Davis

On Saturday, Fuzzy and I drove out to Davis (and it's sister "city," Thomas) to visit a friend's new restaurant. We had such a great time! We explored Blackwater Falls, ducking under the "Closed for the Year" barrier blocking the stairs down to the falls themselves. The falls throw a fine mist all around, and the sun catching the droplets was truly amazing.

After our little hike, it was on to Davis. I love this area of the state so much. The mountains are steeper and closer than in our area, and the towns have the windswept aspect of beach villages. On the main street of Davis is Hellbender Burritos, Fuzzy's friend Rob's new venture. And by all accounts, from the food to the atmosphere, it is a huge success! Anyone near Davis, check it out! I heartily recommend the Shovelhead (a burrito stuffed with bbq pork or seitan, spicy coleslaw, cheese, and rice). Congrats to Rob! It's so inspiring to see someone following their dream and making it work. He and his wife are working 13-hour days, but the care they've put into their restaurant really shows. Yay for independent businesses and supporting local economies!

Flood Day!

I went in to work at 10 this morning, swerving around the spots where Scott's Run had crept into the road and slowly wading through the many areas of standing water. When I finally got to the school, I was told that they were sending the kids home due to the fast-rising creek next door. What can I say except for AWESOME. Two snow days last week and a flood day this week. Of course, I don't get paid for those days, but I'm at peace with that.

So I spent the rest of the day cutting up old pants for a Gee's-Bend-style quilt, making origami boxes out of children's book illustrations, and folding laundry. I do love the home life.

The Day That Wasn't

So I realized upon waking this morning that perhaps liquor is not the best way to celebrate a birthday. That's one of the dangers of living in a town where everybody knows everybody: everybody wants to buy you a drink on your birthday. And no one likes being told no.

It occurred to me as someone placed a glass (not a shot, but a fucking water glass) of Grey Goose in my hand that perhaps it was time to stop. But alas, the dye was cast. And not even some preventative Taco Bell on the way home could stop the hangover train barreling my way.

I spent a good deal of time today lying in bed and the rest of my time declaring my arrival at death's door. Fuzzy was less than amused. But I'm feeling better now. I decorated the tree and there's some split pea soup on the stove for tomorrow's dinner, so perhaps I won't die. I think 25 is going to be a good year.

Twenty Five

Ok, I've recovered from the WVU v. Pitt game. Moving on. . .

Today I turned twenty five. Or as my lovely husband likes to put it, "a quarter of a century." Thanks, sweetheart. Fuzzy woke me up with a half dozen fragrant, custard-filled doughnuts and a kiss. We then trekked out to PineTop through several inches of melting snirt (snow + dirt = snirt). After choosing a likely specimen, Fuzzy cut down a small pine to serve as X-mas tree in the coal camp house.

Afterwards, we visited a friend/neighbor down the hill from PineTop. While we stood yakking in the driveway, we heard a strange, high honking, oddly familiar to me. Not Cananda Goose honking. Not Snow Geese. Swans. A flock of about forty swans flew low across the ridges, blending with the leaden sky and icy hills. Growing up in coastal North Carolina, we would often see swans during the winter, stopping to rest on the Currituck Sound. I have no idea what these guys were doing here in West Virginia, but they were so lovely, and I felt so lucky to see them on my birthday.

Tonight we're headed out to a friend's CD release party. So any Mo'towners should come see Clint tonight at Pleasant Street!

Fuuuuhhhhhck

Yeah. That WVU v. Pitt game?

Don't wanna talk about it.

Cob, Anyone?

So we are seriously considering building the PineTop residence out of mud. Well, not exactly mud. Actually, cob. Which is a mix of clay, sand, and straw. So, pretty much mud. Essentially, you stomp together a bunch of clay, sand, and straw with some water then plop it, one batch at a time, onto a foundation. Then you let it dry and plaster over it. No shit. It's really strong, has awesome thermal mass, is fire-resistant, and is about as cheap as you're gonna get. Plastered, it holds up really well to the elements. There are cob buildings that are several centuries old in Great Britain. Our roof is already complete, so our place wouldn't be quite as free form as the house pictured here, but that's fine by me.

