Did you know that mice have bones that collapse and this is why they can get into small spaces? Spaces as small as a dime? I didn't know this until Harry told me.
Harry...he's the Monmouth pest control (specializing in termites) "guy". He came by one day and left a note on our door. I threw it on the table with the mail, where it sat for a day or two -- until we caught another mouse. Then I discreetly (not really) shoved it at my husband and said, "I'm calling Harry".
Now Harry's flyer, mind you, didn't say anything about mice. But it did say a word I liked: "free" inspection. It showed a rat, which is a rodent, so I figured Harry could come out and tell us where the mice were getting in at and we could solve this problem. This "problem" has grown to be over 10 mice in the last four months, at least, and that isn't an accurate account. I try to block it out so I lost track.
Harry's main job was to do an inspection for termites, so the woman on the phone informed me that he would do that...and look for the mice entry point. Great. I could care less about the termites.
Now, you should know, my husband was basically going along with this -- probably because it was free -- but he did not see a need or urgency for Harry, which is why he got enjoyment out of the results.
The results? Me learning mice facts (see above) and finding slight termite damage in the basement (great!). There's no way to determine completely where the mice are getting in, many people are having this problem this year, the most you can do is "control" (not eliminate) the rodents, blah, blah, blah. None of this made me feel better...plus I had to listen to a lecture on termites and other rodents. And then he informed me that next time he wanted all the "decision makers" to be present, such as my husband...
He didn't know who he was talking to like that. But that is another story.
My husband (and my father-in-law, whom pulled up to the house, saw the "Monmouth Termite" car and promptly called my husband to find out what the problem was) got great enjoyment out of my crash and burn attempt with bringing in "Harry" to save the day. I didn't care...I could handle their teasing. What I can't handle is this problem...
It's a bummer. I never thought I would have rodents in my house and it is so challenging to overcome my frustrations daily. They just keep coming, and I have no idea where they have been, where they will be found. This is why I pinned my hopes on Harry.
There was another mouse the other night -- as if he was taunting me and reminding me that he can get in. He got around the trap this time. However, then we were watching TV last night and I heard a loud click. Josh said, "What was that?" I told him "Ahaha -- it had to be the mouse, I bet, in the trap" -- got him. We continue to fight the battle.
My husband puts on his gloves and removes the mouse. I never have to. My husband listens to me go off every time we find a mouse -- yipping and yelling about how I want our house to be clean, I want our house to smell nice, I want our house to be rodent free, where are they coming from, etc., etc. He listens. He says he's sorry.
I know. It's not his fault. It's no one's fault. Well...it could be Harry's fault. Damn Harry.
Country Livin'
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
A city girl has survived country life...for 366 days!
The mouse was in our office supply drawer in the desk. Yep. He was in there, and he did some things to let me know he had the upper hand. Damn mouse. I cleaned most of it but saved it to show Josh. He confirmed it was a mouse, but assured me that he really believed it was the one we had already gotten. I knew he was right. I hoped he was right. How do these darn things get into your desk drawers? This was the bigger thing that had me perplexed and wanting to understand. I mean, seriously -- how does he get in and then back out of there? Pain in the butt...
The road near our house was going to be closed starting today, for a few days, while some road work was done. Josh told me about it, so I would take another path for a few days. He also told a friend of ours, while I was there. I said, "Why don't they post a sign?" He said, "What do you mean? They will, once they close the road." No..."I mean, why don't they post a sign that says "beginning on June 26, road work...". The both laughed at me like it was the funniest thing they ever heard. This is what they do in the city, but they kindly reminded me it was not the interstate, and since we knew, they only had to tell about three more people and the message would be out. Well, I would hate to be the person who missed the message, traveled on the road, only to hit the road closed sign, and have to turn around. But that's just me. Luckily, their laughing at me rolled off my back. And, lucky for me on a second level that my future father-in-law is the current road commissioner so we have the inside scoop on what roads will be closed when.
This week, I have lived here a year. Hard to believe. It has passed quickly in some ways; and in other days, it has been a long journey for us. My transition has not been easy. Our transition has not been easy. We have pushed through it and here we are, a year later. I have learned many lessons, more than I have even put here, about my new lifestyle. I can't say that I am fully a country girl at heart yet, but there are many things I can appreciate.
When my family visited us recently, I was able to appreciate their experience in enjoying a peaceful day sitting outside. I was able to watch their surprise at the storm blowing in (much like a scene out of a the Wizard of Oz!). I enjoyed hearing them ask questions about the corn that was growing, watch my nephew ride on the tractor, and see my sister, for the first time, drive to my house and see we really do live "in the middle of nowhere". So many things that came up, they were just learning. For me, it has become almost second nature. Telling them what could go in the trash, and what had to be recycled or sent to the junk pile, was almost out of my mouth without thinking!
