We're going to eat our new mascot.

Bonjour, and thanks for tuning in on Thanksgiving! This is the first time I may feel remorse about eating such an ugly bird, as a turkey is technically both Trip and my own current employer.


Let me make yet another announcement for Trip: he turned in the final revisions of his master's thesis just last week, and it is completely out of his hair for the rest of his (and my) life. Way to go, Trip and see you later Billy Panther and the associated terrible Financial Aid office at EIU!




Now for story time:

A few weeks ago, we thought we'd like to attend a highly-acclaimed beer tasting and chili cook-off at the local pumpkin patch, Sinkland Farms. It cost 5$ at the door and a further 10$ to get into the beer garden. We left the house hungry, assuming that we would get some chili. After paying our admission, we perused the yumblicious-smelling chili pit to find that they were completely out of chili, which we just paid for. Uh, thanks for the notice? We had to buy food, leaving us no money to taste beer. The bluegrass band was also good, for the two songs they played. Bummer. The main reason for this seeming complaint is not to rant at all, but rather to lighten your mood, I promise. Keep reading, but in the mean time, this picture of the bluegrass band and their weird chandelier will keep you story-satiated.







While we were cruising around the place, a little miffed, I noticed a gathering of miniature horses tied to a trailer. They were being used for giving little kids rides around in a cart. I began petting one as if it were Woodford or some other retarded puppy, roughing it up a bit. The pony disapproved. I felt a little ashamed of myself, a horsewoman treating an equine this way. I knelt down to it's level to make amends and give it a pat on the shoulder and a scratch on it's whithers. No sooner had I landed on my knee did the wretched little thing bite, yes, BITE, my face. Right on the forehead! Trip and I were completely taken aback, speechless with dropped jaws. When they reconnected with our skulls, only laughter came out of them. It didn't do any damage, left a small pink mark for a couple hours, but a bloody, gaping hole in my pride. Only because I think the owner lady saw it and giggled.







On a much more pumped note, Trip and I both had a shot last week. No, not the kind of shots you're thinking of, H1N1 shots! Surely someone has beef with this, but I don't care. I don't have health insurance so I'd rather NOT die of swine flu now, when I am awesome, and stand in line at the cancer clinic with you shot-nazis 40 years later and say "Well at least I didn't get the swine flu." Even Woodford shows support for the anti-swine, although he thinks it sounds delicious.






The second week Trip and I graced Blacksburg with our presence, we stopped at a very small, run-down-ish cake and donut shop. Every SINGLE weekend since, we have indulged ourselves at Carol Lee Donuts. We get two donuts and two small coffees for 3$. The donuts are the best donuts I can remember on this earth, and the coffee is fresh-brewed; delicious combo!






Usually we immediately head for the day's hiking destination, all fired up on coffee and ready to burn off the 73830 calories in one donut. I swear they're so delciously fried they almost crunch a little upon biting them. The good crunch! I always get a chocolate one with Hokie sprinkles. Trip gets filled ones, but I usually offer to drive when he's eating. I do remember a story of a man by the name of Krenz involving a donut and a T-bone, and not the steak...

But anyway, we hiked around in Mountain Lake Park one day after eating donuts. Here is the view. You must be getting a little bored of these mountain-top views. Maybe I'll have to start spelunking to show some cooler pictures...












Oh, and Trip got the garden tilled up! My good horseback riding friend, Greg, let us borrow his big tiller a couple weekends ago. This past weekend, we revisited him to get a truck load of aged horse manure; black gold! Now our garden is really underway. Here are some pictures of what it looked like before and after the tilling. There are no pictures of the garden after the manure. Imagine the road apples you have seen left behind after prom night on the riverfront in Peoria, and multiply that by 400. In my backyard. Woodford's Thanksgiving feast came early.









Trip must have liked shoveling horse crap so much that he accepted Greg's inquiry to join us on an up-and-coming Christmas parade as the poop-scooper behind the horses Greg, me, and company will be astride. Its my first parade on a horse, but not Trip's first time shoveling a Natalie-related line of crap.

