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Well, actually, it’s one of 3 weeks this year designated as Read an RPG Book in Public Week, but this is the first. In honor of the event, my good friends at the Purple Pawn are running a contest for best photo of someone reading an RPG Book in a public place. There are great prizes, so get your entry in! In the meantime, enjoy these pics of my son, enjoying Harn in the children’s section of the Allegan Public Library. We’ll post more if we have time.

Just when I thought I knew some shit. Our neighbor was at the local library today when one guy attacked another guy in front of the Recent Periodicals. Hijinx ensued. Elderly librarians freak out. Seniors on field trip from nearby old folks home are horrified. Local police almost let wrong guy go. Wife on library board will soon have to deal with “policy issues” that arise. In a big city, I’d never have heard about it, unless it involved gun play, so there’s something to be said about a fight in a small town library. All I really want to know is, what Recent Periodical could incite such a ruckus?

One of the nice things about living out in the schtix is the fact that even when you have neighbors, the tend to be far enough away that they don’t mind (read: can’t hear) when you play Digital Underground REALLY LOUD. Some of you are no doubt saying, “Ben, who is this Digital Underground that you speak of?” To those people, I say, click here. There are also some of you saying, “Ben, what kind of country squire are you that you are listening to Digital Underground?” To those people, I say, click here.

I’ve been doing a lot of mindless data entry lately – hey, it happens. Even here in Rural America. Deal with it. – so I’ve been playing lots of really loud music to keep me going. I have to say that as I type, I am playing music so loud that if I lived in an apartment, condo, or a thin walled close neighbored old Victorian in Chicago, I better invite the neighbors over for the party or wear headphones. That is one of the many cool things about the country. Sure, I’m not listening to Alan Jackson or whoever just won American Idol, but NO ONE CARES! Well, I mean, if I drove through town in my beat up old GMC pickup truck playing “Freaks of the Industry” or the New Orleans Klezmer All Stars loud enough to rattle the barber shop windows I’d get a few stares, but not at home. A man’s home is his castle. Especially when his castle is far away enough from your own that he can play House of Pain’s Jump Around so loud that the barn cats are running for cover.

So next time you think that country folk are intolerant or square, just remember, that you can’t be intolerant of stuff you can’t hear or see!

I was feeling pretty smug about all the wood I have stacked. Then I started noticing how fast I am using it. Crap. After our little blizzard yesterday, its a little late to go out and cut more in the woods, too. Time to call Tim Green, the wood guy.

On a side note: mix the green wood with the seasoned wood. My Hardy wood furnace will burn most anything, but wet wood tends to burn in the center and not fall down onto the grate, where the blower will fan the flames. Thus, after awhile, the fire temperature goes way down. I learned this previously, but forgot to take the lesson to heart and ended up crawling around on my stomach in the snow clearing the ash grate and blower and then rearranging all the wood. It was still burning, but when the wind chill is -3, it’s good to make sure that the water is at full temp (180 degrees)!

There you go! Another pearl of wisdom from your country cousin. You can feel all smug riding METRA into work this morning now.

I told myself that I was only going to run the wood furnace for a few days until it got warmer. That was last Sunday. It’s not any warmer yet. It is, however, stunningly beautiful. Fall in Rural America is always like that, however. At least, it is in the part of Rural America blessed with four seasons and lots of deciduous trees. A friend of mine was up North last weekend and said he actually saw snow. That’s not fall though. That’s winter sneaking in early.

Every fall I go through the “winter isn’t here yet” denial dance. I know that the day after Labor Day, the weather stops being dependably warm. I know that by Halloween it stops being just cool and has moved into rainy cold. I know that by Thanksgiving I sure as hell better have a gigantic stack of firewood or I will be hosed. Yet….I can never quite bring myself to acknowledge all these things at the same time. Or at least, on time. I love fall, but it always catches me a little off guard. Like a favorite friend who shows up for an overnight visit a day early. (Or, if you DON’T like fall, an ill-favored in-law who shows up a day early!)

This, of course, is the normal state of affairs for me, and perhaps most people. What? It’s the week before Christmas? Better get shopping. What? I’m 40? Better start saving for retirement. And, the evergreen, “Holy Cow! How did it get so late?” Which is why I am halfway through my stacked and cut firewood already and instead of cutting more this weekend, I am camping out with a pack of Webelos and Boy Scouts. In 29 degree weather. It sounded like a better idea at the time, trust me.

They say the man who heats with wood warms himself twice. Three times if you count the flush of embarrassment in calling the wood guy in February because you’re out already.  If you’re reading this from a computer in the city or on some suburban cul de sac, go ahead and bump up the thermostat a notch for me and go read Jack London’s “Too Build a Fire.” In the meantime, I’ll still be figuring out when I’ll actually get out there after campouts and soccer tournaments and everything else. Probably right after winter stops sneaking in and starts pounding on the door.