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!