The aforementioned Greg also shot, gutted, and cut up a deer for Trip and I. This is how it arrived to me, and to the butcher down the road. Looks gross but I can't wait for summer sausage and venison stew!







The Suzy Homemaker in me is making more and more headway all the time. Listen to this; I sewed for an entire evening the other day. Yikes! A while ago Woodford "accentuated" my quilt. He must think less is more, as he ate it in strips. I cut up an old pair of underwear and patched it up. This is the final product. Oh and don't worry about the underwear, they were too small for my butt.






Just yesterday I made the executive decision that we will listen to Christmas music on alternating evenings of NPR hearings. Delilah's radio station is playing it constantly now, and Trip is overjoyed beyond words. He can only shake his head in sheer happiness! This must be how he feels inside:






Also good news of recent; I am trying out a series of bread recipes I found in Mother Earth News. They say I can make good bread in five minutes a day, and I am going to give it a try. I included a photo documentary. If you know me at all, you know that any product containing yeast is what makes my explode, and I had to eat a little bit of the rising dough. Basically we're mixin' up breadstuffs and rockin' around a radio-wave Christmas tree.











After the bread was completed, it wasn't that great. It was really pretty, but not very flavorful (read on for a possible reason why this could have happened...). I'm still going to try making pecan cinnamon rolls out of the master dough recipe, and see if Mom and Dad will let me make them on Christmas morning. Yum!

Also worth a mention: This evening Trip and I were going to make deep-fried venison fillets for din-din, and Trip put on the canola/vegetable oil blend (unbeknownst to me) at "High" on the electric stove. I was happily prepping my bread dough for the oven, when I looked over to see a LOT of stinky white stuff rising from the pan. Bringing this to his attention, I ran upstairs to nab the screaming carbon monoxide detector off the wall while the house filled with a lung-burning white smoke. I let the dog and cat out behind me while he yelled about the pan attached to his arm that was en fuego. I'll spare the exact phrases. He ran to the driveway and dropped the burning utensil as it exploded with flames, kind of like a Charlie's Angels scene.

After taking a stroll through the hayfield to ensure we could still breathe correctly, we decided we needed to open some windows in the poor little house if we were ever going to step foot in there again. It smelled terrible! I called dibs on the upstairs, which was the worst. Inhaling HUGE breaths behind our coats, we ran into the house. My eyes burned when I hit the stairs, and by the time I reached the windows they were pouring tears as if John Lennon/Michael Jackson died this morning.

Needless to say, we went out for dinner. Upon our return (with Icehouse, as we needed it) the house was safe to enter, but pretty saturated with burnt oil stench. I baked my bread (two hours after it was supposed to be in the oven...) and Trip pan-fried the previously breaded venison fillets that he so valliantly made a separate entrance to refrigerate prior to our departure. So here you are, Dad. They were pretty good.









Happy Thanksgiving to Illinois from Southern Appalachia. We miss you. We love you.

Dear Jack Frost, please consider getting lost until we have heating oil.

This morning I arose to a freshly frosted field behind our little leaky farmhouse. To my knowledge, this is the first. It was 30 degrees, chilly! Still no oil in the tank, but we do just fine with our space heaters (so far).



Anyway, down to the nitty gritty; some recent events. A couple weekends ago, we wanted to act like we were camping, without paying money to camp. We had recently cleared a fair amount of brush, so we decided to make our own little bonfire. Success! Trip was so excited that he bought us a sixer of decent beer, which I happily participated in the disposal of. We also set up his tent in the back yard and slept outside. It was really chilly out there, I think it got down to 38 that night. We had the strings of our mummy bags drawn as tight as we could. I had a blanket inside mine, but it didn't help much. Poor Woodford didn't get a sleeping bag, he just slept on my legs. Hmf.






Here you can see why I should never have children.





