Northlandia Leftovers

Northlandia Leftovers - Part 4

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.

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Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week. Except for me. I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers. These pics need no words. Why muddy the waters? They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley. The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter. If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one. But, please, no more.

Re-opening Was A Hoax

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant

Existing In BFE

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