I know next to nothing about lacrosse. I think it’s one of the things we stole from the Native Americans before we slaughtered most of them. Like most ball-based games, it involves a ball, teams, and goals. Beyond that, I’m fairly clueless. Kind of like the confusion the first time I watched a soccer game, only more so.
Lunch I understand. We had a nice sandwich at a place called Penn Station, probably not ironically named for the rail station that was perhaps the most beautiful public building ever torn down in New York. Curious, I google it to find that, although it’s called Penn Station East Coast Subs, it was started in Cincinnati and seems most popular across the South. Go figure.
Cornmeal Farm is the home of Tami and Lep Andrews, who I met Saturday for the first time, although they are some of those people who are so welcoming and comfortable that I feel like I already knew them.
They have quite a menagerie. All manner of exotic chickens and roosters running about strutting and crowing and pecking, peacocks (including a white one, which seemed kind of rare and mythical), a white horse, a sweet donkey that we all took pictures with, cats, a sheep dog, ducks with funny haircuts (think the AFLAC duck with an obvious white toupee), baby chicks, a big tom turkey that was strutting his stuff like there was no tomorrow (despite the manifest lack of lady turkeys), and of course the sheep and their sweet little 5-day old lambs. The only animal on the place that seemed unhappy was a little raccoon who was in a safe trap waiting to be transported to a new home.
I was supposed to be shooting some more of our budding fashion work with McKenna, but sort of fell down on the job, as I was mostly having a nice time hanging out. What a relaxing lovely place. Look forward to visiting again.
