It makes most people laugh. For some reason. They know my gallows humor, and I know theirs.

But I know, nothing like an iron skillet if you can't find anything else...

Unfortunately, no... I don't have a mortar and pestle. Never saw one in this area's minimal

shops. Some of the stuff I thought I had in the Penske when I moved here disappeared between the time I packed and unpacked.

More unfortunately, it was not atypical when a 30-something guy here bragged to me that his girlfriend had almost made it through 11th grade. Not that he made it anywhere near that far, but he still declared himself an exceptional intellectual. There's absolutely no end to the amount of crap in people's 'brains' around here. But that's how they grew up, and since they don't see where it hurt them a bit, they totally believe there's nothing else of value to know that they don't already. They will tell you, for instance, with the straightest face in the world that the bread you might feed your dog will literally transform itself into worms.

Here's perhaps the saddest consequence of their xenophobia: a mother (whose husband was the banker) bragged to me about how her daughter turned tail and ran back home when she was sent to college in Chicago. They're rich enough that I could easily believe the setup described: a lakeside apartment in a prime building with a doorman etc. But the daughter 'realized' where she belonged and quickly fled home. The world on a platter at her feet, and the pitiful creature turned up her nose at it. Now, with what passes here for a high school diploma, she's the bank's senior officer since her parents retired. Who needs book larnin' anyhow? They already know that the outside world is evil and to be sampled at their own peril.

No, I'd almost bet my life that half these folks wouldn't know what a mortar and pestle is for, at least in the kitchen. If they don't already (think they) know something, they certainly don't need to. Direct quote there, pal.

Been frugal all my life. When my mother sent me out to the garden to gather something for dinner, I

always took a little jar with holes in the lid for a 'hotel' for the insects I'd gather as well. Those were my pets. Mom always told me they were gone the next morning because the bug fairy came to rescue them while I slept.

Know how I make winter bathrobes? From the fancy throws I bought the previous spring on sale for around $2-3 apiece. I fold them in half, and at the center of the fold I cut a slit through the middle third to fit over my head. The I make two tight stitches about 10" below the fold on either edge to give my arms plenty of room but keep the material from shifting around too much. $3, a pair of scissors, and a few quick hand stitches, there's your robe/poncho. I could attach a snug hood except I'm usually wearing a hoodie and sweat pants as well; what do I need with two hoods?

I could write a book. 5 years ago, several blocks from home, I was walking along and saw a 5'x5' picture window set out at the curb on trash day. It's double paned with beveled edges and has a wide, heavy wooden frame. I had to walk that thing home a few inches at a time, one corner, then the other, etc. My ambition, now that I have an affordable but expert handyman, is to do a watercolor of the Grand Canyon in opaque paints before having an opening cut for the window on the north side of the house where it really needs a window.

While I'm proud for him, to me a lot of the pleasure of thrifting lies in the search.

We have a couple small thrift shops here but the merchandise is limited and might still be there on your return visit months later. The only place that does a brisk business is the church run clothing store where everything's a dime. They used to sell shoes also but quit because of limited space. When I go there several times a year, I always come away with several bags of good stuff. There's nowhere to try things on first, so you just take 'em home and hope for the best. At 10 cents, even I can afford to do that.

I've gradually been collecting a few bold men's ties, which I plan to use for belts and to go around my straw hats for the summer. Use a fancy stick pin or flashy brooch and watch people's jaw drop. Gotta give 'em something to talk about, after all.

I once had running water at a Maine cabin, too.

It ran in the creek down the hill.

Must agree. I love 'em, and nobody challenges me with one in my hand.

Well, my kitchen table spends winter hosting my outdoor potted plants - BUT I do have several iron

skillets, and never would've thought of using them, although I certainly shall now. I thought iron skillets were only for cooking and self defense.

Glad you did.

I replied to an OP in GD and got slimed by the devotees of Saint Garth. With some it devolved into very poor deportment, let's say. They seem more riled by the fact that I refused to ask how high when they hollered jump than they did over what I said, which was true. They also made the tactical error of thinking their refusal to accept my word for something automatically made me a liar. Egocentric to the extreme. They got into such a self-righteous snit it was almost funny. Slumming may have its occasional charms, but it wears out fast. The BOG never does.

You can bet I will at some point. I'd chew rocks if they were covered in chocolate.

Good advice about small town living.

I grew up as an Army brat, married a career military man, and lived in places like NYC and Los Angeles in addition to more remote areas. I knew coming in that this place would be a tough nut to crack, but if my expectations had been at all realistic, I'd have found a way not to do it. Now I'm pretty much stuck here, although that in itself can have a good side because I know I'll never move and they'll never change; the only option left is to try to kill 'em with love since the law won't let me use faster methods.