Hobbies

So, yesterday I was waiting in our car while my husband pumped our gas. I sat and watched out the window at the different cars pulling in and out. One big pickup truck pulled up next to us. The guy inside looked like a cleaner cut redneck guy, who listened loudly to hip hop, with his pitbull faithfully sitting beside him. He must have a diesel because the engine very loud and he left it running to go into the convenience store. I found it odd that he left the car running and unlocked while he was gone. Then I thought maybe his dog wouldn’t let anyone nearby, so he didn’t have to worry. Then I imagined what he and his dog were doing all day. Were they locals, were they tourists, were they on a road trip somewhere? I thought about the cool dynamic between the two, the unspoken comfortability and loyalty they both seemed to exude.

Then my husband got back in the car and drove away while the truck owner was still inside. And I thought to myself, does everyone create stories from the people and things they see around them? Do they wonder when they see something interesting, what the story is behind that? Or do they create one of their own everytime they see something somewhat interesting? My husband has many hobbies and interests. He likes fishing, cars, watches, tinkering, putting things together and figuring things out. He is forever finding little projects and things to spend his off time playing around with.

Me, on the other hand, I’ve never really had hobbies. I like to paint on occasion when the mood strikes me. Which is maybe once a year or so. Sometimes I see some new cool craft or gadget, and I’ll it out. For a day or two, and then I get bored and uninterested. Whenever I see my husband tinkering about on the weekends with his multitude of hobbies, I feel jealous and wish I said something that interested me like that.

And then we were at the gas station and it occurred to me. I do have a hobby that takes up my time. Sometimes every day. Sometimes all day long. And that hobby is story telling. Every single day, I spent time creating and building and dreaming up people, and things and stories. It’s not something I even try to do on purpose. I’m just that way. Seeing someone walking into an convenience store leaving their dog to stand guard, could be the beginnings of a murder mystery, or a road trip, or rom com. For me, those stories are the things I spend my time tinkering on. But that kind of hobby is a solitary one. I sometime still wish I was into sports or fishing or something that didn’t require me to forever be following down rabbit holes.

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