Snow Day Part Deux

MyTallerHalf (MTH) was trying to reach our local StuffMart to see if his prescription was ready. He tried and tried but couldn’t get through, so he thought he would get some news from the Pixley PD. He called PPD and was forwarded to the county sheriff’s office and was informed that the roads are fairly clear but PPD is closed today for snow. Five inches of snow. And we’re the county seat!

I love this place.

First Breakfast

My Taller Half and I are both under the weather. No, it’s not COVID. It’s just aging or genetics or paying the price for past carelessness. Normally, we’d be in the Bigger City to the south, listening to our pastor preach a great sermon. After church, we’d do our regular Bigger City stock up run to all our favorites stores, grab some lunch, then head home for a nice nap. But we haven’t made that trip for a few weeks, and while we still have The Pig and Wally World nearby, it’s just not the same.

MTH fixes breakfast most mornings, so I decided it was my turn this morning. He likes his eggs on the softer side, while I’m the kid Ron Popeil envisioned when he invented his In-the-Egg Scrambler. One compromise we both enjoy is a scrambled egg concoction in my cast iron skillet. It’s a bit like a crustless quiche. Into the skillet go the vegetables, chopped meats, whatever I have or need to use, which I usually sauté, then I pour in the egg mixture and top with cheese. I pop that into the oven until it is firm and the cheese is melted.

But without shopping much lately, the cupboard is getting a little bare. We have mushrooms — always a good start — some shallots and some garlic. I could cook up some frozen broccoli, but my personal energy reserves were a bit low, so if there wasn’t any ready to go, it wasn’t going to happen. We have some sausage and maybe a few slices of bacon, but again, too tiring. We have an open jar of sun-dried tomatoes — into the pan they went. It would be good, but it really needs meat to be perfect. The sun-dried tomatoes had me thinking Mediterranean, those blue waters off the coasts of Greece or Italy I’ve seen in pictures. In the pantry, I found a can of sardines.

My dad used to eat sardines out of the can when I was a kid. It grossed me out. He also used to eat Vienna Sausages out of the can. Dad was in the Navy through two wars. It hardens a man … and his stomach. The only canned fish I ever buy is tuna and occasionally salmon. But one day, MTH came home with cans of smoked oysters and smoked fish.

“Here,” he said, shoving a fork bearing an unknown substance toward my mouth. I obeyed. We’re still practically newlyweds, so I give him a lot of leeway. It was some sort of fish, and it was good!

“What is it?”

“Smoked herring,” he told me, and I promptly forgot.

So the next time I was in the canned fish aisle, I tried to remember. What was it? It wasn’t anchovies, the little fishes that people put on pizza. Sardines? Yes, It must be sardines. So I brought MTH home a can of sardines, informing him that I bought more of the fish he enjoyed. “Those are sardines. We had smoked herring.” Sigh.

So this morning, with my head full of visions of fisherman on the Mediterranean, I spied the little can of sardines. How bad could it be? So into the pan, along with the sizzling mushrooms, shallots, garlic, and sun-dried tomatoes, I added the sardines. They looked pretty good! I poured in the eggs scrambled with seasonings, topped it all with some shredded white cheddar, popped it into the oven, and started the coffee.

When I presented it to MTH, he looked a bit skeptical. He took a bite, then asked for a napkin.

“Are you going to spit it out?”

He mimicked gagging into his napkin then chuckled. “No, silly.”

I tried a bite. “I would definitely make this again. It’s good.” I looked at him, trying to read his opinion. He’s hard to read.

“It is good. Especially the sun-dried tomatoes.”

“I’ll add more next time.”

MTH humphed in agreement.

“I think it will keep well for lunch. I’ll eat the rest later.”

“I will, too.” It is a lot of food, and we’re not at our best. Second breakfast.

After breakfast, our phones started sending weather alerts. A tropical storm is heading our way. I am not too concerned. After our breakfast, we’re ready for anything.

