We have neighbors named Bev and Kay. I can never remember which is which. And the fact that he lives in a purple velour track suit and she has the voice of a kidnapper's ransom phone message doesn't help. Apparently he was the school superintendent AND a border patrol agent for like 100 years. They seem to be super nice, and if a raspberry crop says anything, they might be my favorite people.
The local gas station is also a liquor store and has all of your grocery necessities. At twice the price of the local grocery store which is twice the price of the stores in Town. And the local grocery store closes at 6 on Sundays. Not 7. #lessonslearned
Beach Cruiser bikes are a novelty. Other than Jael Regis' rickety Wicked Witch bike, there isn't one like my beautiful mint green Schwinn until you get into Canada. I know this because somebody here offered me $10 for it. A $3000 racing street bike doesn't even need a lock because people think you're stuck riding that tiny piece of junk because you spent all of your money on the glorious beach cruiser.
Riding bikes in a small town is WAY less scary than a big town.
Mini Coopers hold up like champs against large deer.
Not too many people in rural areas know how to fix Mini Coopers.

When the power company decides to work on a sub station 100 miles away, the whole town loses power. For several hours. On a Saturday morning. When my parents are visiting.
Hair dryers, coffee makers, coffee grinders and local breakfast joints are all out of commission when there is no power.
Everything takes longer to get here in the mail. Like parts to fix Mini Coopers. And paychecks. And everything.
There are a lot of creative substitutes for pretty much everything when you live 45 minutes from a store with reasonable prices.
Pinterest has suddenly become a whole lot more useful.
In lieu of a pedicure that I can neither afford nor get to, I went for a foot soak ala Pinterest in Listerine and Vinegar. It was AWESOME!
Human relationships don't take any less work when you live in the boondocks.
I get crabby when I am bored. Being bored is easier in the boondocks. With no car. And no money.
I need a hobby.
Or three.
Eventually, Netflix will run out of TV series. They've already run out of TV series worth watching.
I really like to go huckleberry picking. It's like a semi-productive excuse to go sit in the shade in the forest and imagine you hear bears. It's also a great opportunity to vent life's frustrations on the stick that trips you and makes you dump the 1.72 cups of Huckleberries that took you 2 hours to pick. The dilemma of time loss verses berry recovery in these situations is one that may never be solved.

The thunderstorms are AMAZING
For all of it's quirks and potential disadvantages, I love it here. I am happy to be back. I am content (in spite of my snarky complaints).
The best thing about living in Northport is being known. After all, isn't that what we all really want? To be known, apart from the masses of other people, for our own unique traits and characteristics. To be the girl with the bike. The EMT. The one that served the pancakes and wiped the tables at the Firehouse breakfast. The one who shows up for everything. Or nothing. Or a little of both. To just be SOMEBODY. That's the special thing about a small town. Everybody is SOMEBODY. Everybody has a place, a spot, a niche. I am working to find mine.