Merry, Merry Moments

The cows were out again earlier this week. And I didn't even really flinch, which maybe means I am a country girl now. We caught two-three mice in the house (that still causes me to flinch). And, I have now heard the coyotes outside at night. Oh, and there is the issue of the zonkey...well, I am not sure that is what it is really called, but what people at work referred to it as. It's an animal on the farm near by on the corner. It's a mix between a donkey and a zebra -- therefore, a "zonkey" sounded logical to me. We think the zonkey is gone now. It hasn't been seen for weeks. And, it has been noted that there is a white cross in the yard. Which made me say "What?!" Is this zonkey buried on the land on the farm? Someone said it could be. They said it costs to have someone come pick up your large animals so some just get buried -- horses, cows, pigs...and zonkeys. So...in my mortification...I realized...I could be walking on ground where your horse or cow is buried? People said "what do you do with your animals in the city?" Yes, it is true, we have been known to bury a fish, a bird, or something of the small variety. But once we start getting to dog or cat variety, it seems a bit big for the backyard. I looked at our own ground that night. Nothing looks like it has been disturbed in years, and there are no white crosses...but you never know. And Josh probably wouldn't tell me if there were animals buried here. I am about 90% confident there is not...but I won't be able to say the same when I walk on your farm land!

If you have not seen it, here is the photo of what happens when my fiance decorates...

Oh yes, he got very excited about this purchase when he presented the idea to me, and next thing I knew, we had this fabulous sign. I have to admit, it's very humorous. Especially with the deer next to it...deer that were from his grandmother and don't really work to their full extent -- but no matter, he still saw their purpose this holiday season. I wanted to put something outside in the ground, and my lovely said "The ground is too hard now, it's too cold out." Yet, soon we had this -- rooted in the ground. Needless to say, I put up my own sign, hard ground or not. And, I never did comment on this purchase...it makes him happy...and there was those two trips I took to JoAnn Fabrics last month...so we might be even.

Hard to believe I have lived here six months now. I still can't burn the trash and I am still working hard to figure out the recycling, what can be trash (to be burned) and what goes in the junk pile. It's more complicated than it sounds. I am still adjusting to well water, and the wind that blows right through our empty fields into my chilled bones. I am still learning how to get around. But many things are better and even nice. I enjoy the peace and quiet. Josh will never get use to locking the doors. I will always miss not being able to have a pizza delivered. But we are making it work! Happy New Year!!!

One Horse Town

The phrase "one horse town" (according to the internet) was an expression first used in the 1850's when there were more horses than people in some American towns. If a town had only one horse, it must have been really small with very little happening. Monmouth -- my one horse town. Not very little happening but you will see why I label it as such if you read on...

Here is some background on what you need to know about me if you do not already. I have this fear of childbirth. No, I am not pregnant now -- this is a fear that is always there. It's not your normal, nervous, scared to be pregnant fear -- this is a very real "I don't believe this is natural or possible" fear. In general, I really get nervous about illness and being where you need to be when you need care. So, when Josh asked me to move to the country with him -- well, all I could picture was giving birth in a straw pile in the barn with Melissa Gilbert (Laura Ingells Wilder) assisting me -- with no drugs. Or, even in other instances, having something happen to one of us (heart attack, seizure, etc) and taking forever to get to the hospital. Irrational -- probably? Real feeling -- definitely! But, I tried to calm myself and said it would be okay -- even if I ever do have a baby and then I have to camp out at a hotel (no joke) near the hospital when I am nearing my eventual due date some day (hospital being at least 15 miles away). 

The other thing you should know is that I love crime shows -- CSI; Criminal Minds; Law and Order: SVU. I watch them religiously. I love them. I study them. I learn about them. I live vicariously through some of these investigators. I also realized that most killers (specifically on Criminal Minds) are out in the woods, or the country, if you will. And due to this, I sometimes have to stop myself from watching this show at night when Josh is gone -- and I am not usually freaked out. But it happens now.

So...as you read on...remember those two items and perhaps you can understand my mind set as I engage in this conversation with my fiance.

Josh was telling me a story about something that happened at work and within the story he says..."...., and so we figured we should call the sheriff..."  I let the story complete, before I ask, "what does that mean?" He seemed confused so I expanded to ask what the difference was between the sheriff and the police -- fearing the answer but praying it was just another country term and they meant the same thing.

It didn't. My fears were realized. The police, as we know them, do not service the country. The sheriff meets our needs if we need something out where we live -- but since he services the whole county, he might take awhile to get to us. WHAT?! I have flashes of labor, heart attacks, and escaped prisioners breaking into our house...

How does one call the sheriff? I am so perplexed. I say "Can't I just call 911 to get help???"
Josh confirms that I can - but that they will forward me to the sheriff. Who apparently may be busy or too far away to help me. The police...will forward me to the sheriff. My future father-in-law confirms this -- that the sheriff might be busy and that I might be better off calling a neighbor for help. Oh my gosh!

As Josh tells me this, I sit in stunned silence in the car. Now do I think we are going to need the "sheriff" often? No. Are my fears over the top? Well sure. But that still does not mean that this is not a concern...getting help, any kind of medical or police help, when you need help seems critical to me. I advised Josh that he left these details out, and it is amazing when you live a life, you sometimes forget what other people may not know. It never occurred to him to mention the police will not come and there is a mysterious sheriff who may come to my aid if he is not drinking coffee in Roseville at the bowling alley.

Needless to say, my phone contacts are now filled with neighbors. And when asked, "So, how do I reach this sheriff should I need to call?" Josh said, "Just call 911..." Well, that is if my phone service works...

Oh Monmouth -- my one horse town...

Stranger Danger does not apply in Monmouth, IL

I'm in a new place, with a new job, and let's face it, with limited friends. This means lunches are a little quieter than they use to be. I often spend that time alone, which I am finding is good quiet or planning time in my day. Since I love to read, I am often found armed with my Kindle in hand for some down time over lunch.

Today I went to Subway for a quick bite to eat before running a few errands. First, when walking in, I see my future sister-in-law in the drive through (how does that happen?!), and we chat. Then I go inside and hear a familiar voice behind me, only to find Josh's friend and groomsmen, Sean Lee. Small world. Familiar faces. I just laugh at how small this town is if we are that limited in our lunch rotation locations.

I sit at a table, open my Kindle, and begin my lunch - my introvert side takes over and I am pleased to not have to talk to anyone and rather escape into the solititude of my most recent book. I hear someone UN-familiar now say "excuse me".

When I look up, it seems like a nice older man, and he is standing at my table. He begins to inquire about my Kindle. This is not foreign to me as this happens more often than you would think -- both in Monmouth and elsewhere. People always want to know if I like the Kindle, do I use it a lot, etc. In this case, this man is thinking of buying one for his wife for Christmas so wants the details. I am happy to smile and provide them, especially when he apologizes and says that he does not intend to take me away from my reading long.