Preferably a nap.


Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud?

Small town life is frequently inconvenient. A few weeks ago, our refrigerator/freezer died. I was not worried, as we have a maintenance agreement. After a call and a small deductible, the appliance gets repaired. Simple, right? Not in Pixley. After a few days, the maintenance agreement company informed us that the authorized repair service center in our area did not respond to their attempts to contact. They would keep looking.

After two weeks without a refrigerator/freezer, My Taller Half and I purchased a mini-fridge. It even has a tiny freezer compartment and a teeny-tiny ice tray. The maintenance agreement company informed us that they finally found another authorized service center who would service a call here. Their first availability was in about three weeks.

Five weeks to repair a refrigerator, simply because there are no repair people nearby — or no authorized repair center nearby. There are people who do repair appliances who do not need help finding business. We could have gone to one of them, but I am stubborn and just a little frugal. I bought a maintenance agreement, and I do not want to spend more.

Okay, we did spend money on a mini-fridge, but if the power goes out, it’s easier to power a mini-fridge with a generator than a full-sized appliance. There is method to our madness. But mainly, I am stubborn. Plus — teeny-tiny ice!

It could be a lot worse. We have transportation. Pixley is the county seat and boasts a variety of fast food restaurants, Walmart, and two or three other grocery stores, so we won’t starve. We can buy a meal’s worth of groceries to cook — the oven still works. We have a small kitchen with no microwave and no dishwasher, so we tend to keep our meals simple on the best of days. 

There are others in Small Town USA whose resources are far more limited. But in those circumstances, at least in towns like Pixley, neighbors pitch in to help. Our sweet next-door neighbor is helping us by taking some meds and a few of the more expensive, longer shelf-life items to store for us.

The reps from the maintenance agreement company were relieved that we are not outraged. We are philosophical. Inconvenience is part of the price of living in not-quite-paradise. We have learned that we cannot expect the same 24/7 service you get in large cities. We do not have 24/7 traffic and sirens, so we are satisfied. In a few weeks, when the refrigerator is fixed, My Taller Half has dibs on the mini-fridge. 

What is an inconvenience to us could be a disaster to another family in less fortunate circumstances. Still, for those who love living in Small Town USA, the silver linings far outweigh the clouds.

Information, Please

I like to think that Pixley is typical of small-town America, but I don’t really know, as it is the only really small town in which I have lived. I spent my childhood in a small town that was at least ten times the size of Pixley. Our little town put on a beautiful fireworks display on the Fourth of July and parades on every major holiday. There was a sign at one entrance to the town welcoming passersby with the names of some of the religious, civic, social organizations there — Rotary, Lions Club, VFW, The Presbyterian Church. and so on. My dad was a Moose, and they were not listed on the sign. I always imagined the meetings were something like those of the Royal Order of Water Buffaloes in The Flintstones.

Pixley has parades and celebrations, too. They decorate the town square — not truly a square, more of a rectangle by the train depot — with lights at Christmas. They have a scarecrow competition every fall. Between The Storm and COVID-19, I haven’t had the opportunity to participate in any of these festivities, but I’m happy just knowing they are happening.

The entrance to Pixley is graced with a welcome sign worthy of her position as the county seat. Above the sign, a very large American flag flies proudly. Every time we get a water bill, there are two amounts. One is the actual water bill, and the other is the water bill plus two dollars — one for the upkeep of the flag and one for the parks. We have a couple of nice parks for a town this size. We pay the extra $2.00.

I don’t know of any civic organizations here. We do have a lot of churches. According to Church Finder, there are 37 Christian churches in Pixley — more than one church for every hundred people. Fourteen of those are various types of Baptist. There are two Catholic churches. one Episcopal, an AME, a Pentecostal, the Salvation Army, and various others. If you go to synagogue, you’ll need to go to Big City or Beach Town. Same if you’re of another faith or even my particular flavor of Christianity. I don’t sense any strife, any judgment, anything negative about the faith lives of people in this town. You do hear “Have a blessed day” a lot, which I like because I can use all the blessings I can get.

