Friday, July 30, 2010

"Hank and Shayna" On the Road - Frisco!

Hank's Snake Prank!
Hank scares the ba-jeezus outta Shayna on vacation in Frisco!

Thursday Night Family Dinner - Yummo's!

Garlic ... Jam ... Garden Tomatoes





This Thursday's family dinner was a party on the palette. Beth and Christopher hosted a tasting with an international selection of twelve premium kinds of garlic they had grown and harvested - all the way from Spain to Georgia to Poland! We mingled that with jars full of homemade jam and a delectable plate of tomatoes from the garden. It was Dee-lish Y'all!

The Logness Monster On Golden Pond


“Oh my gawd! You will not believe what is in the pond – get out here! Quick!” Gecko called from the yard.
I cautioned. I have been duped so many times, and yet somehow, even though I know I am about to get pranked, I take the bait every damn time. “What is it?” I called back.
“Just come out and see.”

This type of juvenile and potentially fatal (I’m talking volatile heart rate) behavior happens at least a few times per week. There was the fake rubber rat waiting for me on the seat of the car. There was the explosion sound when I was told to stand by the propane tank. There have been numerous insect incidents and, most recent, there was the ceramic rattlesnake – twice.

I ran out and saw Gecko pointing at the pond. “Look!”
I have to admit, it really did look like a Logness Monster, or something with a very large mouth. I wondered if he didn’t half believe it was real too or if he had actually been hiding behind a tree for the last hour, whittling a log to look like a rare species of pre-historic alligator – just to get a rise out of me. I stood there, squinting my eyes, trying to detect any movement.
Gecko creeped up behind me “RAH!” he yelled in my ear.
A loud scream followed by a volatile heart rate, “You asshole!”

Thursday, July 29, 2010

The Occasional Daily Photo - 7/29 - Summer Storm

Tubing from Cherokee to the North Pole











Our first tubing trip had been rained out. A few weekends ago, Gecko, Spark and I drove east toward the Green River, under an ominous sky and a less than favorable weather report. We were somehow hoping Mother Nature’s forecast for torrential rain didn’t apply to us. I had hoped instead that she would envelope us in a VIP cocoon of sunshine while the rest of North Carolina was left to pack up their picnic blankets and run under a gazebo for cover. I learned that day that Mother Nature does not play favorites.

Last Sunday, in a commendable and honest attempt to dodge death by heatstroke, we decided to try again. This time heading toward Cherokee, North Carolina: Me, Gecko, Puma, and Drew. Appropriately named, Cherokee is the sovereign Indian boundary for the Cherokee tribe, otherwise referred to as a reservation. We were there to meet up with Tyson, a friend of the group, a tribe member, and our tubing cheif.

Along the way, we passed businesses that were expected or seemed fitting: a casino, a diner called the Little Princess, Handcraft and Moccasin shops, mechanical bull rides and a strip mall with store names like Grizzly’s Leather and Sunrise Trading Post.
So when we stumbled upon a small amusement park called Santaland, the connection was anyone’s guess. Santaland? In a Cherokee Indian boundary? Open during the summer? All we kept saying was, “How fabulous!” It was only after I saw a grown man get out of his car in green shorts and a red t-shirt in front of a sign boasting the “famous” Rudicoaster, that my affections between tubing and exploring Santaland in Cherokee Country became equally divided.

When we finally jumped onto our big blue tubes to start the hour-long caravan float downstream, the sun was hot, the water cool and the picture perfect. That is until, no more than five minutes later, we heard the first crack of ear splitting thunder. Followed by a bolt of lightning, which landed within striking distance of our tubes, and a downpour so heavy it became worthy of a name.
As Hurricane Rudicoaster descended upon us, there were tough choices to make: did we get out and stand on the banks, sacrificing life and limb to hungry river snakes? Or did we continue on through electrically charged grand rapids?
I looked back as Gecko was frantically untying the metal thermos attached to his tube, and I began to pray over the rubber soles of my sneakers. I pictured myself sitting on Santa’s lap, next to a crackling fire in his cozy workshop, requesting my survival for Christmas.
Nearing the end - my lips blue, my fingers numb, my camera soaked and my enthusiasm washed ashore over an hour before – the rain suddenly stopped, the sky turned bright blue and the sun broke through the clouds.
“Glad you all made it down safe. Anyone up for some candy cane ice cream and a bull ride?”

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Gecko Moves Us On Up!

Well we're movin' on up (movin' on up)
To the lake side
To a deluxe trailer by the pond.
Movin' on up
To the lake side
We finally got a piece of the possum pie





Like any good husband, Gecko wanted me to have a nice view from the kitchen window while I cooked and washed dishes. On a misty morning inspiration struck and he channeled his best aviator wearing, weed whacking Officer Baker from CHIPS and set out to move us on up to a deluxe trailer by the pond.
Now instead of just hearing mysterious gurbles and burbles, I will actually be able to see all the swamp monsters that most definitely live in that terrifying pool of water.
We celebrated our primo new pond view with some good friends and some ground beef on the BBQ!

"Hank and Shayna" On the Road - Myrtle Beach

Hank dee-flaytes Shayna's boobies on vacation in Myrtle Beach!

