Little boxes on the hillside...

Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky-tacky, Little boxes, little boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. And the people in the houses All go to the university, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. And there's doctors and there's lawyers And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. And they all play on the golf-course, And drink their Martini dry, And they all have pretty children, And the children go to school. And the children go to summer camp And then to the university, And they all get put in boxes And they all come out the same. And the boys go into business, And marry, and raise a family, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. -Malvina Reynolds

Malvina sums it up for me pretty well. I often joke with my husband "what if 18 year old Courtney could meet 28 year old Courtney"? She would see that her embittered battle against the patriarchy had somehow brought her to a town with two Whole Foods, 6734 playgroups and women who all play a mysterious game called bunco. Next month we are going to pre-school night, which is an open house of all of the area pre-schools where parents can gather literature and make choices about waiting lists. Yes. My baby is 3 months old.

Little Miss Lauren brought me back down to earth today. I was contemplating the homeopathic beauty products at Whole Foods with my muffin tucked into her sling (or as I like to call it, her suburban papoose). After a few moments she started to sneeze and rub her eyes and I immediately rushed away from the aisle. I hadn't noticed at first, but it smelled of nag champa and patchouli. Once we retreated to safety, I swear Lauren looked up at me with big, serious eyes and said in a perfect Eric Cartman voice: "hippies!".

After my last Junior League meeting we all headed out for a drink (or a cocktail as they say here in Connecticut). The group agreed on a restaurant in downtown Hartford, and proceeded to give me directions. I was a little intimidated and confused when I was told turn here, turn there, jump on this ramp, exit here. Then a voice of reason said "the restaurant is basically up the road about 2.5 miles. Why don't you just send her that way, it is a straight shot." The answer was "Well she is new in town, we don't want to send her that way...".

I was silent and genuinely confused for a few seconds, then I said "Oh! I am from Cleveland, I am not afraid of the ghetto". Then there was nervous giggles and they gave me the simple directions after I insisted. All that to avoid a Wednesday night jaunt through the 'to. Don't they ever go to White Castle?

Don't get me wrong. I like playgroups and Whole Foods and the Junior League and I am thankful for our little box on the hillside. I just kid.