Now let’s talk about what there isn’t. There isn’t a bar in Pixley — or in the entire county. We’re one of the few places in the country that is still dry … though you can purchase weak wine and beer at Walmart or one of the few restaurants with a liquor license. There isn’t a bus or a taxicab. I won’t go into that just now — that’s a whole post of its own! There are no movie theaters in Pixley. You have to go to a Big City or Beach Town for that … if they are still around after COVID. There isn’t a lot of racial strife … at least not that I have seen. I formed many of my opinions on the character of the people of Pixley from the way they behaved after The Storm. Again, that’s a post of its own.

It’s a proud little town, proud of its history, proud of its position in the county. Laura Ingalls Wilder mentioned it in a book. The second-lowest temperature ever recorded in the state was here. There is even a commemorative plaque where a scientist helped create and introduce a variety of plant that, well, we’ll just say it’s pretty big around here. When I mention the chickens, some people seem offended. This is the city! You don’t have chickens in the city. I mentioned how many truly big cities allow chickens. Chicken-keeping is quite popular. Then they give me a look as if they are questioning my sanity.

They may have a point. I took my dog out this morning, and a single hen came over hoping for a handout. I talked to her while my dog sniffed every inch of ground in the yard. My dog never talks back. The hen clucks and squawks as if she is conversing with me. It’s really quite comforting.




A Valentine’s Day Sunday

It was a rainy Sunday morning, and My Taller Half and I were up early getting ready for the 45-mile drive to our church in Beach Town. I looked out the window to see if the neighbor’s Manx kitty was out front. He didn’t appear to be there, and I told my Taller Half so.

But the girls are.

I craned my neck to see a black hen and a red hen standing on our welcome mat. I hoped they didn’t leave any presents. He just washed the front walk.

It was Valentine’s Day, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a balloon graced the top of our upright piano. It was a big day. We were planning a trip to Red Lobster for lunch!

As we walked out the door, the girls were still out front, but when they saw us get in the car and pull away, they headed back to their home. There were three cars at the four-way stop, all going in different directions. That’s a traffic jam in Pixley. Everyone waited and waved for the other to go first.

Someone was out early, loading their horse in a trailer at the vet’s office. I hope they keep him covered and out of this cold rain, said my Taller Half.

It was in the low 40s. I’m pretty sure that horses are fine outside. Horses live outside where it snows.

You know I have a tender heart.

He does, and that’s why the neighbor’s cat and the other neighbor’s hens like to visit. And the pup next door. And all the birds at the bird feeder. It’s like being married to St. Francis of Assisi … if he occasionally had the mouth of Samuel L. Jackson.

There is a state highway that goes from Pixley to Beach Town. It’s a two-lane road, but they are making it wider. The prospect of the increased traffic that will pass from Other State through Pixley to Beach Town has many business owners very happy. We are anxious about it. The good side is it has done wonders for our property values, even in this terrible economy. By the time Pixley gets too big, we might be able to move to Bugtussle — if any town like Bugtussle still exists in the near future.

We prefer to take the back roads to church. As we crossed the overpass for the Big Interstate Highway, MTH asks, How many cars do you see?

I looked to the west. Six, and another three in the distance.

I have two trucks and eight cars, he reported from the east.

Pretty busy for a rainy Sunday morning. It’s a thing we do, like guessing the Days Without An Accident at the lumbermill.

On the back road, we pass the woods of a state park, homes, and farms. We always point out the cows and horses. Never gets old.

After church, a wonderful lunch, and errands, we headed home. We counted the cars on the overpass. It was busier in the afternoon. The hens came back to welcome us. The Manx dropped by, too. Time for naps. We have a movie night planned. It was another lovely day in Pixley. Contentment. That’s what I feel here. Contentment. It’s the feeling you get when you know there are many other wondrous things out there, but you can’t think of any place else you’d rather be, or anyone else you’d rather be with.

