Little Penthouse on the Prairie

I’m an old-fashioned gal. So old-fashioned, in fact, that if I had a Flux Capacitor and ended up in 1854, I would be right at home. Don’t get me wrong, I love technology, I love electricity and running water… but I’ve gotta say, I really love the old stuff. The hard work with your hands, the simple things.

I don’t have cable and I don’t have the internets, and I get along just fine. Sometimes I miss “big tv nights” like when the MTV Video Music Awards, football, True Blood season finale, and other things are all on at the same time. I’m okay with missing this stuff, though.


Here’s how simple (some would say boring) my life is: I would rather be at home, hanging out with Bama and Cat Stevens (my pets) than tearing it up on the town. I love working in my yard, tending to my vegetable and herb gardens. I cook dinner every night I possibly can. I am an eagle eye shot and have an arsenal of guns at home. I make baby blankets with my hands, and have never even stepped foot in Babies ‘R Us. I alter and repair my own clothing. I recover my own furniture, bonus points if they are antique. I could go on, but you get the picture.

So this gets interesting when I meet a guy. Either they get it or they don’t. One time, a guy suggested we go out to a nice dinner and then for a drink. Cool, I’m down. It was a fine time. Then we went out again and he wanted to stay out for another drink. Then another drink after that… but I told him that it was 10pm, I had to work the next day and I needed to get home. And he was not down. He could not believe that I was so boring (his words). I never saw him again, and that’s perfectly fine with me. I don’t need someone dragging me around Fort Worth until all hours of the night in order to have a good time.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to go out and have a great time. I am a walking contradiction, however, because I am a little bit of a jet setter with a vibrant social life. Yet what most people don’t know about me is that I’d trade all of it for nights at home with my animals, in pajama pants and a tank top. But sometimes that’s hard when you’re a mover and shaker in a bustling city.

So when most folks are hungover on Saturday mornings, I’m up early at the farmer’s market, searching for the firmest okra and the brightest tomatoes. Then I go home and cook it all and enjoy some amazing southern food, on my own back porch. Most folks spend $30 on brunch and don’t get the great view and food I get for about $8. Total.

This is what I'm talking about.

It’s a win-win for me, no question.