If you heard a rumor going around about my job getting steroids, you heard right. Currently I work ~20 hours/week (at the bug job), and they asked me if I would start working 40 in January. This girl is going on maternity leave for a few months and they need some help in the lab. They also hinted at the strong possibility that there may be a permanent full-time position opening soon. So, I think I might take it. Its a very complex situation that twirls around in my head every day. I think; should I go to school or work? Well, the whole point of going to school is to get a teaching degree, which is a job I can take anywhere with me later. However, if I ended up getting a full-time job at Virginia Tech, then I could slowly take classes (1 free one per semester if you're salaried staff) to get my degree over the course of a few years. Then, if I really wanted to go somewhere, I'd be good to go. Or, if I wanted, I could stay at Virginia Tech and move up in the ranks with fellow beetle-rearing specialists. It sounds win-win to me.


Last weekend I made a very poor decision. My horseback riding friend, Greg, asked if I'd like to join him on a trip to the horse auction in Mt Airy, North Carolina with an empty trailer and a (his) pocket o'money in tow. Of course, I accepted. I only had a few dollars cash on me, enough to buy a grilled cheese and sweet tea for dinner. Upon arrival, we perused the aisles of the barn. He was looking for a Tennessee Walker gelding, I was looking for something pretty to make my "stable-shopping" worthwhile. He wasn't impressed with anything he was seeing, and I wasn't either, really.
So in the last leg of our loop, we passed by this dim corner of stalls containing horses at the bottom of the barrel. No other people were in this corner, it was pretty depressing. I passed by this one stall, and a full black mane got my attention. I peered inside to find a scared, thin, narrow-bodied horse with a beautiful color and markings. He stared at me through his dense forelock, eyes wide, notrils flaring and plastered himself against the wall of his stall, trembling. I moaned, "Oh Greg, I found one." My throat swelled, and eyes hazy. He waddled over, and in his southern accent "Oh that thing? That'd be like sittin' on a fence rail!" Seeing that I was about in a puddle, he said "Well go on in."
I entered the stall, the horse would have climbed the wall if he wasn't tied to it. With some low murmuring, eyes averted to his shoulder, and a slow indirect path over to him, I let him look me over. Once he visibly relaxed, I slowly lifted my arm to his left shoulder, he anticipated my touch by nearly vibrating his skin. Once I felt him, he relaxed, let me rub him all over. He was afraid, but he didn't want to be that way.
I'm not going into details, as I have enough already. After a very stressful couple hours of waiting, and Greg's numerous offers to loan me money and a pasture, he entered the ring. I could see why he was so afraid, watching the man on top of him. He was a purebred Paso Fino, and sold for 95$. I snapped a couple pictures with my phone.











Again mentioning Trip's cousin, Justin, he asked Trip to be his best man in the wedding. Exciting news, looks like we'll be back to Illinois a few times next year! Plus, Trip will have a new cousin-in-law when its all said and done, alright Natalie!

Speaking of the bite-sized man, he and I have been talking of Christmas lately. We are actually both excited to go home and spend the flu season with our families! We will also take gifts in the form of 100$ bills and a shiny VW Golf (just surprise me with the color). Thank you in advance.



And I'll leave you with another long-winded story, as the oven is telling me to take the pumpkin pie out of it:

Today I did something I've not done in some time; I raced the setting sun. With gusto!
Back in the days of McNaughton Park galavanting greatness, I wanted nothing more than to be inside the forest for every moment of sun. I would run until my quads begged for mercy, clutch my handlebars like prayer sticks while screaming down hills like cliffsides, and listen to the earth throb under my ambling mount's hooves. The sun set early in the forest, and as soon as her bottom would graze the crown of the tallest sycamore tree, the checkered flag dropped; Go! It taunted me like a squirrel on a tree trunk waving it's tail just six inches above the bouncing dog's highest attempts. I'd run or pedal as hard as I could, cursing my body for its reluctant pace, or hiss my steed into a more lively gait.
So long as I reached my destination before her last beams headed west for the night, I won. When I accepted her challenge, I never lost, I'd just ask to play again tomorrow.
Tonight, atop my 3-speed cruiser, I lost. There are more hills in Virginia than McNaughton.

Of woollies, wagons, wild things and weddings.

