(“Something’s always happening at the mall.”)

When we lived in Massachusetts, the pace of life was dizzying. Now as “Native Floridians”, we’re adjusting to a more leisurely approach to daily existence. We reside in the Greater Blichton-Fellowship Metroplex, a mostly-forgotten corner of Marion County.

Fellowship might be the larger and more urbane city. It has a church along with a convenience store and a blinking yellow light at the intersection. Blichton, its northern neighbor and friendly rival, also has a convenience store and a blinking light, and it has the feed store and maybe the dump—if it isn’t outside the town line. Both have two highway signs—one facing each way—so you always know when you’re passing through.

Just a pair of small towns. If you’re looking to have a big time, it’s quite a drive to get there, but something’s always happening at the mall.

Until recently the BFM had no local radio station. Now Tony, a crotchety older dude, has taken up broadcasting in his back shed and streams it over the internet to keep everyone up on news, local sports, and what the weather channel radar looks like.

Over daybreak mimosas one day, I casually mentioned it was a shame WMBF didn’t carry traffic reports. Susan’s and my eyes met, and so our latest and highly profitable venture was born.

Now twice every morning and twice every evening during the drive-time commute, Tony airs live traffic reports which we produce. Our own kitchen is the studio. We can’t see the road from it, but we can pretty much guess there are no problems unless we hear the sirens.

I supposed you could say I’m “The Voice of BFM Traffic.” I speak slowly and try to add timbre and gravitas to my words. On a separate microphone, Susan provides the flup, flup, flup rotor noise for the traffic copter. It’s the way we keep our marriage fresh and young.