I like to think of myself as a brave confident woman. I’m not scared of much. I’m able to successfully navigate the grocery aisles and avoid trans fats and high fructose corn syrup. When someone cuts me off on my way to yoga class, instead of screaming profanities at the ass***e, I embrace my inner goddess, practice my ujjayi yoga breath and push that negative karma away from me.
But nothing rocked my world like moving from bright lights big city to Green Acres. I’m no Eva Gabor. I proudly earned my Brownie Outdoor Adventurer badge. I thought I knew how to rough it in the wild but I was in for a rude awakening.
It wasn’t the fact that there wasn’t a single Starbucks within 15 miles or that coyotes roamed through my backyard, their yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. It was joining a women’s club that put me over the edge. I had to try and make friends so I gladly accepted an invitation for a combination gourmet food meets sex toys party. Being an avid foodie, I was looking forward to exploring the gourmand selections. Plus, since the nonexistent sidewalks rolled up by 6pm, I figured I better dust off my neglected copy of the Kama Sutra and pick up a sex toy to keep the Big Irishman happy.
Just when I was perusing the subtle differences between the various EVOO’s (extra virgin olive oils for my less food obsessed readers) and deciding between the pear infused or the blood orange, I was pulled into the sex toy, sales pitch part of the party. Unfortunately, I had more fun at the Law of Perpetuity lecture in Trusts and Estates and trust me that was a real yawn. Picture a room full of woman quietly watching the presenter extol the virtues of the “Lady Bug.” I wanted to jump up and down and scream with joy. The ecstasy would come later. But since I was a first timer, I quietly purchased a dozen of the little beauties to give to my closest friends and some mint chocolate love oil, hubby’s favorite flavor. After all, you can buy olive oil anywhere.
Green Acres just may be the place for me!