Farmer Katy came into my awareness, from TikTok. She has a great presence there, a local farmer here in Lawrenceburg, and she caught my eye.
Katy moved here from Michigan a few years back with her husband, and her mom and dad. They bought 140 acres of land, and began farming it. They market free range eggs, honey, and grass fed beef and lamb.
I contacted her a while back and she invited me to the farm. She was very gracious, gave me a tour, introduced me to her family, and sold me some amazing eggs.
Here are her links:
I tracked down my grandfathers grave. It's in the Sacramento Memorial Lawn Cemetery, in Sacramento, CA. He was a World War One veteran and his burial flag hangs on my wall here.
The last time I saw him he was dropping me off on a Sacramento freeway onramp, to hitchhike to Arizona for a professional baseball tryout. The last thing I said to him was Pray For Me, then he went home, mowed his lawn, and died in his kitchen from a heart attack. I never made that tryout, but I made his funeral.
If I ever get to that neck of the woods again, I will pay him a visit.
On a local note, Farmer Katy's cows arrived and she shared them with me, and I will share them with you. They're called Pineywoods, a breed that almost went extinct.
It's a very cold day here in the South, and I couldn't find my ducks in their usual spot this morning. So I did a slow roll along the shore with my window down, calling for them. They know my voice and suddenly I heard a quack, I recognized it as Whitey, and I called them some more.
Then they appeared from their hunker down spot along the shoreline, quacking like crazy. They had a great breakfast, they need this food as the temps drop.
Goose wasn't there. The whole big flock of geese was gone yesterday because they knew the freeze was coming, but Goose must have flown off on his own today. I'm very fond of that bird, hope he's ok...
Update: He's still here, fed him this morning! (11/15)
I am so alone. I fed my ducks this morning and have spent the rest of the day watching movies on my big TV.
Daniel came by and fed me homemade corn bread with pork and beans, then he left. I am grateful for his friendship, but I need more.
I'm lonely, I miss the companionship of a partner. I write, because I cannot speak. I share my life on my blog because I seek feedback and validation, or rejection, and for the most part, receive neither.
So what to do? I suppose I could take a road trip, somewhere, but the weather is turning cold and sleeping in my truck doesn't sound fun.
Elizabeth has invited me to Thanksgiving, so I need to be here, to enjoy that wonderful invite. It's been a few years since I have experienced that.
So there you go, my life, thanks for reading...
I was driving the back roads this morning to feed my ducks, and as I came down that little hill which connects to the highway, my old tires met ice and I almost slid into high speed traffic.
It got me to thinking about that funeral procession I saw yesterday. That's not happening in my afterlife. I should probably go see that local outfit offering a $900 cremation package, and prepay for one.
Then what, I have an official Will, but who knows who could make my funeral and gather up the few remaining things in my life. I guess I haven't played my cards very well.
I respect those that can generate a hundred car procession, they were probably well loved in the community, married once with a huge family, and downright good people. Well deserving of a great send off.
I am old, I have no idea if I have any major shit going down inside my body, because I don't ask. I could drop dead tomorrow, or live to be a hundred.
So, I'm glad to still be alive, I take pleasure in whatever I can, and I feel sorry for the few family and friends I have, left to clean up the mess when I pass.
I think it's about time I said it, I'm enjoying living in the South. I was a West Coast boy for decades, moved a little bit East to Idaho, and then suddenly planted myself in the Deep South more than four years ago.
I have seen a lot of it. Several great road trips have exposed me to the Southern States, and I've loved everything I've seen.
But sometimes it's the little things that amaze me. Back West when someone is walking out of a door in front of you, the door swings closed. Here, and I think it's due to respect for the elderly, they stop and hold the door open for you, before they exit.
Today I saw a funeral procession coming down the busy four lane highway 43, and that road came to a stop! Everyone pulled to the side of the road in respect, even traffic in the opposite direction. Tears welled up in my eyes at this tradition.
I'm an agnostic, but I respect these god fearing, church going people. There is something amazing about the friendliness and spirit of good will among them all.
And then there is the food, and the traditions that have grown from poverty. It is unlike anything I've experienced from the pretentious West. Down home real cooking, and they don't eat escargot here...
It looked like our little Veterans Parade might get rained out today, but the sky cleared, and the parade went on.
So I mosied up there with my Sony and the Zoom lens, and grabbed some shots. It was a typical small southern town parade, but it felt good, and if you weren't able to make it, you're welcome to view the pictures by clicking the photo below.
I learned to read when I was a young kid living in a small town called Floriston. It was about thirty houses splattered against a mountain side, just into California from Reno NV, along I-40.
It was a major stop for the railroad in the 1800's, with a 52 room hotel and right next to a large ice facility, where the trains could load up.
The town was built in 1899 by the Floriston Pulp and Paper Company to house employees. It was the second largest paper mill in the world at the time.
When the mill shut down, it turned into a ghost town. In 1947 a lawyer from San Francisco bought the place, and incorporated it.
Why we moved there in the early fifties when I was about six, only my step dad knows, and he is now long gone.
I lived there for several years with my older brother and younger sister. We walked at least a half mile every day, across two major railroad tracks, up to I-40 to catch a school bus into Truckee, thirty miles away.
Reading became my passion. As I encountered new words, I would look them up in a dictionary I somehow had. I learned the difference between then and than.
It didn't serve me well as I landed a major programming contract many years later, where I made a written presentation to a company and the President said I had the contract, but there are two p's in shipping, Jim.
That would be Interocean Steamship, a major shipping company in San Francisco, where I created two major computer applications, over seven years.
I suppose I could stop here with this post, but that would leave so much unsaid about Floriston.
These were my brothers and my formative years, under a strict step dad, and they ended up defining us. I survived, somehow, Dana did not.
Our bedroom was a dark basement with two small beds. Our mom was wonderful and kept our spirits somewhat alive, and occasionally my grandfather would show up and take us to the drivein in Reno.
In Dana's later years, unknown to me, he ended up homeless on the streets of Sacramento, CA, out of his mind. One day he took a leak behind a building and the cops charged him with indecent exposure and he ended up in jail as a registered sex offender. They put him in a mental institution, and eventually a locked down nursing home in Modesto, where I saw him last. He died early this year.
Me, hell, I was one fucked up kid as I reached my teenage years. We were long gone from Floriston but I was a mess. My IQ was very high, but I didn't know what to do with it, and I lacked the skills and guidance to do anything right.
Thus evolved the crazy journey that led me here. It is what it is, and I finally consider myself a good man...
My grand-daughter Shelby,
is selling her Jeep Wrangler. It's a 2012 with 93k miles, asking 18k. In great shape! She's living in DC, but she could use a road trip, within reason. :-)
I'm really enjoying my Air Fryer. I elevated it off the counter yesterday, using bricks from the old demolished building downtown, along with Pipers treat storage container that I kept next to my desk. It's great for storing the ovens accessories.
This morning I made my breakfast sandwich using two egg rings, with a slice of bread right next to them. Cooked on air-fry mode, flipping the bread when ready, and it all came out great. Katy's eggs topped with Newman's Own medium salsa, and Sweet Baby Ray's hot sauce.
Cleanup was easy. I didn't use any cooking oil spray, and that's fine, just tossed the foil.
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