RantFarm.com

We went to see the critic acclaimed move, The Artist. We walked up to the tell, and asked for two tickets for “The Artist”. She tells us the price, and proceeds to pick up a walkie-talkie and says to someone, somewhere, “The Artist”. We got our tickets and headed into the theater only to realize that the projectionist is setting up the projector just for our viewing. He was at the other end of the radio and she was queuing him that someone had come to see that particular movie. Soon, other patrons came but for the most part, we could have had any seat in the house.

Spokane Airport: 7,600 passengers per day.

Ohare Airport: 182,600 passengers per day.

I should also mention that we’re about three times farther from Spokane Airport and yet it takes about twice the amount of time to go from front door to our gate.

Just in case you missed the county fair, here’s the winning potatoes. Yes sir, these are some beauties.

It’s becoming harder to observe when you’re assimilating into the fabric of small town living. The good news is that I noticed the tell-tail sign that this image in the local paper is from rural America. The bad news is that I recently played volleyball with my “hiking boots” on.

The image below is of a sign above a urinal in the Elks Club bathroom. The bathroom was empty so I got this sign to share with you. Kind of makes you wonder what the Elks membership demographic is.

Disclaimer: Yes, I do understand the perception of bringing a camera into a public bathroom. All those jokes have already passed through my head so don’t bother. No, I’m not a member of the Elks club. There’s only a few meetin’ houses in town, so many groups use the building.

Trimming the bushes – sounds like a chore my dad used to do on a day off. Here bushes grow like grass and cutting them off at the stump only gives them a solid foothold to come back next year. You have to pull them out by hand and get the roots or they’ll just come back. So trimming is taken to a whole new level of difficulty of clearing bushes. This requires special weedwacker attachments that go through 2 inch branches, chain saws, hand saws, clippers and a special ax (found only on ebay) called a grub ax that can (with a great deal of effort) pull small roots up. I did brush removal on a small section of land in spring and am now moving the bushes to the burn pile. Unlike the garbage bag dad would fill with trimmings, I had load after load of bushes. Only a few more sections to go.

I’m not going to suggest that you not lock your doors. I read in the papers about thefts taking place all the time. While riding up top on a nearby mountain where radio towers that take handle everything from police, fire, internet and phone I found that most of the gates protecting these expensive facilities were either open or almost locked. See image below.

The seems to be the general attitude of most things. These towers are so remote that if you wanted to simply cut the chains with a very loud saw, nobody would know. So, I guess they simply don’t worry too much about it and trust people. I like that.

Get the door on your way out. Here’s a shot of the entrance to a local cemetery.

And, on the tree on the very right you see a gray sign reminding you to close the cemetery when you’re done.

Every husband knows the trouble caused when his wife names a wild animal. With rare exception, an attachment forms along with responsibility for it’s well being. Sometimes the men do the naming not realizing that in his wife’s mind he’s created a contract that secures the life of the animal forever. And then there’s shear confusion when all the roles are messed up as in this classified ad from the local paper. This poor guy needs to get out more.

The electric company is not something one usually considers “personal”. But there are many smaller co-ops (owned by you and your neighbors) that service the needs of much of rural America. It’s small enough that when they sent out a survey, the General Manager’s signature line was written in ink, from an actual pen. (Yes, I look at and for things like that.)

In rural areas, sometimes the police blotter strongly reflects the weather. With very little training you can tell that it snowed on Dec. 28th. If you need help with this, feel free to write me.

On a different note. When does a train whistle in the area of railroad tracks become “suspicious”?

I have a few theories about this one. Maybe people have trouble putting two and two together. For example, railroad tracks and a train whistle. Or maybe over time, I’ll learn to perceive the “suspicious” train whistle from the other kinds.

When was the last time you were ordering in a restaurant and the owner, who was taking your order, offered to sprinkle in some of her personal stash of fresh picked black berries?

For the last 10 years in a row, the Hoot Owl Restaurant has won “Best Breakfast in Town” and it’s no wonder. Even without the berries, the oatmeal is the best in town with thick cut oats (thicker than steel cut) which gives it a great texture and heft for those of us who like that sort of thing. Add to that some fresh picked black berries and huckleberries in season and you’re good to go. Note the picture is “half” serving.

Recent police blotter. Again, in a small town you can probably ask for gardening tips from the cops… and get an answer.

Yes, but was the skunk breaking the law?

You know you’re in a small town when the school lunch menus are published in the local paper. Nice too see that the kids are eating healthy meals.

I gotta guy fer dat… Big towns, everything needed is within a 30 minute drive at some store. I used to buy candy bars that once were only available in Australia from a nearby market. Small town, not so much. In fact, many things you need aren’t at a store. But if you ask around, there’s always “a guy” who has or does that. If you don’t take the time to get to know as many people as possible, you may miss out on your six degrees of separation between you and the thing you need. The price you pay for this anti-social behavior is that you can probably buy it somewhere at a premium.

What you need in this rural area is often unheard of in the city.
Examples I’ve observed:

Len: Everything Horses
A few miles up the mountain live a great guy named Len. If you need to scramble to find a horse for your niece to ride – Len. Need horse manure for your garden, or in our cause lawn? Answer: Len. Here’s picture of a fresh trailer full of manure that I’m spreading out on the lawn in hopes that it will add some magic ingredient to grow grass. Now our yard smells like Len. Don’t tell him I said that or he’ll cut off my supply of poo.

Dale: What a lawn mower is to a suburban home, a chainsaw is around  here. And rather than weeds, land owners often have to get rid of some of those pesky trees that have popped up over the last 25 years when nobody was looking. Jobs like this are often a bit more than the average home owner would want to tackle. And that’s where Dale comes in. Burning several million calories a day, he acts about 30 but is as “old as the hills” (his words, not mine). For the price of the donated trees, he’ll cut, split and haul away your troubles after burning the slash pile he created in the process. If you’re a person the burns wood to heat your home and can’t harvest your own due to injury or age, Dale will do everything he can to have you stocked up for the winter.

Got vermin too cute to kill? Yep, there’s a guy for that. Well, not just a guy. You can call just about any man, woman and child in the area who will gladly come over for some target practice before hunting season. That is, unless you have a no kill policy as we do (blame Jenny). So, the ground squirrels that are infesting our yard with bigger and bigger holes are trapped alive and taken away to a local nature preserve where they can happily live out the rest of their lives – til the coyotes get them (don’t tell Jenny). The coyotes give me $1 a head. I’m their guy for that.

Hairy-Eggs? My neighbor, Hairy (yes, that’s how you spell it), started growing chickens in his back yard. It wasn’t long before his new pets started producing more eggs that he and his wife could woof down. So, now Jenny and I get to enjoy cackle-berries that aren’t pasteurized, have thick tan shells, and are fertilized. Hairy says that fertilized eggs have less cholesterol and while that’s not true, we’re not going to correct him unless he reads this post. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you!