Now Trending: Not Trending.

I’m not much for following trends. The term “trending” makes me want to turn and run the other direction. I’m not big on crowds or trying to fit in.

I couldn’t tell you about “in” styles, name brands, car models, or the cool songs or shows.

Variety equals energy, joy and fun.

Clothes consist of shirts, pants, dresses, skirts, shoes, socks. Vehicles are cars, vans, SUVs, trucks and big rigs. Any name associated with any of them escapes me.

As much as I love to read I resist reading the latest and greatest. I avoid the NYT bestseller list until multiple friends insist I’m missing out on an astounding book, then I’ll put it off six months or longer.

If Oprah suggests it, I’ll avoid it. If some sitcom or Dr. Phil or Judge Judy or whoever on a late night talk show recommends it, I won’t do it. If it’s something I’m already doing and I hear they’ve touted its benefits, I’ll probably stop.

Does that make me antisocial? 

Probably.

Oh well.

Colorado Springs

I went for a walk today in Old North End of Colorado Springs. Most of the houses here came into existence in the nineteen fifties. At the time, I suppose, they probably all kind of looked alike, two or three basic house plans, two or three basic paint colors. Today, over sixty years later every house’s personality sings out.

Some have enclosed front porches, others sprout wings toward the back or side, and some have lovely balconies. Still others boast art glass windows and meticulous yards, while others choose to let vines ramble and allow nature to dictate direction and style. And the colors! Oh my! I saw lovely grays, blues, violets, periwinkles, pinks, stonework, yellows, brickwork, lilac, tans, creams, and white, ivory, apricot.

I loved the variety.

I pictured people of all sorts gathered inside, prepping for a lovely Sunday dinner, family and friends visiting, kids out back loving the spring weather.

Love this cheery home.

The thought of going back to my twenty-year old neighborhood with the same stucco cream-pink cracker boxes saddened me. And to think homeowner associations exist to guarantee such sameness and boring identical identities.

I suppose I’m just an old house, metaphorically speaking. I’ve evolved into something other. I’m a periwinkle siding, open front porch, extra bedroom and bath added, a few upgrades, real wood floors, rambling garden yard with laundry on the line in back kind of place.

Don’t expect me to fit in. It’s not in my blueprints.