minor set-back

Moving to a new place where you don't know anyone is slightly difficult. Fortunately, in a small town, when there's an event planned the entire community shows up (because there's nothing else to do). I'm trying to make significant efforts to learn about and attend these things as they arise. Today there was a picnic for the sheriff's department. All of the law enforcement, county employees, people who work in the court, their friends, families, and associates were invited. Unfortunately my boss Jami and secretary Char had prior engagements. I was going to go by myself. This didn't bother me because I do know some people already, and I'm not uncomfortable meeting new people or being in unfamiliar situations. However, things didn't exactly turn out the way I had hoped...

I told everyone that I was going to bring this awesome beet salad because I had just gone to the farmers market and bought 5 lbs of them. Yay! Cooking! Impressing people with how yummy vegetables can be! (I aim high.) I have never cooked beets before. I have never made this salad before. The lady who sold me the beets said that peeling them is really easy. Just boil them and then dunk them in ice cold water and the skin peels right off. Right. Mistake #1: Thinking this was going to be easy. Mistake #2: Waiting until only 45 minutes before I had to leave my house to read my recipe. I still had to take a shower, and hadn't started on the food. Upon reading the recipe, I realized that you're supposed to boil the beets for 45 minutes. Ugh. Ok, no worries, I'll throw the beets in a pot and let them boil while I'm showering and getting ready. This was Mistake #3. The result was a pot that boiled over and erupted all over my stove, counter, and floor. UGH! Ok, it'll be fine. Drain beets, refill pot with ice and cold water, let sit for the amount of time it takes me to clean up the purple, boiling hot water before it stains everything beet-color, peel beets. Mistake #5: Thinking that my first attempt at cooking beets was going to result in success. I couldn't peel the f*ing beets. The skin did not "slide right off" as I was promised by the lady who sold them to me and by the recipe. Nope. Sure didn't. Still stuck right on there. Ok, I thought. I can still salvage this situation. It doesn't matter that I'm standing in my kitchen, dripping wet from my shower, in my bathrobe, with a purple-stained counter, and a pot full of roots. I'll just slice up some tomatoes and get ready really quickly and leave. I'll just say I brought tomatoes for the burgers. Fine. I suck at cooking anyway. At this point I was already going to be a half hour late.

I pulled out the invite flier to look at the address of the party. On Friday the sheriff's office secretary told me, "It's easy. Take Highway 87, go 12 miles north until you pass the church and it'll be on the right. You can't miss it." I was hoping that the invite would have the address so that I could mapquest it. It didn't. It said, "Kevin & Donna's house". NOT HELPFUL. #1- I'm horrible at directions. #2- I have no idea who Kevin and Donna are. #3- None of the people who's numbers I have are going to this stupid picnic. It's still ok, I thought, I'll just drive north 12 miles, which I figured would be about 15 minutes, look for the church, and then take the first right. I noted the time when I left. 1:18. I should arrive at about 1:30. So I started driving north on Highway 87. After about ten minutes I started looking out for the church. And kept driving. And kept looking. I passed farms, some houses, and then a little white run down structure with a faint cross painted on the door. Was that the church? Alright, where's the next right turn I can make? A gravel road that leads to a falling-apart farm house with a tractor outside. That can't be it. There are no cars outside. Just a tractor. It must be the next right. So I kept driving. And driving. The next right turn I could make was into a farm supply store. Obviously not it. Was there another church I missed? I looked down at the clock and it was 1:40. I was driving 60 mph, so I should have passed 12 miles already. "You can't miss it." Riiiiigh. I had. I saw the sign for White Clay Nebraska, which is 22 miles north of Rushville.

I didn't know about White Clay until I interviewed with Jami the first time. I had no idea White Clay existed. I'm sure a lot of people don't. White Clay is an unincorporated town right below the South Dakota border, on the Nebraska side, directly south of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Pine Ridge is a dry nation. Alcohol is illegal. In 2000 White Clay had a population of 14. However, there are 6 bars which all sell liquor. This is a problem because residents of the Reservation come to White Clay to drink, to buy alcohol, and bring it back home. It's within walking distance (..if you don't mind walking for a half hour). Jami previously suggested that since I was unfamiliar with White Clay and the problems that occur due to its close proximity to the Reservation and Rushville, I should take a tour of it sometime. She warned that I should go with an officer in a police car, and to NOT get out of the car. But when I got there, the warning seemed a little drastic. It was actually really sad. There were lots of people standing around outside of old, decrepit buildings, people sleeping under trees, people sitting together on the ground. I did stay in my car, but I took some pictures which I'll hopefully figure out how to link to this blog at some point. I didn't take any pictures of the people because I felt that would be an invasion of privacy (even if they were drunk or passed out). Now I understand why it's such a problem. It was heart breaking. I drove through White Clay until I got to Pine Ridge, and turned around.

I still didn't locate the picnic on my way back to Rushville. Oh well.

878

The July 2011 Census reported that the population of Rushville, Nebraska is 877. I live here now. That makes it 878. You may be wondering to yourself, "Where is Rushville? And why did you move to a town that only has 877 people?" Well. Rushville is in an area of Nebraska I affectionately call "BFN". Butt-Fuck-Nowhere. That's why there are only 877 people living here. (Side Note: The city sign that you see when you arrive to Rushville says that the population is over 1,200. This is a very old sign. The last time the population was over one thousand was in 1999.)

Why did I move here? I was offered the perfect job opportunity. I am now one of the Deputy County Attorneys for Sheridan County Ne. Soon I will be in charge of the entire criminal division of the Sheridan County Attorney's office (SCAO). In two years the current County Attorney will be retiring, and they want me to run. The SCAO is joined with the private law firm of Smith, King & Simmons P.C. (I'm still not exactly sure how this "joint" thing works... All I know is that I have to handle some private civil cases that don't conflict with the duties of the SCAO, and part of my salary is paid by the private firm. Apparently this is common in sparsely populated areas.) I work with Mike Smith, Dennis King, and Jami Simmons. The firm's office is in Gordon Ne, 15 miles east of Rushville. The three of them are at the Gordon office a majority of the time. My office, the SCAO office, is in Rushville. I'm the only attorney at that office, except when Jami comes in for appointments or to go to court with me since I'm not licensed in Ne yet. The only other person in my office is my wonderful secretary, Char. I'm sure you'll be reading much more about her in future posts. (Side Note: Char has been introducing me to people as "my boss". This is the weirdest, most hilarious concept to me. Really? I'm her boss? <insert laughter here> I would fall apart without her.)

I have thrust myself into unknown terrain, both literally and figuratively. I've never lived in a small town before. I've never moved somewhere without knowing someone who lives there already. I never imagined that I would be in charge of an entire criminal division of a county attorney's office right out of law school. The purpose of this blog is to share my experiences with my friends and family, and hopefully provide humor and entertainment for those who read it. Please laugh at my naivete and the situations in which I find myself. And PLEASE tell me if I've made spelling errors :)