As we chat for a minute, he seems to develop more questions and then says "Mind if I join you?"
Ummm...guess not...
What do I say? So he sits.
I think, no big deal, just wants to rest his weary feet while he asks me his plethora of questions on the Kindle vs. the Nook, how easy it is to set up, which version of Kindle to buy, what if she doesn't understand technology, etc., etc. So I give him the scoop -- freely and happily -- because I LOVE my Kindle.

Something odd happens while he sits though -- he begins to open his lunch on the table where my lunch is already opened -- and now I am having lunch with this perfect stranger -- talking about where I work, how long I have lived in Monmouth, where he lives, Western Illinois University (yes, he went to school there too, but as he commented "probably graduated well before me"), and his comments on what my transition from Chicago to Monmouth must be like.

This is very odd to me -- I do not feel in danger (oddly since I am practically providing my life information) but rather just kind of weirded out that no one thinks this is out of place but me. In the city, this does not often happen...or maybe ever. You don't really even make eye contact sometimes, sadly. Maybe that's a problem in many ways. Not as open and friendly, I get that. Do people ask people questions, sure...as I said, people in airports or elsewhere have inquired about my Kindle...but no one has ever done it over lunch!

We never exchange names and I soon pack my lunch up to leave, with little of my book read. He apologizes for tearing me away from my reading but thanks me for the advice. He sells insurance, that's all I know. I hope his wife gets a Kindle for Christmas, and told him so.

I texted Josh immediately telling him that no way did a stranger just join me for lunch...only in Monmouth!

In Chicago we learned about strangers -- "Stranger Danger" -- don't talk to strangers. In Monmouth, I think they have different rules. As Mr. Outgoing (Josh) says, "I have never met a stranger". I, on the other hand, know plenty...and met another one today...WILD!

Visions of Ratatouille

I had this great heating pad...I loved it. It's not your normal heating pad...the old school kind with a cord that you plug in. No. This thing was high tech -- small, padded rectangle, with something inside (never knew what was inside), you put it in the microwave, warm it up and ahhh....relaxation. What a treat! I used it over the years and quite appreciated the ease of using it.

Mr. Country Mouse apparently also enjoys my heating pad --- and was happy to show me what was inside...corn! Yes, about two weeks ago, I opened a drawer to look for something and saw my heating pad. It was ripped open with corn all over. I knew immediately what this meant, despite being a city girl. I knew it didn't just get a hole and spill out corn. Nope, this was an animal. It had to be. I showed Josh and he said "I think I know what caused that." Really? So do I, country boy. I remain calm...for a few minutes...then I lose it a bit. I mean, come on! I don't want to share my space with these creatures. Josh is sorry, but it's not really his fault.

So with all my strength, I get it together, I smile, and I throw away my heating pad, simply saying that if I knew corn was inside, I could have probably made my own...or will now make my own, as I am sewing again, and we clearly have access to corn... but alas, this is not the end.

I know it's just a mouse. A small field mouse, likely. He can't do much harm. But I begin having visions of this mouse being out and about as I walk into the bathroom, now afraid I will step on him in the dark. Is he watching me at night? I imagine he is -- at the end of the bed -- like Ratatouille (even though that was a rat). Twitching his little whiskers, getting the last laugh on this city girl. Rationally, I have no clear thoughts on this mouse. All I see is this creature in my space.

And, he is. Because then I pull out some clothes...and yes, remenants of him nesting in my tshirts! AGH! I call Josh into the room, and he sighs. I know he is afraid I am about to lose it again. I am not about to lose it emotionally,  but I have a bad gag reflex, so I am literally about to lose it. I have to leave as I am gagging over this experience. Josh sadly tells me that it would be best if we wash all the clothes that were involved in this vicinity, which leads to 3 more loads of laundry. But I don't want to wear tshirts with mouse poop on them so, after my bitterness fades, I am okay doing this laundry. 

Now what? This is my big question, over and over. NOW WHAT?! I hope he's gone. But how do we know? And, even better yet, how do we keep him out again? Don't say it...I have already heard it at least five times in the last few weeks -- "get a cat", "get a dog". How does getting more animals solve my problems when I do not want the ones we have??? Two points I will make to counter this argument -- #1, our dog would stay outside so that does not help me if the mouse is already inside; and #2, if the mouse is not yet inside, I hear the dog can catch it -- and then shows up at the door with the mouse in his mouth. Not a sight I need in my life anymore than knowing I stepped on or saw a mouse in the dark. There are certain images in life you don't need.

My future in laws give me some "mice advice" -- my future mother-in-law states that sometimes the mice eat the poison, go into the walls, die between the walls, and then it will smell for about two weeks...and you can't do anything about it. Josh screams "Mom! Don't tell her that..."  But, she says, "It's true and she must know the truth." Only two weeks...could be worse...

So, we bait the house -- or we talk about baiting it a lot -- and then I push my fiance on the urgency of this situation. Since we have no dog/cat or even other yard animals that we care about (see story on raccoons), Josh puts poison around the house to help keep the animals out. Yay! Now on to traps...I saw them when I moved in -- the black box traps. Where are those? Josh says, "do you know how expensive those are?" Um...first of all, no (why would I have any clue about this?); second of all, I don't want to spend a lot of money for this so I don't disagree, but; third of all, weren't we just talking about paying an exterminator to take care of a snake? Priorities...

I don't care really so I will settle for any trap that gets us 1-0 over this mouse. Josh is working on traps that he says will have peanut butter or cheese on them and trap the little guy. I said, "In my closet? So basically, I will open the closet and see him dead there?" Josh says, "Um, no, you will open your closet, hear some squeaking, and then call me and say get this mouse out of here." He won't be dead. Just trapped. Special. I celebrate animal rights everywhere.

We are still on the hunt for this mouse, and I still creep into the bathroom at night. He won't get one up on me. We will battle and I will win...because after all, Mr. Mouse, you don't mess with a girl's heating pad!

Pranks are only funny if they are really pranks!

We live in an older farm house that we are updating as we go. We have a stubborn storm door. It's not in the best shape and it does not seal well. It has been known to blow open with a strong wind, leaves and other debris can sometimes be found in the mud room, which leads to our door to go into the house (up four stairs), and the door makes noise a lot. Josh is always saying "we need to get a new door". However, in the big picture of life, a door is not your priority really.

The other thing you should know is my fiance and those in the "neighborhood", have been known to play pranks on each other from time to time. They warned me about these pranks, as I am not necessarily a fan of pranks. But boys will be boys out on the farm.

Yesterday, I came home from work. I was distracted, talking to my sister on the phone, juggling my work bag, our mail, grocceries, including milk, and I threw the door open, ready to tackle the stairs, barely glancing downward. I saw it though...out of the corner of my eye. A snake. Laying there on the second step.

I didn't scream or even react. As I said I was on the phone with my sister. In my head, I said "Oh, that's not a good prank." Josh, my fearless fiance, is not scared of much, but he did tell me about his fear of snakes. They give him the creeps, as they do for most of us, but they REALLY freak him out. They did for my grandpa too -- you couldn't even talk about them. So I understood. So when I see this "snake" laying there, I assume his buddies have played a prank and put a rubber snake there for him to find. I decide (all in my head as I am talking to my sister) that I need to get it out of there before he gets home, as he will not think it is funny, and that's just the kind of helpful fiance I am. Plus, he's working late hours so he would come home in the dark and see it, which would only make it worse.

