Good to be back in the Fat Head chair after some time away. I spent a chunk of that time working with Chareva on the book and the film. Reading The Older Brother’s guest-host post reminded me of why we’re banging away on a project directed at kids. Perhaps we can convince a few of them to stop eating those carbage-laden “heart-healthy” school meals before they become fat, diabetic adults.
But there’s more to life than work, so I took an actual vacation as well. Jimmy and Christine Moore arrived the Sunday before Thanksgiving to spend the week in Franklin. That’s two years in a row, and I hope it’s now firmly established as an annual tradition.
They came bearing gifts – a lot of gifts: a printer, a Ninja coffee maker (which the girls love because it froths milk), various flavors of Quest bars, various flavors of Mark Sisson’s Primal Kitchen bars, Primal Kitchen oils, mayonnaise and salad dressings, walkie-talkies for the girls, a water purifier, and some Bulletproof coffee. Jimmy insisted the booty was supplied for free by his sponsors, but I happen to know he bought some of the stuff himself. He’s been showing gratitude for the success of the Keto Clarity books by buying gifts for both friends and occasional strangers. That’s the kind of guy he is.
I looked at the load of gifts and said all I could offer in return was a disc-golf course with no waiting and no green fees. He replied that it was a fair trade, and we began the tournament with three rounds on Sunday, four on Monday and five on Tuesday.
After those first three days, we had an Election 2016 situation: Jimmy won some games by a huge margin (nine strokes in one case), but I won several games by a stroke or two. So he had the better overall score, but I was ahead in the victory column. Or as I like to put it, he won the popular vote, but I won the electoral college. Jimmy considered staging a protest in downtown Franklin and possibly smashing some store windows to express his outrage at the result, but then remembered he’s an adult. He settled for threatening to demand a recount of all the strokes on the 17th hole.
You may have noticed the Cubs World Series Champions sweatshirt and hat I’m wearing. Those showed up as anonymous gifts on our doorstep awhile back, and I posted a note on Facebook thanking whoever sent them. Turns out it was Jimmy. I’m pretty sure his sponsors didn’t supply those.
There’s not much to do on the farm these days. Between the two flocks of chickens, we’re getting a few eggs per week. That’s because Chareva elected to let the chickens rest for awhile instead of encouraging egg-laying by heating the coops. Once we get winter temperatures, she’ll turn on the heat.
The ladies did, however, harvest some sweet potatoes from Chareva’s garden while Jimmy and I were busy in the front pastures, trash-talking and trying to beat each other in disc golf.
Hoping to get into Jimmy’s head before the next round, I pointed to the sweet-potato harvest and said something like Boy, those farm-fresh sweet potatoes are going to be delicious. Too bad you can’t eat them, huh, Mister Keto Clarity? Huh?
Turns out Mister Keto Clarity eats sweet potatoes during holiday weeks. Well, good. They were delicious, by the way. Everything we grow tastes better than the grocery-store version.
The weather for the week behaved so nicely, you’d think I bribed someone in Climate Control. We had 60-ish temperatures all the days we played disc golf. We’d planned to take Wednesday off to rest our arms, and that happened to be the only day it rained.
The rainy-day storm left us with an unexpected present:
Here’s how living on a little farm changes your attitude about things: Any other place I’ve lived, I would have viewed that fallen tree as a major pain in the arse, something I’d have to pay to have hauled away. When I noticed it on Wednesday afternoon, my first thought was Wow! Look at all the free firewood! Sure, I’ll have to get out the chainsaws and cut it up, but I’ve grown to enjoy that kind of work. The wood stove awaits the proceeds.
It did occur to me later that I had no idea the tree was dying and could topple. Given the size, it’s what folks who know about such things call a Widow-Maker. Any one of us could have been in that side field when the tree landed. So I’m thinking it’s time to have a tree expert pay us a visit and identify the other Widow-Makers on the property. I know from painful experience I can survive a whack on the noggin from a t-post hammer, but a tree punches in a much higher weight class.
Thanksgiving was a real treat this year. Jimmy and I played six rounds of disc golf while the ladies prepared a feast of turkey, ham, green-bean casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed cauliflower, dressing (made with gluten-free bread), cranberries, and three pies. (Before any of you other ladies get all righteously indignant about the division of labor, I should mention that we didn’t expect Chareva and Christine clean up the kitchen afterwards. I had my daughters do it.) Chareva’s mother gave me a bottle of single-malt scotch to say thanks for the help getting them settled into their new house, and I enjoyed some of that while watching football on Thursday night.
Jimmy and I played our final rounds of the 2016 Thanksgiving tournament on Friday. I finally put that popular-vote/electoral college controversy to rest by shooting some good rounds and dropping my average score. Our final average scores for the week were so close, I’d call the difference statistically insignificant … although I’m sure a Harvard nutrition researcher could perform a few math tricks and tease out an association or two.
Thanksgiving is supposed to be about gratitude, and I have many reasons to feel grateful. I’m thankful to have friends like Jimmy and Christine. I’m thankful Chareva’s parents found a lovely home just four miles down the road from ours. I’m thankful that at age 58, I can play 22 rounds of disc golf (which means walking about 26 miles up and down our hilly land) in a six-day span without feeling tired. I’m thankful to see the book coming together with Chareva’s excellent cartoons and graphics. I’m thankful The Older Brother fills in when I need a break from the blog.
And as always, I’m thankful to have intelligent and engaged blog readers who keep the conversation going. Happy Holidays, everyone.
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