Welcome toYolo County, now go home.

My inaugural posting finds me two days away from taking my contractors license test here in CalIfornia (as Arnold would say). I am not at all sure the redtape and regulation is worth the opportunity to be low-bidder. However as I sit in my mind-numbing class 8 hour class the thought occurs to me that if I want to be paid what I think I'm worth, I had better be the one writing the checks.
I am brand new to the bloggesphere, and have often wondered if I had anything worthy of posting and having you folks (or folk as the case may be) read. In any case, here I go.

I live in the once exceedingly rural Yolo County California. In Esparto, gateway to the Capay Valley. I say once because the County is rapidly changing. Counties do that, and I am not the type to harken back to a quieter time when you could have a picnic on the centerline of Highway 16 after10 pm without fear of becoming street-pizza. Although I do remember getting latenight call from the Highway Patrol informing me that my cows were on the road,,, again. If my cows wondered on that same road today, they would meet a rapid demise in the grill of a speeding Bingo player's Honda Accord on the way to the Indian casino.

I love this place, this wormhole in time and space. A place where you meet wonderful down to earth people, farmers and ranchers that would be just as happy if it were 1947 again, or 1847 for that matter. Then turn the corner and find a PHD that works at U.C. Davis that is rather annoyed that he can't get DSL out here in the "sticks". The Bush/Cheney stickers outnumber the Kerry/Edwards stickers 3 to 1, and most of the population still drive pickups. Friday-night football is still the most exciting (only) thing to do.

My blog will be a about,,,,, lots of thing, stuff and assorted miscellaneous rambling. I do hope to have a point to make along the way. I have opinions that I will express and if I ruffle your feathers, be glad I don't corner you down at the Junction ( the local watering hole) where your feathers might get plucked.

I am rapidly approaching 40, and my wife will attest to the fact that I love talking politics, guns, horses, beef cattle, and history. I mention my age only to say that I have been forming my opinions for some time. They are my beliefs, and by God, I believe them!

I must get some sleep, I have another 8 hours of painfully dull class tomorrow.
Get back to soon.