I stumble into the house, put the bags down, still talking to my sister and open the door leading back to the steps and the mud room to get this stupid rubber snake out of there. As I step downward towards it though, it moves. Maybe? Just a little. Did that just really happen? Surely I am now freaking myself out. So I stomp my foot a little harder on the next step, and the snake moves for real...and now I scream and gasp...and my sister wonders what is going on. Oh crap. That's a real snake...practically in our house!

Now I don't love snakes, but I am still thinking it is my responsibility to get rid of this thing before Josh gets home. But I tell my sister, I don't have a clue how to get a snake out of your house. She helps me brainstorm, but with our city ways, we really don't have a clue. So I stand there staring at it, while it peacefully lays near the door of our house. How did this darn thing get in here? All I know is that I can't just put it right outside the door as it will be back.

I hang up with my sister and I make the dreaded call to my fiance. He's in a tractor, I can hear it, and I sweetly say "I hate to bother you..." I know he will not want to hear this news. I don't need him to take care of it, as I know this is his worst nightmare (one he is not afraid to claim, even in his most manly moments), but I need advice. You see, in the city, we don't find snakes in our house often, and I don't know what to do or who to get to help me. This is not welcomed news to my fiance. He wants to know where it is, how big it is, and I can tell from his voice that this is not going to be a good situation. I offer to take care of it, I offer to call his dad, I basically offer to do anything I can to help...but he says he is on his way there, and I should just "keep an eye on that little bugger". So I wait and I watch him.

As Josh arrives home, he cautiously pushes the door open to peek in at this snake. A snake I have been close to many times already (and am so thankful was off to the right hand side or in my distraction of getting into the house, I would have found said snake under my foot! Then I might have been the one who needed counseling instead of my fiance). He calls his friend, Sean, to come help. He is surprised how close I will get to the snake, so I try to help with the process as best we can, as Sean is 20 minutes out and this is a crisis.

If you don't know Josh, you won't know that he opposite of me in many ways. He's the calm one. He's the laid back one. He's the one with patience. He teases me about my lack of these traits sometimes, especially patience. My friends, I want you to know what I saw in that moment was none of those traits -- and it was glorious! He was not calm and he was not patient. He couldn't wait for Sean, or come up with a plan with me. We paid the price. He got brave and went after the snake, with much struggle and much swearing. We got the snake outside, which was good, but the snake got pissed. And as we struggled to get it into a container to dispose of it, the snake slithered away -- yes, slithered so quickly in the blink of an eye. My fiance did not like this -- he got pissed right back. He went after the snake, calling him a lot of names, and stepped on his tail with full force. And that is when I had to look away and cringe. Yuck.

So I thought we were done, except for another animal carcuss. But apparently stepping on a snake does not kill him, and Josh moved his foot...and the snake left. But by leaving, I mean he slithered alongside the crack in the foundation by the house, getting away or at least burrowing himself into a new location. This did not make Josh happy at all. (I wasn't thrilled either). He said he did not want that snake getting into our house, into the basement, and I could finally agree with this thought process. But he was gone. We couldn't do anything.

I suggested we spray Raid in the crack. This is often my solution for unwanted pests, as my K-State staff will recall a certain gecco getting into my apartment and my mad Raid skills taking care of him. But, apparently this is not the solution for snakes in the country. He is very concerned about this snake, when Sean finally arrives. They hatch plans but none of them work because, as I get down on my hands and knees near the foundation crack, with a flashlight, I inform them that the snake is gone. Nothing there.

Josh says he now has to hire an exterminator. (I want to laugh but I don't). Um...okay. I understand this fear. I really do. Because I don't want a snake in our house, nor do I want many other things, like mice. I remind him though that I have seen a dead mouse in the basement, and no one seems concerned about that. He said "Dead mice I can handle. Live mice I can handle. Not a snake." Okay. I get it. But when I don't want the mice, I hope we get as urgent about the exterminator as we are in this moment -- and if not, I will show him this blog as a reminder.

It gave me the creeps. I almost reached out and grabbed that snake thinking it was a prank. I would have been traumatized. As a loved one told me, "With the bird and now the snake, I would be OUT of there!" Farm life. Although Josh says that is not it -- he says he has never seen a snake there before. Well, it does stay in your mind, although we were not allowed to discuss it anymore. The snake, similiar to Voldemort in the Harry Potter series, is he-who-shall-not-be-named in our household. When I left this morning, I did look down at my feet through my journey in the mud room and out the door.

And, after much chaos, drama, swearing, fear, and panic...Josh says we are getting a new door THIS weekend!

There once was a bird...

Last week, Thursday, I was driving on the country road. I approached three birds. I didn't worry or slow down much, as birds "get it" and they fly away. I approached them and sure enough, they flew... except one wasn't so fast. No spring chicken, this bird! So, I hit him.

All I hear is this noise -- "whoomp" -- and I cringe. Realizing I hit the bird because he couldn't follow his friends fast enough. Bummer. I don't think much about it. I figure he is dead on the road and it's the result of living in the country. We all have to face those!

Friday, I am running some errands, and I go around the front of my car (who ever does that?)...and there, stuck in the grill of my car, is the bird mentioned above. Oh my gosh -- a bird stuck in my car! How is this happening to me?! I can handle it though, I figure...so I try to get the bird unstuck and out of my grill, but it's stubborn, apparently. (I only tried so hard before I decided it was gross).

Next best thing is to send Josh a text: "I might have hit a bird, and it might have gotten stuck in the grill on my car. If that is the case, can you help me get it out?" I knew he would laugh at me but this was serious. A bird was all up in my grill!!! He agreed to help because I was cute in asking and he felt sorry for me...and he's a country man, so I figured he had more experience with animals (remember the raccoons?!).

When I got home, I didn't want to park my car in the garage -- I had no idea if dead birds would smell (remember the skunk?!). We didn't have time to deal with dead bird before getting out of town and we were taking Josh's car anyway. He offered to put the car away but I felt like a dead bird in the garage was not a good idea.

Sunday, we come home, and as we are pulling into the farm, Josh says he will get the bird taken care of, as we both almost forgot. We pull alongside my car. I look. No bird. Gone. Nothing.

He laughs -- says an animal must have taken care of it. I am stunned, just staring at the car (and he knows it was there because he saw it on Friday). What? An animal...came close to our car (which is near the house), pulled dead bird out of the grill, and took it away for us? No way. This is not even possible. I said, "Surely not. I am sure your Dad saw it and just helped us out." Josh said "Maybe, but I don't think so. I think it was an animal." I just keep saying "Are you kidding?" Even as we are walking into the house, I am in disbelief about an animal coming to take this bird carcuss off my hands.

We saw Jimmy, my future father in law, that night. I ask him about said bird...he says no. Never saw it. Oh my gosh... seriously?! This is crazy...

