There are moments when I realize that even though I reject a strictly urban life, I remain a city girl at heart.
Yesterday I attended a SUNY-wide meeting 3 hours away (and on the other side of the lake-effect snow belt, which kept the drive down interesting!). I spent close to two hours grocery shopping after the meeting (oh Wegmans, how I <3 you!) and got back on the road at full dark. Two hours into the drive, clipping along at 60 on this rural highway, I see a shape on the side of the road, and tap the brakes. I get closer, and slam on them — it’s a cow! A huge cow! Cow. Just standing in my lane. It looked at me for a second and wandered across the road, causing a car in the oncoming lane to slam it’s brakes as well.
I pull over, decide to call 911 and when I report there’s a cow in the road, Route X, just south of town Y, the sheriff asks two questions: (1) was it a light or dark cow? (2) Am I in front of drugstore C, or Pub S? I have no idea what color the cow was, and drive with the sheriff on the bluetooth until I can answer the second question. She acted like the loose cow on the road was no big deal, and I was just laughing at how insanely local the whole thing was!
Five minutes later, I passed a possel of Amish carriages, which must have left someplace later than expected because they didn’t have their lanterns lit.
Moments like these bemuse me endlessly, and remind me that I live in a place like no where else on earth.
I’m off to put together my costume for a theme party — theme is Prohibition. I’m going metaphorical, representing free speech.