Ridin’ the range in search of that elusive…
Back when I was a psych. intern, I had a discussion with a coworker who knew everything and was never afraid to show it. Somehow we landed on the topic of “folks who grow apples.”That’s when I said something like, “Yadda yadda yadda… apple farmers.”
“Ranchers,” he interrupted.“Excuse me?”
“They are apple ranchers, not farmers,” he said with the authority of someone who grew up in Wenatchee, Washington — AKA the center of the apple lovin’ universe.“You've got to be kidding.”
He was not. In fact, he looked at me like he couldn't believe that I’d managed to live so long, given my obvious brain impairment.Well, growing up as an East Coaster, I was always under the impression that ranching usually involved a whole lot of ridin’ and ropin’ and such. Then again, I had never been to a real live apple harvest — it was quite possible that those Galas and Ida Reds were a lot feistier than I’d ever imagined.
But I’m open-minded about these things, so whenever my know-it-all friend was around, I went above and beyond when speaking of those “folks who grow apples” …Yep, they were apple jolly ranchers from then on.
‘Cause I’m pretty sure they were all really happy that I no longer called them farmers.
PROMPT: There are two ways to go with this one. First off, we've got the annoying know-it-all who is always a fun character to work with (On the page. Real life? Not so much). Then there’s the topsy-turvy world of ranching. I mean, if you can ranch apples, you can ranch anything — poodles, turnips, penguins, pens…