I still like to go to Chicago. I still like the city...the suburb life. I like the variety of food options. I like going to a place and knowing that not everyone will know you were there tomorrow. However, on the flip side, I do like laying in my hammock on our land and enjoying the quiet. I like no traffic. I like the nice people (even if they are always in my business, a part of the move that I still can't adjust to). I like that we can leave our windows open at night and a real breeze comes through. I like watching them plant the crops, watching them grow, and then seeing them harvest -- a full life cycle -- and the basis for many of our needs in society. I like watching Josh mow our grass as I stand at our kitchen window, and think "this is our life".
There are so many things that I am becoming accustomed to. There are still days when I think "where they heck do we live?", but all in all, it's a new life...it's our life. It isn't perfect (what is?). But it's ours and we are creating it in a way that suits us both. We all make choices, and this is ours. We have a wonderful old farm house that we live in, that needs updating but we can see the future within in more now than before; it has become home. We have pieces of the city and of the country within us and around us -- and it is the best of us. We are together. It doesn't matter if we live in the city, the country, or a card board box (although I think we would both skip the latter), we are finally together. It's been a year, but it seems like yesterday. We began a new chapter. This city girl may not have truly gone country in every sense of the word, but she sure has survived and is making her way -- day by day, even if they do sometimes still laugh at her ideas around here!
The road near our house was going to be closed starting today, for a few days, while some road work was done. Josh told me about it, so I would take another path for a few days. He also told a friend of ours, while I was there. I said, "Why don't they post a sign?" He said, "What do you mean? They will, once they close the road." No..."I mean, why don't they post a sign that says "beginning on June 26, road work...". The both laughed at me like it was the funniest thing they ever heard. This is what they do in the city, but they kindly reminded me it was not the interstate, and since we knew, they only had to tell about three more people and the message would be out. Well, I would hate to be the person who missed the message, traveled on the road, only to hit the road closed sign, and have to turn around. But that's just me. Luckily, their laughing at me rolled off my back. And, lucky for me on a second level that my future father-in-law is the current road commissioner so we have the inside scoop on what roads will be closed when.
This week, I have lived here a year. Hard to believe. It has passed quickly in some ways; and in other days, it has been a long journey for us. My transition has not been easy. Our transition has not been easy. We have pushed through it and here we are, a year later. I have learned many lessons, more than I have even put here, about my new lifestyle. I can't say that I am fully a country girl at heart yet, but there are many things I can appreciate.
When my family visited us recently, I was able to appreciate their experience in enjoying a peaceful day sitting outside. I was able to watch their surprise at the storm blowing in (much like a scene out of a the Wizard of Oz!). I enjoyed hearing them ask questions about the corn that was growing, watch my nephew ride on the tractor, and see my sister, for the first time, drive to my house and see we really do live "in the middle of nowhere". So many things that came up, they were just learning. For me, it has become almost second nature. Telling them what could go in the trash, and what had to be recycled or sent to the junk pile, was almost out of my mouth without thinking!
I still like to go to Chicago. I still like the city...the suburb life. I like the variety of food options. I like going to a place and knowing that not everyone will know you were there tomorrow. However, on the flip side, I do like laying in my hammock on our land and enjoying the quiet. I like no traffic. I like the nice people (even if they are always in my business, a part of the move that I still can't adjust to). I like that we can leave our windows open at night and a real breeze comes through. I like watching them plant the crops, watching them grow, and then seeing them harvest -- a full life cycle -- and the basis for many of our needs in society. I like watching Josh mow our grass as I stand at our kitchen window, and think "this is our life".
There are so many things that I am becoming accustomed to. There are still days when I think "where they heck do we live?", but all in all, it's a new life...it's our life. It isn't perfect (what is?). But it's ours and we are creating it in a way that suits us both. We all make choices, and this is ours. We have a wonderful old farm house that we live in, that needs updating but we can see the future within in more now than before; it has become home. We have pieces of the city and of the country within us and around us -- and it is the best of us. We are together. It doesn't matter if we live in the city, the country, or a card board box (although I think we would both skip the latter), we are finally together. It's been a year, but it seems like yesterday. We began a new chapter. This city girl may not have truly gone country in every sense of the word, but she sure has survived and is making her way -- day by day, even if they do sometimes still laugh at her ideas around here!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Calling Dr. Doolittle...
It was a Wednesday night. What you should know about Wednesday nights is that my fiancé goes out for “boys night”, and the other thing you should know is that when he comes home, he sleeps like a baby (thanks to a few cocktails with the boys). Most nights he sleeps soundly anyway, but on a Wednesday night, he’s out.
I am asleep and at 3am, I wake up. This is not unusual since I wake to go to the bathroom at least once in the middle of the night. But I wake because I hear a noise. I have become very attune to noises since I moved to the farm. I pop up a bit in bed and think it is rain hitting the window. However, as I get my bearings – I notice there is no rain yet, and the noise didn’t stop. It comes and goes; just enough to cause me to think it is my imagination. Little noise here, stop. Little noise here, stop. I tell myself I am being paranoid, and I get up to go to the bathroom.
