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Show A6 Sanpete Messenger/Gunnison Valley Edition Wednesday, October 24, 2007 Youthful ambitions Fairview teens spend summers owning, operating busy agricultural business Fingernails of terror One Halloween morning, I decided to wear ghoulish fingernails to work. They had a skull and crossbones imprinted on them that looked awesome. Life proceeded routinely on the job—until I needed to blow my nose. And then one of the falsies—you’ll remember we’re talking fingernails here—got in the way and I blew the nail right off. A co-worker laughed so hard she choked on the pumpkin cookie she was eating and left the room. Probably to search for someone with shorter fingernails to give her the Heimlich. I should have known I was cursed. But never having worn fake nails before, I had no clue. All I knew was I couldn’t blow my nose in public. Off to the ladies’ room I went. Once inside, I unwrapped a wad of tissue paper, brought it quickly to my face … and stabbed one of the fingernails up my nose, causing a nosebleed. Back to the office I went, head tilted backwards to stop the bleeding, hands pointed down to avoid poking anything. At my desk, an itch developed on my neck. Forgetting that I wore projectiles on my fingertips, I scratched. A nail flipped off and flew down the back of my shirt—a shirt I couldn’t pull out of my pants because it would pop off the remaining fingernails. “Help,” I said. One of the gals came over. She untucked my shirt and shook the bottom of it, trying to get the nail to fall out. I hopped and shimmied like a skeleton hanging from a tree on a windy night, but it refused to budge. Laughing, she said, “You’d better go to the ladies’ room to get it out.” Back to the powder room I trudged. In there, I realized I couldn’t take my shirt off without giving myself multiple body piercings. After twisting like a contortionist, and explaining to every woman who came in that I was not on drugs, the thing finally fell out. I’d have tucked my shirt back in, but was afraid another fingernail would fly off and go down my pants. Back to the office I scuttled, hands pointed downward and shirt tail hanging to my knees. The gal who’d tried to help said, “Don’t you know how you do this?” “What? Tuck in my shirt while wearing fake nails?” “No, how to put on false fingernails.” She handed me a small tube. Super Glue. That’s how you do it? Silly me, I thought you used the adhesive strips that came in the package. I wasn’t certain if I was being conned and didn’t relish the thought of wearing super-glued orange and black fingernails until I was 90. I decided to glue only the two most troublesome ones. Not wanting to risk droplets on my desktop, I sat and held my hands over my legs. Sticky liquid dripped everywhere, and after almost gluing my knees together, I finally managed to get the two nails on straight. Everyone went back to work and an hour later, a customer needed help at the counter. I walked over. We completed the transaction and he handed me the money. I reached for it—and stabbed him with my fingernails. I apologized. I told him I would have removed them but two were super-glued. And they would probably only come loose by some means of mechanical separation that would include a tractor, heavy chains, and the loss of two of my real fingernails. Thank goodness it was almost time to go home. I walked to my desk and for the safety of the customers, stayed there until closing. That night, I managed to get all the fake nails off except for the two that were held fast by glue. The same glue—I now remembered—that was advertised as able to hold a bowling ball to the ceiling. However, the nails did glow nicely in the dark. Eventually I remembered that alcohol was a solvent and managed to remove them before Christmas. I’ve learned my lesson. No more fake fingernails for me. This year as part of my costume, I’m going to try false eyelashes instead … nothing could possibly go wrong with them. By Sarah Probasco Staff writer FAIRVIEW—One of the busiest custom hay baling businesses in the county is not owned by a farmer looking for extra income, but by a local 17-year-old and his 13-year-old brother. Rulen and Westen Miller of Fairview spend their summers baling hay in Sanpete County instead of hanging out with friends. When Rulen was about 13, his family was taking care of a pasture, including cows, for a resident of Salt Lake. Rulen’s dad, Brian, suggested that he apply for a Farm Service Agency (FSA) loan, buy a few heifers, and learn the business. “He bought six heifers. They had calves and two years later the cattle prices were high, so he sold them all,” said Brian Miller. The money Rulen made was enough to pay off the FSA loan and purchase a tractor and a baler. His business venture had begun. He later bought a flatbed trailer to get to jobs further out in the county. Business was so good that his younger brother Westen got involved. Westen also received a FSA loan and purchased a tractor on eBay. They had to drive to Kentucky to pick it up. “Rulen really needed another tractor so one could be cutting hay and another could be baling it,” Brian said. Rulen’s small business has become somewhat of a family affair, though his three sisters have little interest in baling hay. “It doesn’t really take away from family time because we do this as a family,” their mom Debbie Miller said. She also said she has enjoyed watching her sons work. “It has been interesting watching how they’ve learned to work and manage things.” And there hasn’t been a lack of business to manage. “I advertise in the Horseshoe Trader for the first two weeks of summer,” Rulen said. “After that I’m busy enough that I don’t need to ad- SARA HANSEN / MESSENGER PHOTO Rulen Miller (standing) and his brother, Westen show off their tractor, bought and paid for by their custom hay baling business. Rulen also recently purchased 30 head of sheep. vertise anymore.” Neither father nor son was worried about succeeding when the venture began. “This has been all Rulen’s. Work getting done was never an issue. He has a passion for this,” Brian said. “I’m there to help out, but Rulen keeps track of everything.” Debbie was just as confident in her son. “He has always had a good work ethic. He helped build our home when he was 10 or 11,” she said. Though Rulen has more capital than cash (he recently purchased 30 head of sheep), he has been able to put some money into savings. After he graduates from high school next spring, he plans to attend Snow College South in Richfield and receive an Associate of Applied Science degree in welding. “It will keep me busy during the rest of the year, since hay baling is a summer thing,” he said. Centerfield man directing innovative bridge project CENTERFIELD—A Centerfield resident is the superintendent of the first attempt in Utah to build a freeway bridge at the side of a highway and then move it into place with a motorized transporter. Bud Shumway, son of Vonda Shumway Madsen and the late Ray Shumway, is supervising construction of the bridge at 4500 South and I215 in Salt Lake County. Crews have been building the giant structure for several months. Plans call for moving it into place next weekend using what is called a modular transporter. Viewing areas will be set up for the public to watch. A Deseret News story said the construction technique, known as rapid bridge replacement, is designed to replace a bridge within weeks, days or even hours, preventing the lengthy road closures that usually accompany bridge replacement. “At first, looking at it on paper and then imagining it was overwhelming,” Shumway told the Deseret News. But now, the new bridge is almost a reality. Shumway grew up in Moab but has spent most of his adult life in Centerfield. JEFFREY D. ALLRED/ DESERET MORNING NEWS Project supervisor Bud Shumway of Centerfield, left, and worker Patrick Christensen under 4500 South bridge being constructed to the side of I215 in Salt Lake County. The bridge is scheduled to be moved into place with a mobile transporter this weekend. |