Everything aside from my four-legged companion is new in the last six months. Yes. EVERYTHING. As you might imagine, the last 180ish days were filled with a lot of excitement and a fresh perspective. New routes to a new job from my new home. Walks on new paths around a new neighborhood with new neighbors. New activities at new places with new people.

You get the idea. It’s been awesome, honestly. And I could see how it might be addicting.

But before I go down a route explaining my need for psychological help, I want to express that as I’ve started feeling more familiar (I no longer jolt to wonder whether I accidentally drove by work or need a GPS to get home… from everywhere), deeper adventures have begun boiling. Nothing crazy – simple things like farmers markets, attempts to joke with and remember the guy’s name at the gas station who rolls with my coupon obsession, or building a relationship with tellers at my new bank.

But after six months of heightened senses and unfamiliarity, things have gotten comfortable enough to start trying new new things. Like taking back roads into work. The route is more relaxed, more scenic with fewer stoplights, has a safer feel and a five-minute bonus. Farmland, trees and curves as opposed to industrial businesses on a too-fast, high-traffic, narrow and dangerous highway. It’s quite the difference. And worth the extra five minutes.

But as most off-the-beaten-path ventures go, this leads to deeper-into-the-woods extravaganzas.

Case in point: on this route, I’ve spotted two signs for things I can’t find at Cub or Target: an open invite to drive down a gravel road and up a driveway, tromp up someone’s back porch, hand them a few bucks, and walk away with a dozen beautiful farm fresh eggs. Or a bunch of rhubarb. That’s cool.

After seeing the “Farm Fresh Egg’s” and “RHUBARB–>” signs, I let it stew, until yesterday when I decided it was time to try. I took the alternate route, followed the hand-crafted rhubarb sign to the next rhubarb sign to a self-service, make-your-own-change station with large bundles of rhubarb.

One problem.  

I had an Andrew Jackson and needed an Alexander Hamilton. I rang the woman’s doorbell, and when she came back with my change, I asked her for advice on prepping rhubarb for baking. Too peel or not to peel? Eleanor says “no” to peeling rhubarb in her own baking. I thanked her, took some photos and was off to pick up eggs.

The “Farm Fresh Egg’s” sign piqued my interest enough to include in on Day 115 of my 365 Photo Challenge. I turned down the gravel road and felt vulnerable. I could only hope the next sign was clear. And not 100 miles down the road. It came up quick and was easily spotted. Eggsactly what customers need! I met MaryAnn on the back porch where I learned she and her husband retired from a company now owned by my employer. Small world.

I told her I’d be back and thanked her, but before I could leave, she informed me that her and her husband would be retiring from the egg business in November.

Making note to enjoy it fully until then, I smiled. I could have driven by that sign every day for the next several months, intending to stop in. Being curious of what would come of it. Meaning to reach out and try it. But not until the sign was gone would I realize I was too late to give it a shot, and through non-action would passively miss the opportunity to meet MaryAnn and try her farm fresh eggs. Life would go on, but it got me thinking: how many things do we intend to do “someday” but never get around to until it’s too late?

The sign-following, doorbell ringing adventure was fun. It was a simple out-of-the-norm post-work activity that brought me joy and made me feel alive and connected with my new community. Sometimes the smallest change-ups are all we need to shift into a better, more uplifted mood. More than anything, this line of events was a reminder to do the things you’ve been waiting on – despite whatever reason you haven’t been doing them, if there even is a reason.

Oddly, as I I bring this to a close, I’m reminded of a few other signs on that road. One for “TASTY PIZZA” (tried it, and I’ll be back), and another in front of the Dayton Fire Station. It’s a call for help from the city, offering to train and hire future firefighters. I raised my eyebrows the first time I saw that. Firefighting is something I’ve been considering for years. It’s also a few notches up on the commitment scale, so we’ll see if I eventually get the guts to take my own advice.

Shootin’ the Wit is a sporadic blog about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.