When I return to the bedroom, my fiancé is (surprisingly!) moving and waking up. (Thank goodness because in about 5 minutes he was about to get shaken out of his Wednesday night slumber, no doubt!) I don’t say a word yet as he gets up to go to the bathroom. I sit quietly and listen…and I hear it again. It sounds something like this “scratch, scratch, scratch. scrap, scrap, scrap” (except really fast), and then it stops. When he comes out of the bathroom, I calmly say, “Did you hear that noise?” He says, “What noise?”, when I am sure this man is thinking “oh woman, you live on a FARM!” I tell him, “Wait. It comes and goes.” Then I pray that I am not losing my mind. It’s not an intruder – well, not of the human kind, I already know – but it is something! Then, it happens again, quickly, then stops. Then it happens again. I look at him in the dark room at 3am in the morning and know he has now heard it.
I fear that there is an animal in what I call the mud room. The area between our two doors. I assume that the door has gotten blown open, and something has gotten in there. This is what I imagine and I am already not looking forward to this. You can enter our kitchen from two sides, so Josh goes one way, I creep the other, turning on a light on the end table in the bedroom for security. We are still in the dark near the kitchen, but then Josh's brave soul kicks on the kitchen light. I stand at a distance and whisper, “Check there…”, pointing towards the mud room, as we hear the slight sound again. But it is as if the intruder knows we are looking for him/her, so the noise has subsided to a faint scrap now and then.
Josh starts to walk towards the doors, and there is it, the massive noise begins in fury. He steps back a bit and pauses. He looks at me, and I have gasped, and he says, “It’s in there” and points to the garbage can. I say, “WHAT is in there???” He says, “Don’t freak out, but it’s a mouse.”
A mouse. In our trashcan. I just changed the trash bag at 9:30pm. How in the h***?! I say, “Are you sure?” The noise shuffles a bit and Josh says, “I can see him.” Oh, awesome.
We have had a mouse problem lately – two have died in our ventilation system, and let me tell you, that is NOT pleasant. A dead mouse is nothing to mess around with. This is serious. Now we have a live one, and my only saving grace was that the darn thing was inside the trash can, trapped. Clearly trying his best to claw his way out of the bag. Am I in tune with sounds or what?!
We both stand there, in the kitchen. What they heck to do? Josh says if he takes the trash bag outside, the mouse will just claw his way out. I am seriously contemplating how this has happened. I didn’t know mice could climb so how in the heck did he crawl his way into our (tall) kitchen trash can (with no lid)?! I am stumped by this. Josh looks at me, and I think he was impressed with my calmness. He says, “I know you don’t believe me, but we have never had a mouse problem in this house before. Ever.” I do believe him, but the issue is, we do now. We have to figure this out. This is creeping me out. A mouse. In the house. In our trash can. We have traps around the house, but yet, who knew the trash can was the trap?! So not funny.
Josh moves the trash can to the mud room and covers it, putting it by the door, saying he will take care of it in the morning. I laugh because the other thing I know about Wednesday nights is that I go to work before this social butterfly gets up on Thursday mornings – so I have to walk past that trash can with mouse contained (I hope) before he does. (And, this morning there was NO DOUBT that the mouse was dead. Have you ever smelled a dead mouse? If not, pray you never have to...). He promises me it will be fine (true to his promise, he took care of dead mouse today).
I am impressed with my ability to cope with this. I would not have done so well 3-6 months ago. Do I like having mice in my house? Nope. Hope we get a game plan – I will be pushing for one. I understand and expected rodents to be around in the country, but this is getting crazy. The mice will not win. I am not Dr. Doolittle but I will win. Whenever I have a rodent/bug/spider/fly/cricket/etc. in my life/house, I get on a mission to win. I take it down. These mice don’t know who they are messing with. It will take some time but we will own our house back!
We lay back down to go to sleep, and I start laughing. I say, “At least I have something to blog about tomorrow!”. Around 6:45am, I hear a noise, and I pop up slightly in bed. Josh, with his eyes closed, touches my back and tells me, “it’s okay, it’s only the rain.” And this time he’s right.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
High School Madness and Magic
I was recently in San Fransisco, CA. for a conference. I walked around downtown San Fran one night, but I was not as scared there as I was this past Friday night...
Last week, Josh says to me, "Want to go to a basketball game on Friday night?" I said, sure. We like sports and always enjoy going in person. He told me it was the local high school in town that was in the sectionals (like semi-finals) for the championship. Sounded fine to me.
Middle of the week, I learn that the game is not being played here. No...we will be traveling to Princeton, IL. About an hour and a half away. Um...okay...seemed kind of crazy to me, but Josh use to referee high school basketball games and I know this is of interest to him. I figured why not. On Friday, it is snowing...I am concerned... "are we still traveling to Princeton?" Yes, yes we are. Okay!
We got to Princeton, and as we went to park, I immediately wondered what was going on. There were cars everywhere around the Princeton High School gym, where the game was being hosted. There were people walking everywhere to get inside. What the heck was going on? Surely there was another event at the school or in the surrounding area. Were all these people here to see a Monmouth high school basketball game?
