Reluctantly, we leave New Orleans and are now headed a short distance to the countryside. JoJami’s best friend and partner in crime from high school, Carolyn and her family beckon us with tales of fresh eggs and goats milk from their small farm in Clinton. This is not a working farm per se (although they willingly share their bounty with neighbors) but just enough to keep themselves sufficient. 
Carolyn home schools the girls and you won’t find three more mature and capable young ladies anywhere. Not to mention all three are accomplished classical musicians that perform regularly and all three teach music as well. The one thing each girl lacks is a cellphone (there’s no service where they live) and the attendant high forehead bruises so epidemic among texting adolescents. We’ve all witnessed the collisions, haven’t we?
Farm life is not boring. There is always something to be done and our hosts wasted no time putting us to work:
One handed milking? My wife is soooo talented!
Honey, let me show you how it's done.
The pictures look good but in reality it wasn’t pretty. I think we were singularly responsible for a 1/2% dip in GDP that quarter. I could feel Bernanke’s disapproving stare – it looked like this:
But as I’ve said before, this is not a political blog.
There are always twists and turns on the farm. But one thing is for certain; you always have to feed the chickens.
Just ask Helicopter Ben (oops! did I say that?)
239 Beans 
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