When you get tired of eating like that, come on over to our house. We can sit out on the back porch where we can discuss the finer points of growing a garden, or reloading home made ammunition.
If you get tired of that, we can always shoot and skin one of the many deer that wonder across the lawn.
That reminds me I need to make a trip to the garden store for some seeds and such. Trouble is, the soil here, what there is of it, stinks. Very shallow layer of clay over a soft crumbly rock base.
Might have to move back to my Mom's house, she'd not using it at the moment, where the topsoil is several feet deep, and which had never felt the plow before it was turned into '50s suburban housing. (it did feel the plow or at least the disk and rotortiller, after we moved in, I even ran the tiller some years, as well as planted most of the garden (Dad insisted on doing the tomatoes and peppers himself). I know about the non plow part, because my Dad had hayed the area with his uncles back before WW-II, and knew the history of the area. Or better yet, up to my mother-in-law's farm, which she and her sharecropper are using, but not living on. It's already got a couple of good garden spots, a nice shelter-grove of mixed hardwoods, and where the deepest creek bottoms are still in the topsoil, blown in there after the last ice age.
Only bad thing is, when I was up there this weekend, there was still what my wife calls, that ugly white stuff, in the drift areas. Nice clean snow though.