We walked inside and the gym is PACKED! (So, yes, they were.) This small high school gym is swimming with people. Who were these people? As we walk in, people are saying hello...people we know. People from Monmouth! As we enter to look for a seat, which we luckily found, I am staring in awe around me. There are all kinds of Monmouth town people there -- an hour and a half away -- and I say to Josh, "Do they all have kids in the high school?" (Knowing full well that some do not...). He says, "No. They are just here to support, like us." Oh yeah, right...there's us. As I wondered who would be crazy enough to follow a team that your kid is not connected to, I realize...we drove an hour and a half to be there too...
We sat down and I just looked around at the sea of people. The sounds of the small gym were out of control. Cheerleaders practicing, students from the two high schools (likely bused here as groups) dressed up and cheering, townspeople of all ages cheering as the team comes out on to the floor. The bleachers were tight and we were all crammed in, it's hot, it's noisy, it's unstable (I feel the bleachers give a bit as everyone stands to cheer and worry about our safety)...and it's...utterly amazing!
I tell Josh that I have never seen something like this in my life. He looks at me confused, asking me, "Didn't you ever go to a high school football game?" Um...yes, I am sure I did. But two points should be noted. First and foremost, high school was a long time ago for me so if I did have this experience, I do not recall. Second, I went to a high school with thousands of students (GO Bolingbrook High!), and even if we had a high school basketball game, I don't recall it being like this. Sure, we went and cheered on our team. We followed our teams to championship games. We stood by their side. But I don't think the whole town did. I explain to him that it is not the same.
As the game proceeds, the crowd is truly engaged. I look around and men are taking notes in their program on who is scoring at which time; people have headphones in to listen to the radio broadcast, children are cheering and wearing their Monmouth t-shirts and sweatshirts, and not one single person looks disengaged or bored. Everyone is on the edge of their seats. The crowd is huge. I look around. It's packed. I turn to Josh and say, "I would hate to have a heart attack in this place." No way out. All these people came to watch their hometown team.
That's what it is, I realize. Circle the wagons for the hometown team. It didn't matter if you had a kid in high school. These were all our kids. Everyone knew them, grew up with them. They were all one. It was a community coming together. It was a small town experience like none other.
In amazement, I watched men in the crowd, grown men, yell at the refs. Really yelling. It made me laugh. They can't hear you, and even if they can, do you think they are going to change their call because of you? Yet, they yell. It intensifies. Scarier than downtown San Fran at night! (I later told Josh that the refs should leave out the backdoor in a disguise, and ask Josh "why would you ever want to do that?!" His response, "Oh but it is so fun!"). People get angry, people cheer, people scream. Some of the team starters foul out and have to take a seat on the bench. I stand, sit, stand -- all smashed in the middle of it. The game is intense and at the drop of a basket in the last seconds, it goes into overtime. Then four minutes of play later, it goes into double overtime. People are on the edge of their seats. I am finding myself cheering and screaming now too -- on the edge of my seat. Our hometown heroes have to win. They have to. Every waits with their breathe held -- for the final buzzer. We lost, sadly. But the pride in the team never diminished. And, in town, all week, you could hear people talking about the game, as if their own son played as a starter. Because, in a small town, it's everyone's son.
I loved it. It was magical. It was truly a small town moment that I thanked Josh for exposing me to and sharing with me. Friday night, I enjoyed living in Monmouth!
Last week, Josh says to me, "Want to go to a basketball game on Friday night?" I said, sure. We like sports and always enjoy going in person. He told me it was the local high school in town that was in the sectionals (like semi-finals) for the championship. Sounded fine to me.
Middle of the week, I learn that the game is not being played here. No...we will be traveling to Princeton, IL. About an hour and a half away. Um...okay...seemed kind of crazy to me, but Josh use to referee high school basketball games and I know this is of interest to him. I figured why not. On Friday, it is snowing...I am concerned... "are we still traveling to Princeton?" Yes, yes we are. Okay!
We got to Princeton, and as we went to park, I immediately wondered what was going on. There were cars everywhere around the Princeton High School gym, where the game was being hosted. There were people walking everywhere to get inside. What the heck was going on? Surely there was another event at the school or in the surrounding area. Were all these people here to see a Monmouth high school basketball game?
We walked inside and the gym is PACKED! (So, yes, they were.) This small high school gym is swimming with people. Who were these people? As we walk in, people are saying hello...people we know. People from Monmouth! As we enter to look for a seat, which we luckily found, I am staring in awe around me. There are all kinds of Monmouth town people there -- an hour and a half away -- and I say to Josh, "Do they all have kids in the high school?" (Knowing full well that some do not...). He says, "No. They are just here to support, like us." Oh yeah, right...there's us. As I wondered who would be crazy enough to follow a team that your kid is not connected to, I realize...we drove an hour and a half to be there too...
We sat down and I just looked around at the sea of people. The sounds of the small gym were out of control. Cheerleaders practicing, students from the two high schools (likely bused here as groups) dressed up and cheering, townspeople of all ages cheering as the team comes out on to the floor. The bleachers were tight and we were all crammed in, it's hot, it's noisy, it's unstable (I feel the bleachers give a bit as everyone stands to cheer and worry about our safety)...and it's...utterly amazing!