Let me just note that our refrigerator is stocked full of delicious and healthy food, Trip got some new jeans (thank you Mom and Dad), and we're just coasting on love and happy over here in Virginia.
In other news, I got a new job at Virginia Tech. This time, I work in the Department of Entomology. I get to ride around with a reserach specialist, Ryan, all over Kentucky, Tennessee and parts of Virginia looking for Hemlock Woolly Adelgids (HWA). The most difficult part of the job is choking back vomit, as he is the single worst handler of a vehicle I've ever seen. Anyway, the HWA is a tiny pest that kills hemlock trees in the eastern/moving-central US. Virginia Tech got a huge grant from the USDA to start rearing a beatle from the western US that eats only HWA. Well, Virginia Tech is basically keeping them in the insectary until they get released into the wild. Ryan and I have to go out and get food, which is the HWA, for the lab-beatles in the mean time. So, my job is just to navigate with maps, provide good company, and help stack infested branches of hemlock trees. Its pretty easy, and I get to see all kinds of beautiful sceneries.
This is what the HWA looks like.











While in Virginia, I have been looking for ways to acquire one of these fancy southern-Appalachia accents. I figured the best way to do so is to join a covered-wagon trail ride. My new horse friend, Greg, who is somewhere around Dad's age and happens to have 5 horses, invited me to do just that. It was quite an adventure, and I tried my best to photodocument via my cell phone because Trip was using my camera to compare potential field sites. See, I do have priorities!
So it begins with the wagon train, which we rode ahead of most of the day. There were five homemade wagons pulled by teams of Belgian drafts, haflingers, and even mules. Inside each wagon contained at least three hillrods, drinking any amount of light beers, and a fermenting grape juice of some sort. The grapes (home grown) were still inside, and it had a better taste than crappy wine, actually. I was offered some, and with the hopes of ingesting a twang or drawl, I indulged. However, it just made me feel rowdy. The grapes were tasty, too. Full of -OH, mm!
Anyway, the wagons stopped every 30 minutes or so to refill, socialize, and be merry in general. It was really quite frigid, so we just rode on and finished the ride at our own pace: fast. You'd be surprised how warm you stay with 1000 lbs of sweaty, sinewy muscle between your legs! I got to use my new (to me) saddle, which is the only saddle I've used in the past 3 years that has not given me knee pain. Way to go, Australians!
At the end of the day the horse I rode, Cheyenne, was pretty pooped. I included a photo of her for effect.










Since Trip and I both got paid the day "Where the Wild Things Are" was released, we figured it a sign. I've been chomping at the bit to see it since I saw the preview months ago. I've watched every single trailer, teaser, interview with Spike Jonze, and read all the reviews I could. This film is huge, its a link to my childhood I almost forgot! Trip was semi-excited to see it, probably more to get out of the house. Saturday night we headed to the theater, Trip got a humongous soda so he wouldn't fall asleep (his trademark move), and we settled into our seats. If you're looking for a mini-review, here is what I sent my mother:

Trip liked it, I especially liked it. I cried toward the end, but I always cry during movies. Trip didn't cry, but to give you some sort of scale, he did cry during "Up!". THAT movie will make you bawl, but its every bit worth seeing.
But about WTWTA:
The values of the movie are similar to the book, but with a different twist. In the book its kind of like "This is what happens when you don't have any discipline; bad things" but in the movie, it is a more elevated version of the same problem. It does elude to change and/or political shift, and there are parts of the movie that I know are supposed to be symbolic, but I'm not sure of what yet. The underlying message I brought home is that even fearless leaders do have weakness, i.e. there is no single solution to all of our problems.
Max came in to the wild things' world like a lion and went out like a lamb, defeated and humbled. In the very last scene, he finally views his own mother as human, with strengths and shortfalls of her own. Its a capstone moment where he realizes he is part of the family and he has to pull his own weight to make it work.
The film does a good job of portraying childhood emotion, giving outlets that most everyone can relate to, i.e. loneliness, siblings ignoring your attempts to play with them, and getting angry with all of your heart when your feelings are hurt.
The reviews say its sad, and it kind of is. The book was no different. There are happy parts, but there are sad, real-life parts as well. It ends on a pleasant note, regardless.
All in all, it was a really good movie. The special effects were great, and the costumes were absolutely perfect. Visually, its astounding. The angles, cinematography, music, everything meshes beautifully.
I'd recommend it.

