Cornmeal Farm.

I was invited last Saturday to join two of my favorite girls, Capucine and McKenna, for a girls’ Ensworth lacrosse game, lunch, and an adventure to a place called Cornmeal Farm to pet some new baby lambs. Sweet chicks and fresh lambs : )

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.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mickey Grimm!

My buddy Mickey set the current Guinness Book world record for
“the longest drum roll by an individual”—5 hours and 20 minutes!—
back in October of 2009. We were all very proud. The town belatedly presented him with a plaque, along with his official Guinness Book certificate, last week.

It was nice for a huge crowd of townspeople to get together in the coffee house, and TOTALLY surprise Mickey with a rousing cheer and a little party. Lucky he isn’t older, or he might have had a heart attack.

M-I-C-K-E-Y!! (drum roll, please)

Mack & Holly’s.

Got out of town last weekend to Chicago, to visit my friends Mack and Holly. They were having a Valentine’s (maybe a little going-away) party. These are a few of the lovely people that were there. Beautiful drive up on Saturday with snow still sitting all over the plains.

I was the odd-man out, I think everybody else knew each other, but I felt welcomed by all.

Mack was reminding me of Kurt Cobain in his wig-hat getup. There was a photo-booth set up and it was a big hit with the kids. Wigs and other costumery. You might recognize the guy in the nose and glasses combo.

For some reason, a group of us was enjoying hot toddies (which I had always viewed as medicinal). You see Mack making them here in the manner of generations of old Southern gentlemen...with a knife. I had one or twelve of them. At one point—deep in the whiskey—I think the devil actually appeared to me, although I can’t say for sure.

“Want some whiskey in your water, sugar in your tea? What’s all these crazy questions they’re asking me?”

I think it was a combination of the hats...and the whiskey, but Tony, the dude in the fez, was starting to remind me an awful lot of the S & P duo on the back of the stove : )

Later in the evening, Tony was making nice espresso drinks and some sort of shot with espresso and peppermint schnapps. Had several of these, too. Couldn’t decide if I wanted to sleep or go out and practice my Biathlon.

Had a nice field trip with Holly and Mack on Sunday. Really good brunch and a drive up to see the Baha’i Temple up in Wilmette. Then a little tour through Graceland Cemetery, where a number of Chicagoland notables are buried. Still too snowy to walk around it, but caught some high points.

The booze is still spanking me days later. Not so young as I used to be. Old man, take a look at my life, I’m a lot like you...Goodnight, Chicago.

And somebody please let Tillie in the bathroom.

Super Andy and Wild Sam.

Some pictures from back in the day—as the young people say, when they mean “a few months ago”—some pix from the Halloween of Ought-nine. Ran into the McLaurins at Local Taco on the way to (or maybe from) some Halloween school festivity.

Obviously the boys are Superman and Max from ”Where the Wild Things Are.” In one Andy tries to decide whether Superman should be sweet or tough, and gives his best of both looks. They were both super. Liz was wearing a witches’ hat as the “wicked beautiful” witch of the South, and Richard was cleverly disguised as a middle-aged dad in a windbreaker : )

Love these guys. Don’t see them nearly enough.

Amy Hall, y’all.

Another new shoot from Nashville, with my lovely Amy Hall. She’s one of the tenderest, feistiest, most dedicated people in my life. Ever. I love her dearly.

McKenna.

Had a couple of really nice photo shoots while I was in Nashville this last time. Here are a few images from one of them, with my friend Capucine’s baby-woman-child. Seems like she spent most of her tiny years in California, so it’s weird for me to see her all of sudden seem like this nearly grown-up person. She’s a sweetheart. We had fun.

Let it snow.

First real snow of the season, other a few previous dustings. Noticed it had started when I went to bed about one, was a winter wonderland this morning. Nothing huge...2-3 inches. Still snowing off and on. Noticed my bird friends were getting seriously low on food, so fed those guys and headed out on a little trek.

Every time I walk past the road scene four images down, I think of the old Robert Frost road less traveled. This particular road is less traveled because it doesn't really go anywhere. Not sure what it’s for, just peters out in the direction of the river.

There were these crazy ice disk things floating down the river. Not sure how they formed. I suspect aliens. Like 3-4 foot upside-down frisbee-like dishes with water inside.

Old Paul Tillich’s head seemed sad and cold.

Snowing again hard by the time I got to the Atheneum, blowing sideways—one of my lenses was frozen over—bravely fought my way to the coffee house. Then the snow stopped and the sun came out, naturally.