La Petite Souris Gourmande

In case you're not a French speaker and/ or not accustomed to discerning gray blobs within photographs I take of my grease jar let me give you a hint...




A mouse! A mouse that heard REM's Nightswimming on his iPod shuffle and got inspired to swim a few laps in our bacon fat pool. Unfortunately, this tiny mouse got a little more than he bargained for. Don't worry mouse, everyone goes swimming in pan drippings when no one's looking.

In all honesty, the situation was a little sad. I didn't see the mouse until I was grabbing a mug to make my afternoon tea so i'm not quite sure how long he had been in there, but his eyes told me it was a little too long. He was desperate to get out, but his little body was so greased up he just kept slipping down the sides of the jar. I think we all learned a lesson today: 1) Your doctor wants you to lower your cholesterol, but swimming in grease isn't the most effective way to do it. 2) If you have a collection jar for the nights when you have breakfast for dinner (translation: bacon as an entree) you should probably put a lid on your guilt jar. I didn't get a good photo of our rodent friend in the jar because I felt bad for not helping someone so clearly in distress, so I put the camera and the jar down, and the mouse scurried away in the rain.

And for those who are keeping a tally, yes, I managed to get the words pan drippings, bacon fat, and grease jar all within 250 words. Beat that State of the Union.

Beauty School

Smokehouse. The cat is about as friendly as it looks, but we'll break him in.

How about a haircut? How about two?

Enough winter neglect. Both the shrubs, that veil the front porch, and the bangs, that veil my forehead, had the scissors taken to them. Since my family is hosting the wedding at the farm (I haven't mentioned this formally on here but I got engaged last November!) we are devoting this year to prettying up the farm. This means a lot of weekends filled with house projects + no time for procrastinating. Lucky for us, the farm has got a lot to work with, high cheek bones and loads of natural beauty, but she's a little rough around the edges. Cold weather or not, it's time to roll up those sleeves and get to snipping.

Also, I neglected to tell you about the cat that adopted us during the ice storm. Brad named him/ her Smokehouse because the cat was born to smoke meats. Don't worry though, i'm going to make sure Smokehouse signs at least a six month lease + gives us the security deposit in cash.

Maybe winter and orange aren't exactly synonymous. Maybe they're more like half sisters. They have a comfortable alliance-- not so suffocating or stale, not so gray, not so binding.

When January comes, you savor the daylight. You can't wait for it to get out of bed and stretch it's little rays in your direction to sweep up the frost and make a warm pallet for the dogs in the yard. When it retires for the evening, makes it's whiskey drink and grabs the last section of the paper to read you understand. You thank it for putting in a good day's work and you say hello to the moon, the night shift. It seems particularly industrious this time of year.

When the moon is full, it brings in the cold. Right, mom?

Where are the Cigars?

Meet Mogwai, notice the mama goat in the background,
looking on like a concerned parent.

One baby goat. Two baby goat. Three baby goat?

We've had two baby goats born in three days, and Vanilli was having contractions this morning so it won't be too long before we have a third. If I didn't oooh and aahhh enough over the last set of kids that were born I feel like i'm making up for it now. Baby goats are beyond adorable, as in, doctors recommend you wait at least one hour after your last meal to hold a baby goat, for fear of fainting, cramps, or heart explosion. Imagine a little wobbly fluff ball that resembles a distant cousin of the gremlin.... they hit 15,000 cutons easily (pronounced cüt- on, one cuton is equivalent to one Hello Kitty sticker).

As for non-baby goat matters, I spent yesterday in Athens at the Atelier Bridal Show promoting BPP. I saw old friends and made some new friends and was happy that I stayed up way too late the night before, painting shelves with chalkboard paint, making paper hearts, paper wedding cakes and an oversized Air Mail envelope addressed to a bride and groom that cohabitate at 2 Lover's Lane. (ridiculous, I know) I'm becoming increasingly convinced that weddings help the world go round.

Tiny cake toppers for the paper wedding cake.
*note: my hands aren't aging disproportionately, they're just wrinkly from washing the dishes

Bantamweight

The girls do not seem to be affected by the shortened day light. Cold be
damned, we will have omlettes.

If you should come for a visit, and cannot find me, do not be alarmed. Look for the bear that has my eyes and you will know you've come to the right place. If you can't see my eyes underneath the hood of the coat, look for the bear wheeling around an IV drip full of hot tea.

I have to remind myself, What are the perks of winter? The morning light, wood piles, scarves, the crunch underneath boots, and the birds (which look particularly chubby this year.... really, I've been trying to get a picture, they're huge).

Brad just brought a shotgun into the keeping room, so i'm guessing that means it's time for my
second lesson in "Farm Firearm". I used to think I had a propensity for learning foreign languages, but i'm just not very good at speaking gun. Oh well, it's better to have the skill and never need to put it to use than not know and need it.

In With the Old

cue up tinkering sounds and "busy" music

I think the game of CLUE was invented with just such a library in mind.

This tiny bathroom is made with real marble.

Well it's cold and wet and rainy and January, and I think the animals are in the same mood I'm in. The kind of mood where you think, "hey, maybe I'll go buy twenty scratch off tickets so I can afford my imaginary over-priced resort vacation where I can spend a week at the all you can drink mimosa bar". That's when you realize your laundry list of things to do is taller than father time, and you need to make progress on it tout de suite. So, what do I have to show for today's labors? Well, I spent at least an hour doing research on Queen Mary's doll's house because I wasn't aware such a thing existed until National Geographic November 1980 told me all about it and made my heart skip a beat to think about a miniature piano that actually plays, miniature toilets that actually flush, and all of those people who spent four years making an exact replica of everything (and I mean everything) in Queen Mary's 1920 mansion. Then, it was off to tidying up a bit, since i'm no Queen Mary, and have to be my own maid. Next up, office hours, trying not to think about the old/ new Twilight movie that I saw last night and how I wish I could un-watch it so I could re-watch it tonight and enjoy it just as much. Finally, I made chocolate chip cookies, because they're my favorite and dammit every sad donkey deserves a cookie on a rainy night in January.

(that ain't sugar on those cookies.... it's sea salt, yum!)

By the way, I've been dying to tell you about a few of my Christmas presents but haven't found a modest way to brag yet so once I find the right way to showcase the goodies, you're in for a treat. (And just thought I should add, if I did win money on scratch off tickets my splurge would not be a resort vacation. I ain't that kind of lady. (Maybe a Three Centuries Farm/Dollhouse a la Queen Mary would fit the bill?)