One of the coolest things about cob is how sculptural it is. I would love to have little nooks in the walls to store and exhibit things. I would really love to build a cob bench like the one to the right. Anyone feel like cob-stomping at PineTop next summer, let me know!

Oh, and both photos are from housealive.org

'Cause, ya know, it's Thanksgiving

So, in honor of the holiday that gave me a full week off of work (though it could be argued that it's really the start of rifle season that gave me the week off), here are the top ten things that I am thankful for this year:

10. WVU has a shot at the BCS championship. Let's Go Mountaineers!

9. Our new garage door. It significantly lowers the squalor alert level on our current residence.

8. While we're at it, the current residence. Is it a shithole? Yes. Is our mortgage payment less than $150 a month? Also yes. And hopefully we'll eventually be able to sell it and make a little money off it.

7. In the same vein, having a handy husband. He can change the oil on the cars, replace the garage door, and make fabulous homefries, all while I'm still in bed.

6. Used goods. From cars to chairs to sweaters, I'm thankful for the plethora of used-whatever stores in our area. Just yesterday, we bought three t-shirts, a sweater, a dehumidifier, a chair and ottoman, and a figurine of a caterpillar smoking a pipe, all for less than $30.

5. Reasonably secure jobs. Not having to obsess too much about how the bills are going to get paid makes me a much happier girl.

4. Health Insurance. I can now get my lady bits checked out for the low, low price of a $10 co-pay.

3. Our fabulous friends. We went out for drinks on Tuesday night with some friends from the area who now live in New York. We had such a good time and I left with a feeling of warm-fuzziness and general all-is-right-with-the-worldness.

2. My awesome family (In-Laws included!). I have been so unbelievably blessed in the family department. No, really.

1. Having a partner in life. Sappy as it sounds, Fuzzy truly does complete me, and I can't imagine my life without him. I never thought I would be this glad to be married .


Ok, enough with the cheese. Everyone have a Happy Thanksgiving!

She's Crafty, Pt. II

Dude! I made a hat! Like a real, no shit hat. With stitch decreases and circular needles and shit. For real. It was so ridiculously easy that I can't believe I've spent the 15-ish years I've known how to knit making nothing but scarves. Well, I can believe it, because I know that I can stare at a set of directions for 15 years thinking "This is bullshit. This makes no sense. I'm going to go eat some cake batter instead," then look again one day and magically, the clouds part and it all becomes clear. So yeah. A hat. Pictured to the left with our confused rhododendrons that have decided that late November is the perfect time to bloom. I tried to get a picture of our dog with the hat on, but I just ended up embarrassing us both. He still won't look me in the eye.

Stay tuned for building updates!

Hell Yeah

This is the kind of warning I like to see on my beverages.

Fuzzy and I were driving around near PineTop yesterday when we passed a group of old men operating a big ass cider press in a front yard. We pulled a U-turn and parked next to a cloudy-eyed geriatric beagle that could barely summon the energy to bark at us. The men greeted us, then went back to pouring buckets of apples into the press and shoveling the leftover pulp into the bed of an old Ford. From a cloud of yellow jackets, one man told us that the apples were fresh off the tree, picked up in Romney that morning. So, for the benefit of the Newburg Rotary Club (and my insatiable desire for cider past about the first of September), we purchased a gallon.

It is so wonderful. It has actual little bits of apple floating around (and more than one ground-up yellow jacket, I'm sure). And neither Fuzzy nor I have suffered any ill effects from the potential critters.

I was inspired to post about our unpasteurized adventure by my friend Melissa over at Adventures in Louisiana. Her bun-in-the-oven status is temporarily prohibiting her from enjoying the more perilous gastronomic delights. Don't worry, Mel, in a few months you'll be able to eat all the raw fish you can stand (and you'll have your own little guppy to show for it!).

Heaven, No Almost About It

Saturday, Fuzzy and I got up early and packed the cooler, radio, little camp stove, and Zeke and headed back out to Arden. Words don't really do the place justice, so here are a few pictures:

The Road to Arden. Also, Very Long, Slightly Scary One-Lane Bridge to Arden.

Morning at Arden.

Crawdad! This guy was actually trying to get away from a little water snake that was coming after it. The snake went to hide under a log when I came up with the camera.


This little guy didn't hide from the camera, though! When I was growing up in North Carolina, we used to catch little green snakes all them time. This is the first one I've seen in West Virginia and it made me irrationally happy.

