Ooooh that smell....

You know the Lynyrd Skynyrd song, "That Smell"? Well, right now, I feel a huge pull toward that song. It's swimming in my head at the moment. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking positively. That's why I like you. You're not a sarcastic curmudgeon like myself. But no, this is not a "positive" smell. No baked cookies or puppy breath. Not at all.

Let me start off with a list, a picture list if you will, since it's prettier to look at. Then I'll get to my point. As I was smelling "the smell" tonight, I went over this list with Aaron. I asked him, "Honey, I'm a good girlfriend, right? I put up with a lot of things other girls wouldn't, right?" "Why would you do this to me?" And the list begins:



See, there was this bear head from a black bear. It ended up in the house. Of course everyone knows that in order to get the flesh off of a black bear skull you have to boil it my canning/crab pot. Then you leave for a couple of hours and your girlfriend is in the house, smelling cooked bear meat until you come home, late. And the whole house reeks of it. Did I mention how much it smelled? But the girlfriend definitely shouldn't turn the stove off since it might not be finished and if it isn't, it may have to be done again. Please, no.


There is currently a dead (by natural causes I believe) cardinal in my freezer, in a plastic bag. What kind of woman has a dead cardinal in her freezer? The kind whose boyfriend wants to commemorate the bird's life by stuffing it. There are also other random plastic bags in my freezer as well. They are shaped like animal heads. I would advise you not to look in them.


After the bear head had been partially worked on, meaning that it was worked to the bone, the brains had to be taken out. Of course this happened to take place in our living room. I was watching a movie with a friend and I got up to get a glass of wine. Lo and behold, there are bear brains stuck to the bottoms of my bare feet. lovely.


One of the skulls. I have to say they do turn out well. But they are all over the house. Maybe next we can start collecting ears or fingers, just for a little diversity?


Ahh..soap. See, this looks harmless. But lets say you want to make natural soap...with natural boar fat. You boil it down, for hours, so that the air in the house is literally heavy with it. Then you can't find the lye you need to finish it off. Ah...let's just set it outside....for about 2 weeks...in your girlfriends beloved canning/crab pot. Until one day, your girlfriend says that maybe, until you find some lye, you should throw this batch out. You agree. You throw it away on the side of the tree next door, for the raccoons to eat. Then you let your dogs out to use the bathroom. The next day, your girlfriend comes home and discovers boar-fat-dog-vomit all over the house. Seriously. Not a room was spared. And you could actually tell where one of the girls had thrown up and the other had eaten the throw up and then thrown up herself. Good times.

And finally, tonight's piece de resistance!



That's right folks: skunk. Some poor skunk got hit by a car, ended up in my car, then in my yard; the lovely smell of skunk wafting through my house, on Aaron's clothes, skin, etc. I cannot get it out of my nose. Aaron has been banned from the house until he washes the clothes he's wearing and himself. Twice.

I remind myself sometimes that I moved to Texas of my own free will.

Here is me teasing Bob

But first I have to mention that I had a great day today from about 3:30pm to 6:00pm, at my friend Bob's house. If you ever need to get away and go somewhere where coolness just rubs off on you, it's Bob's house. He's so damn chilled out and mellow that's its contagious. I needed that today and I was also planning to visit Bob anyway so that I could work on the garden with him. Today we planted onions, English peas, spinach, mustard greens, turnip greens and strawberries! The strawberries will be around for a while and the others, they will start to die off right in time for tobacco and tomato and squash and all the other stuff to start growing. We also discussed getting a beehive so that the bees would help with the garden- and give us free honey...and also to help save the world, one little pollinating bee at a time. Bob used to have bees when he was little so he knows some stuff about them and he's going to look into getting a hive which is awesome. Otherwise, here is me teasing Bob:



Bob, you know you want it. Imagine how much the cats would love their very own chicken coup. And those tiny little chicken eggs you love...they could be yours...

The rain this week will be great for the garden. Can't wait. Next week I will take pictures so that I can document it this year. Fun Fun Fun.

By the way, if you do ever need to get away and clear your head, hanging out with Bob is awesome, but I've got dibs and us Yankees are hard as nails...you wouldn't want to mess with me in a dark alley, comprende?

Let me apologize first

It's important to apologize first to anyone who might be offended. Had it been a different time in my life, I would be offended myself. Not so much any more. I am aware at least that other people may be. So, I'm sorry, try to keep an open mind, and let me explain before you shun me forever.