You just never know...

You never know what you will see or hear in the country.

Let's start what you will see. As the saying goes, "Toto, I'm not in Kansas anymore". I have lived in Kansas but in this case, I thought to myself "Toto, I am not in Chicago anymore"! I am driving to work this morning, cruising along on the backroads, jamming to the radio, when I see movement up ahead. I slow down, figuring it is a dog (see a previous blog on my feelings on this concept). I am near an area where they leave their dog out and said dog has been known to be in the middle of the road, or alongside the road, which is still a scary place to be, if you ask me. But as I approach (this all happening in seconds), I see it seems bigger. I should have had my glasses on and then I might have reacted sooner. But, my mind says "what IS that?" knowing now it is NOT a dog. Then I say, out loud in my car, (excuse my language), "Holy Shit, those are cows!"

Yep, loose cows alongside and on the road. (I have never seen this!) This, I find, is a much bigger problem than the dog. What the heck do I do? I slow down, of course. I roll down my window -- why? I have no idea. To talk to the cow? To reason with the cow? It seemed like a good idea at the time. As the first cow looks me right in the eye, I decide that maybe the window should be closed, and I seal her up! I slowly drive as the cows are inching along the side of the road, and some from the middle of the road are deciding if they want to move or not. About six cows...loose! I am literally laughing out loud.

First, I take out my phone to take a photo...because this is clearly blog worthy...then I call Josh, and in my laughter, I simply say "I am on the road and there are cows loose. Cows! In the middle of the road." I don't know what to do ... I don't want to hit them, and I certainly don't want them to get mad and ram at my car. Josh says they have not been known to charge at a car, but you never know. It would be my luck that I would be the first. So I slowly ease past them, looking, laughing and not believing this. Josh asks me where they are, and says he will call someone. Um...okay... that's so wild to me. How do you know who they belong to? And, you just call, and say what... your cows are loose and they are freakin' out my city girlfriend? Maybe he found another way to express it. When I get to work, now late, I explain to my assistant why I am late. While she chuckles, and seems to show empathy towards my plight, this seems to be a reasonable explanation for being late around here.

 Other times, you never know what you will hear. Sometimes I feel like there is a language that I have not learned, and I am trying to keep up with the interchangeable terminology. Sometimes it is simple, sometimes it is complex. Sometimes it makes sense, and other times...!

Josh and I are talking last week about a piece of furniture in our house. I am talking about moving it, and he is explaining why moving it might not work. In the middle of the discussion, free flowing about said piece of furniture, he says "hall tree". I stop him and say "what did you say?" He says, 'The hall tree." Um... okay... where I come from, we call that a "coat rack"! But, to his logical credit, it is normally located in a hall, and I guess it looks like a tree... so hall tree. Got it. Who knew?!

Other examples I am learning about... (there are more every day but I can't recall them all now)
Should we meet for supper? (This actually means dinner...the evening hour...)
Should we meet for dinner? (This actually means lunch...the afternoon meal)
Are your folks coming to town? (This means parents)
We need to get fuel. (This means we are going to the gas station for gas)

And the crick means the creek... that one I will never get...

Maybe On Star Can Save Me?!

I am sure, no matter where you are from, when you give directions to an "outsider", it makes sense to you. I try to remind myself of this. I mean, I am from Chicago...so how does it sound to people when we say "Take I-55 North until you get to the 294 junction, then merge right and you will pay a toll..."? Sounds easy enough... but maybe not to someone who comes from the country.

So...when I decide to embark on a road trip to Burlington, IA (to go to Kohl's), I assume it should be easy. I casually say to Josh, "To get to Burlington, I head towards Macomb..." and he immediately chuckles (only slightly) and tells me "No. You don't go towards Macomb." Okay. Hmmm. How do I get there? Josh proceeds to say bits and pieces like this... "Go down the road, past Mike's house, past Jayden's house, take the first gravel road to the right. Take it and follow it straight when it turns to black top." Through the conversation, I get other directions like, "When you see the big yellow building, make a left."

The thing is -- most of the time, I can follow that, which is very odd to me. That's how people give directions around here. There's not a lot of streets being used, and it's more about landmarks. Landmarks, I am not really familiar with but seem second nature to others. Needless to say, I do my best to keep up. I followed his directions, despite being nervous, despite the rain, and I doubted myself at one point -- I called him, only to have him reassure me that yes, I was going the right way. Okay! (He checked on me four hours later to make sure I made it... a little delayed but the Bears were playing...)

I got to Burlington. Eventually found Kohl's. Started to travel home. I had lost my way so I had to use some GPS guidance on the way home. The GPS does not know the same directions as Josh, so I am routed home a different way -- I don't care. Probably not the shortest, best way, but gets the job done. Alas, when I get close to town, I see the exit off the highway -- one way to Monmouth...one way to Macomb! I confront my lovely fiance later, again stating that you can obviously get to Burlington by heading towards the direction of Macomb (just as I thought), to prove I am not totally losing my sense of direction in the country. He conceeds...yes, you can, but not really from our house... But, it can be done. Again, not the best or shortest way, but a way nonetheless. I wonder if I will ever learn? It's hard on me, as an independent person, to not be able to find my way around. I have never had this much trouble - it's really hard when it all looks the same...and now it is really confusing because harvest has started so corn is missing every day when I drive around -- so much for my self made landmarks!

But, I am a determined girl and I am not prone to giving up -- so when I decide to try to take a Zumba class in Kirkwood, I figure I can find my way. I didn't get a chance to ask for directions this time -- but I have mapquest, my phone, and a GPS...and Kirkwood is suppose to be small and just 15 minutes away. Piece of cake! Not so much. The streets on the mapquest directions did not exsist in the country -- where they may be calling it Kirk Rd. or North St., it might have been Rt. 165. Who knows? All I know, is those directions were thrown out and I was beginning to panic. The phone let me down, with the map showing me completely off course, but the nice red push pin highlighting where I was SUPPOSE to be in Kirkwood. Just as I am about to give up, I see a sign: "Kirkwood" with an arrow to the right -- I swing a right. I figure, once I get to town, I can surely find the Kirkwood Gym.

Funny thing happens in the country vs. the city. When you grow up in a certain atmosphere, you have images in your mind of things -- so when you hear them in a different enviornment, you still get a visual of what to expect. I am here to tell you, that visual is wrong 90% of the time. Kirkwood Gym for Zumba class. For my city friends, I picture a smaller version of Bally's Gym or Gold's Gym -- something along those lines. I wasn't naive enough to think it would be that big, especially in such a small town...but "gym", makes me think of that vision.

Driving through Kirkwood, I had plugged in the GPS. It squaks at me "You have arrived". I pause. "I have arrived?" Where? I look around. I don't see a gym, and I fear the GPS has also led me astray. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something...could it be...ahhh, yes... the Kirkwood gym...

