Septic Sucking Service

Christmas was eventful. I should just leave it at that, but just for fun I will share the details. On Christmas Eve morning, I took my son into our storage room to show him our new project. To my surprise, I saw that the septic system had backed up. Super! How am I going to get someone to come out on Christmas Eve and fix this? I called a few neighbors and looked in the phone book. Do you need a septic tank specialist or a plumber for something like this? Most of the plumbers listed “heating and plumbing” and since it was 16 degrees outside, I figured they would be busy, so I called a septic sucking service. Guess what? He is a procrastinator and was in town doing his Christmas shopping.


It turns out that he is a really nice guy and in a couple of hours, he was out at the house to help us out. Now, you try to find the septic system access points in 12 inches of snow. I knew roughly where two were located, but was stumped when he asked about the effluent filter access. Fortunately, with a lot of patience, he found what he needed, unclogged the filter and we were back in business. I took the opportunity to ask him about 5,000 questions and I now know everything there is to know about septic systems. Ask me anything!

It started snowing just as we finished up and the weather man commented that instead of 1-3 inches of snow, we were under a winter weather advisory and could get 2-4 inches. We were soon upgraded to a winter weather warning. We got 12 inches of snow, thank you very much. When my daughter arrived, she could not get up the hill. My husband went out to pull her up, but she slid sideways on the hill and ended up in a 5 foot snow bank at a 45 degree angle. We decided to leave the car till morning and she climbed out the passenger door, stuffed her gifts in the Kubota and they came in. How will Santa ever get here?

The final insult was when the larger burner on my stove decided not to work. Ho, Ho, oh no!

Town Meetings

I get a lot of entertainment reading the local paper and following the minutes from the town meetings. After living in cities with populations in the millions, several with populations in the hundreds of thousands, and one with a population around 70,000, I now find myself in a community of 2,500. In large cities, the city council meetings rarely made the paper unless there was a controversial issue discussed. Here, they print a summary after each meeting. I’m delighted to read that the water treatment plant came in under budget; that the city has agreed to let AmeriCorp clean up “the park”; and that there was a discussion on whether we need police coverage four days a week or seven days a week.


But I must say, I laughed at the following: “He (Sherriff) also let the council know that he had to purchase a flashlight and a holster for a taser. The city did have the items at one time, but he had been unable to locate them and no one was able to tell him what may have happened to them.”

Speculation

We were driving to town last night and I saw headlights in a remote field.  It caught my attention because it was 16 degrees outside and I wondered what a farmer would be doing in a field at dusk on such a cold day.  As we got closer, I could see a back hoe in a dark field burying something.  Now I ask you, what would a farmer bury in a field at dusk in 16 degree weather?

Over the River and Through the Woods

Whenever it snows, I look out my kitchen window and think of the song lyrics, “Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go.”  A postcard couldn’t better capture the image of snow in the woods, a graceful hill covered in trees and evergreens, and a small clearing just perfect for an old-fashioned sleigh to pass through.  One of these days, I’m going to get the sled out and climb up that hill and take one, quick ride down, imagining I’m young again.  The wind will blow in my face, my heart will race, and for an instant, I will be 8 years old and free.  Sadly, reality will hit as I’m cold and wet, wheezing and pulling the sled to the car, covered in bruises . . . not only to my ego.  But maybe, just maybe, it will be worth the risk.

Old vs. New

Gene and I were at the bank drive through when I caught this delightful photo of a man with a pair of horses pulling an old fashioned wagon.  I was just getting ready to tap Gene on the arm to point out this quaint sight when the man stopped the buggy, pulled out his cell phone and started texting.  I couldn’t help laughing.   Do you think the law on texting and driving applies to buggies?