Yesterday we loaded up the family truckster and headed southward to the ATL for our good friends' wedding. If you've never experienced the joy of a nine hour car ride with a cranky toddler, then you've not lived! Bless the person that devised the portable DVD player; it was the only way we could have made it. We survived a water soaked car seat and chocolate milk-stained clothes (good idea, Dad), and countless rounds of "Twinkle, twinkle Little Star" and the "ABC song." We arrived, bedraggled, me in scrubs with "L&D" emblazoned across my ample posterior and not so ample left breast pocket, Mr. Whoo in track pants and shirt, and CindyLou Whoo (just a little more than 2) in a non-matching football jersey and capri pants (thanks to the great water vs. gravity experiment) one pigtail in, one pigtail halfway down the side of her cute little head. Just where did we arrive, you ask? Well, only at one of the more swank hotels in downtown Atlanta, with valets, chandeliers, and a room rate that is usually in the ballpark of $500 a night (we had a significantly reduced rate because of the wedding). All of the people in the lobby were dressed in suits and designer finery. Our friends were waiting in the lobby for us, equally as shabby, feeling equally out of place. It is strange, our group of friends are all young professionals. We have three doctors, three MBAs, a clinical psychologist, a general contractor, a banker, and a recent law graduate among us, yet, when we get together, we act like college freshman! For example, last night all of the boys stayed up in one of the swank ballrooms, playing cards, until 5 am. On their way back to the rooms, they swiped two large obelisks and one jam filled ceramic hen, placed them in bed with one of the more sensible people that went to bed before 5 am and took multiple pictures. I'm shocked we've not been kicked out onto the street! What's even worse is that I really love the way our group can be when we get together; it is never boring, for certain. Here, we truly are the "backwoods relations."
Being in the city only reminds me of how unsophisticated I am, and it also brings to the forefront the realization that I am totally ok with my level of sophistication. We truly are suited to our small mountain town, and being here in the city crystallizes that notion. I hate the traffic, I hate the $500 purses, the $600 shoes, and the attitudes of those that surround us. I love the simplicity of our quiet life, far removed from the rat race, the Prada bags, Jimmy Choos and soy lattes. It is wonderful to have found our place in the world so young. For now, we'll settle for being the tacky tourists, tooling around Atlanta in our shorts and t-shirts, gazing up at the sky scrapers, and being ridiculed by the hotel staff. To pretend to be anything that we are not would be far, far worse.