The Judd Creek Bridge work has begun. We’re stuck in a labyrinth, turning in circles, giving up and taking the Tahlequah ferry, driving north, taking the Southworth ferry and heading south in order to get to town.
We ranted about dog poop again. If you bag it, be sure to take it with you, or else people will blame my entire generational cohort. An astute group member tells us to double bag the poop and put it in our pockets. Presumably this person does not wear women’s jeans.
We discussed the unwritten rules of Vashon. We’ve managed to cobble together a constitution of sorts.
You have to wear sweatpants with leather jackets and tye dye. You must always hold the ferry door for someone behind you, even if they’re at the bottom of the stairs. If you see someone you know while driving, be sure to stop the car to chat, no matter where you are or how many cars are behind you. This is especially true at the 4-way stop, which you should wait at for a good ten minutes anyway. All directions should be given in relation to the Jesus Barn. And finally, never ask for help with a stackable washer.
District 19 water makes the bathtub look like it was filled with iced tea. Even the ducks, who someone brought into the house just this one time, were grossed out.
Do you suppose they make a Brita filter big enough for a bathtub?
There’s a wall of doors from fantasy stories lined up near town. They’re visible from the dentist’s office.
Someone wrote a funny missed connections post on the other Facebook group that shall not be named, where it was deleted because it was deemed inappropriate. It was about being sweaty and out of breath while running, and missing the opportunity to talk to someone more fit. Some people giggled, but others felt self-conscious about themselves. As someone who gets out of breath going up stairs, I felt validated. I’m not the only one who’s a hot mess.
Should we assume we are being ogled every time we leave the house? (Yes- that’s why we wear the leather jacket over the sweatpants). Is it ok to make fun of oneself for being out of shape, or does it feed into a culture of bodily shame? I don’t have any answers to these questions, or any other big, philosophical questions either, for that matter. I can’t even answer the question “How many chickens do you have?” (By my latest count, the answer is “never enough.”) The only advice I can give is how to get around the bridge detour.
People suggested the poster make their own Facebook group. You know what? We should all make our own groups. That way we can be content creators rather than community members, define ourselves as brands, and capitalize our personalities to sell merch.
Finally, we talked about gossip. I don’t want anyone to gossip about me, so I have strategically kept my life as dull as possible.
I see why gossip spreads so easily in a small town. Since moving to Vashon, my brain has this new function where whenever I see anyone I recognize, I immediately recall everything I know about them, how I know them, and all the people we know in common. This is why there’s no room for philosophy, or chicken numeracy.