Trip was disappointed that the bison-looking wild thing (right) only had a nominal role in the film. However, the soda kept him content throughout the viewing.







Sunday we decided its been too long since we tortured ourselves with a hike up a mountain to look at a view similar to the tops of other mountains in the area. We did just that! This hike was not nearly as bad as the reviews claimed it to be, although there was a little bit of technical rock-jumping to be done. Woodford did a much better job than anticipated. This hike was called Dragon's Tooth, its part of the Appalachian Trail near Catawba, and its a 2600-something elevation hike. It was a pretty cold day, but the trees and hiking uphill kept us warm. At the top, we were just chillin.
















Monday there was a (we think) rabid groundhog in our yard that Goose kept trying to play with. It wasn't at the aggressive stage, but just kept wandering around like it was drunk and kept coming up to us completely delirious. Trip wanted to cap his ass, but he doesn't have any ammunition for his shot guns. He tried killing it with his sling shot, hit it a couple times, then the sling part of the shot busted. I called the Sheriff, which is what I was instructed to do immediately on the animal control website. In my best Virginian voice; "Well, just shoot it or let it walk away and die somewhur. We ain't gon' go out for a rabid whistle pig." He had no idea we didn't live it town, but if we were to shoot something IN town, it still wouldn't be a big deal. Oh well. The thing did wander away, and we haven't seen it since.

Oh and Natalie, since you are my lone follower, you deserve a special mention. Justin, 1/3 of Trip's triplet cousins, proposed to her 1000 feet above the ground in a hot-air balloon this weekend. They were indeed dating prior to the proposal, and she even said yes. Congratulations to both of you. It will be a rip-roaring good time of a wedding, and the marriage will be good, too.

In other news, I killed a mouse yesterday with a shovel. And I didn't even feel bad.

These things happen.

Lots of great things have gone on since the last, long time blog ago. Lets begin with the biggest news of all:

Trip now holds his Master's in Science. Hooray Trip and congratulations! What does he have to show for it? A finished bottle of Woodford Reserve, as those are the best kinds of bottles of Woodford Reserve, aside from the full ones.

He made the long trek back to Illinois by plane, and came back via automobile; my car! Now I don't have to ask permission to go to the store, or feel bad that I dirty it up with a wet dog or fart in his driver's seat. Actually, the last one I don't feel bad about. Thats more funny than the others.

My job with Team Logperch is basically done, it was a lot shorter than I would have liked. However, I met some really fun people, learned a lot about fish that I don't really care about, and built some killer back muscles. I even got to snorkel in the Roanoke River. It was pretty cool, actually, aside from me being more frighteningly close to hypothermia than ever before. I got to run around in a wetsuit, big Cabela's boots, and a hot pink snorkel. Hot, right? Jamie-Boss-Man took some cool footage with his camera, I'll indulge when I get it.

I have a few pictures from the last time, the hike up McAfee's Knob with three dogs. Pretty views, see for yourself.












Speaking of the dogs, I took a few snapshots of them. Woodford especially loved the golden retriever, Kia Ora. This phrase happens to be "Welcome/Hello" in the native language of New Zealand, Maori. I asked of their knowledge, and they apparently got married there. Way cool.















Perhaps you are eager to see our improvements with the house? There have been a few. I did paint another room, a much more drastic color, with a very satisfying result! I decided to go with a very dark green as an accent wall on the west wall of the living room. The window on this wall sports the best view of the large and in charge white oak in the front yard. The rest of the walls were painted a green which was actually the dark shade lightened with white paint. Lesson to be learned: ALWAYS pour dark paint into the light. Not the reverse. We went through over a gallon of white paint, and even had to add a little primer to get even close to where we wanted. If we could have, we would have liked to lighten the other walls even a couple notches, but we had no room! Here Trip models the new walls with his gun and hound dog. What a chippity chump!










