When Seeking Simplicity Gets Complicated

Missus Jackie at the Community Cup and Missus McConnell, whose first name is Guerry although I never call her by that, are planning a meeting on Monday, March 10 at 7PM for folks who are interested in starting a Hawkins County Simplicity Group.

The group, which will be limited to 8-10 people, will be offering an introductory “Voluntary Simplicity” course. The session covers the meaning of simplicity and the misconceptions. There will be a total of 8 sessions which will meet at the Community Cup starting the week of March 31. (The day of the week will be determined by the group and the final session will be held by the week of May 19.) Membership in the Simplicity Group is free: the workbook for the first course is $18.00.

And I think I love this idea.

I dig it so much that when Missus McConnell sent me the meeting date, I broke out the Day Planner. (This indicates I am taking the Simplicity stuff seriously. Otherwise, I would have jotted the date on a scrap of paper and stuck it into that small storage space between oblivion and who-the-hell-knows-where.)  Of course, when I opened the day planner, the usual thing happened. Bits of my life popped out like spring-snakes in a gag gift can. The kids scrambled to collect the dollar bills floating to the floor – ignoring the receipts, free pizza coupons, which may or may not have expired, and the Food City Milk Vouchers, which I always forget to redeem.

I worked my way through the stacks of notes I’d previously jotted then tucked between the pages. At this point, I’ve forgotten why I jotted the notes or to what they pertain – but I keep them just in case it comes to me later and turns out to be something important.

Anyway, I scooped all the mess up and shoved it in an already bulging compartment of the planner – then I scanned March.

“Well, the meeting is at seven, which is good because I can be back from here if I leave early and drive really fast to there – but I’ll need to cancel this, which I didn’t want to do anyway… but crap, I promised so-and-so such-and-such, so I can’t do that. Maybe if I reschedule this… and push that back to 4:30, then I leave five minutes early – if he will cover this… and can come there and pick that up and take this over there… yes, perhaps I could make it.

I need simplicity… or  extra-strength Tums.  So, I called Mama’s house to ask if, on March the 10th, if I shifted this, could she pick up that and go here.

Daddy answered the phone and asked if Iwas bringing the kids over to visit.  I told him, maybe later, not now – now, I just needed to ask Mama if I shifted this, could she pick up that and go here because I wanted to do this simplicity group.  Of course, I had to explain what a simplicity group was because Daddy, being a simple man, did not know.

After the explanation: Daddy was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Let me get this straight. You aren’t coming. You haven’t been here in months to visit me, the man who gave you life and raised you, even though your mama wanted to give you away several times and I wouldn’t let her.   My grandbabies are probably going to graduate high school before I see them again.  But what the hell.  I am sure they’ve forgotten what I look like anyway because ya’ll are always off doing some group, game, practice, class and other shit you’ve signed everybody up for… but I shouldn’t worry because you’re planning to attend a group to to help figure out why your attending groups and not delivering apples?  Have I got that right?   I tell you what – that is some of the most dumbassed shit I’ve ever heard.  Did it ever occur to you to just drop off the apples off on your way over here. You kill two birds with one stone and you don’t even need a babysitter?

Uh, good point.



3 thoughts on “When Seeking Simplicity Gets Complicated

  1. We are suppose to believe that you embrace your Daddy’s ideal of simplicity because it is the “simple life” in its truest form? It is purely coincidental that his version allows you to maintain your status as a tight-fisted money-grubbing, shoe-buying half-crazy Southern Republican woman, who can’t cook for shit, right? :>)

  2. his version allows you to maintain your status as a tight-fisted money-grubbing, shoe-buying half-crazy Southern Republican woman, who can’t cook for shit, right? :>)

    Well, that is icing on the cake.

    Robin, I’m always up for a new club, particularly if we could start one for Busy Shoe-loving Women Against Ovens. I’m not entirely against Ovens, but I think if we oppose or support something, it’d be easier to gain non-profit status.

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