We Do Things Differently Here

On Saturday, we drove across state lines to go to the Big City to look at some bathroom tile. There are several tile stores there, but only one was open on Saturday. Things close early around here. Many businesses aren’t open on Saturday. More aren’t open on Sunday. In the REALLY BIG CITY (hereinafter referred to as the RBC), you become accustomed to finding almost anything you want exactly when you want it. You become impatient. The pace here is slower, so you have to make careful plans and be patient if you want to get things done.

I called the tile shop before we left. There was no answer, but later, I received a call on my cell phone from the owner of the shop. He said the young woman who was working that day was busy with a customer, so the phone forwarded to his phone. He told us to come on by, take whatever samples we need, and if we have any questions, call him on his cell phone. It didn’t surprise me. They do things differently here.

We drove past the lumber mill on the way to the Big City. I turned to My Taller Half.

Fifty-three days.

No. Sixty-five at least.

We were both disgusted to see the sign read 4 Days without an Accident. We will never break triple digits again at this rate!

My Taller Half is always remarking on all the things that are left unsecured or marginally secured around here. If you left those riding lawn mowers outside in the RBC, someone with a big truck and some bolt cutters would make off with them in a heartbeat. He may be cynical, but he’s also right. If he sees a purse in a grocery cart unattended, he will confront the owner and tell her that she shouldn’t turn her back on the shopping cart with her purse sitting in it. It is liable to be stolen. Then he’ll help load their groceries and take the empty cart back to the store. I’ve told him that in the RBC, if a big man makes a comment like that, it might be taken as a veiled threat, and if he reached for their packages or the cart, it might turn ugly. The ladies here just smile and say, “Why, thank you so much!” They do things differently around here.

I first realized this the day I closed on this house. I walked over to introduce myself to my new neighbors. I gave them my cell phone number should anything odd happen at the house. They told me to let them know if there was anything they could do for me, I need only to call. They meant it.

A few weeks later, I had ordered something from CONGLOMO STORE that was supposed to arrive at the post office in Pixley on Saturday. It was a long weekend, and I was planning to spend it working on the house. I had a 6 ½ hour drive from my RBC to Pixley, and I expected the package to be waiting for me when I arrived. Instead, I received a call from my neighbors, who said the postal worker thought the house was empty so they took the package back to the post office. I pulled over at the next rest stop to call the Pixley Post Office. They were only open until 11:30 a.m. I couldn’t be there by then, and Monday was a federal holiday. I was almost in tears. They wouldn’t hold the package for my next scheduled visit in a month.

The woman at the post office took pity on me. Come to the post office between 9:00 and 11:30 on Monday… but don’t let anyone see you. The post office is officially closed, but I will be working, and if you come while I’m there, I will give you the package.

The post office opening on a federal holiday to help someone. This just does not happen in the RBC. Never! But they do things differently here. Here, people say “Yes, sir,” or “Yes, ma’am,” and “Have a blessed day.” Neighbors look after each other. Some people still leave doors unlocked during the day and leave their keys in their car. Can you imagine?

This morning, My Taller Half went by the bank to make a withdrawal, but while waiting in the drive-thru. he realized he had left his wallet at home. He had no ATM card and no ID. He told the young teller that he needed to go home and get them. (Home is about three minutes away.) The teller said, “That’s okay, Mr. A. I know who you are. I can give you money.”

She had seen him before in the bank, but she didn’t know him. They weren’t close friends or neighbors. He drove home and got his wallet. We understand that there are processes in place to keep employees safe and funds safe and mail safe. The rules can be inconvenient, but the intent is to protect people and things… and to protect businesses from lawsuits. One day, some of the vice from the RBC will hit here, and life will change forever.

But not today.