Farm Centennial

The Farm, outside of tiny Clarendon, TX, celebrated the centennial of the Harrison family having moved it---piecemeal---from a second location to its current spot.

It was a big party this year, as evidenced by the number of cars representing the array of visitors:

What can a person say about this kind of party?

I guess this person, me, will struggle with things to say. It feels like it's been years for me since the Centennial Reunion.

We made the drive like usual--two days from Long Beach to an hour southeast of Amarillo, a pretty straight shot on I-40 (once you get there). We stayed at the El Rancho (again) and cruised into panhandle Texas near dinnertime the next day. From there it was a steady flow of beer and starting fires (for the briskets) and kilns (for the glazed pottery to make room for the bisqued work that needed to be glazed and fired). Having just arrived, and already in the weeds with work, and all being flooded with beer.

Going to bed late and waking up with a headache while dozens of people pass through where we're trying to sleep (the new bunkhouse that Corrie and her brother Peter worked on regularly the last few summers). "Uggh...look at these two...still cuddling," I could hear as I tried to block out the sound and sunlight.

Cooking. Lots of cooking. As always I appreciate the need and I like doing the work, and as always it was rewarding. Briskets, slicing briskets, cooking all manner of things for dozens and dozens of people. On one of the Big Days, Chef Gonzo himself (Mr. Eames) and I blasted through a hundred burgers, worked six bags of fries in ovens and I even made my famous green pasta for a Texan audience (I brought my homemade pesto from, eh, home). Once the food was done, I shed my sweaty and greasy tanktop and re-donned my short-sleeve button up and still managed to look like an insane person:

Seeing the cousins and second cousins interacting was great. All the different combos were classic, especially Camille and Colton, born on the same day ten years apart:

My niece Brooklyn took a special shine to me, likely stemming from the time we got to chill back in May, and she kept at me with a special attention. Here she is taking off with my water bottle, one of my never-let-this-go affectations I afforded myself:

My mom, Grandma Kate to the kids, got Cass a kite a while back (between 14 and 26 months) and we finally got it kicking ass. In the picture below, the kite is up in the upper right corner while Cassius is down on the lower left...it's pretty epic:

The time is always so magical, like being transplanted to the early twentieth century, or the late nineteenth century, in rural Texas to made a go of it. But it's not a fake transplant, it real. Very real, as the AC doesn't work and its relentlessly hot, and the bugs are fierce, and the laundry needs t be hung up, and supper needs to get made, and dishes pile up with alarming frequency.

At least you get to get into chaaracter:

This year I left early, needing to fly out of Amarillo for a conference. Corrie and I got to leave the kids with Ron and Carol, the former of which had foot surgery the day before my flight. Carol had a mending Ron and two Starling kids to look after for a single night, so Corrie and I could get away and spent a single night in a hotel in Amarillo. THE FIRST TIME WE SPENT A NIGHT AWAY FROM CAMILLE, and only the second we spent away from Cass. The first real date night in 8 years.

I flew from Amarillo to LAX, and took a cab from the airport to the hotel where I stayed in downtown Los Angeles. I didn't even make it home until four days later, by which point my feet were a little worse for wear, since I had been wearing the same pair of sandals since mid-June:

I took no shoes to Texas.

They're also worse for wear, but I enjoyed looking like Huck Finn all the time. Having to wash my feet each night before bed was annoying (and I didn't do it every night...eww). I love the sandals, but I'm glad to be back into some real shoes.

Happy Centennial Harrison Farm!