Yep. A small red brick building, with a small white sign above it, hidden in the trees. I park (no idea where to park) by a church, cross the road, enter in a nervous fashion, only to find a gym...literally...where I later learned my sweetness use to play basketball growing up. A gym. What else would I have expected? Why was I surprised? Simply stated - a gym is just that, a gym, where one plays basketball and there are bleachers. Again, gets the job done for Zumba class, but not what I was expecting.

More lessons learned. I need to alter my visions and expect the unexpected. And, as we look at new cars, I need the Chevy vehicle with the On Star version programmed for the country roads please...

Warren County Prime Beef Festival

A five year old pokes her hog to get it to move; children chase after chickens; a calf has glue on his back; cars crash into each other in mud on purpose...all this, my friends, is the madness of the Warren County Prime Beef Festival.

Oh yes, it was the most interesting week ever -- I have never seen anything like it. If you haven't heard, Josh's family is very involved in the festival, and has been for years. If you have further been following my new life, you might have also learned that this is the festival that Josh will be President of in 2014. Since we will be married by then, I will be the First Lady of the Warren County Prime Beef Festival, I suppose.

Okay...let me begin. First, we go to the hog show. For those of you who are ignorant about the country, like I was, here's the scoop -- you raise a hog (a pig) and then you train it to be shown. You enter a ring with others in your pig class, you poke the pig with a stick, all the while trying to walk and look at the judge, who is walking around the ring...judging your hog. I am not yet sure what makes a GOOD hog -- has to do with weight and shape, as Josh tried to explain. The judge also tried to justify his picks, and for the record, I often picked the pig that placed, so I now think I could be a judge. But even one more, I loved this, and wanted to show my own pig. I learned, however, that adults don't show...so I just informed Josh that our kids would be showing pigs. He looked at me, lovingly, and said "where we going to put a pig?" Hmmm...that is an issue, but if we just leave the dog running around outside here, we surely could just find a spot for the pig to hang out, right? Details... to be addressed later. In my country ignorance, I asked Josh what happens to the hogs now...he hesitated just a moment, and then broke it to me gently that they were going to be loaded in the trailer that was waiting and sent to the butcher (to be auctioned off later in the week). WHAT? All that work and the pig becomes bacon for you to eat...apparently some good bacon from what I could tell. I don't know why this surprised me but it did...

The parade was awesome -- I love a good parade and Monmouth does it right. I did inquire why in the world the parade starts at 5pm when people have to work -- how do they get home, get their families, etc. (For the record, the parade was the only thing, I believe, that started on time this week.) Josh informed me "the whole town shuts down" -- so basically, everyone leaves work but me. But I did. Don't want to miss a good parade! Finding a seat could be a challenge, as it is crowded and seating is at a preminum -- especially if you are a city girl trying to get pictures in her first year. However, if your future mother-in-law has been involved for years, she goes where she wants to go -- and she takes you with her. So, what do you know...you end up sitting at the judges stand, which is perched upon a flat bed semi trailer that we have to climb up in via ladder. Best seats in the house, she tells me, as I am about to crawl into a hole.

The funniest thing, without a doubt, that I have ever seen in my life up until this point is a chicken scramble! Again, for those ignorant to this concept, is goes like such...they separate by boys/girls and by age group, and each group gets their turn. They let the chickens loose, they let the kids loose -- and it's a scramble. The kids try to grab a chicken, take it to the center ring, and get $1. Yep...all this excitement for one dollar! One dollar. I still laugh as I write this. Josh asked me if I wanted to try, the princess and her court asked me if I wanted to try...I said, no thanks! I just laughed and laughed. It's too funny. Some kids are excited but scared, so Josh and the others help them catch their chickens. Catch their chickens. Seriously. And when they catch a chicken, most often, they have to hold them by their legs, upside down, and carry them.

Time now for the imfamous calf tagging -- the long awaited event that my fiance took charge of. (No, I didn't put the glue on the calf -- and he says it is not as easy as it sounds...wonder why? That calf has to be mad!). Once again, for your education, a calf has glue put on his back and tags are stuck all over him (think there was over 40 tags). The calf is let loose -- and mad -- and runs around -- getting madder as it is chased and cornered. The kids -- 11-16 yrs. -- are let loose and chase the calf, who is faster than I expected. I have never seen a cow run -- have you? The stakes have increased friends, if these kids grab a tag, they get $10. It happens very quick (the cow is probably glad for that), and then it's over -- also very hilarious to watch!

Our final weekly highlight -- the demolition derby. I have never seen a demo derby -- how many of us have? I would guess not many. Josh MC's this event -- he even gets the crowd to do the wave. He's loud and crazy, but it seems to work. This event really brings out the crowd -- in fact, this week really brings out the crowd -- it you ever wanted to people watch, this is the place to do it. Back to the derby...different rounds of cars -- old clunkers, get into the track, which is full of mud, by the way (back to that later), and try to crash into each other until only one car still moves. Josh sometimes forgets details, forgetting that I am "new" to all this -- and to his credit, he was busy last week. No one mentioned the mud -- the mud that gets stuck under the driver's tires as they spin, and then gets flung at the crowd when they accelerate. You wouldn't think mud would go very high or very far, but I am here to tell you it does. I tried several locations to sit, and none were safe. None. I wore a trash bag dress at one point (which didn't protect my hair) and probably became the laughing stock of Warren County (bless Josh's heart for being seen with me). Eventually I went into the track shack to try to be safe, but even the mud flies in there. Oh, and if the track dries up at all, to make it more exciting, we use fireman's hoses to wet it back down...just in case you wondered how long this mud was involved.

There is also a fair, of course, with rides, and fair food -- so we ate healthy all week...not a true fact -- have you ever had a fair corn dog? If not, you better check it out -- trust me on this one!

As funny as it was, it was also fun. It's great to learn the traditions of a new community. And, I learned a great deal about agriculture. I was really intrigued by the cattle and hog auction, where farmers bid on these animals (FYI -- the cattle were already on the trailer to head to the butcher to join the pigs) and these kids make a lot of money from this process. All in all, I was able to really see the pride of what this community is about -- and it is rooted in agriculture, of course, but I was truly able to see how the foundation of agriculture makes this town what it is. It gave me a new appreciation for a farming community, and for what Josh loves and why he loves it.

Now, I have learned a few farm lessons to make me a more well rounded future farmer's wife. I can't say that I fully fit in yet but I think I was integrated fairly well this week -- and people only laughed at me about 75% of the time -- and I laughed at this festival about 90% of the time -- but what great memories that Warren County brought to my life last week. Now we need some much needed rest this week, after we eat our hamburgers with bacon on them...

The Incidents

How can all these things happen at once? I am trying to be a quick study and a good "country" gal, but it's a challenge.

Let's begin with what I call incident #1...my fiance and I have a conversation:
J: Do you have any tupperware containers or aluminimum pie plates?
M: Why? (Thinking of my tupperware containers I just got from my parents).
J: I need them for something outside.
M: Why? (Why do I keep asking why...that's my first mistake)

I get him two Glad containers and ask what he is going to do with them (and tell him that I likely never want to see them in the house again anyway, regardless)...and before he can answer, I tell him that I don't want to know. I watch him get two of my Pepsi's out of the fridge, and then curiosity gets the best of me. I ask, "what are you doing?" I don't want to know, but I have to know.