Fuzzy and I sprawled on the rocks, listening to the Coal Bowl (WVU v. Marshall, Go Mountaineers!), reading novels (Edward Abbey for him, Denise Giardina for me), and eating junk food. I fished with a new lure, catching a wee little rock bass. The Kingfishers did much better. We talked about bringing our hypothetical children out to the rocks, wading with them and getting them tiny polarized glasses so they can see the fish beneath the water.

And for those few hours, it was exactly the West Virginia I dreamt of two years ago in my moldering Louisiana apartment.

Hork

Oh man, I just cooked some pasta for Fuzzy and I, and in amongst the steaming penne were little, creamy white larvae. I don't consider myself squeamish. Hell, when I was a teenager, I skinned and defleshed a red fox my neighbor had shot because I wanted the skeleton (of course I wore rubber gloves). Growing up in North Carolina, I remember the cereal regularly being buggy, and I'll eat food that's been dropped pretty much anywhere except directly in the litterbox. But the sight of those juicy little critters was just the push I needed to start making my own pasta.

Just be glad my camera wasn't handy.

Blissfully Laborless Day

Pants rolled up as far as they'll go, I wade into the Tygart Valley River, watching bass dart under blackrock ledges and early brown sycamore leaves light on the surface. I want so badly to swim. The river is wide here, between Hell's Gate and Devil's Den, and the hills rear up sharp. I want to live here. Not in a cabin on the bank. Here. On this slick rock with the water rolling over my pale feet.

We're going back to Arden next weekend, only this time, I'm taking my bathing suit and the camera!

Suckage and a Meme

So, we've already been over how much I suck, right? I haven't posted in over a month. To ease myself back into this whole "baring my soul under the cold, cold light of the internet" thing, I'll start with a meme. The 4 Random Things Meme.

4 Jobs I've Had
-Dairy Maid. In high school, I worked for several months milking two very sweet Jerseys. The dairy also had water buffalo, but thankfully I only ever had to feed them.
-Pet Store Clerk. Cool job, shitty boss.
-Archaeological Fieldworker. Traveling, living in hotels, drinking too much. Would have been awesome if I had been single and a few years younger.
-After School Director. Just ended this job recently. I miss the kids.

4 Places I've Lived
-Lanikai, Hawaii. Only for the first year or so of my life.
-Moyock, North Carolina. About as cosmopolitan as it sounds.
-Leesburg, Virginia. Actually a small town no one has heard of outside of Leesburg. Pretty country.
-Natchitoches, Louisisana. Home of the Steel Magnolias and all that that implies.

4 Places I've Vacationed
-Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica. Fucking awesome.
-Southeast Alaska. Some part of me will always want to pick up and move to Alaska.
-London, England. It's so great to travel to a new place when you have familiar friends waiting there for you. Thanks, Fiona!
-Hallein, Austria. Technically, I was working on an archaeological project, but the beer and chocolate said vacation.

4 Favorite Foods
-Spoonbread. My mom always used the recipe out of Cross Creek Cookery, and now so do I.
-Fried Chicken. I just can't help myself. I usually only have it on my birthday and I think that just makes me love it more.
-Peaches. A fresh, ripe peach is just about the perfect food to me.
-Beans and Rice. This is the ultimate comfort food to me. Wow, I didn't realize my tastes were quite so Southern.

I'll leave y'all (that's the fried chicken talking) with this picture from yesterday's trip to Valley Falls State Park.

Posthenge

So all the posts are set snug and (hopefully) square. Getting those 16 ft. ridge posts up was a real bitch, but we've really gotten into our groove as far as working together.



Saturday, after setting the posts, Fuzzy and I went to a party at a nearby farm. It was fabulous, from the setting to the food to the Jim Beam. I remember lying on the ground if front of the bonfire, listening to our friends being crazy and hilarious, looking up at the stars and bright embers floating across my field of vision. I don't know if it was the liquor or the beer or the smell of raked hay, but I was intensely, chest-achingly happy.
I'm a lucky girl.

Breaking Ground

On Saturday, Fuzzy and I (again, mostly Fuzzy) broke ground on the pavilion/cabin! The plan is to construct the pavilion with 6x6's, then enclose it after our big August party. Fuzzy used the most-fabulous power auger to dig the holes. I feel butch just typing that.