The dirt floors in our basement are now paved, too! Some guys showed up to pour some concrete into our windows, and now the mildew smell has reduced greatly. It was pretty weird to have a mixing truck show up, though. Ironically, as he was pouring concrete to our basement, he busted the hell out of the concrete that makes up our sidewalk. And so it goes.





In that photo, you do get a sneak peak of our little fence project. Its not completed, but its very close. I am happy to say that the entire materials list for the fence and gate was 100% free to us, minus a couple fasteners. We used the resources we had, and it hasn't cost us more than a couple dimes! As soon as its done, I'll post pictures. We're both very proud!

Be warm in the mother land, its cold as a mine-shafter's ass down here!

Lickity Fishkits

Unfortunately, something is going on with my USB port, so I procrastinated updating until I could get all my pictures on, but I still haven't figured it out. So, I guess you're going to have to use your imagination!

Since we're poor, we've been really keen on saving money on the weekends while adding as much to the sight bank as possible. Fortunately, the area is abound with possibilities! So, the past two weekends Trip and I have hiked our brains out. Hiked all over the place, burned our quads like calories from cheap beer the night before.
The first weekend we hiked part of the Appalachian Trail to Kelly's Knob. I have photos to show for this, it was great. The hike up was extremely steep and sweaty. The first part was gorgeously rolling hills, mountainous backdrops, and fields full of donkeys and wildflowers. Indeed I was cursing it toward the end. Woodford even fell back a few paces behind us! The top, however, was view-bountiful.













This past weekend, Labor Day, was a figurative yard sale at our house. I ended up taking in three dogs (alongside Woodford) to watch over the weekend. I will never, EVER do that again. They were all big dogs; a golden retreiver, a border collie/ german shep mix, and a pitbull/lab mix. It was the equivalent of partying like its 1999 for canines. As it were, one of the dogs fell ill. The pit/lab starts pissing red, I freak out and call the owners, and they want me to do nothing. After many phone calls, and reaching my quota of negligence from the owners, I call the vet. He claims it a bladder infection, so the poor girl could wait. The owners refused to let me take any action whatsoever, and were possibly some of the more ignorant humans in general I have ever had the pleasure to deal with. Hmph!

However, we did hike the absolute crap out of these dogs (not the sick one, she rested). We hiked yet another part of the AT to discover McAfee's Knob, which may have been prettier. I think it was, anyway. We were much closer to Roanoke, so I actually got to see Tinker Mountain. This mountain is special to me in that it is the star of my favorite author's first Pulitzer Prize winning novel: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Apparently, this woman and I have made similar footprints all over the world, largely unbeknownst to me until after I read about them. I want to meet her, but I'm afraid she'd be a huge wench.

Let me inform all my faithful followers that I have indeed started my new job as a fisheries technician. Its great! My boss is a laid-back guy who is finishing his dissertation with VTech, but currently is a staff member of the state of VA, doing what we do in the field. We basically drive to Roanoke each day, put on waders (awesome), hit up a site on the Roanoke River, electro shock fish into a seine with a (heavy!) backpack shocker, drag the seine ashore, and survey the fish species. What we really want to know is if they prefer fabric softener in a liquid or dryer sheet form. Ha, not that kind of survey!

Anyway, I really like it. I've learned a ton about fish, which I previously never cared about. Today we caught a bunch of rock bass, a pickerel, and even a ginormous goldfish. Jamie is the boss man. He does most of this nonsense to monitor an endangered species endemic to the area, the Roanoke Logperch, in variously human-affected sites alongside the river. They're pretty cute little fish. Here is a picture of what they look like:


Mostly, thats what goes on around here. Trip's gearing up his thesis, etc. to defend the 25th. He's working so hard, pulling all-nighters and stuff. However, he did find time this evening to take me to a delicious Indian resturant. Man, do I love Indian food...