Gun Toting

My family is surprised at how conservative our community is. I think that like many people, they think Seattle when they hear Washington. Well, we might as well be a million miles away from Seattle.

We've been assured that if anything "went down" in this area, we'd be completely safe and protected because the population is armed to the teeth. I always wonder what they think is going to happen in rural Washington. Are they worried about a hostile take over? In a county with more cows than people, I don't think we'd garner much attention from any invading party.

On Sunday as we drove home from church, we passed a man standing on the side of the road. He fit right into the landscape--scruffy, camo jacket, beat up hat, with a dirty pick up as his backdrop. And he was holding a gun.

It is one thing to hear about all the guns that people around here own. It is another to see them out on our roads and in the middle of our lives.

Tea Time

Side Note: Someone forgot to tell Bickleton that yesterday was the first day of spring. It snowed.


On Saturday I went to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea. I was sorely tempted to pretend to forget it was happening--mostly because I had no idea what to expect from it. But not much happens in Bickleton, so it's a shame to miss anything.

I got there late, so I only saw the end of the spring fashion show. A shop in Sunnyside provided clothes and accessories and the girls from Bickleton High School were the models. There were door prizes handed out throughout the event.

We ate something with rice and unidentifiable veggies glued together with cream of chicken soup and topped with sliced almonds. There was also an orange jello fruit salad type of thing. The dessert was actually really good and pretty though. It was whipped cream, cream cheese, and raspberries mixed together and put in pretty little glasses with a raspberry and a mint leaf on top.

The theme was "Pretties, Pearls, and Posies." But also somehow it was clown themed. (The speaker was a clown--more about that next.) The napkin holders were clown noses, there were colorful balloons all over, and the centerpieces were surprisingly cute and clever. Balloons that weren't blown up had wire put inside them to shape them like petals and leaves and then made into flowers and put in arrangements in colorful planters.

The clown who spoke to us goes around the world and performs on the street after disasters (9/11, Katrina, etc.) and in hospitals and orphanages. Now I'm not one of those people who completely freak out at the sight of clowns, but they do creep me out just a little. Especially when they come up behind me and start dusting me off with a feather duster. In fact, it would creep me out if anyone did that.

The clown spoke about friendship, had a few jokes and tricks, and we all sang songs together. (Think soundtrack to "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" and you'll know some of the songs we sang.)

It was completely out of my comfort zone, but it was a new experience. I hope that we're not still here in a year, but if we are, I will be going to the annual Bickleton Ladies' Tea again.

Our Street

My husband grew up in a town called Boring, and yes, it's boring. But it's nothing compared to our town and street here.

Yesterday I looked up and saw the school's track team running down the street. I opened our front blinds and called my daughter over. She had a great time watching the kids run by.

And that is the most exciting thing we've ever seen on our street.

Another Walk

The little red wagon is back in working order. It wasn't too cold out and the wind wasn't howling, so we ventured to town to get the mail.

As I walked down the silent street I pondered why someone would choose to live here. Yes, I live here, but I didn't really choose it. I think many people choose to live here precisely for one of the reasons I don't like it: nothing happens here. It's quiet and sleepy and distraction-free. This also explains why most of the population seems to be over 60 years old.

On the way home, I had to correct myself about the nothing happens. The stupid yappy neighbor dog got out of its yard and chased us. I don't like strange dogs anyway, but our other neighbor had mentioned that they didn't trust that dog, so I had already worried about the possibility of it getting out. It eventually stopped coming after us, but not after getting my adrenaline up and preparing to kick it if it came anywhere near my child (sorry animal lovers, anything threatening my child is going to get a kick).

I sincerely hope the stupid dog doesn't get out again. Because if it does we're going to have to talk to the owner. I've only met his daughter and she was old, so this guy must be ancient and I think practically house-bound. But I also can't be made to feel like I can't safely leave my own house. Especially when walking to the post office is the only thing there is to do here.

On a lighter note, before the dog incident we stopped and admired a patch of snowdrops growing on the side of the road. My daughter even thought they were pretty enough to eat.



Our Little Red Wagon

Today I deemed it warm enough to walk to the Post Office. It was the third time we’ve been able to take out our new Radio Flyer All Terrain Wagon. And there’s only been a handful of other times we’ve been able to walk to town since we moved here months ago. Stupid winter.

Well, just over 40 degrees out, only a light wind. I convinced my daughter to put on pants so we could bundle up the rest of the way and head outside. She loves playing outside—and every time we go outside she tries to walk down the road. So a trip walking to town? Tons of fun. She gets to ride and look at the birds while I pull the wagon.

I don’t know if it will be any different in the spring and summer, but when we walk down to the heart of Bickleton, it feels a bit like a ghost town. There are houses and buildings but absolutely no people out. There’s nothing to listen to but the occasional dog barking at you and the jingle jangle of the wagon riding over gravel and poorly patched pavement.

And then, I heard a new sound. The light tinkle of a bunch of little metal pieces falling off the wagon onto the road. I stopped and turned around to watch the front of the wagon slide off the axle and rest on the ground. And my daughter looking at me wondering why we had stopped.

What do you do with a young toddler and a broken wagon a quarter of a mile from home? After a moment of hoping that maybe this wasn’t actually happening, I took my daughter out of the wagon in case it fell more. Then I grabbed the pieces of the wagon and pulled it all to the side of the road. We were right next to the tavern so I hung the blankets that had lined the wagon over a horizontal wooden rail that probably was used to tie up horses a century or so ago.

Long story short, I did not have the tools to properly reattached the front axel and wheels, but I got it just enough so it could limp along without me having to toss the handle and front wheels in and pull it along on its back wheels, making it so my daughter would have to walk the rest of the way home—which was my back up plan. I did this while intermittently yelling out to my daughter to stay close to Mommy. Not because there was any real fear of cars coming by, but it’s a good habit to learn not to run into the road. And if I’d let her run free, I’m pretty sure she would have been to the other end of town before I finished putting the wagon more or less back together.

We walked to the Post Office, said hello to the lady who works there, and headed for home. My daughter was content to walk home instead of ride, but what she really wanted to do was stay outside indefinitely and run wild down the side streets of Bickleton. So then I carried her. And eventually put her kicking and fighting back into the wagon. Our walk home was much longer because I had to stop every few yards to retighten the nut/bolt thing that was keeping the whole thing precariously together. (Eli will have to use his Daddy skills when he comes home to rebuild the front of the wagon.)

And thus begins a spring and summer full of frequent walks to and from town.

Disclaimer: I love our all terrain wagon, despite it falling to pieces. Can you imagine what the roads would have done to a cheaper wagon? Plus it pulls quite easily through gravel, mud, slush, and snow.