Huh?

 I was such a literal kid. 
Hell. 
Still am. 

I don't remember how young I was when the idea got stuck in my head. 
"If you're not careful you'll go blind." 
"You'll go def if you keep listening to loud music." 
"If you're not careful you'll loose a hand."
"A finger"
"An arm."
"A leg." 

So I do a lot in the dark. 
Which funnily enough has saved my eyes with all the screen time my research involves. 

I practice being blind. 
Learned to navigate the world by listening. 
Shower in the dark most of the time. 
Move through my space, laying down rugs and things in mind that if a blind person walked into my space I could show them where the bathroom, the fridge, and the couch is and know they'll be able to find their way back without my hand holding. 

I walk through the world with headphones on looking at the world as if I were def. 
...
That's one's a little more personal. 

Warning a bit of the dark part coming in. 

When I was a kid there was a Thanksgiving that I had an "Ear Ache"
Was put in a side room screaming my head off because of the pain. 
Screaming until my voice was hoarse and kept screaming. 
Until I passed out from exhaustion. 

Someone. 
I don't know who because memories when you're little are funny.  
They can be sharp as the day they happened but the edges blurry. 
Someone smacked me upside the head. 
And blew my eardrum. 
Hearing in that ear is weird, muffled, to this day. 
It sounds like when you put your ear in a pillow with a speaker under it. 

That's how I got started wearing headphones. 
Because they protected that ear from the wind. 
Would help from getting an "ear ache" again. 
Audio books from the library man. 

So I practice being def. 
Still terrible at sign language even though I I've learned enough vocabulary to hold a conversation. 
I'm just out of practice. 
No one to talk to.

I took a vacation week in my early career where I tied my dominate arm down and lived like I had lost it. 


But yeah, back to the point. 
Sitting in the dark helps with the Migrains and lets the eyes recover from staring at screens. 
It also makes for interesting meditations. 

Anyways.  
Back to the point of the family farm. 
I want to buy it. 

Why?
I want to turn it into a veterinarian training school. 
Tear down the barns, recycle the barnwood for crafts projects. 
Rebuild them. 
Turn the stud barn into the surgical suites. 
Turn the Hay barn into an on property dorm for the students and staff for emergencies. 
Turn the house into a cafe. 
Grandma's place. 
Serves bacon, eggs, coffee, and toast in the morning. 
Dinner. 
"Something" whatever we got over rice.

Coffee 24 hours. 

Grandma passed this last year. 
She was ready. 
She'd been ready for years. 
Since grandpa passed. 
Only thing that kept her going was Catholic guilt. 
We said our goodbyes when I first got back to Kansas. 
People thought I didn't care because I rarely visited. 
I was just respecting her wishes. 
She asked me not to start any fights. 

And some days, when you're dealing with family, that's a big ask.

Not just a dog and cat vet though. 
Livestock as well. 
'cause that's what those buildings were to me when I was a kid. 
The vet would come to us, take care of the critters. 
Hell. 
Growing up most of the dogs and cats where spayed and neutered on the kitchen table and woke up in the bathtub as the anesthesia wore off. 

Oh yeah, and the ambulances. 
Mobile clinics for herd care and checkups for the critters that need it.
2 of them with live stock trailers for single critter moving and pop up clinics. 

With the "Hay Barn" having a back entrance where big critters can poke their heads into the common space while they recover and their owners can visit. 

Owners. 
eeef. 

The difference between owners and jockeys...
Grandpa was a jockey. 
That came to own his own horse. 
Hard Times. 
Lived to like 35 years old. 
Grandpa took that death harder than any other. 
I don't think he ever recovered to be honest.


So yeah. 
That's what I plan to do with the Settlement from BoA.
The accounting firm and accounts are already set up.

Currently at just over 4 Million. 
And the meters running. 

Tik Tok

Anyways. 

I'm running out of boogers. 

>.<;

You know what my first call sign was?   
Monkey Boy. 
Barbie said I "Reminded her of one of those wind up monkeys with the cymbals." 
Silent and still until I got wound up then you couldn't stop me until it ran out of energy.

Imagine that. 
At 18 years old. 
Outside of my day to days? 
The hand off point for Un Accompanied minors between parents and flight attendants. 
And prisoner transports for the Marshals. 

Imagine how those dudes felt. 
You're a bad ass Marshal transporting a prisoner for whatever reason. 
You have to get your paperwork checked by security professional before you can get on the plane. 
And instead of an older person meeting you a tiny kid with their hair hanging in their face walks up. 

Imagine you're a member of the National Guard after the World Trade center was attacked, years before TSA  
Shift change and the new checkpoint supervisor shows up. 
"Who the fuck is this kid?  Did they hire at the local grade school?" 
Yuck it up there chuckle fuck. 
You have no idea how many ways I could disassemble you before you even realize what's happening.
"Oooo, that's a fancy gun you got there, can I hold it?"

Now I have grey in my beard and that kid is looking at me in the mirror from under the wrinkles and tired eyes.
"Did we get the terrorists yet" The kid asks.
"It's a lot more complicated than you think little man" My older self says.
"How so?" Asks the kid.
"Cause the terrorists aren't the problem" 
"But they blew people up, how are they not the problem?" 
"They're just a symptom kid." 
"You mean like in epidemiology?"
"Yep."
"Oh, I studied that a couple years ago."
"Yep." 
"So what's the disease then?" 
"You're not going to like the answer."

Anyways...
Back to the point.

Trying to buy the farm.
But not figuratively. 
I'm actually trying to buy a farm. 

And keep it a farm. 
Or at least farm adjacent.