I tell Josh that I have never seen something like this in my life. He looks at me confused, asking me, "Didn't you ever go to a high school football game?" Um...yes, I am sure I did. But two points should be noted. First and foremost, high school was a long time ago for me so if I did have this experience, I do not recall. Second, I went to a high school with thousands of students (GO Bolingbrook High!), and even if we had a high school basketball game, I don't recall it being like this. Sure, we went and cheered on our team. We followed our teams to championship games. We stood by their side. But I don't think the whole town did. I explain to him that it is not the same.
As the game proceeds, the crowd is truly engaged. I look around and men are taking notes in their program on who is scoring at which time; people have headphones in to listen to the radio broadcast, children are cheering and wearing their Monmouth t-shirts and sweatshirts, and not one single person looks disengaged or bored. Everyone is on the edge of their seats. The crowd is huge. I look around. It's packed. I turn to Josh and say, "I would hate to have a heart attack in this place." No way out. All these people came to watch their hometown team.
That's what it is, I realize. Circle the wagons for the hometown team. It didn't matter if you had a kid in high school. These were all our kids. Everyone knew them, grew up with them. They were all one. It was a community coming together. It was a small town experience like none other.
In amazement, I watched men in the crowd, grown men, yell at the refs. Really yelling. It made me laugh. They can't hear you, and even if they can, do you think they are going to change their call because of you? Yet, they yell. It intensifies. Scarier than downtown San Fran at night! (I later told Josh that the refs should leave out the backdoor in a disguise, and ask Josh "why would you ever want to do that?!" His response, "Oh but it is so fun!"). People get angry, people cheer, people scream. Some of the team starters foul out and have to take a seat on the bench. I stand, sit, stand -- all smashed in the middle of it. The game is intense and at the drop of a basket in the last seconds, it goes into overtime. Then four minutes of play later, it goes into double overtime. People are on the edge of their seats. I am finding myself cheering and screaming now too -- on the edge of my seat. Our hometown heroes have to win. They have to. Every waits with their breathe held -- for the final buzzer. We lost, sadly. But the pride in the team never diminished. And, in town, all week, you could hear people talking about the game, as if their own son played as a starter. Because, in a small town, it's everyone's son.
I loved it. It was magical. It was truly a small town moment that I thanked Josh for exposing me to and sharing with me. Friday night, I enjoyed living in Monmouth!
Friday, February 24, 2012
Only in a small town...
Life has settled in and has been much quieter...and nothing too crazy to report...but then again, am I just adjusting to a small town so the "crazy" seems normal?
Last week someone met Josh and said "Aren't you Mishelle's fiance?" - I loved it. I said "How does that feel?" Usually it is the other way around, if you remember me reporting! I'm becoming a big deal around here, even without the last name Oaks. Of course when I went to the local car dealership, he said "Aren't you Josh Oaks's wife?" Um...not yet...and by the way, my name is Mishelle...
I am here to report some noticeable things that I think would likely only happen in a small town...
1. Josh serves on the committee for the Prime Beef Festival. I took him to a meeting in January. The meeting was at the local bank, where we keep our money, and I said "why are we going to the bank?" He looked at me confused, and commented "that's where the meeting room is." Of course. The basement of the bank. Makes perfect sense to me! I found it odd that they would keep the bank open late, after hours, to host meetings. Oh...they don't. They just give the President of the Prime Beef Festival a key. Of course they do. (Imagine my shock, especially since I mentioned that we keep our money there!) In 2014, Josh will be President, so I guess we will possess the key. It's like the key to the city. Only in a small town...
2. This one did not happen to me, but to a friend, who also moved here from a city...and it is worthy of reporting. She attended the Chamber of Commerce dinner with her boyfriend at the Legion. I asked Josh about this dinner and this is where they award Citizen of the Year. What an honor and nice delight in a small town. Josh's Great Uncle won, and we missed it. We also missed the exit gift. As my friend and her boyfriend were departing the dinner, they were each (as were all the other guests) handed a pound of bacon. Yep. You read right. Bacon from the local Farmland distributor of bacon in town. A pound of bacon. Where do we live? Only in a small town...
3. We were out to eat at the local restaurant in Monmouth that we frequent often. We were with Josh's family, including his nephew (age 3), who ordered chocolate milk. The waitress soon reported that there was no chocolate syrup left. We offered water, lemonade, regular milk -- but this adorable 3 year old, put his head down with a sigh and the pouting ensued. This was not a good situation. Nothing could shake him out of it and we were headed for melt down time. They sent someone from the restaurant down the street to the grocery store to buy the syrup so they could make the chocolate milk. Really? They gave him a big glass. He didn't drink it all. Before we left, I commented to the Oaks that someone at this table better drink that chocolate milk or we would be the talk of the town! Only in a small town...