We set the corner posts, bitching at each other the entire time about keeping things square and level. I wish I could be more laid back about the whole thing, but come on! This is our future house! So yeah, I was kind of a bitch and Fuzzy was kind of a dick, but we're over it and can now see the footprint of our future house! Where we are going to live! Yay!

So here's the east-side posts, where eventually the bathroom and bedroom will go, and in the nearer future, where a few of our drunken friends will probably pass out.


Also, there was much cuteness this weekend. PineTop appears to be plagued with baby animals, specifically little spotty fawns and hoards of turkey babies. I think Fuzzy wanted to punch me after the third time I squealed "Ohmygod, tinybabyturkies!"

Last Weekend

Yep, I'm posting about last weekend on Friday. We've already covered how much I suck, right?

So last weekend was awesome. I spent Saturday painting the outhouse while Fuzzy cut brush. I rather like the color scheme we came up with. Initially, I wanted to paint the whole thing barn red, but Fuzzy thought dark green would blend in a little better. I usually don't give a damn about blending in, but I suppose a marginally legal shithole should perhaps be a little camouflaged. The red trim was my way of saying "But I don't have to like it!"

I think it turned out for the best, though:


That night, after the painting and the cutting, Fuzzy and I went to an honest-to-god drive-in theater. There were kids playing in the field chasing lightening bugs and people grilling next to their trucks; it was like a big casual party. We even saw some friends from town. I heart you, Grafton Drive-In.



And how fucking awesome is it that there is a Mail Pouch barn across from the drive-in? I swear to god, sometimes living in West Virginia is like going back in time. Ok, I'm off to PineTop, more updates on Sunday when we get back!

Food Porn

Tonight Fuzzy and I grilled pizza. Mine came out so pretty I just had to post a picture. A friend of ours gave us some locally produced sausage, so I cooked some of that up and sprinkled it on with basil (from our backyard), cheese, and sliced tomatoes (unfortunately not from our backyard. Ours aren't ready yet). Needless to say, I ate the entire thing.


Also, in a fit of activity (to counter our usual inertia), Fuzzy and I harvested not only our little potato patch, but also the garlic. Pretty nice haul considering we haven't worked with either of these beds since, well, since we planted them. Now I've just got to pick the potato beetles out of my hair.

I Love it When Things Work Out with Little or No Effort From Me

Our front bed, consisting entirely of volunteers and no-care perennials:



We have sedums, which haven't bloomed yet, volunteer bachelor buttons in blue and pink, volunteer nicotiana, calendula, purple coneflower, and perennial sunflowers in the back. Makes me smile just looking at it. Makes me grin when I realize I haven't touched this bed in two months.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes, Turn and Flee From the Strain

So my contract is almost up with my current job. I haven't posted much about this particular job, but it involves working with at-risk kids at a local community center. Technically, I volunteer through a national service organization, which pays me a stipend (stipend = very wee paycheck). Working with kids has been the most frustrating, ulcer-giving, hair-pulling experience of my life. It has also, without a doubt, been the most rewarding. Not to sound too Bill Cosby, but kids really due say the darndest things. Unfortunately what I heard was usually more along the lines of "Mommy's in jail for taking off her house-arrest bracelet," than "I want to be a pony when I grow up!"

Next month, my time with these kids comes to an end. I have the option of renewing my contract, but that ridiculously wee paycheck has kept ends from not quite meeting for the past year. So it's time to brush dust off the old CV and send it to any place in town that is even remotely hiring. But what kind of work do I want to do? Social work? Maybe. Or do I want to give my heart and mind a rest and work retail? We'll see.

Of course I'll probably just take whatever job presents itself first. Ends to meet and all that.

Oh, and here's that Eastern Red-Backed Salamander from our poophole. He's about 2 inches long, nose to tail.

Shithouse

So, how was your weekend? Lovely, I hope. Filled with soft lighting and romantic interludes and unicorns dancing on a freshly cut lawn. And what did I do this weekend, you ask? Well I assisted my groom in the construction of an open-air lavatory. A shithouse, if you will.

