What's high in the middle, but round on both sides?

O-HI-O! That's what!

Jessie and I have "completed" our move from Boston to Springboro, Ohio. The midwest is an interesting place, to say the least.

Last Monday, a big orange Allied truck wheeled up to the front of the house and promptly vomitted 97 carboard boxes and 103 pieces of furniture all over my new house... and I had spent the entire weekend prior cleaning. Some people just show up at a party and puke; clearly these movers were professionals.

Henry, Jessie's dad, drove out with her to help. Being an old hippie who lives in Bar Harbor, with a 2.5' beard hanging off of his face, and an alternative view of hygine, he got a lot of gawks around here. We, for whatever demented reason, decided to move to the midwest version of Wisteria Lane, a cookie-cutter, peroxide-bride soaked neighborhood that has less culture than a cup of yogurt. If you can imagine what happens when you mix an old hippie with such a place, then clearly you see the potential for a new Fox sitcom. People would outright leer at Henry at our local grocery store, guarding their expressions like he may rip their faces off, yet simultaneously turning their noses up at this clearly inferior creature (Not an Ohio State fan, does not live in Ohio, does not subscribe to uber metrosexuality, probably a Democrat). One woman, while walking through the produce case, stopped dead in her tracks in a manner similar to a woman who has just stumbled across a shadowy figure in a dark alley. Her pose guarded, she looked him over and cocked her lips just so, as if to say "I know you could slaughter me with your words, but I'm better than you"

It's amusing, to say the least. It's also exceptionally sad, because there is a veneer of vanity out here that unnerves me to the core. Lindsey, our token midwestener, lacks this veneer and represents what is Good about the midwest (honest, hardworking, caring and thoughtful), that sel de la terre that we hope to find in the non-urban environs of our country. Sadly, my neighbors are typified by the following exchange, not by the Land of Lindsey's, Terry's, and Cyndi's I hoped for:

"Hi, I'm Andrew! I just moved into 355 - my wife and I just relocated here from Boston!"
"Hi, I'm Mark! Nice to meet you! Have you seen my new ski boat? It does 45mph when I open her up!"
"Oh, cool! Just got it?"
"Sure did. Cost me quite the penny, but hey, it's a great boat"
"That's neat. How long have you lived out here?"
"Oh, we bought this house a few years ago. We're hoping to sell soon and move down to 'The Estates' [sidebar: the neighborhood within my master planned community where the houses are $400k+ and 4000sf McMansion monstrosities]"
"Oh cool! Nice area down there. What do you do out here?"
"Oh, I work with Lexis-Nexis. My bonus there this year bought our Lx470, they sure know how to treat people right!"
"Great! Sounds like you work for a good company. I'm gonna get on home now, my wife made dinner..."
"You should come over sometime! We got this great custom grill out back, had it installed this summer. It's massive!"

Personally, I think it would have been easier if he just showed me his cock and got it over with. I could have identified that it was small and the rest of the conversation would be compensation for his clearly inferior genital endowment, but, what should I expect? It's not like we all expose our genitals to each other so overtly... it's all about nuance. I chuckled to myself on the way home - I could only wonder what his wife spent on peroxide and tanning supplies in a given month.

Anyways, all is not lost. Lindsey and Tim arrive in 12 short hours for a (hopefully!) lovely weekend visit, and I'm taking Jessie to Chicago for our first wedding anniversary next weekend. After that, off to the land of the Rising Sun to bother Banzhaf-san...

We live close to the airport. Come by and say hi, or at least send munitions.