Opposites Attract Just Like Paula Abdul Said

In yesterday's comments, Mr. Farklepants said the following:

This is one area where TF and I are at odds. I hate lying to kids about Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny or any of the imaginary beings we lie to them about.

It's true. That is one area. Here is another: our respective personal preferences about where to live. See, we live in Stepford suburbia, not because we like cookie cutter homes, postage stamp sized yards, and more chain restaurants than we can shake a stick at -and who shakes sticks at restaurants anymore? Not us that's who -but because when it came time to buy a home we considered the children [well, really the CHILD because it was just the one at the time, but who were we kidding when all he had to do was look at me and I was all, I think I'm pregnant... what I'm saying is we knew there would be more] and who they would have to play with, which school district they would attend, and what house we could afford. Hence our move to somewhere that neither of us ever thought we'd live. We did what many people do when they're doing what they think is best for their family: we compromised.

In Mr. Farklepants' perfect world we would live here:


Rural with wide open spaces, acreage, and sagebrush, and don't forget isolation.

I like my wide open spaces with a great deal of skyscrapers:


When Mr. Farklepants talks about his neighbors, he's referring to the family that lives several miles away:


When I say neighbors, I mean the people who live directly on the other side of the shared wall:


Mr. Farklepants' idea of transportation includes tires designed for maximum traction. And necessary protective gear:


I like my transportation to include a driver that may or may not speak with an accent or bathe on a regular basis:


Mr. Farklepants' idea of nearby retail establishments:


My ideal shopping experience:

Believe me when I tell you this: If Mr. Farklepants' job didn't require him to live in close proximity to our current location...there would be a ruckus. A grand mal ruckus of epic proportions.

When the children are grown, moved out, and living their own lives; please check back for a post titled: A Tale of Two Houses. Or perhaps, Retirement: Six Months Here, Six Months There. Or maybe even, Wait a Minute, Didn't I Used to Have a Husband? Where Did He Go? Oh Look! Shoes!

**all photos Google Images