In all fairness, I mostly fetched gatorade and held things up while they got attached to various other things, but I did wield the drill a time or two and I even made a few (flawless, of course) cuts with the power saw. And I have to admit, the results make me inordinately happy. Is it wrong to take pride in a questionably constructed outhouse? The door goes up next weekend and I'm thinking of painting the outside dark green to blend with the pines.

Hitched!

Fuzzy and I are officially hitched! We had a very simple ceremony on top of a rock at a local state forest followed by a cook-out in a CCC-constructed pavilion with family and friends. I really don't think it could have gone any better. Set up was a bit of a bitch, but my fabulous mother handled a lot of the details for us, setting up the tables with little centerpieces of miniature twig birds nests filled with roasted marshmallow flavored jelly beans (they look very egg-like!) and flower arrangements of peonies from our yard and larkspur and coreopsis from a friend's farm.


Afterwards, Fuzzy and I headed out to PineTop for a low-key celebration with our friends, complete with waaaaay too much beer (mmmm, Bodington's) and left over cook-out food. The stars were amazing and several of our friends commented that they hadn't seen such a vibrant night sky since their childhood. I really couldn't have hoped for a more perfect day or night. And now I get to spend the rest of my life with the greatest guy ever. Doesn't get much better than that.



Oh, and please disregard how fat I am in the pictures. Clearly the vegan diet went out the window several weeks ago and was replaced by the insane stress eating diet.

Community

It occurred to me that though I've posted about my awesome friends in Louisiana, I've failed to mention the wonderful community I've found in West Virginia. And no, I don't mean the little hilltop coal camp we live in, where I just had to yell at a pubescent boy for throwing rocks at the neighbor's dog. I mean the people I've met through Fuzzy and the center I work at.

A few weeks ago, during the preschool that we host at the center, the preschool teacher came running up to me, saying "Oh my god, one of the kids fell in the gym and his nose is bleeding! Come quick!" I wondered whether I should fetch the first aid kit as I ran after her into the gym. But instead of a bloody-nosed boy, I found the parents of the preschool children, my friends, and Fuzzy's mom standing in front of a table piled with food and presents, a surprise bridal shower for me. I instantly burst into tears (which is well documented in several rolls of highly embarrassing pictures). No one had ever thrown me a surprise anything in my life. We all ate far too much, then the children sat in a circle around me as I opened the presents. Later, when I described the event to my mom, she told me, "You've really picked a good place to live." And she was absolutely right.

Today, two of my best friends picked me up at my house, took me to dinner at my favorite Mexican place, stuffed me with fajitas, poured margaritas down my throat, then bought me beer and ice cream and sat with me on a back porch for about four hours. At the end of the evening I was presented with a bag full of condoms, a deck of card printed with 52 different sex games, and a tiny penis eraser. You can't find better community than that.

Hello, My name is Elizabeth and I Go to Bed at 8

Sorry for the temporary abandonment of the blog. Between wedding plans, crazy end-of-the-school-year kids, and the brutal heat that has settled over West Virginia like a broody hen, I've been tending to go straight to bed when I get home from work. Lame, I know.

The wedding is next Saturday and I'm feeling oddly calm. Stressed as hell about the relatives coming, but calm about the actual nuptials. The thought of spending the rest of my days with Fuzzy makes me breathe a little deeper, a little slower.



In non-wedding related news, the garden is planted, the strawberries are in full production, and the peonies and rhododendrons are both in riotous bloom. Fuzzy and I found wild azaleas on PineTop last week, looking much like their domestic cousins, and several wild blueberry bushes that took several rounds of googling to identify.

Life has been harried and good in the last few weeks. At least once a day, in the middle of applying spackle to our pock-marked walls or pulling up invasive roses with the truck, Fuzzy will turn to me, smile, and say "We're getting married!"

Long Day (and Week [and also, weak])

This past week has been ridiculous, complete with absurd work hours and co-worker hissy fits. Can't you tell how excited I am to go back tomorrow?

Fuzzy and I spent the day clearing brush out at PineTop. It was a beautiful day, in the mid 60's and completely clear. Fuzzy mowed big swaths through the field while I axed down Autumn Olives and Rugosa Roses. Bastards. My arms are so scratched up, I'm worried the kids I work with are going to think I'm a cutter.