He proceeds to tell me that we have raccoons in the tree outside, and they are now eating the corn. So, he is putting Pepsi in tupperware containers and putting them outside by the tree. Why? (I ask again). The raccoons will drink the Pepsi...and they can't burp...so they will explode and die.

I stare at Josh. Are you kidding me? (That's what I think). What I say is, "Who is going to take care of their exploded carcusses?" Yeah. Oh, and this gets googled to see if it is true -- there are disputes on the internet about this technique. But needless to say, we lost two cans of Pepsi and I think we still have raccoons...

Incident #2...Trash. We burn our trash here. I know some of you can't comprehend that, I still have trouble with it myself -- you have to think alot more about what you are throwing away, that's for sure. We (well...I...) made a mistake once by putting the trash bag in the garage until our next "burn" and it leaked food and smelled. So, as I am departing for the weekend and taking the trash out (Josh is already gone), I am not sure what to do. I am perplexed -- I can't leave it in the garage again. I can't leave it outside, by the garage, because the animals will get into it. So, I think it is wise to take it to the trash burn bin, (not sure if that is the actual name) and set it inside of there, even though we are not burning it yet. Fast forward to Sunday when I return home before Josh (thank goodness!), and much to my mortification, I see the trash bag split open and trash all over...apparently the animals can still get into it in the trash burn bin. UGH! I decide I better get this cleaned up before Josh wrings my neck. So I go to burn the trash -- with matches, which I am not good at -- and get a very hot fire started...before I picked up all the trash (dumb), and therefore, I can't pick up the trash anywhere close by or I will burn my face off. Burning trash = awesome....

Incident #3...The skunk. He's dead. On the road. Birds are feeding on him as I drive up. Why worry...he's dead. For the record...your car will smell like a skunk even if you drive over a dead one. Apparently his stinker gland was not dead. Yuck. And I park in the garage. I begin to tell Josh about all these adventures, and he says "what was incident #3?", patiently, as always. And I simply say, off handedly, "it involved a skunk." He says, "You hit one?" and I say, "Not exactly. It will be fine." He smiles, and says, "Your car smells like a skunk and you parked in the garage." Oops...I simply smile and say, "Oh no, no problem." And then spend the next day trying to air out the garage not to smell like skunk. Seriously...

Let's hope that is all the incidents for this week. I sheepishly tell my stories to Josh, and he consistently smiles, demonstrates patience, and says "It will be okay. You'll learn." Yeah...I'll learn...the hard way most days apparently!!!

Happy Anniversary Little Cedar Church!

My fiance never ceases to expose me to new experiences. I love him for that. Otherwise, I would really be missing out...here is a prime example...

Long story short, we may be getting married in a Presbyterian church. I'm not Presbyterian, so I view this as a concern. So I begin "googling" (my source of all information) the faith so I can learn about it and have some bank of knowledge. But then I say "we need to get to a Presbyterian mass". My lovely Josh was baptized Presbyterian but I can't say he goes to their masses often -- but he agrees -- if we may marry in the Presbyterian church, we will dedicate ourselves to figuring it out...right?!

So I should not be surprised on Sunday morning when he says "I thought I would take you to the Presbyterian mass." Awww...great stuff! Let's go. I am always up for an adventure (yeah, right...have you met me?!). Now, this would not be the church we would be marrying in, but would give me my first glimpse to the faith. I was nervous. Being Catholic, I am use to the tradition, the solemness, the focus on God, etc. - and I don't go to a lot of other masses.

As we begin to drive to mass, I realize we are not driving to "town", and ask what we are doing. I then learn that Josh does not want to go to the Presbyterian mass in Monmouth -- but rather, we are headed to Little York -- town of approximately 250 people. Church with approximately 16 pews!

Not only am I exposed to a new faith, but I am totally exposed to life in small town Little York (said around here really fast so it is like LilYork). Oh my...of course people knew us...or rather, knew Josh and by extension, me. And no one seemed surprised to see us there, as if we always belong. So much so that when they announced that the church was celebrating 50 years, I should not have been surprised that we would, of course, be in the photo. WHAT?! I was mortified. We were new to this church and yet, front and center middle pews, we would be documented for history sake in the 50 year photo -- Josh's grandparents have the 25 year photo at home. There was no way out of it, we were stuck, so all we could do is smile, as I said "Oh my God" and Josh reminded me that we were in church so I should say "Gosh" instead...

As for mass...it was different...welcoming, which we needed. So family friendly. We even started mass by singing happy birthday to someone -- for this stoic, somber Catholic, I about fell out of my pew...as that was followed by calls out of prayer requests from the audience, and action from the worship band as the pastor said "wake em' up"! Oh Little York...so entertaining... after one more photo outside (which we could also not escape), we were back in the car on the way home. Josh all smiles, saying this is a church he could really get use to, and asking me what I thought... and all I could do was laugh. Did that really just happen?!

I love my fiance. He's the most unique person I know and life with him will NEVER be dull. And if it ever is, I will suggest we head to Little York...when the only other time I have visited was when we went to a karaoke bar there...but that's a story for another time...

Food: In and Out of Our House

I know this will sound weird to some of my country friends, but we eat differently when you grow up in the city. Restaurants are different -- not better -- just different. The pace, style, type of food, and service is all different. It's hard to explain.

I have discovered this in dating Josh and visiting, and now living in the area. For instance, we eat at the "Hungry Hobo", which when he first took me there, I couldn't believe it. I also could never remember the name so just called it the "Hobo" -- side note, it's also next door to "Happy Joe's", which I thought was the same restuarant (Happy Joe's Hungry Hobo) but I have come to learn that Happy Joe's is another restuarant that we have recently explored. While the Hungry Hobo is a random restaurant, I have come to quite adore this place that serves the biggest baked potatoes (made to order) that I have ever seen. Now I find myself saying "let's eat at the Hobo!"

Small town America is also known for their dives or holes in the wall, which are a hidden secret. Because even though I thought I would die before I called these restuarants "home", I have found myself going back, trading classy atmosphere for good food at times. Such as McMahon's Pub, a new discovery introduced to me by the Oaks family. In fact, when I walked in with my future mother-in-law, she said, as she is opening the door "this place will certainly be blog worthy!" It's hidden in Monmouth -- almost literally. The first time, I followed the street to get there and it was a dead end, only to find I had to detour around a few blocks to stumble upon this place. The cheapest lunch special ($4.50 with the drink!) and decent food - what's a girl, who use to have a meal plan in the residence halls, to do?! Head to McMahon's, that's what...I'm not dumb. 

We frequent the Italian Village (or as called by the locals, the IV) for pizza -- it's not so much a Village as it is a big room, with pizza ovens, folding tables, chairs, and no air conditioning. Not a fine dining experience but I bet you would love the cheesy bread too!

