A Little Slice of Paradise

November 2009             

A lot has happened in our little town since we last visited, but one thing that didn’t happen was rain. Now that’s a good thing cause what would we talk about if it did. Most everyone has been content to curse the dry conditions, God, nature and each other, not necessarily in that order. It would be uncommonly quite here if it were to rain.

On a different note, we had a bunch of bureaucrats here from Big Valley trying to find out what we did with all the water that they claim they own because someone down there 150 years ago claimed all the water rights for the whole state. Since they think it is their water, we must be hoarding it up here; they haven’t figured out that nobody controls the weather.

You should have seen those pencil-pushers driving their Mercedes around our dirt roads, looking in every back yard and cow pond. Johnny Johansson had a big old plastic syrup container under his back porch with the rain spout stuck in it, and it had about 2 inches of dust in the bottom. Them silly city slickers made him take the rain spout out cause they said he might divert the flow to Big Valley, should it ever rain.

After a couple days of that type nonsense, they sorta drifted off; probably missed getting their lattes. Don’t think they improved the water flow down there, but they justified their job position.

December 2009

Yup, we got that moisture everyone has been praying for, it were one big deal for one night. ‘Twere on Pearl Harbor Day and a body mighta thunk that we were being attacked again. The wind were howlin’ something fierce, the lightning and thunder was flashin’ and crashin’ to beat the band, trees were breakin’ off and fallin’ down, some on to houses, and we even got a dribble of rain follered by snow.

Makes you wonder why Ma Nature is so contrary; nothing wet for so long and then we get tromped on. Some folks say they measured near 2 inches of moisture, why that’s pert near a whole year’s worth in one day. Guess we are thankful for all we get even though it won’t bring back the trees.

On a lighter note, the Brigham T. Yardley Elementary School put on their Annual Christmas Pageant last night. I tell you, them kids are the cutest little varmints to ever grace the stage. The little fella what played Joseph wasn’t no bigger than the babe in the corn crib but he was walking tall, struttin’ around, bragging about his new son. A body would almost believe it was really hisn.

And them three wise men with their gifts all wrapped like they just bought them at Wal-mart with purty ribbons and bows. They brought the house down when they got their canes tangled in each others legs and they all landed in a pile at Mary’s feet. Mary stood there with her hands on her hips and just shook her head. Reminded me of my sweet Lucy when I would come stumblin’ in late on Saturday nights, God rest her soul.

They ended the program by all singing ‘Silent Night’, the audience joined in and we all left with a lighter heart. That’s somethin’ we have that you can’t find anymore in the big cities, tis a pity.

One of the other nice things about small towns is; if you don’t know what you’re doin’, someone else sure does!

Karl Upandclose thought he had himself a nice clandestine affair with Claudia Van Ratchet who works at Neilson’s Grocery. But Wyatt Neilson was trying to get close to Karl’s wife Mona so he figured the best thing to do was let her know Karl was cheatin’ on her, thus causin’ her to cheat with Wyatt.

The thing is, Mona went to Claudia at the grocery and tore into her, causin’ Claudia to get made at Wyatt and rat him out to his wife Earnestine who’s Daddy owns the gas station where Karl works. Earnestine told her daddy who then fired Karl, Karl went to Wyatt and they got into a fight. Karl broke Wyatt’s jaw, Wyatt spent the night in the hospital over in Pebble Rock, Karl spent the night in the hoosegow and all three ladies spent the night alone.

Merry Christmas to you and do your dangdest to have a Happy New Year in 2010.

You all stay out of mischief, but if you can’t, send me the details, my readers want to know.

Til then,

The name of our little town in the Northern AZ Mountains is an old Native American term that referred to the land of the Pima Indians that is now generally known as the Valley of the Sun. But we are in the high mountains and due to the drought conditions of recent years have had to rename our home.

It hasn’t rained since Noah Rathbone floated down the Little Big Creek in his homemade camper. Shouldn’t have driven around that barricade Noah! He was fortunate that the camper came off the truck or it would have sunk to the bottom of Lake Mossybanks along with the truck. As it was he was stuck in the camper afloat on the lake for four days until some weekend fishermen investigated the half-submerged camper hoping there would be some big lunkheads in there. The only one was Noah who was half starved and withered up like Aunt Hatties prunes.

The other half of our new town name is derived from the stumps of dead pine trees that used to provide shade but now just provide a level spot for the town folk to set their potted plants on, or sometimes their potted butts when they have been too long inside Charlie’s Harley House Saloon. Charlie opened the place to cater to all the motorcyclists that used to cruise through this area when we had trees and water.

Now the only business he gets is the local out-of-work lumberjacks and the occasional retired couple from Big Valley City who gets lost off the freeway and stop in to ask directions. Charlie generally offers them a free drink in the hopes they will buy a second one or more. It has been rumored, but not proven, that he keeps some really good whiskey for those free drinks and then uses his homemade (also unproven) house brand for the subsequent servings.

None of us locals have ever tasted the free drinks, or even been offered one so we’re not sure what it tastes like. But Charlie does go through a lot of that house brand. Not a lot else to do here with the sawmill shut down and the water generator plant not working.

Town-Talk

Aunt Martha Waddlebottom tells me that the Ladies Interference League Elite (LIFE) has started their annual campaign to stop the men from meeting every morning for coffee and doughnuts at Myrna’s Hole in the Wall café. It seems that the men folk are prone to talk about their wives when they aren’t around. Notwithstanding that the ladies have a propensity for doing the same. But it just isn’t right that the men can do this in a public place. Besides, what’s wrong with staying home and talking to that same wife over coffee? Have to think about that.

Horace Houndnose returned from his annual javalina hunt with no animal to clean and butcher, but he did have a lot of porcupine quills to remove. His wife Sally tried to get him to the urgent care center down at Pebble Rock but he went to Doc Needles, our small animal veterinarian instead, as he felt the vet had more experience with porkies. He was right of course, but I’m not sure Doc Needles was used to pulling them from the backside of a 300 pounder like Horace. I sure would have liked to see Horace trying to drive that old ‘51 Ford pickup standing on the runnin’ boards cause he couldn’t sit down. That’s why I keep tellin’ folks they shouldn’t go out in the wilderness alone; you need someone to drive back. Horace never did say why them needles were in his back, not his face or hands. Does make you wonder.

I gotta put this to bed now, I’m sure we’ll have more stuff from the town of Notrezorwatter to relate next week, people being what they are.

You all stay out of mischief, but if you can’t, send me the details, my readers want to know.

Til then,

A. Non