After consulting with Fuzzy on some pressing matter like brush here versus brush there, I was walking down one of the newly trimmed paths when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that subtle change in ground pattern that says "snake." Its back was the mottled brown of fallen leaves and I instantly thought Copperhead. But its head was benignly rounded, and its eyes not the least bit slittly, so it was more like an Eastern Milksnake. Scared the shit out of me, regardless. I'm not scared of snakes on principle, but when they are suddenly about two feet to my right, it's a little different.

In other news, today is Fuzzy's birthday! Happy Birthday, Oh Love of My Life!

Oh, and the picture isn't mine, it's from www.herpnet.net.

She's Crafty

I've been feeling that crafty urge lately, despite the utter lack of time I have to make things that generally end up being pretty useless. Fun, but useless. Like this, my practice 2x4. Fuzzy found his (very old) wood burning pen in the basement last month and I have to say that I'm pretty enamored. I like the little wisps of smoke and the smell of the pine resin. My technique needs some work, but I make up for it with enthusiasm! Right?

Human Nature

The trilliums are blooming in big rafts of white on the hills, and the red buds are a blushing smudge along the roadside. My drive to work is a snapshot of life in West Virginia, and probably a good portion of quasi-rural America, that edge between city and country that in a wealthier place might be called a suburb. I pass old coal camps, independent now, and new houses. I pass abandoned mine entrances and an active surface mine with coal trucks to dodge. I pass several potential meth labs and a junkyard that is "Liquidating! Everything Must Go!" because the county is preparing to seize the property. Every morning I pass the history and the stereotype, the surprising and the sadly predictable, and every morning the hills rise up behind, and Scotts Run goes on to the Monongahela.

Ramp Fest '07

Around the middle of Spring, when the daffodils are fading but the deciduous trees have just started to leaf out, local talk turns to a culinary delight particular to the hollers and coves of Appalachia. Loved by many, hated by, well, probably just as many, the ramp, an especially pungent wild leek, serves as a sort of unofficial gastronomical mascot of the region. Community centers and county parks hold ramp dinners, often including the allium in as many dishes as possible. Today, Fuzzy and I followed Dunkard Creek down to Mason Dixon Historical Park, and the Annual Ramp Festival.


About two hundred people were gathered on the hilltop; clusters of tents surrounded a small log cabin whose porch served as a stage for two guitar-wielding men. In the course of our day, Fuzzy and I sampled batter-dipped ramps, sausage and ramp burgers (just for me, Fuzzy's a vegetarian), home fries with ramps, ramp bread, ramp cookies, and ramp wine, which was much better than you might think, though I made Fuzzy taste it first anyway. In addition, we also tried whiskey jam (damn good), fresh doughnuts (I don't think I even need to tell you how good those were), and drank a spring tonic of sassafras tea "to thin out that thick winter blood."

We came home happy and tired, and my farmer's tan is now in peak condition. A shopping bag of ramps is sitting in the fridge right now, just waiting for some scrambled eggs or hash browns, or hey, maybe even some ramp pesto! I apologize in advance to my co-workers. It's going to be a smelly week.

Spring

Ok, Spring has been here for awhile, but I really needed an excuse to post a picture of this tulip blooming in the side yard (also one of Edie's plantings). We'll definitely have to dig these up when we finally make the move out to PineTop.

Leaving Louisiana

From August 2005 to May 2006, I lived in a small town in central Louisiana. I loved Louisiana: my tiny, spartan apartment, the Cajun jokes, and of course, the food. Namely, Bread of Heaven Soul Food and Shipley Do-nuts. Ah, fickle Shipley's. When I would wake up hungover from a night at the Pioneer or Roque's Grocery, longing for a sweet, fried, leaden breakfast, I would drive to Shipley's. Would they be open? Maybe, maybe not. Whenever the morning's batch of doughnuts was sold, they closed. So sometimes they closed at 10 am, sometimes at 1 pm. Pastry always tastes better when there's a little suspense involved.

My life has been so busy here in West Virginia, I haven't really reflected on my time in Louisiana. My friend Melissa over at Adventures in Louisiana has written some beautiful posts that have brought the place back to me so vividly that I can't help but stop and think. I miss the anoles darting around my balcony and the Resurrection Ferns' miraculous unfurling after a rain. I miss the drive to Oakland Plantation and the rush of a sudden, violent thunder storm. But mostly I miss the warm, funny people I was lucky enough to call my friends.

