“Hey guy! So how do you like Idaho? . . . peaceful, huh? How do you like Post Falls? . . . no graffiti. It’s a great place to raise kids. Aren’t you glad you left California?”
Every few weeks, while I am collecting mail or wandering around doing something gardening-ish in the front yard, I see my neighbor and we have the same conversation. Well, he has a conversation. I occasionally blink, nod, or provide the odd grunt or two. I’ve learned that my input is not needed. My neighbor is a great guy, but I think it’s time we included something new in the conversation.

Idaho, land of the spud and rapidly multiplying subdivisions, is indeed peaceful. It’s at most three times a week that I watch a cop car or ambulance drive by, lights flashing, and not a single idiot driver in front of the emergency vehicle that pulls over to let it by. There is graffiti, but it is not very obvious at the moment, and (per my neighbor, at least) probably done by a recent California transplant. After all, aren’t all Californians usually high on meth, tagging things and trying to take away our right to arm bears?

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