Then there's the gas station restuarants. I had this first experience in college when my college roommate (from a near by small town) took me home. This Chicago girl had no clue about country life then (even less than now), and when we went to pick up the pizza, we went to Casey's gas station. I asked, confused, "what are we doing, getting gas?" She said, "No, we are getting pizza." Did I mention I was from Chicago -- where we practically invented (great) pizza? And we don't pick up our pizza at a gas station! I had a similar experience when Josh first took me to "Charley's", which turned out to be a sandwich shop attached to the gas station. Yet, there we sit and eat -- with other people -- like this is the most natural thing in the world...

We eat out alot, I know. I could go on and on with the adventures I have had with restuarants in the area, or even ones that I have yet to get to -- such as the BBQ Shack that Josh's parents promise me what it lacks in ambience (picnic tables) it makes up for in awesome BBQ. I'm  not a snob and I love me some BBQ...and pizza...so bring on the picnic tables and gas stations folks, if that is what it takes...I am not above that...

When we don't eat out, we eat at home -- I cook now. Believe it or not. I know, some of you are laughing out loud. I can cook...sometimes...and it is trial and error when I can't. I am marrying an awesome sport who eats just about everything, tells me it is great, and always goes to bat for me in telling other people I am too hard on myself. As Josh says "it may not win a contest for looking good, but it still always tastes the same." Thank you for that! He even ate the shrimp fettuccine alfredo I made last week with a smile...oh yeah, sounds awesome except for when your fiance mistakes a teaspoon for a tablespoon and brings on the basil! Oh well, we all had to learn some how right? Great memories to laugh about some day.

My home cooking lessons with Josh sometimes go like this, which is my favorite: I say "I am going to make green beans" and he says "with bacon?" Ummm...didn't know green beans were made with bacon!? In the country, they are. I learn these lessons a lot -- where a simple meal, has a twist that no one told me yet. Where's the country cooking handbook? Grilled cheese is made a special way in the Oaks household too, in case you wondered. Who knew? I just smile and say, "yes, sure, with bacon..." ?!

Finally, and I know some of you will think I am crazy when I say this, but in honor of full disclosure, there's the beef... yes, back to the cow... turned to beef. Simple right? However, I buy my ground beef at the store. Josh and his family bought half a cow and have ground beef in the freezer --- so they say I should take some, use it, cook it, eat it. They keep reminding me. For awhile, despite this, I kept going to the store. YES, I know it is the SAME beef...but it's a mental thing -- there's something different about getting it at the store (yes, I know it is crazy), but I just couldn't do it. Finally, last week, I did. It probably tasted the same. But, it's hard still. I'm growing. It's the same beef. I know, I know...

Live and learn. We don't starve and we are never short of a food story. I still prefer Chicago pizza, but bring on the tacos from McMahon's on Thursdays any day...

A Dog as a Pet vs. the Farm Dog

For those of you that know me, I am not a dog person...especially big dogs. I am not afraid, per se, but have my reasons on why having a big dog in our lives is not an idea I have embraced. I will spare you all the list of reasons but you can ask some time...and then try to sell me on all the rationale for why those reasons don't matter.

My fiance wants a dog...he wants two dogs...big dogs... this came up in conversation early in our relationship. But if you have been following along, you might note why those negotiations are on hold...if not, see: change of job, moved to the country, etc. etc. We have had enough change in our lives right now and enough compromise, that the dog converstaion, while not abandoned, has been put on the back burner. I am fine with that. One thing at a time. It's still his dream though.

Also early on in our relationship I learned that this type of dog (much to my ignorance) is an "outside dog". Meaning, this dog does not live with us in the house. Me, being the non-dog lover, was stunned by this and all of a sudden became concerned about this dog -- "how can it survive outside?", "what if it rains?", "what happens when it gets cold?", and so forth, which made Josh laugh -- why would I care if I don't care about the dog, right? But in the city -- our dogs do not remain outside. They are pets. In the country, they are farm dogs and live outside, for the most part, in accommodations sometimes created. Read: sometimes. Otherwise, they just survive, including Josh telling me they never really get a bath. My response (as you can imagine) was "um, no, should we have a dog, we would be bathing our dog" 

Now don't get me wrong -- this sweetened the deal a bit -- not having two large dogs in my house brightened the negotiations but alas, I was still not convinced.

Everyone in the country who has a dog, has it roaming around outside. I am not sure how these dogs stay on the property -- but Josh says you train them, or they eventually come home. However, I literally had a mini heart attack the other day when we were driving home. Josh and his dad were in the truck in front of me, in the dark, and I was following in my car. We drive past a neighbor's house and I am looking at it casually, when all of a sudden, their dog barks and is running alongside my car on the driver's side while I drive. OMG! I about died...another "life is different around here" moment.

Bailey...this friendly little dog (it's a big dog, for the record)...just didn't know my car yet, Josh said. Ummm...okay. She didn't follow me far, but I think it's crazy that your "family" pet is running alongside the road -- what a way to get hurt. It seems really hard for me to grasp. Especially when I do not like arriving at someone's house to find a large dog greeting me. It reminds me of "Overboard" -- anyone remember that movie? Yeah, barking dogs greeting you at the car...awesome...

More than being an annoyance, it scares me. I don't want to be responsible for hitting someone's dog on the road. Because, friends, Bailey has not been the only dog I have seen running around. Josh's friend, Sean, has it figured out -- the electric fence...the dog comes running but then stops at the edge of the yard. Genius. Let's all get that figured out so I don't have another mini heart attack... or maybe we should just let the dog inside?! I am not sure -- it's all perplexing to me, which is one of many reasons we are not embarcing the idea of a dog yet. I need to figure this out!

Share the Road Warren County, Share the Road!

My fiance's number did not come up in cow pie bingo...in case you were on the edge of your seat. We were not there but heard the cow was given an hour to do his business, and he didn't. So then they do a drawing for the winner. The winner was drawn, and then the cow pie arrived...probably on our number, knowing our luck...but I digress...

Country roads...some are gravel, some are blacktop, all look the same to this city girl. I have had a fear of getting lost since the day I first came to Josh's house a year and four months ago, and the fear remains even though I live here now. I see no rhyme or reason to the system yet,  although Josh tells me there is and continiously shows me patience in trying to teach me. I take the same path all the time, it's safer and smarter than having to phone home and have my fiance say what are you near... and I would have to say... "corn"...

Country roads...they seems narrower to this city girl. I don't think they really are. What I have learned is that people just don't know how to share the road. So much so that I get nervous, as they are flying by at 60 miles per hour, and I am almost driving in the ditch to make room for them. That's the other thing - these individuals have driven on these roads for years so they know them like the back of their hand and just fly on by...not worried about me and my little Honda as I am nervously gripping the wheel (especially in the dark) and trying to keep up. But cut a girl some slack and share the road! It's made for two cars, two lanes. I have come to yell out loud in the car now "Share the Road Warren County" when a car flies by me, barely pausing to shift over to their side of the road. You can also sometimes hear an intake of breathe when I am a passenger and Josh is driving on these same country roads.

