I've just returned from a weekend on Orcas Island. I always like going to Orcas Island and hanging out with the hippies. I'm not entirely sure why it is that hippies are attracted to islands in the Puget Sound, but they seem to grow there like weed (no pun intended).
Sometimes I think I'd like to be a hippie. I could wear drapey cotton clothing and grow lavender in little pots by my doorstep. I could hang crystals in my window sill and do yoga in the morning and drink herbal tea in the afternoon and recycle things in the evening. Hippies are never in a hurry. They drive around lackadaisically in their little VW bugs that are custom painted like happy rainbows. I like not being in a hurry. In my normal life it seems like I'm always in a hurry.
When I am on the Island I like sitting and listening to the waves go in and out. I like the smell of the woods and the sound of the seagulls. Although annoying when one is hungry and fresh off of the ferry, I like it that everything shuts down before 8 pm and everyone goes home and sleeps. Then you have no choice but to go home and sleep too. Sleep is nice.
The only problem is that you can't really make any money being a hippie. Although, maybe I could start a hippie blog and blog about my life as a hippie, and then you would all read it and be jealous. Although I would have to get people to advertise on my hippie blog--maybe the lady who makes those yarn socks that they were selling in the bookstore for $20 a pair would be interested. Or the people who make those wind spinners.
I'm not sure Matt and the girls would like being my hippie family, so I don't think we'll be moving anytime soon. But sometimes, when life moves too fast, I think I'd really like to be a hippie.
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