4. There's a wine shop in Monmouth. Really nice. Not opened too long after I moved here. Gets good business. Two weeks ago, I was going with some ladies from work for wine -- trying to make friends and all. Only to find out that my future mother-in-law and future aunt-in-law were also headed out for wine, at the same wine shop (limited choices as you can see). I told the girls from work to behave. My future mother-in-law told my aunt-in-law that they needed to behave. We cohabited in the shop nicely with no incident. Everyone behaved. My lives converge. Only in a small town...
5. You can leave the dealership with a vehicle to test drive and just bring it back the next day...or whenever. You can also have work done at the dealership in town and just leave...they send you a bill...and you pay it later, whenever. Only in a small town...
6. You have work done at your house and they do it "whenever" they become free (which means you could be waiting) vs. making an appointment and committing. And, they may come back at their leisure to finish the work if there is some follow up needed. No one seems concerned about this (except me) because people trust people's word, and the payment comes later. Only in a small town...
On the flipside...
...only in a small town are you able to find deals at County Market like none other I have seen at a grocery store;
...only in a small town are you able to get the best cheeseburger made by locals at the American Legion on Saturdays;
...only in a small town are you able to frequent restaurants and have them recognize you because you eat out a lot and there are only about three restaurants to choose from;
...and only in a small town do you have the option of counting on your neighbors in a crisis, finding peace in the solitude of the country (despite how much the wind blows), and knowing that when you are asked to leave your car unlocked for less than 2 hours so your future aunt-in-law can drop off Valentine's cookies to your car when you are at work, you sigh a deep sigh but agree and know it will be okay...because, after all,...
...it's only in a small town...it's only in Monmouth!
Last week someone met Josh and said "Aren't you Mishelle's fiance?" - I loved it. I said "How does that feel?" Usually it is the other way around, if you remember me reporting! I'm becoming a big deal around here, even without the last name Oaks. Of course when I went to the local car dealership, he said "Aren't you Josh Oaks's wife?" Um...not yet...and by the way, my name is Mishelle...
I am here to report some noticeable things that I think would likely only happen in a small town...
1. Josh serves on the committee for the Prime Beef Festival. I took him to a meeting in January. The meeting was at the local bank, where we keep our money, and I said "why are we going to the bank?" He looked at me confused, and commented "that's where the meeting room is." Of course. The basement of the bank. Makes perfect sense to me! I found it odd that they would keep the bank open late, after hours, to host meetings. Oh...they don't. They just give the President of the Prime Beef Festival a key. Of course they do. (Imagine my shock, especially since I mentioned that we keep our money there!) In 2014, Josh will be President, so I guess we will possess the key. It's like the key to the city. Only in a small town...
2. This one did not happen to me, but to a friend, who also moved here from a city...and it is worthy of reporting. She attended the Chamber of Commerce dinner with her boyfriend at the Legion. I asked Josh about this dinner and this is where they award Citizen of the Year. What an honor and nice delight in a small town. Josh's Great Uncle won, and we missed it. We also missed the exit gift. As my friend and her boyfriend were departing the dinner, they were each (as were all the other guests) handed a pound of bacon. Yep. You read right. Bacon from the local Farmland distributor of bacon in town. A pound of bacon. Where do we live? Only in a small town...
3. We were out to eat at the local restaurant in Monmouth that we frequent often. We were with Josh's family, including his nephew (age 3), who ordered chocolate milk. The waitress soon reported that there was no chocolate syrup left. We offered water, lemonade, regular milk -- but this adorable 3 year old, put his head down with a sigh and the pouting ensued. This was not a good situation. Nothing could shake him out of it and we were headed for melt down time. They sent someone from the restaurant down the street to the grocery store to buy the syrup so they could make the chocolate milk. Really? They gave him a big glass. He didn't drink it all. Before we left, I commented to the Oaks that someone at this table better drink that chocolate milk or we would be the talk of the town! Only in a small town...
4. There's a wine shop in Monmouth. Really nice. Not opened too long after I moved here. Gets good business. Two weeks ago, I was going with some ladies from work for wine -- trying to make friends and all. Only to find out that my future mother-in-law and future aunt-in-law were also headed out for wine, at the same wine shop (limited choices as you can see). I told the girls from work to behave. My future mother-in-law told my aunt-in-law that they needed to behave. We cohabited in the shop nicely with no incident. Everyone behaved. My lives converge. Only in a small town...
5. You can leave the dealership with a vehicle to test drive and just bring it back the next day...or whenever. You can also have work done at the dealership in town and just leave...they send you a bill...and you pay it later, whenever. Only in a small town...
6. You have work done at your house and they do it "whenever" they become free (which means you could be waiting) vs. making an appointment and committing. And, they may come back at their leisure to finish the work if there is some follow up needed. No one seems concerned about this (except me) because people trust people's word, and the payment comes later. Only in a small town...
On the flipside...
...only in a small town are you able to find deals at County Market like none other I have seen at a grocery store;
...only in a small town are you able to get the best cheeseburger made by locals at the American Legion on Saturdays;
...only in a small town are you able to frequent restaurants and have them recognize you because you eat out a lot and there are only about three restaurants to choose from;
...and only in a small town do you have the option of counting on your neighbors in a crisis, finding peace in the solitude of the country (despite how much the wind blows), and knowing that when you are asked to leave your car unlocked for less than 2 hours so your future aunt-in-law can drop off Valentine's cookies to your car when you are at work, you sigh a deep sigh but agree and know it will be okay...because, after all,...
