Life in a small town

I love working in a small town.

This morning, I dropped my van off for a oil change. While the guys at the garage are great about giving me a ride back to the newspaper office on the opposite side of town, today I decided to walk. It was a beautiful morning and to be honest the "opposite side of town" is little more than a 5-minute foot commute.

I made it exactly one-half block when someone pulled over, rolled down their window and shouted, "Hey! Wanna ride to work?"

Of course, I knew him. And of course, I said yes.

It's really hard to get any exercise when you work in a small town.

On other fronts, the Belgians and I are off to Ames to play agility this weekend. The Farmer debated about going with me but finally decided he couldn't bear to be away from the farm for 48 hours. Truthfully, the last time he went to this trial with me, we camped and got hit by something that was very nearly a supercell thunderstorm. My tent collapsed and we sprinted for the van where we spent a damp and cramped rest of the night. The farmer made it clear he has no interest in camping with me again.

Our conversation went something like:

Me: Wanna go to Ames with me this weekend?

Farmer: Isn't that where we nearly died in that tornado?

Me: It wasn't a tornado. But yes. And I'm staying in a motel this year.

Farmer: Hmmmph. (This is a generic Farmer noise that covers a lot of possibilities from "Yes," "No," "Maybe" and "You are out of your freaking mind.")

Apparently in this case, it was the latter.