Suburban Life: It ain’t just for mamas with strollers anymore!

If there be one thing I love, it’s a nice stroll through my endearing ‘hood.

It’s so suburban, you’d think it would bother me–considering you can’t walk two feet without being knocked down by a power-walking mama hustling down the sidewalk with a stroller the size of a small elephant–but it doesn’t bother me in the least.  Usually.

First of all, it smells delectably homey around these parts. “Homey”–in case you are wondering–smells like barbecues, laundry sheets, grass, and the occasional, sobering scent of smoke.  And people’s homes, in so many ways, are like little reflections of their souls. I passed by a house that had a least three dozen wind chimes sprinkled around the windows and eaves. Then there’s the house with these totaly bizzare metal sculptures sprouting from the lawn.

Old women in sweatpants holding babies in driveways, kids riding bicycles daredevil-style, and that gloriously old man riding his turquoise Vespa up and down the street like a mother effin’ bat outta hell.

A poem exists in every inch of this place.

So yesterday, I was so high on all of it that I decided to venture out a second time, but this time on my bike.  Not just any old bike, but my bright red (and, ahem, rusty) city cruiser.  Oh yeah, it’s a one-speed.  I walked it up to the gas station up the street, filled the tires with airs, and took ol’ Bessie for a spin.

My hope was that I looked utterly chic and adorable just like all those utterly chic and adorable girlcyclers featured in Copenhagen Cycle Chic .  As far as I’m concerned, Berkley, Michigan has the potential to be just as hip as Copenhagen–and I am more than happy to be the person to prove it.

And you know what, I think I did.  That is, until my tire exploded as I was wheeling Bessie back in to her cozy garage home.  What’s with me and tires?!

Point is, I don’t think there is anything more beautiful than a stroller mama, a house covered in windchimes, an old man on a Vespa, and a chic girlcycler sincerely coexisting with each other.  It really doesn’t get hipper than that.  So Suburban Life–this martini with two bleu cheese-stuff olives is for you.