At the request of Rachel…here is a true story I hinted at on her blog awhile back…

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Growing up I was the youngest of the four of us little hooligans.  My sister, Steph (2 years older), my cousin Cindy (2 years older) and my cousin Randy (4 months older) were always at one or the other’s house.  It was a country mile or so between our houses, which is rather close when you live out in the boondocks.  We were within horse riding distance, so really it wasn’t very hard to go to each other’s farm.  Many a time you would hear the clip-clopping of hooves and saddle leather creaks coming from the long dirt drive on our farm.

There really wasn’t much trouble that our little gang of four could get into on a farm.  We knew what was off limits for the machinery, and our imaginations and the wide outdoors were usually enough to occupy us.  Sometimes, though, the little rebel comes out. 

You see, normally on a farm you don’t have close neighbors.  Unfortunately…we did.  It was not uncommon to see Neighbor Lady (aka NL) coming out of their single-wide trailer in her undergarments.  She was rather…well…very obese.  Not a pretty sight.   However, it wasn’t that so much, as the fact that NL seemed to really dislike us.  I was three when we moved to the farm, and I still remember that day.  I think it was NL’s parents that had owned the farm, and she may have been a bit angry about not having it willed to her.  That was clearly not our fault, but she must have thought so.  My parents spent a lot of time fixing up the century-old farmhouse and outbuildings from the state of disrepair they were in initially. 

Over time, we all had a contentious relationship over the electric fence that separated our properties.  My mother tried to plant a line of lilac bushes to give some separation, but I think NL may have poisoned them since they didn’t flourish as lilacs usually do in these parts.  

Well, being kids that we were, we didn’t mind an opportunity to annoy her.  I was generally the one that sat back and thought to myself…”Wow, they are going to get into trouble for taking the rabbits out of those cages and putting the chickens in!”

Unfortunately, the youngest is usually the slowest.  I got a good wuppin’ for that one, and I didn’t do anything!  As my cousin Cindy pointed out, I also didn’t go and tell on them when they were doing their dastardly deeds.  Well…darned if you do and darned if you don’t!  They would have been mad at me if I told on them, right??  I was clearly in a no-win situation.

Eventually we lost the farm to bankruptcy during the 80’s.  My parents tried to sell it, and had quite a few showings.  NL usually chose those moments to walk out of her house in her undergarments, though.  Basically, they did as well as they could to sabotage the sale, and the bank ended up selling to them on an auction for cheap.  Bitter??  Why, yes indeed!

So…one summer day when Steph, Randy and I were bored, we decided to ride back over to the old place to see how it looked.  (My parents had bought another smaller farm in the “neighborhood”, so we were still close enough to ride our horses a few miles.)  When we got there it didn’t seem that anyone was around.  In our infinite wisdom that comes with being a teenager, we decided that we would run our horses around the circle drive screaming like Indians (is it surprising that we have a bit of Sioux in our blood??).

Anyways…yes, someone was home!  SHE knew who we were and called the sheriff on us.  We heard the yelling at us, so we high tailed it back to Randy’s, after getting a wee bit separated.  Eventually, we were all sitting at the table, our horses hot and sweaty on the hitching post outside the tack shed, regaling each other with our virtuous deeds.

Then…the sheriff pulled up.  Then…we got a bit frightened.  I was more than happy to let Randy go outside and deal with it himself, but my sister made me go out so we could all get yelled at.  In the end, our parents had to call them and apologize.  A task that my mother was not happy about at all, as she never wanted to talk to that woman again.

That was my one and only brush with the law…scared me straight, I tell ya!  I could have been headed for a life of crime if it weren’t for that talking to that the sheriff gave us.  😉