Dear World: I Can't Believe There's English Muffin BREAD

And other fun things about America

I’m Ash, and I’m a writer, traveler, nonconformist & nomad, and every week I’m sharing funny field notes from around the world. Currently, I’m in America writing about what it’s been like to return home to my small town, twenty years after living abroad.

---

Text from neighbor last night: “Do you want a donkey?”

Audio message with Erica: real estate is so much fun!

Email from Geico: Our underwriters have determined that you are ineligible for a continuation of coverage due to the fact that there are two separate dwellings on your property.

REAL ESTATE IS SO MUCH FUN.

Grocery receipt from store: $293. You can’t let me into these places. It’s like I am experiencing earth for the first time. Cannot believe some of the things America has: Spreadable horseradish cheese. Cooper cheese - get this! - by the block. Avocado hummus. THREE DIFFERENT COLORED ONIONS. Ground turkey. A turkey loin. Turkey sausages! Apple cider donuts. A ball of uncooked pizza dough from a local bakery. (WHAT!!!! Feels so fun in hands!!!) Omg and you know what *other* bready thing I had to buy? You’re going to drop dead when you hear this. English. Muffin. Bread. A loaf of it. In bread-like slices. Ready for me to smear something artery-clogging on top of. No wonder America has won more Nobel Prizes than any other country.

Spot a new yard sign going around: Trump, safe borders. Kamala, open borders.

Fun fact: of the 403 Nobel laureates from the US, 35% of them are immigrants.

One thing I keep thinking about is how a Communications degree used to be looked upon as rather…fluffy. I have a degree in Communications. I remember PR classes where only assignment was to spin message from negative to positive. To craft public opinion. Boy, did the world gravely underestimate the power in that career choice.

Man named Jerry stops at the town square as I’m finishing up mowing it yesterday. He is old-ish. Very old-ish. You’ve done such a nice job with this all year,” he says. “I’ve enjoyed it very much!” I tell him. Then he invites me to the pancake breakfast down at the firehall. “I’ll be working the door. Stop down, I’ll buy your breakfast.”

It is nice to be appreciated.

The fire chief also stops by as I am mowing. I find it ironic that he is always smoking. I ask him what the ambulances in town were for that morning. “Crash on 492,” he puffs. “And then someone over at The Holiday Inn pulled the smoke alarm.”

Someone is trying to build a rec center nearby. I am overjoyed at this news. Maybe there will be a gym. Right now, the closest gym is 40 minutes away by car. Trouble is: they need to clear 3 miles of land to run a sewage pipe all the way to the next exit off the highway. I am fascinated by the unsuspecting roadblocks small towns encounter when it comes to entrepreneurship.

Take the four wheeler through 5-foot brush to explore land. Likely will die of lime disease. Very determined to do so anyway, as it’s 3 acres of my property I had never been on. THANK YOU, JENNIE! 

Jennie is the name of my four wheeler. Named her after my grandma. But then I rewatched Forrest Gump. Will I ever be able to say it any other way???????

Should totally have four-wheeler naming contest.

Went to chicken bbq at friend’s house. Outside pavilion. Pond. Girl walks up, raises can of beer, BITES INTO SIDE OF CAN, and proceeds to shotgun the entire thing in one gulp. “I’m feral,” she laughs. I like her instantly. Maybe I should invite her over to evict the flesh-eating chipmunk from the attic.

Friend from Costa Rica visiting the farmhouse. She’s going to hate the wallpaper I picked out. Imagining first words: “Can’t believe they left you with that hideous shit!”

Wallpaper is v. v. cool these days. IYKYK. I am starting to see the world through a new lens: you’re either a wallpaper person or you’re not. You’re either a feral can-biting person or you’re not. FOLLOW YOUR PASSION, MAN.

Wait until you see the big reveal.

Bought these green plaid coffee mugs from Target. Cannot stop drinking everything out of them. I feel so…Scottish!

That is the vibe I’m going for when I decorate the cottage: Scottish son-of-a-bitch. There will be tartan. There will be leather. There will be whisky decanters. I’m 53% Irish, according to 23andMe, but fuck it. I like Scotland. It’s one of my favorite places on earth.

Today I will burn boxes. I’m a box burning fool now. I actually can’t wait: it’s weirdly satisfying???

Been rethinking trash providers. Waste Management only picks up recycling once a month. That’s like some form of cruel punishment. (Real estate is so much fun!) I want to switch to the local company—Joe’s—because that’s who we had when my mom and I lived here 1,000 years ago in the trailer in town. Plus, a guy I went to school with drives the truck. So I went up there to ask, and you know what happened next? A tall, thin man, about age 65, weathered but healthy, welcomed me into the office. He asked me my address. And then???? He wrote it down on a piece of paper. “You want pickup Monday?” he said plainly. I said sure. He said “$29/month.” I said “let me get my wallet.” He said, “no need, we’ll send an invoice to your house.” Then he said he’d let my friend know. Isn’t that refreshing? Sometimes, doing business in a small town reminds you that not everything needs to be complicated. Not everything needs an upsell. Not everything needs to be optimized. Sometimes you just need an old-fashioned piece of paper and pen.

And maybe a block of cooper cheese.

And maybe some English muffin bread.

And maybe some cute coffee mugs.

And maybe enough conviction about the things you like, to actually be able to chase the things you like. And the gumption to figure out what you like, if you don’t know. And the commitment to being uncomfortable, for a while, in order to create a life you are actually happy living. And enough spine to tell the world who you are, regardless of what they think about your fucking wallpaper.

“This is what I like” is a surprisingly powerful decision.

(Verdict on the donkey remains to be seen.)