When my best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) and I were little, and I mean she was real little, we found these two fence posts laying beside the road not far from our orphanage. They must have fallen off a lumber truck or something, because they looked brand new. Well, I saw Starr Ann stoop down (she was so tiny, it wasn't much of a stoop) and take a good look at one of the posts. I couldn't help myself. I told her they were baby telephone poles and we should plant them in the little field behind the woods on the backside of the orphanage. She got all excited and we made these huge plans for how rich we were going to get off our telephone pole farm. Heh.
To this day, I'm not sure who was fooling whom, though, because although Starr Ann seemed to be falling for it, she also took the whole production way further than I'd dreamed of. At night, she'd lie there beside me with her hands dangling up in the air to get herself sleepy, and she'd spin all this yarn about our posts and say about a million times how tomorrow was watering day. Right away, she named them. So, what started out being a little trick I tried to play on Starr Ann turned into a major attachment to these two real pretty posts - Angela and Connie. When it stormed, Starr Ann demanded we go all the way back there and cover them up, because they looked like something that would attract lightning, what with sticking up in the air like they did.
Years later, when we bought Happy Hands Ranch, Starr Ann took off for a few days. That was back when she was just getting her bunkers dug, and I thought that was where she'd gone off to. But nope. When she got back, guess who she had with her? Yep. Angela and Connie. Neither of us has ever actually cracked concerning our plans to be utility supplier moguls. We transplanted Angela and Connie in a small clearing behind the barn, and to this day we still call that area the telephone pole farm.
So, there they are up there. My posts for today. And every day.
