Big dreams

One of the most fun things about having a child, is wondering what their dreams are, what they'll grow up to be. Granted, right now my daughter's interests center around the Wiggles, diced pears and "Baby" her plastic doll, but someday, I imagine those interests will become slightly more diverse.

I have a great family, nice job, beautiful home, but I wonder in my mind what other paths my life might have taken, given different circumstances? Here are my top contenders:

I'd travel frequently in Africa. I've long had a healthy obsession with Africa. I love seeing it, reading about it, imagining the rawness of it. I read plenty of Robert Ruark, a vivid writer from the 1960's era of big game hunting in Africa. Maybe I'd find a career as a nature photographer, snapping pictures of dramatic African sunsets overseeing the Ngorongoro crater. There'd probably be silhouettes of giraffes in the foreground, just for good measure. I'd be earthy and plain, but in tune with the continent, sort of a Jane Goodall type. Heck, maybe I'd even be a primate researcher. Watching patiently from my perch in the rainforest as gorillas and orangatans eat bugs off of one another. But alas, I hate bugs, especially big rainforest bugs, and malaria carrying mosquitoes. I'm terribly saddened by famine and extreme poverty, especially image of little African children with swollen bellies and flies swarming around them. And I'd prefer not to get munched by a crocodile, ripped to shreds by a lion or trampled by an elephant. So there Africa will remain, a dream, a dustbowl in my imagination, nothing more.

I could also see myself as a writer. Probably some indie chic type. Living independently somewhere beautiful and secluded, overlooking mountains or oceans. I'd probably wear thick black rimmed glasses, drinks lots of chai tea and refuse to shave my armpits or something. I'd type away for hours, losing track of days. I'd have some interesting tattoos, foreign letters with deep meaning. I'd have a psuedo name of course- something catchy like Stella Cruise or W.R. Stantz.

Lastly, I could see myself as country bumpkin. Living in the hills, but close to the life of honky tonk. Baking breads, seweing quilts, painting pictures, breathing in the fresh air of a Montana ranch. Glamourous? Not really. But fascinating none the less. I'd live in a beautiful rustic cabin, rustic cosmetically but with the necessary ammenities of central AC, high speed internet and Guitar Hero of course. On the weekends I's stroll into town, and maybe even partake in a square dance or two-step. Some wiry cowboy would twirl be around the dancefloor then tip his dusty hat and say "thank you ma'am." Yes, country life could be down right peachy y'all.

But back here in reality, back in Indianola, I sit here, amongst piles of folded laundry, shopping lists, and a to do list a mile long. My husband is mowing, my daughter is napping and ultimately I know that my life may not be as exciting as authoring a novel or as....buggy... as a trip to Africa, but it's mine and the people in it are amazing!