...it's only in a small town...it's only in Monmouth!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Merry, Merry Moments
The cows were out again earlier this week. And I didn't even really flinch, which maybe means I am a country girl now. We caught two-three mice in the house (that still causes me to flinch). And, I have now heard the coyotes outside at night. Oh, and there is the issue of the zonkey...well, I am not sure that is what it is really called, but what people at work referred to it as. It's an animal on the farm near by on the corner. It's a mix between a donkey and a zebra -- therefore, a "zonkey" sounded logical to me. We think the zonkey is gone now. It hasn't been seen for weeks. And, it has been noted that there is a white cross in the yard. Which made me say "What?!" Is this zonkey buried on the land on the farm? Someone said it could be. They said it costs to have someone come pick up your large animals so some just get buried -- horses, cows, pigs...and zonkeys. So...in my mortification...I realized...I could be walking on ground where your horse or cow is buried? People said "what do you do with your animals in the city?" Yes, it is true, we have been known to bury a fish, a bird, or something of the small variety. But once we start getting to dog or cat variety, it seems a bit big for the backyard. I looked at our own ground that night. Nothing looks like it has been disturbed in years, and there are no white crosses...but you never know. And Josh probably wouldn't tell me if there were animals buried here. I am about 90% confident there is not...but I won't be able to say the same when I walk on your farm land!
If you have not seen it, here is the photo of what happens when my fiance decorates...
Oh yes, he got very excited about this purchase when he presented the idea to me, and next thing I knew, we had this fabulous sign. I have to admit, it's very humorous. Especially with the deer next to it...deer that were from his grandmother and don't really work to their full extent -- but no matter, he still saw their purpose this holiday season. I wanted to put something outside in the ground, and my lovely said "The ground is too hard now, it's too cold out." Yet, soon we had this -- rooted in the ground. Needless to say, I put up my own sign, hard ground or not. And, I never did comment on this purchase...it makes him happy...and there was those two trips I took to JoAnn Fabrics last month...so we might be even.
Hard to believe I have lived here six months now. I still can't burn the trash and I am still working hard to figure out the recycling, what can be trash (to be burned) and what goes in the junk pile. It's more complicated than it sounds. I am still adjusting to well water, and the wind that blows right through our empty fields into my chilled bones. I am still learning how to get around. But many things are better and even nice. I enjoy the peace and quiet. Josh will never get use to locking the doors. I will always miss not being able to have a pizza delivered. But we are making it work! Happy New Year!!!
If you have not seen it, here is the photo of what happens when my fiance decorates...
Oh yes, he got very excited about this purchase when he presented the idea to me, and next thing I knew, we had this fabulous sign. I have to admit, it's very humorous. Especially with the deer next to it...deer that were from his grandmother and don't really work to their full extent -- but no matter, he still saw their purpose this holiday season. I wanted to put something outside in the ground, and my lovely said "The ground is too hard now, it's too cold out." Yet, soon we had this -- rooted in the ground. Needless to say, I put up my own sign, hard ground or not. And, I never did comment on this purchase...it makes him happy...and there was those two trips I took to JoAnn Fabrics last month...so we might be even.
Hard to believe I have lived here six months now. I still can't burn the trash and I am still working hard to figure out the recycling, what can be trash (to be burned) and what goes in the junk pile. It's more complicated than it sounds. I am still adjusting to well water, and the wind that blows right through our empty fields into my chilled bones. I am still learning how to get around. But many things are better and even nice. I enjoy the peace and quiet. Josh will never get use to locking the doors. I will always miss not being able to have a pizza delivered. But we are making it work! Happy New Year!!!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
One Horse Town
The phrase "one horse town" (according to the internet) was an expression first used in the 1850's when there were more horses than people in some American towns. If a town had only one horse, it must have been really small with very little happening. Monmouth -- my one horse town. Not very little happening but you will see why I label it as such if you read on...
Here is some background on what you need to know about me if you do not already. I have this fear of childbirth. No, I am not pregnant now -- this is a fear that is always there. It's not your normal, nervous, scared to be pregnant fear -- this is a very real "I don't believe this is natural or possible" fear. In general, I really get nervous about illness and being where you need to be when you need care. So, when Josh asked me to move to the country with him -- well, all I could picture was giving birth in a straw pile in the barn with Melissa Gilbert (Laura Ingells Wilder) assisting me -- with no drugs. Or, even in other instances, having something happen to one of us (heart attack, seizure, etc) and taking forever to get to the hospital. Irrational -- probably? Real feeling -- definitely! But, I tried to calm myself and said it would be okay -- even if I ever do have a baby and then I have to camp out at a hotel (no joke) near the hospital when I am nearing my eventual due date some day (hospital being at least 15 miles away).
