It's a Love-Hate: Love wins today.

I was looking through the biography section of my town's tiny library this afternoon, (alone!, because Andrew was home with the sleeping kiddies), and as I pulled a book off of a shelf, the clock tower in front of the library made it's hourly dong noise and chimed one o'clock, and then it began to play Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas with cheery bells chiming, and I fell in love with Kaysville. Sure, there are parts so snobby that if you cross the tracks into West Kaysville driving anything less than an Escalade, you'll be looked down upon so severely that you'll shrink two feet and never gain it back. But here in the old part, where we aren't embarrassed to be seen at the two dollar theater or send our kids to school in pants that fit them last week but this week make them look like members of a 1950's do-op band, it's comfortable and charming and in some cases nostalgic. There are adoptable grandparents living in every other house on my street, my neighbor two doors down scraps my sidewalk with his snow-blower whenever there's a storm, and Drew calls the white-bearded man in a bowler hat next-door, "Bum-pa". Chickens roam my backyard almost daily, the elderly couple who's backyard boarders ours actually enjoy our children when they play on the swing-set and yell at each other for hitting each other's balls, *a-hem*, and I am three short blocks from the annual Fourth of July Parade, carnival and fireworks display. Yep, if Kaysville weren't in Utah, I could live here forever.

Not that I'm completely anti-Utah. But that's an entire story in itself.