The longest Beloved and I have lived in one place since our marriage nearly 24 years ago was 8 years in Urbana, IL while he was in grad school. Actually, that’s not totally true as we lived in Champaign, IL for one year before moving to the other side of “town” and being in Urbana.

We’ve been here almost six years and in the last year, I’ve been realizing that soon we’ll have lived here longer than our last place and we never thought we’d leave there. I love Baton Rouge, and five years ago, I didn’t know I would ever say that.

I have more real friends here than I did in our last place where we lived six years. Closer friends. Friends I have actually gone to lunch or out for coffee with. Writing friends who understand me. I have a great little niche here and I’m happy.

Beloved’s parents moved here over a year ago, so we now have family here. The Boy barely remembers PA so this is home in so many ways.

Now, with the economy there is a lot of talk of budget cuts at LSU and Beloved is a little concerned that since he’s not faculty and research is one of the things that is going to be cut.

It’s a joke in our family that Nancy and her husband can’t stay in one place for too long, and that the Boy will never go to the same high school the Girl did.

In Pennsylvania, the pharmacist at our drug store knew me by name and knew all the drugs I take for my transplant. Her husband had kidney issues and we’d often talk about dialysis and transplant and all that. When we moved her and transferred the prescriptions, the pharmacist her said she sent me her best.

A few years ago, we moved to a different drug store due to our dissatisfaction with the customer service. Today, I went into our “new” one, and before I could ask for my prescriptions, the woman behind the pharmacy counter knew my name and also knew that I often pick up Rxs for more than just myself (both the Boy and the Girl take prescription medicine). She didn’t even ask for my address for confirmation.

I’m wondering if that means we’ve lived her too long!

Of course, my daughter said it’s better than the people at Cane’s Chicken Fingers knowing my name and my regular order! Maybe if that ever happens, we’ll need to move!

Seriously, some day that needs to be written.

Today I went out to the bank to get my weekly “allowance” and on my way home I saw a sign for a huge garage sale down the road from my house. This house has regular sales and there’s always a lot of jewelry from Claire’s. I don’t get that. Where does it all come from? A few years ago, when I was isolated or recovering from my thyroid issues, Beloved and his father walked down to this sale and bought me about a dozen or more pairs of earrings and that was part of my Christmas presents.

Anyway, I was there today, just looking and I saw a cute cow cookie jar. I have a thing for cows and I thought it would look sweet on my kitchen counter.

It was $15!!

Seriously?? It’s a garage sale. I don’t know that I would pay $15 for that cookie jar new. What happened to getting great bargains?

I saw some cute plates with chefs on them, but they were $3 a piece! I would have paid $3 for all four of them but a piece? No sorry.

I left there with nothing.

Too bad. I liked that cookie jar.

Recently a few of us on one of the writers’ loops I’m on were discussing how we, as writers, are different than other segments of the population. Specifically, we were talking about how non-writers are always amazed at how we can create a book or “think up all those words.” It kinda came as a revelation to me that some people don’t have stories in their heads.

I have run into a few people in my life who are not creative or don’t have the “creativity gene.” Those people are always impressed by the littlest things like the time I took a peanut jar and turned it into a vase by wrapping the paper that came with the flowers around it and tied it with a piece of string or yarn. The owners of the home we were staying in (and to whom Beloved and I were giving the flowers) were truly stunned. In fact, the wife actually asked where the vase had come from because they didn’t have any.

I was the one who was stunned because it truly was nothing, and in my mind, totally not creative at all.

Anyway, this past week I have been engaging in art projects that I never thought I’d do. My sister-in-law is visiting my in-laws from California. She is an artist, and makes her living at it. She paints murals for homes and businesses and is always expanding her wings and looking for new projects.

Her art is very tactile and visual – painting, jewelry making, some sculpture. Outside of writing, which is my main form of art, I deal with fabric and threads – sewing, cross stitch, knitting.

Anyway, for this visit, she decided to get the whole family involved in an art project. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that’s how I wanted to spend my weekend. Weekends, to me, are: Writing on Saturdays and relaxing (cross stitching) on Sunday. My weeksdays are generally too busy for me to do any reading or stitching so I look forward to the weekends for that.

However, once I started making the mosaic flower pots, which was what we all did, I found that I loved it. I actually made two. Here is the second one I made. I don’t have a picture of the first one,

[caption id="attachment_386" align="aligncenter" width="252" caption="Santa getting ready to do his thing."][/caption]

Since moderation is not a word I’m all that familiar with, I immediately began planning all sorts of pots in my head. Halloween, Mardi Gras, Easter, gifts for people, etc., etc.

In the midst of all this creativity, I talked to my brother on the phone. I thought about making a pot for his wife for Christmas so I asked him about it.

He said, “She doesn’t like arty things.”

This kinda surprised me because she is a musician and a teacher. She is heavily involved in performing in several professional musical organizations and I always equated that with just another form of creativity. Every writer I know does other kinds of art as well, Several members of our local RWA chapter paint and others, like me, do needlework. I always associated creativity and passion in one area of the arts with interest in other areas.

The family discussed this and we hypothesized that possibly my brother’s wife is not a visual person. Maybe she gets her joy from auditory stimulation, where I get mine from what I can see and touch.

This would explain why, when we were cleaning out my mother’s apartment after she died, my sister-in-law wasn’t interested in many of the things my mother collected, while I was snatching up every one I could. I like seeing things around me that hold memories. I like knick-knacks and framed family pictures on he wall.

This difference is not a bad or a good thing, but it is just surprising to me because up until now, I never realized there was a difference.

What about you? Are you a more visual person or are you more auditory?