I have never yet been able to bypass showing you folks the best pizza in the world. I finally made it over to Mt. P and jerry's and had my usual, and even ordered one, half-baked, to take home with me.
I'm gpoing to do my best and find Davis Bros in Peoria this summer so I can compare it with Jerry's again.
While out with the Wombie on a roadtrip he showed me a small cemetery in the middle of nowhere that he saw while fall farming. One of the still-legible stones had a death year of 1847 - an old plot around here. Many of the stones were broken, mostly-buried or hard to read. Souls, forgotten, for eternity. I applaud the
farmers through the generations who could have easily claimed this land for crop production, but chose, instead to allow these people to lie undisturbed.
I never missed a chance to accompany the Wombie to his job overseeing the water pump station in Seaton. After a few days he even gave me an assignment to read one of the meters and to give him the reading when asked. It was voluntary. Kind of like an intern, or more appropriately, a minion. It still gave me purpose in life, and I am proud of my contribution.
This is the last picture of my trip to Northlandia: somewhere in the air flying back to Norah and the others. Too bad there is no way to track where you are when flying.