I Don’t Remember How To Drive


But I managed to pick a field and let the teen try ‘er out.

Everyonceinawhile, I had to hop in the driver’s seat to remember what driving was like.  I totally forgot how it works.  I’ve been driving since I was fifteen.


Open spaces.  open spaces.  She starts.  She stops.


She starts.  She stops.


Her handling was no prob.  I think she felt the beast.  Rosebud.


Few issues with the gear.  The second day was better than the first.

She’s a’ite.  Okay, pappy.  your turn!  In the Lotus!


Hot Bowl Of Food: Cowboy Casserole


Resident teen and ex-British Public School Girl was given Brent’s favorite cookbook of the year, “School Dinners.”

She picked Cowboy Casserole.  Dominated by baked beans, this sausage-y, potato, tomato, onion sludge faired well in the Curtis household.


Seeing as the Hot Bowl of Food was edible, the head chef has authorised future trials with teen cook and School Dinners book.



From Kiddie Apron to Chef Coat

Well, it turns out that our resident teen is not a spawn from aliens and actually has two lovely parents. They arrived to collect her. As a guest on our farm, you have opportunities to explore all sorts of skills. Other than naming a calf, she was not interested much with the bovines. She played with the kids. She helped keep the house close-to-clean. She did some window and door maintenance. I also gave her the hammer drill to see how she rolled. I think her comfort zone and interest resided in the kitchen.

I don’t raise teens as of yet, but from my experience, I’ve not met many teens who enjoy cooking offal. I’m sensing a spark in a culinary quest to cook nose to tail. Not an easy feat, but extremely challenging as you balance offal with yum.

So her collectors came along and she quickly put them to work as sous chef. Chopping onions or celery or anything she could find to keep them busy while avoiding any questions about her future as she embarks on her final year of “high school.” What do you want to do?! What are you going to be?! I still ask myself this question daily.

Otto’s airplane apron with a smiling cessna shifted to the land of dirty laundry. The only thing left was a chef’s coat. She stood taller. She barked orders. She cooked cheeks. Our job here is ready for the fork. She lived and survived on the farm without any suspicious Vespas popping by. Hopefully she will finish her travels and think about how she wants to increment and influence this world.