Finally... I know what I want to be when I grow up.

There are very few things in this world that can eclipse my desires of becoming: 1) an elderly, stylish gay man and 2) a jam-making, soup-pureeing, bread-baking nun at Kylemore Abbey. But yesterday, while buying out the shop at Mt Pleasant Farmer's Market, I realized that there is one thing in the world that CAN outshine these desires: becoming Amish.

How one becomes Amish I'm not sure, but I do know there's a lot they do that's pretty cool-- like roast coffee, bake pies, make quilts and furniture, and give their kids old-fashioned cool-sounding names like Hannah-Sarah. Some Amish have electricty. Some don't. Some ride in horse carriages. Some don't. I'd aim to be the kind of Amish that could do either.

I'd learn how to make the Whoopie-pies Evan likes to eat every Thursday... they're like a cake-y chocolate cookie sandwiched together with vanilla buttercream frosting. I'd drive a big country-truck (though I'd have two horses-- Amelia and Bedelia, and a cart just in case); and I'd wave to people on the road, and call everyone, "My friend."

Sweet.