my careless contagion

The food here has more variety. And all the restaurants are pretty good, as far as I can tell. Asian. Mexican. Whatever you want. There is even an Indian restaurant down the road. And, if you want to go further, there are shops! Grocery stores that stock Asian, Indian, and Mexican food. I used to go to Lincoln when I was in high school, and I always perused the Asian stores on O Street. I love those places, though I'm less adventurous now. One time I bought some shrimp thinking I would cook them, but then the shopkeepers asked where I was going fishing with the shrimp. So, I guess most bought shrimp as bait. So I went fishing. It was terrible bait. Should have eaten it. Or maybe the fish knew something I didn't.   I don't know why, but people here like to honk. Like, hey, we are all driving as safely as we can. Chill the heck out. You live in Kearney, Nebraska, not New York. Trust me, you have nowhere to go. The old lady you're honking at is now flustered and will proba...

Hey, welcome back. This post makes some generalizations  (which is always fun and probably wrong)  about my new town, Kearney, Nebraska. This may be part one of a multi-part series. Or not.  It is interesting to move to a new place because you take your old assumptions and past experiences with you. You apply those to the new place. Your mind is constantly comparing and contrasting. For a while. And then you are home and you like your new place (and I do like my new place). In fact, I haven't wanted to go back from whence I came. When I left, I took a short hike by myself as I often did. It was cold, as I recall, and two gray jays (also known as camp robbers) were keeping a close eye on me, swooping from one tree to another and following me along the trail. As I reached the end of the trail, I knew it would likely be my last time hiking there. I told those watchful jays that I likely wouldn't be back so to "take care of the place." And that was it.  These are not jud...