Aaron works as a tanner at a tannery. Being a girl raised in the suburbs right outside of Baltimore city and then moving to Philly, I had no idea what this meant. Tanner? what is that?? So, here is what happens: Rich or not so rich person kills an animal, any animal, and brings it in to where Aaron works. Rich person probably went to a reserve of some sort where the animals are kept in pens and then released to be shot. Rich person pays for this and wants it as a trophy. Sometimes Rich person actually makes use of the meat, sometimes not. These "trophy" animals range from deer to the exotic. Aaron has tanned zebra's, lions, animals shipped here from Africa, India, etc. Now let's talk about Not so Rich guy. Primarily he kills an animal that is not exotic and uses the meat. He does not do this on a reserve, he does it in the wild. I am guessing though that the animal is probably used as a trophy as well, on display in his living room.

Aaron gets the hide and works it so that it can be used for taxidermy (to make a stuffed replica of the animal). Without working the hide, it will essentially rot. It needs to be preserved in a certain way. Plus the hair needs to be cleaned and brushed and all that jazz. Then, back to the person, or back to taxidermist.

He does this all day. I know what you're thinking. How? How could he do this? I know. It seems horrible. And if you think that, regardless of what I may say, it may always seem horrible to you. I won't even defend it because people tend to have such strong views about the whole thing. But, I'll state my opinion:

My opinion is that it has made Aaron a more reverent, thoughtful man. He respects these animals. He gets upset when he gets an animal hide that has been taken care of poorly, not because it may make his work harder, but because it shows that the person who gave him the hide does not respect the animal enough to take care of it better. He gets upset at the people who kill animals strictly for sport and are wasteful when the animal could feed a family. I agree with him on all of these points. I personally find nothing wrong with going hunting, killing an animal, eating it and using it's other remains for the betterment of your family or friends. Before we all became "civilized" and started keeping animals penned up just to go to the slaughterhouse, this is how it was done.

So, while I was away this past Thanksgiving, Aaron was riding his bike to the store. On his way, he found a beaver on the side of the road who had been hit by a car. It was dead. He did not leave it to be picked up by roadside clean-up and thrown in the trash, he instead picked it up and brought it home. He skinned it, could not use the meat as it was not certain on how long the beaver had been dead, but saved the skin. He tanned it at work. We are going to make a hats out of the beaver skin. I didn't see the whole beaver of course, but the pelt is beautiful. There are coppers and other colors in the hair that I wouldn't have thought this creature had. I hope the beaver had a fruitful life. If someone could use some part of me, after I die, I would hope that they would. That's why I'm an organ donor. I realize this is not exactly the same, since the beaver didn't actually say, "Yes Jennifer, I want some of myself to live on, make a hat out of me," but nothing is ever perfect. Anyway, I have reverence for the animal as well as Aaron. The following pictures may not seem so though. We also don't take ourselves or anything else too seriously.

Because honestly...We had to see what a dog mixed with a beaver would look like. Wouldn't you?





So, if you get offended by pelts or skulls (which he cleans at the house also) Sorry. But, this is part of my life, so take it or leave it, it's me. I think it is pretty neat. If I could live on a ranch, grow things, have animals, make cheese and wine and wear a hat made from a beaver instead of bought at Sears or Old Navy, I'd be a happy camper. And I think it's great that it takes all different kinds. The world is an amazing place.

I like bruises, scars and bloody stuff

Let me preface this by saying this is all Elizabeth's fault. Before I moved to Floriduh back in 2004 I could not watch a scary movie on my own. I didn't even really like to watch them with other people. All that blood and gore really wasn't attractive to me. I was scared to walk through my house without all the lights on...oh wait, well, that still scares the shit out of me(seriously, there could be a psychopath behind my bathroom door, you never know).

But then I became friends with Elizabeth. She of course, loves that stuff. I would go over to her house for scary movie night and watch extremely gorey, extremely bad horror flicks. Basically we would make fun of them the whole time. Being able to use my sarcasm to battle all the scary moments got me used to the gore. It was pretty fun.

Then I would dog sit for her while she was away on vacation. Sometimes and for hours, I would peruse through her encyclopedia type book of serial killers. Totally mind blowing stuff that people do to each other. Definitely not good, but very interesting.

Anyway, I like gore now. I like scars. I like huge bruises. They're like tattoos. They all have character. They have a story. They're also more natural. They are specific to a person. And Aaron got a good one this week. I haven't seen a dark one like this in a while and I had to take a picture.





There is s story that goes with this of course, but not an entirely happy one. I'll sum it up in a couple of words: Alcohol,Confrontation, Drumstick to the chest, All forgiven and better now. Nuff said. But isn't that a kick ass bruise? I so want one. It's like a battle wound. Cool.