Blogs

I drive an older Lincoln Town Car. It’s old enough to have its own driver’s license. Being fond of the car, I’m on a Facebook page with others more or less obsessed with the vintage auto. (They stopped making them 10 years ago.)

There’s a fine line between mastering a skill and being lucky enough to pull an action off successfully. A skill is defined as the ability to do something well, but simple tasks can be done well with a certain amount of luck and a lot less effort.

Last month, Bill lost one of his prized Tennessee Walkers to sudden colic. Like most Idahoans with horses, he’d grown up with quarter horses and taught his own kids to ride on quarter horses. In his late-middle years, his good friend and hunting buddy, Don, introduced him to the gaited horse. One smooth gaited ride and he was converted.

Back in pre-hysteria days, when we could freely watch a high school basketball game unhindered by the fetters of a crafty little virus, I made a short trip from my place to the hamlet of Murtaugh, Idaho, to scout a game involving a couple teams, one of which would be the opponent of my hometown Oakley Hornets in the next round of the conference tournament.

Google says “perdiddle” or “padiddle” are Canadian and North American terms that refer to a vehicle with one headlight or one taillight burned out.

My husband decided to buy a used Harobed (as we call them, and no, that’s not misspelled, although many use the spelling “harrow bed” erroneously; the machine was invented in the late 1950s by Gordon Grey, who named it by spelling his daughter Deborah’s name backward, so the story goes; for those in other parts of the haying world, I’m referring to a stacker … but I digress).