Waiting on Isaac

Waiting for Isaac: like the RNC, Florida and the mid-west, we too expected the storm to visit. Instead it parked itself over my ancestral homeland and unleashed insane amounts of wind and rain and left Clint Eastwood gesturing at an empty chair. Meanwhile, having myself just returned from the humid climes of the Gulf region, I spent much of the week tossing in sweat soaked sheets with a 100 degree temperature. Like a soldier returned from the tropics with a case of malaria, the grippe or ague I just couldn’t shake it.

Farm work, work-work, all seemed a bit hazy through the fog of fever. Somehow a hog was delivered to the tender and mercifully quick hands of the York brothers. Four hundred pounds of porcine pleasure conveniently packaged and returned to us in time for the Labor Day weekend. We kept one side for our use. Friend and fellow culinary adventurer John W. removed the other half to K-town. A ham awaits my curing efforts later today for a side of pork is a gift that gives.

The farm work load on Saturday, our usual work day, was fairly over the top and made more difficult by being sick (Let us call it malaria, a bit more romantic than saying one has the “crud”.) But between Cindy, me, Caleb and Shannon we managed to clear the slate on a large “To Do” list; an effort that may I clearly state “kicked my ass”. A dinner last night with friends and neighbors and we were in bed by midnight.

Aside from the aforementioned curing of the ham and curing Brian (Cindy suggested slathering me with salt and hanging me under the stairs), the making of perry still awaits and a week of haymaking is on the calendar in someone’s twisted idea of vacation. Yet much of it still depends on that tropical moisture and how it impacts us over the next few days: waiting on Isaac and a fever to pass.