Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The Tale of Tony and The Rabbit

I always knew that Tony was a hunter but he showed his true colors the other week.

It was a peaceful Saturday and I looked out and saw a bunny hopping in the backyard. I called Marty to come witness the perfectly If That Ain't Country scene - happening right there in our own back yard.

"Uh-oh," he said.

"What?" I replied. The whole thing was so picturesque. What "Uh-oh?"

'You know - Tony's going to go after that rabbit."

"No he's not. It's too big for him."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

Well...turns out, Marty was right. The bunny disappeared into the pasture but a few minutes later, he came tear-assing out of there with Tony running full speed behind.

It's a good thing we were watching because Bugs headed straight from the pasture through our yard and right towards the road. Thank goodness Marty was thinking quick on his feet because he jumped outside and cut Tony off at the pass.

So the bunny hung out in the front yard (but did not cross the road), Tony was promptly carried inside (where he hung out at the window and watched the bunny) and we were spared an unfortunate incident of road kill.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

What Can I Say? Lots!

I know. I know. I've made excuses in the past. Blamed everything from broken arms to American Idol. Blamed life. Work. Time in the car. You've heard it all before.

What can I say...I've been a lousy Blogger.

Apologies - especially to those who aren't related to me by blood or know me personally and still are interested in what I have to say.

So while I get my act together and craft many overdue posts on everything including Tim Schafer's, Tradewinds, the Hickory Crawdads, Tony's run-in with the Rabbit, the Lincoln Cultural Arts Center and our trip to the cemetery, my herb garden (basil and rosemary looking good, garlic chives, not so much), our fabulous dinner at Willow Creek Inn where Mansour presented us with a 6-lb. lobster, updated pictures of Nugget (who is growing up so fast and now has horns!), my growing love of country music, and our recent trip to West Virginia (IF THAT AIN'T COUNTRY!!!) - check out Powell's where dad is guest blogging all week. Since he's on deadline, you are guaranteed a post a day. And he's good for a laugh.

In the meantime, I've got to feed the goats.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Breakfast at a Biker Bar

So the other week, after Marty got saddled with a cast on his broken arm, I treated him to breakfast at Zipper's. That's right, the biker bar home to some of Lincoln County's finest karaoke .

But it's also a full-service restaurant and while I wouldn't go there for Valentine's Day, it is the sort of place to go for a greasy spoon, country style breakfast. In fact it struck me, that after a night out at Zipper's, the answer to what ails you might just be breakfast there the next morning.

The food was actually very good. I had a simple breakfast sandwich - sausage, egg and cheese on grilld sourdough toast. I think I ordered it as much for the fact that they had sourdough bread as anything else (though I note that this was a special and not a regular menu item).

Marty had a ham and cheese omelette that was big enough for two. At Zipper's, the choice of breakfast side is grits and the toast is white and buttered.

And because it was 11am on a Friday, there were a couple of guys at the bar drinking a beer.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Falling...And Finally, What Maraschino Cherries and Mayonnaise Jars have in Common

Ok. Where have I been? It's been 11 days and I know what you're thinking - did she fall off the face off the Earth? Not exactly...

More like Marty fell off a ladder. Seriously. He fell of a ladder and broke his arm and ever since then my focus and attention have been on him. I've never broken a bone, but I'm sure some of you out there have and you can attest to how much it slows you down when you lose use of one your limbs.

Anyways - that's my excuse for why I've gone 11 days without writing. Now - onto the important things...

So, what do mayonnaise jars and maraschino cherries have in common? Simple. Purple Jesus and Can Shake.

What?

It came about at our BBQ the other Sunday when we were talking about cruising (don't ask). Nowadays, cruising through downtown Lincolnton is discouraged - primarily by a 20 mph speed limit and traffic lights on every corner which are completely out of sync. Still, in the old days you could come to Lincolnton and cruise up and down Main Street and around Courthouse Square.

Our friend Steve was reminiscing about his cruising days. After cruising, everyone would pull into It's to drink. Have I written about It's? It's is a drive-in restuarant - like a Sonic or Chuckwagon. Anyways, they'd pull into It's for Purple Jesus and Can Shake. So - what are they?

Purple Jesus is grape juice with lemon and cherries. Can Shake seems to be open to a bit more interpretation but from what I can tell it's Sundrop, Cheerwine (or any cherry soda), cherries and lemons and/or oranges. Both are served in emptied, cleaned out mayonnaise jars. Preferably from Duke's and preferably glass.

Aside from being oddly named, they are both what's known as a set-up i.e. essentially something you can add your liquor to. Or rather, to which you can add your liquor.

So you go cruising around town with your bottle of Smirnoff or Wild Turkey or whatever and then pull into It's and get a set-up and well - you know the rest...

...and if that ain't (long, overdue) country, I'll kiss your...

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Horny Old Goat

Elvis is horny. Sorry. I know - you wanted to know what mayonnaise jars and maraschino cherries have in common and instead I'm telling you my goat is horny. Well - it's true.

We got home late last night from a 2-day trip to NYC and decided to feed the goats (vs. simply giving them some cookies). They seemed normal at first. They came running. They bahhed. They ate. But then Elvis started making bizarre, gurgling noises. I, of course, worried. We left them alone but I came back out after Ann-Margaret's cries penetrated the walls of the house. Elvis wouldn't leave her and Nugget alone. It was clear after a few minutes of observation that he wasn't ill or edgy or crazy. He was horny.

It took some wrangling but Marty and I got Ann-Margaret and Nugget safe in a stall and left Elvis out on his own.

This morning, I was hoping Elvis had cooled his heels so I let the girls out. I should have planned better. It was 6:45am. Light out at least. But I was dressed for work. Still, I let them out and hoped for the best.

Whoops.

Within moments Elvis was once again chasing after Ann-Margaret and Nugget. At one point he mounted Nugget - or tried to anyways. It was disturbing. I screamed. I yelled. I prayed that Marty - in the house, upstairs, asleep in the bed - would hear me. He didn't.

I picked up a big stock (courtesy of the big wind storm the other week) and tried to beat Elvis away.

Eventually, I picked Nugget up and put her back in the stall. Ann-Margaret quickly followed and I shut them in safe away from an extremely randy Elvis. By then I had the time and werewithal to get some feed, bribe Elvis into the other stall and lock him up while letting the girls out.

That's how they remained all day - mother and baby wandering freely, Elvis cranky and confined.

Got home a bit before 9pm. Dark. Windy. Rainy. Still - I persevered into the pasture outfitted in a slicker and stocked with a pocket full of animal cookies. My thought was to coax Ann-Margaret and Nugget into the empty stall, lock them up safe and then let out Elvis. But Marty insisted that I let "nature take its course" so I let Elvis out instead.

Big mistake.

Within moments he was once again mounting Nugget - a truly horrifying and disturbing sight. When I shoved Nugget out of reach, he sought out a very agitated and disinterested Ann-Margaret.

I eventually - single-handedly, in the dark, in the rain - got mother and baby once again safe behind locked stall doors. Getting them fresh water was a process as Elvis kicked over the first bucket so I made 2 trips in the dark, in the rain, in the overgrown pasture, BY MYSELF - but I managed to get a dish of fresh water in the stall as well.

I then dragged my soggy ass into the house for a glass of wine and 2 hours of Grey's Anatomy while leaving Elvis free, randy and horny as ever, to search the pasture for a willing sexual participant.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...