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!