It is surprising, at times, the number of activities in the fall and winter months in the country.
2 Nov will see the Cattleman’s Day, with parade. Last week two hundred people rode about the village on hay trailers while a number of people made it their business to jump form bushes to scare them, and then all re-assembled for hot dogs and treats. There was the traditional auction after the feed.
A local church had a feed, another announced the opening of a non-perishable food bank and a small introductory drive for stocks.
What may one say; there were activities all around the county.
I did something totally out of character yesterday, during the second full day of rain. I actually shopped – as in price compared shopped. Not normally something I usually worry about. It’s normally function that occupies me.
One of the standards I used yesterday was what do you get if you choose between a candy bar, a bag of chips (corn chips or mixed treats) and a can of cokes. Compared to the price of each.
I eventually dis carded the bags of bite size candies. They were fairly inexpensive, per little bar, yes. But they seemed too small for the effort the rug-rats would expend getting to my front door for trick or treat.
The cans of coke appealed, especially considering the reaction from last year when I ran out of bite sized candy (I’m frugal. I was handing out left over candy from the year before that. I’d stuck bag or two in the freezer and wanted to get rid of it without eating it myself.)
Still, I can hope the little monsters got a belly ache from their score. Mmm, not really. That’d be bad.
Anyhow, I opted for the sealed bags of chips. Hoping of course the little farts will sniff the nitrogen from the bags before eating the chips. Mmm. THEN get a belly ache.
I also came from the store with a case of Coke. Just in case, you understand, I didn’t get enough chips. I don’t think we have enough kids in the village this year to hurt anyone’s pocket book.
I don’t really understand what’s wrong with the women anymore. Must be the pill. Or maybe they’ve given up child bearing and housekeeping for a career of work and housekeeping – which seems what men have been doing for years and years.
Oh. And while I’m thinking about it. Don’t dress cross racial, in black face, or white face, which rules out ghosts, really. And don’t use dra-mama masks. You’ll never be able to become a rodeo clown and fool the bulls.
From the reaches,