I love West Virginia and I'm glad I'm building my life here, but I don't think Louisiana is done with me yet.

Success!

The lasagna came out great! Yay! Here's the (pretty damn casual) recipe:

-1 bag of frozen, chopped bell peppers and onions (I would use 2 onions and 2 fresh bell peppers if fresh bell peppers weren't so fucking expensive)
-1 medium zucchini cut into little half moons
-a squirt of olive oil
-a box of whole wheat lasagna noodles
-2 jars of pasta sauce
-a block of extra firm tofu, crumbled into bits
-Italian seasoning
-garlic powder

I seasoned the veggies with a few shakes of Italian seasoning and garlic powder, as well as some salt and black pepper, then roasted them with a squirt of oil at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes. The crumbled tofu I seasoned with salt and more garlic powder.

When the veggies were cooked by not too slimy, I poured a little sauce in a 9x13 inch glass dish, then started layering noodles, then sauce, the veggies, then noodles, tofu, more sauce, noddles, the rest of the veggies, the rest of the noodles, then the rest of the sauce. Got that? Oh, and I didn't bother cooking the noodles beforehand. That's always such a pain in the ass. Instead I covered the dish with foil and baked for about 45 minutes, also at 350 degrees, till the noodles were soft. Awesome! Take that, Cadbury!

Temptation

My dairy-free plans were foiled by Cadbury Cream Eggs on clearance, two for 25 cents.

Now that I've licked my fingers clean, I'm back on the wagon. I'm roasting veggies for vegan lasagna at this very moment. Hope it turns out tasty, because I'm seriously jonesing for a cheese pizza.

Coal Camp

We live in old coal camp house. For those of you who aren't from Appalachia or familiar with the region's history, coal camps consist of mostly of small, identical homes constructed to house the miners employed by the coal companies. Basically, the coal companies built their own towns, complete with "company stores" which accepted payment, sometimes exclusively, in the form of scrip, the Monopoly money some companies paid.

The companies owned the houses, the stores, and often the local government. This particular form of oppression was largely left by the wayside by the 1950's (though don't get me started on the long arm of Big Coal in the state of West Virginia) and the camp houses sold, mostly to miners. Our particular house was purchased by Fuzzy's paternal grandpa, Matt, who had been a miner all his life, and Edie, his wife. They raised three sons and a nephew in its 5 small rooms. When I get frustrated with this house, with its utter lack of insulation, with the crumbling plaster ceilings or the overabundance of faux wood paneling, I think of Matt and Edie. I think of how proud they must of been to own this house and how much care they took with it.


These peonies are pushing through the soil now. They were planted by Edie at least thirty years ago, and are still going strong. In a few weeks, the flowers will bloom.

Few of the residents of our little coal camp work in the mines today. Most work in town, at the university or the drug companies. The train tracks that once ran past are now a barely discernible path through the woods, and no coal dust smears our windows. Still, this little touch of beauty in what was once a hardscrabble place makes me a little more appreciative of our easy lives.

I still can't stand that fucking paneling, though.

I Heart Cheese

So I need to lose at least 15 pounds before the wedding in June. I've been telling myself this since last October, but it's just now actually getting though my thick (fatty) skull. My mom, in all her proselytizing glory, has convinced me to give up dairy, at least till June.

Fuzzy and I took a stab at a vegan diet for the month of January and were moderately successful, though pizza and chocolate chip cookies from Aldi ultimately doomed that attempt. That's the thing, though. The vast majority of "bad" foods I indulge in contain dairy. So hopefully, cutting out dairy will take care of the pizza/ice-cream/sour-cream-and-onion-anything unholy trinity that is largely resposible for my current state of bloat.

It won't be easy without cheese, at least in the beginning. Cheese is pretty special to me. In childhood, I had many meals consisting entirely of cheddar cheese, Triscuits, and sliced apples. But I know I can do it. And I know I will be healthier for it. And I also know I will probably have a cheese pizza the day after the wedding. But once you know you can do without it, it's so much easier to cut back. Go listen the Colleen's Podcast, Life After Cheese, at compassionatecooks.com for a great take on giving up the cultured cow juice.

