlimited financial resources and the patience to allow you to get your shit together. Seattle, it was good while it lasted. I will always value our time together.

Regretfully yours,

Deonn

Somewhere That's Green

Like every good musical theatre nerd, when I think of living in a house with a yard I can’t help but picture Rick Moranis out mowing the grass to the catchy little earworm “Somewhere that’s Green”

“He rakes and trims the grass
He loves to mow and weed”

Yes, Mark, dutifully “rakes and trims the grass”,
"Love" is a strong word for the mowing and weeding, but it gets done nonetheless.




About a month ago 3/4 of the Hunt Family set out for greener pastures. Washington and Wisconsin aren’t really all that different but downtown Seattle and Sun Prairie might as well be different planets. (Different planets with an affinity for good coffee and a shared language…well mostly). The familiar city sounds of buses and foghorns and seagulls and sirens have been replaced with cicadas and toads. The view from my desk is no longer of dumpsters in the alley between 1st and 2nd. I now look out beyond our neighbors house at the nature trails and cornfields and the red barn and farmhouse.

The metaphorical greener pastures are actual green pastures. The trees are green. The cornfields are green. The lawns are green…well…except for one. People are really into their lawn care around here. It might be the same in Washington but it was not something we had to worry about living in our downtown condo for the past 14 years. 

Our neighbor mows his lawn three or four times a week in meticulous diagonal lines. He waters the yard and plants every day. He has dropped helpful hints and suggestions for how we might better care for our lawn. Mark is amicable and friendly and seemingly grateful for tips.  I tune out when he goes into detail about plant species and invasive weeds.

I hate yard work.  I hate yard work with a fiery passion reserved mainly for cottage cheese, the sound of other people flossing and the term “bespoke.” The lack of lawn care was one of the reasons I wanted to live downtown and spent most of my adult life doing so. As a kid my chores included scooping dog poop before the mow, raking afterwards and my most hated job…weeding. The former jobs I could do without much thought. The expectations were clear and I could daydream my way through them.  Weeding was the worst. I never knew what was a weed and what was a plant and I was always getting chewed out by my stepmother for making the wrong determination. This often resulted in more outdoor tasks as she was convinced I was screwing it up on purpose. I swore I would never have a yard or a dog or a garden.

So...we have a yard now. We budgeted for a lawnmower and a grill. We didn’t budget for a lawnmower, a hedge trimmer, hedge clippers, weed whacker, a leaf blower, a hose, a hose nozzle, a sprinkler, yard waste containers, work gloves, and wasp spray…so much wasp spray.

 "A grill out on the patio..." Yeah, that's gonna have to wait until next year.

When we bought the house Mark assured me that the yard would be his responsibility. I had been very clear about my yardwork disdain when we met. Hell, my distaste for the outdoors was even in my online dating ad. Mark is a man of his word. He has gone full Midwest dad- mowing lawns and trimming hedges and killing wasps like nobody's business. There is always this twinge of guilt when I see him out there trimming and mowing and leaf blowing in 150% humidity...I mean, not enough guilt to go help him with yard work, but enough guilt for me to write up a blog post.

“Far from skid row” Did you know the term skid row originated in downtown Seattle?

“I dream we’ll go” We’re already here.

“Somewhere that’s green”

Hmm. Audrey never sang about the wasps.