I have to admit it; if I were rich I’d have left the U.S. by now. Or I’d at least have prepared a nice little offshore getaway — a vacation place that would be there when the day came that it was really, really, indubitably time to escape. I’m not a rich person. You’re probably not, either. Still, we Americans are living in a country whose government (not our government, but some strange occupation force, some junta that seized power when good people and fools alike weren’t watching) has declared its authority either to assassinate us at will or “disappear”…
Category: Rural and small-town living
Life far from freeways, Starbucks, malls, and other benefits/distractions
So my friend and I showed up at the courthouse yesterday, properly (or rather improperly) disarmed. She even left her nail file in the car, just in case, and I carried a purse (I never carry a purse) that was so light I felt naked. No flashlight, no pepper spray, no multi-tool, no spring-assisted pocket knife, no hardware whatsoever. The courthouse, in a bigger county than this one, was a “real” courthouse — swarming with lawyers and built to impress 19th century citizens. Domes and grand staircases and mosaic floors and all that. In the courtroom, the ceiling soared to…
In the summertime this house sits in a verdant meadow near the bank of a river. I pass it on dog walks and think what a lovely place it would be to live. In winter … maybe not so lovely. Although this is the wettest I’ve seen it, the river rises frequently to within a few feet of the foundation. Definitely not the home for someone concerned about preparedness. Today there was a pumping truck of some sort sitting outside with a big red hose snaking into the yard. Can you say “exercise in futility”? While I was at it,…
The road from self-reliance to self-pity. Whole gangs of “constitutional sheriffs” in Northern California? Wonders never cease. (Too bad this intriguing article never gets around to mentioning the very important state of Jefferson.) Via Wendy McElroy: You’ll never believe the latest group the FBI considers a threat. (I’m going to have to create a new topic category for Stupidity Above And Beyond the Call of Even the Government.) While I don’t agree with this writer’s snarky take on Occupy Wall Street, it sure does seem some young lefties are learning some real-life lessons. Including one right out of Atlas Shrugged.…
I have about two more days of deadlining before I can get back to serious posting. In the meantime, here are some pix from the Montana ranch where L. and I stayed over the weekend. Here’s our cabin: The cabin featured solar power, a composting toilet, a claw-foot bathtub, on-demand hot water, and despite the satellite dishes, a blessed absence of all electronic media. It was a short walk from our hosts’ house, but our nearest neighbors weren’t human. This is Ben, a rescued Belgian draft horse, and one of his buddies. In the same pasture were Highland cattle. They’re…
If this post isn’t 100 percent coherent or perfectly spelled, it’s because my friend L and I just celebrated with bloody Marys (and I didn’t make either of them as “lite” as she requested). Work this afternoon is going to be … interesting. One year ago today, at precisely this hour, I dragged my U-Haul trailer into town after a trip that was more eventful than I might have wished, but ended well with a little help from my friends. I paused at the title company long enough to sign papers. I popped into the real estate office to pick…
First, to assist with your Monday morning work avoidance: Jake MacGregor posted three new chapters last week, beginning with Chapter 25 in which Our Intrepid Hero … dons a dress and discovers why it really isn’t his style. “The Five Stages of Awakening.” Dog helps rape victims in court and provokes controversy. This is most absolutely definitely not safe for work. And Felonious Munk’s grasp of economics might not rise to Misean levels. Still. a pretty good rant. States rights isn’t only a “right-wing” position. More in the common-ground department. Blueberry season! It feels as if summer has barely begun.…
Since I was five years old, I wanted a house with one of these. On the outside, it’s a door knocker, which nobody these days would ever think to use … On the inside, it’s a portal that opens to lets the person outside declare themselves friend or foe. You know: “Joe sent me” (I could run a speakeasy!) or, “The eagle flies at midnight” (I could be a spy!) … I was thrilled when my new-old house came with one in its front door. Alas, after having this brass relic for one year, less three days, my potential careers…
Had a little excitement around Ye Olde Town the other day. When I arrived at the post office, a cop car with lights flashing sat in a nearby bank parking lot. No, not a bank robbery. As I headed up the steps to the P.O., a woman just ahead turned and in a most accusatory way demanded, “Did you leave a little boy in your car?” What? Do I look like somebody who totes toddlers around? Me and this silver hair? “Um … no. Why?” “Well,” she said with a glint that you really had to see to understand, “somebody…
The local downtown (such as it is) features a series of tiny parks — just green squares, really, maybe with a badly carved and crumbling wooden statue. Each of these parkettes is named after somebody. Always somebody I’ve never head of. Usually somebody even local old-timers can’t remember. In one case (I know because the plaque says so) it’s a man who owned a print shop that lasted until 1936. These sad plaques attempting to honor forgotten people got me thinking about legacies. Getting something named after you is usually supposed to be a tribute (not always, as in the…