The other thing you should know is that I love crime shows -- CSI; Criminal Minds; Law and Order: SVU. I watch them religiously. I love them. I study them. I learn about them. I live vicariously through some of these investigators. I also realized that most killers (specifically on Criminal Minds) are out in the woods, or the country, if you will. And due to this, I sometimes have to stop myself from watching this show at night when Josh is gone -- and I am not usually freaked out. But it happens now.
So...as you read on...remember those two items and perhaps you can understand my mind set as I engage in this conversation with my fiance.
Josh was telling me a story about something that happened at work and within the story he says..."...., and so we figured we should call the sheriff..." I let the story complete, before I ask, "what does that mean?" He seemed confused so I expanded to ask what the difference was between the sheriff and the police -- fearing the answer but praying it was just another country term and they meant the same thing.
It didn't. My fears were realized. The police, as we know them, do not service the country. The sheriff meets our needs if we need something out where we live -- but since he services the whole county, he might take awhile to get to us. WHAT?! I have flashes of labor, heart attacks, and escaped prisioners breaking into our house...
How does one call the sheriff? I am so perplexed. I say "Can't I just call 911 to get help???"
Josh confirms that I can - but that they will forward me to the sheriff. Who apparently may be busy or too far away to help me. The police...will forward me to the sheriff. My future father-in-law confirms this -- that the sheriff might be busy and that I might be better off calling a neighbor for help. Oh my gosh!
As Josh tells me this, I sit in stunned silence in the car. Now do I think we are going to need the "sheriff" often? No. Are my fears over the top? Well sure. But that still does not mean that this is not a concern...getting help, any kind of medical or police help, when you need help seems critical to me. I advised Josh that he left these details out, and it is amazing when you live a life, you sometimes forget what other people may not know. It never occurred to him to mention the police will not come and there is a mysterious sheriff who may come to my aid if he is not drinking coffee in Roseville at the bowling alley.
Needless to say, my phone contacts are now filled with neighbors. And when asked, "So, how do I reach this sheriff should I need to call?" Josh said, "Just call 911..." Well, that is if my phone service works...
Oh Monmouth -- my one horse town...
Here is some background on what you need to know about me if you do not already. I have this fear of childbirth. No, I am not pregnant now -- this is a fear that is always there. It's not your normal, nervous, scared to be pregnant fear -- this is a very real "I don't believe this is natural or possible" fear. In general, I really get nervous about illness and being where you need to be when you need care. So, when Josh asked me to move to the country with him -- well, all I could picture was giving birth in a straw pile in the barn with Melissa Gilbert (Laura Ingells Wilder) assisting me -- with no drugs. Or, even in other instances, having something happen to one of us (heart attack, seizure, etc) and taking forever to get to the hospital. Irrational -- probably? Real feeling -- definitely! But, I tried to calm myself and said it would be okay -- even if I ever do have a baby and then I have to camp out at a hotel (no joke) near the hospital when I am nearing my eventual due date some day (hospital being at least 15 miles away).
The other thing you should know is that I love crime shows -- CSI; Criminal Minds; Law and Order: SVU. I watch them religiously. I love them. I study them. I learn about them. I live vicariously through some of these investigators. I also realized that most killers (specifically on Criminal Minds) are out in the woods, or the country, if you will. And due to this, I sometimes have to stop myself from watching this show at night when Josh is gone -- and I am not usually freaked out. But it happens now.
So...as you read on...remember those two items and perhaps you can understand my mind set as I engage in this conversation with my fiance.
Josh was telling me a story about something that happened at work and within the story he says..."...., and so we figured we should call the sheriff..." I let the story complete, before I ask, "what does that mean?" He seemed confused so I expanded to ask what the difference was between the sheriff and the police -- fearing the answer but praying it was just another country term and they meant the same thing.
It didn't. My fears were realized. The police, as we know them, do not service the country. The sheriff meets our needs if we need something out where we live -- but since he services the whole county, he might take awhile to get to us. WHAT?! I have flashes of labor, heart attacks, and escaped prisioners breaking into our house...
How does one call the sheriff? I am so perplexed. I say "Can't I just call 911 to get help???"
Josh confirms that I can - but that they will forward me to the sheriff. Who apparently may be busy or too far away to help me. The police...will forward me to the sheriff. My future father-in-law confirms this -- that the sheriff might be busy and that I might be better off calling a neighbor for help. Oh my gosh!
As Josh tells me this, I sit in stunned silence in the car. Now do I think we are going to need the "sheriff" often? No. Are my fears over the top? Well sure. But that still does not mean that this is not a concern...getting help, any kind of medical or police help, when you need help seems critical to me. I advised Josh that he left these details out, and it is amazing when you live a life, you sometimes forget what other people may not know. It never occurred to him to mention the police will not come and there is a mysterious sheriff who may come to my aid if he is not drinking coffee in Roseville at the bowling alley.
Needless to say, my phone contacts are now filled with neighbors. And when asked, "So, how do I reach this sheriff should I need to call?" Josh said, "Just call 911..." Well, that is if my phone service works...
Oh Monmouth -- my one horse town...
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