In the meantime, most of our meals will be out of the pages of Vegan with a Vengeance, by Isa Chandra Moskowitz (the Hijiki-Chickpea Salad is fabulous!), and I'll probably be making enough Chocolate P-Nut Butter Squares from Dreena Burton's Vive le Vegan! to more than make up for a few cheese pizzas.

Rattlesnake Plantain

After returning from the land of Lexuses (Lexi?) and 7,000 square foot houses, Fuzzy and I spent Easter weekend in our 140 square foot camper, drinking American beer and trying to stay warm despite the traditional West Virginia Easter snow. At night, a few good friends came out to help us stoke the bonfire and drink the rest of the apple-cinnamon moonshine, and we all had a great time.
During the daylight hours, Fuzzy and I explored the woods around our camp. The only wildflowers up this early were violets, but I did come across lots of this interesting little plant, the Rattlenake Plantain.

Later, it will send up a stalk of small white flowers, but really, it's the everygreen foliage that's interesting.

"Following the Doctrine of Signatures, the plants were used to treat snake bites. Since there appears to be no special agent in the Rattlesnake Plantain to act as a remedy, it must be assumed most victims recovered only because there bodies were able to fight off the poison." So writes Leonard Adkins in "Wildflowers of the Appalachian Trail," a great little guide with gorgeous pictures.

I can't wait to see what has sprung up in the woods next weekend!

Stress

I survived northern Virginia and three days of wedding planning with my mom. I had a mini breakdown while looking at invitations in Michael's, just thinking about how much is left to be done and how stupid I've been for putting it off so long.

My mom has really been awesome, thinking up logistical solutions and just generally helping me barrel through the wedding industry crap. We ended up buying simple brown paper cards, on the front of which my mom blockprinted a fern. We printed the actual invitation on a vellum insert, and my mom printed this little salamander on the card underneath, so it will show
through.



They look great and cost a total of about $35, so I'm pretty pleased. Thanks, Mom!

Road Trip

I'm off to visit my parents in Virginia for a few days. It's always a little odd to go from our old coal camp community of square little houses and modest yards to the reaching McMansions of VA. The blandness of the developments definitely gives me a new appreciation for the junkyards and hunting shacks of West Virginia (not that we are without our McMansions).

When I get back, Fuzzy and I will be out at the property for a few days, hopefully with camera in tow, so there won't be any updates for a bit. See ya next week, and stay tuned for pics of the camper in all its glory!

Happy Campers

The ad in the Bulletin Board said "1976 camper, good condition, $800." We called the number listed and took off down the road, following Fuzzy's hastily scribbled directions. We spend a good amount of time just driving the back roads of our area, but I'd never been down this particular road before. It was wet and rutted, just barely above the level of the creek that flowed orange (due to mine drainage) to our right and a pasture just beginning to green up rose to oak woods on our left.

We passed a large dogtrot cabin with it's little clutch of outbuildings and turned off the road through an open metal gate, down a steep trail took us down to an old trailer perched by the side of an unpolluted creek. We could see the camper, white with an orange and red stripe, sitting down a mud path past the trailer. A big chow mix dog greeted us, followed by a smallish man of indeterminate age. He could have been anywhere between 35 and 60, with leathery skin and long, dark hair. After shaking our hands and pointing out a tree stump he'd just scared a black bear off, he showed up back to the camper.

Mildew streaked down the metal sides and the front had a slightly, um, crushed appearance. Inside, though, it was snug and dry, and while there was a definite excess of wood panelling, I really like the layout of the interior. So, with a $200 deposit and the promise to come retrieve the camper the next day, we were one step closer to living at PineTop!

In the beginning . . .

So. A blog. Guess it was bound to happen.

A few months ago, we (my fiance, Fuzzy, and I) purchased seven acres of mountaintop meadow and pine woods in West-by-god-Virginia, where we also reside.

The initial plan was to build a small cabin to live in while building a slightly larger house. Well, the plan has morphed into a camper and a log cabin.

The camper portion of the plan was accomplished last weekend in the form of a 1976 Aristocrat trailer. We paid 800 bucks for it (which comes to about 50 cents per spider) and hauled it onto the property last Friday with the help of intrepid Future-Father-in-Law.

Stay tuned for further updates!