This past weekend, Josh and I went to a local river town nearby to go to the Farmer's Market. He had talked about this town previously and his friends would go "boat on the river". I have been through this town and have seen the river previously. I thought it was just a river, in a river town -- some river they boated on. Yeah...it's the Mississippi River...the big one...  How was I to know? That "river" was in Hannibal, Missouri in my mind... and I'm a Dr...

We got to tour the grave of Norma Jean, an elephant who died in the 70s when the circus was in town. She was chained up near a tree while they prepared for the circus and was struck by lightning...and was just tipped over and cover in dirt, buried right in that spot. Too funny. Oh little town of Oquawka!

Finally, I have discovered this week that farmers are almost as bad, if not worse, than a women's knitting club. This is how conversations go that I overhear "Did you hear about the Henderson's? Oh yeah, their son got hurt when dealing with the corn in the auger. Eight stiches."  or "That accident on the corner the other day, that was Tom. You know Tom, from the farm at the end of the gravel road. He was speeding and rear ended Ted's daughter, who just started driving."   It's so interesting to me. Josh says they all just look out for each other -- in my little world, we call that gossip.

How can a town of 9900 be so small???

Make that a town of 9901 - I moved here.
That isn't so small, is it? Not in comparison.
However, when your fiance and his family grew up here and are staples in the community - it's SMALL!

This is usually how it goes for me...
"Did you find a place to live?"
"Yes, my fiance and I moved out to the country, right outside of town. He grew up here."
"Oh really, what's his last name?"

Then typical responses are as follows:
"You are marrying JOSH Oaks?! He's so nice!"
"Is his mother's name Dorothy? (I say yes) You are going to be Dirt's (his mom's nickname) daughter in law!"
"The Oaks are such a nice family!"
Today someone said, "Josh Oaks...Ashley's brother?"

YES -- that's the one! It's never ending. Someone always knows Josh or his parents. At least they follow it up with how nice he is, how great of a guy he is, how happy they are for us, etc. He could be the town drunk, I suppose and people's reactions could be "Oh...I know Josh" or something. So count my lucky stars. This has led me to believe that this introvert may not get a lot of privacy in Monmouth, Illinois.

Josh's mom said soon everyone will know me -- and when I go around town they will simply say "Hi Mishelle" instead of saying "That is the future Mrs. Josh Oaks" (that wasn't made up by the way -- happened last week outside of the bank). We will see.  I normally just like to fly under the radar... but I smile and I am attempting to be a good sport. Like I said, he's awesome so I am lucky!!!

Another thing -- everyone is SO happy that we are getting married, which is great. Really great. Appreciate it. Even those of you reading this blog - we feel your support every day! All these people I don't know in town, now know me, hug me, and tell me how much they are looking forward to our wedding. Here's the thing though, and I don't mean to offend anyone when I say this honestly, I am learning (we are learning), weddings are darn expensive...and when I say darn, I mean REALLY expensive. So, please love me and know this comes from my heart when I say that we are glad you are happy for us and thank you for your well wishes...but you may not make the list to look forward to our wedding. This goes for his Monmouth peeps and my friends surrounding the world. This has been hard to swallow but I am learning it is the bain of wedding planning -- so love us anyway... you just might have to experience it in pictures...

Final note of the week...the cows... this is what I learned...and when I say learned, imagine a shocked expression each time followed by a "Are you serious?" comment...

1. Cow Pie Bingo -- no joke. I did not see this first hand (and I think that is okay with me) but apparently it's a big bingo board and people pick numbers, placing bets, and then you wait for the cow to do his business. If he does it on your number, you win. People bet money on this!

2. Calf Tagging -- oh yes, I learned about this one this week when I was with my fiance at the festival planning meeting. This is his event. And when I inquired further -- all my brain processed was glue put on a cow (ouch!) and numbers put on the glue...then children chase the calf around trying to grab at the numbers to win a prize. And apparently the cow is not in pain or hurt during this process -- can barely feel it, Josh says. (How does he know?!). Josh asked if I wanted to put the glue on...

The Barn Crawl

Yes, you read it right...the barn crawl.

Let me define -- it's like a pub crawl but with barns. No joke. My fiance approached this invitation to me carefully -- knowing that I would be perplexed! But alas, we attended because "it was for cancer research" -- of course...that pulled me in hook, line, and sinker.

BIG barns, big farms, and over 400 people. Three barns -- travel from place to place in cattle trailers (they cleaned them out thankfully). I can't make this stuff up folks! It's interesting to bump around in a cattle trailer, packed with people, on the back country roads to get to the next barn, and then dump yourselves out to drink some beer, before heading to the next barn. You return to first barn to end the night.

We actually had a nice time. My only complaint is there is no where to sit. We stood for hours so it is tiring. Great event and very well planned. I have pictures and can post so you get the full effect.

Lots of beer, water, people, food, DJ, a bean bag tournament, and a silent auction. Oh and let me not forget the port-o-potties. (I was panicked as we were using them before we headed to the next barn and it would just be my country luck to be in one on the trailer with no one knowing and be in a moving port-o-potty).

Someone said we could do this type of set up for our wedding. Um...I'll add it to the list to consider, but only if we can get the cattle trailers! Ha!

We were a sponsor so Josh can drum up some business. I met more people than I could ever count but they will all know me because that is what happens around here. We have tshirts now (an orange one for those of you who remember I wanted an orange tshirt), and oh yeah, don't forget the koozies. (How do you even spell koozies?!). We needed two more -- because we already had approximately 38. But according to my fiance, whom I love dearly, "you can never have enough koozies". You can't? I believe you can. But this is coming from the woman who is trying to organize the kitchen and find a place for said 38 koozies.

Anyway, raised a lot of money and fun was had by all. Until next year, see you later Mr. Pig (oh yes, there was a pig in one of the barns...).

First Two Weeks in the Country

The first two weeks have been an adaptation. Lots of cleaning and trying to settle in. What I have experienced and learned about animals has been interesting...

1. Mouse traps -- all over the house -- "just in case" -- but don't worry Mishelle, no one has seen a mouse in years. I couldn't even touch the traps my first week -- last week I moved two on my own. Still creeps me out though.

2. Josh informs me, after I move here, that we have moles in the yard...moles?! What does a mole even look like? Like a ground hog or the Caddy Shack movie???

3. Walk out the front door -- smell the bacon, if you know what I mean -- from down the road...

4. The other night I heard a noise when Josh opened the window...what's that? (dare I ask) -- A raccoon. Awesome. In the tree, needing to be shot. Um...okay... let's not meet Rocky Raccoon.

Other things --
We drive 5 miles to the country from "town" -- a change for me if you "forget" something. We say, "we are going to fly to town" when we need something.

We track people on police scanners so we know what everyone is up to. An accident happened on our road the other day and everyone was checking on who it was. So different for me.

All in all, I am surviving (and we are happy so don't get the wrong idea) -- I personally did not burn our trash yet but watched it happen, and have been using well water (thank you laundry softner!). More adventures to come!!!