The Occasional Daily Photo - 7/24 - Sunset on the Pond

Acupuncture is the New Exorcism

I was high as a kite when I left Spark’s office on Tuesday. “You roofied me with needles!” I accused him on my way out. The next patient, who had been sitting quietly in the waiting room, registered a moderate to high look of panic.
I am new to acupuncture, which is surprising considering my distinguished resume in seeking out and receiving holistic treatments. I had tried it once in New York, over ten years ago, at a student center, and the experience was not one that I had kept framed over my desk. “Ouch! Watch it Buster!” I remember myself saying all too often during that hour.
“Oh sorry, still learning that point.”
Like most people, I maintain a healthy dread of needles. Once, when I was about six, my mom took me to an allergist. He claimed the only way to test for the root cause of all my post toddler rashes was to stick me twelve times with a needle that, quite frankly, looked more like a pole vault.
That trauma wasn’t enough to keep my hands out of the cookie tin at the blood donation center in Manhattan though. On my way home from work I used to pass by Beth Israel Hospital on First Avenue and Sixteenth Street. One day I overheard two men raving about the free homemade chocolate chip cookies they handed out in order to keep your sugar levels up. They made these cookies sound so damn good that I figured siphoning off some extra blood and volunteering for an iron deficiency might just be worth it. And it was. Those cookies really were so damn good that I began religiously donating every three months.
I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for my acupuncture encore, but Spark has a mythical reputation, something akin to Zeus puncturing the mortals with a box of needles. I figured this was a golden winged opportunity for me to change my opinion. Beforehand, I had mistakenly jacked up on copious amounts of caffeinee, so when after he checked my pulse and reported that I had some energy that was itching to escape, I naturally thought it was somehow connected.
“You have a strong energy that needs to be released. I’m going to use ten needles.”
“Probably from the caffeine, huh?”
“Maybe a little, but this is more of a static energy.”
“What does that mean?”
“In Mandarin it translates into…evil energy.”
“Come again? I don’t think I heard you correctly. What kind of energy?”
“Evil Energy.”
I had come to acupuncture to open chakras, jumpstart tired organs and catch a little holistic buzz. I certainly wasn’t there to find out that I had somehow been impregnated with Rosemary’s baby. Spark definitely lived up to his reputation though and performed an exorcism that made me feel downright angelic. And I plan on returning as soon as he offers me some chocolate chip cookies.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Daily Photo - 7/19 - Hoover the Pig

With that snout, we figured Hoover could inhale just about anything.

Andriana and Gecko - Drinkin' Beer and Eatin' Fries

Gecko and I wanted to fit in rightly at the Friday night festival in downtown Asheville. Since we're not the type to roll a big spliff, slap on some Patchouli and spin in circles of seemingly audible ecstasy in front of the live band, we decided to meld into the crowd by drinkin' us some beer and eatin' us some fries instead.
But the fun did not stop there. "What should we do next?" someone from our group asked.
"Let's go meet our friends at the Yacht Club."
Okay, I thought, that's a reasonable response.
Then I tried one, "Hey, let's duck into a nice wine bar in town. You know, since we're here."
I already had myself kicked back on a swanky sofa listening to ambient music, sipping a nice cool glass of Cabernet Sauvignon or Pinot Grigio, the prefect compliment to festival beer and fries.
"Hey! Let's go to the Kava bar!" an unidentified member of our party shouted.
"The Kava bar? What the hell is a Kava bar? You mean Kava like the natural sedative Kava?" I asked.
"Yeah, that Kava. They just opened a whole bar for it. They were accused of spiking drinks with LSD, but they found out it wasn't true, it was just the Kava," answered the unidentified enthusiast.
Walking in though, I wasn't entirely sure about that. I immediately felt like someone had slipped me a tab or two and I hadn't even had a sip of the hippie valium yet. The bar, with it's 1980's Floridian rattan furniture, made me feel as though I was on vacation with the Brady's in Hawaii, after Bobby finds the bad luck tiki and after Greg's terrible surfing accident. Ominously, I wasn't quite sure if a bunch of overweight, shirtless men in grass skirts were waiting behind the fake canoe to throw me into a fire pit or if the mythical Mel and Fran, up from West Palm Beach, were ready to garb me up in a velour jogging suit and rope me into a swinging game of bingo.
If Kava gave off an LSD effect, then the guy working the bar was proof of the connection.
"Heeeelllloooooooo!" he greeted us.
I was gripping the plastic cup of Merlot I smuggled in with dear life, convinced now that it would take nothing less than a naked Denzel Washington gyrating on a stripper's pole to get me to try Kava.
"Heeeellllloooooooooo and welcome to the Kava Bar! What can I get you?"
"Um, nothing thanks. I'm all good."
I did not want to end up like this man behind the bar.
"That is what I used to think, but then I like tried Kava and my whole universe like totally changed. I used to never sleep and had like the worst nightmares, but then Kava totally made me have these totally great dreams. Like this one the other night. Whoa my god, it was sooo cool. I was being chased by like the whole cast of Star War's and then I totally found this like light saber of special powers on the ground. It was sooo cool."
I might have been tempted by the sales pitch if I was an insomniac, someone who enjoyed a vivid imagination or a Star War's fan, but being none of those, I just sank back into the rattan sofa, wine in hand, and patiently waited for Jan, Marsha and Cindy to come and join me.

Friday, July 16, 2010

"Hank and Shayna" On the Road - Airstream Gothic

Comment Away....

I fixed the comments so that you no longer have to be a member to leave one. I have a feeling I know which post y'all wanted to comment on.

Daily Photo - 7/16 - Beulah By Night

The End of Honey

I was never one of those kids sent off to summer camp for weeks at a time. I used to be envious of my classmates who would return to school in the fall armed with a whole new set of inside jokes about staying up late under covers with flashlights, winning the relay race or playing spin the bottle on the wooden floor of the boy’s cabin. Instead of having a nice list of planned activities, I was left to devise my own, which usually ended up as three long months of sleeping past noon, playing video games and learning to skillfully smoke Benson and Hedges out my bedroom window.

It’s Never Too Late!
While staying up late and playing spin the bottle has lost some of its glamour over the past twenty years (I’m lucky if I make it past ten with a good book), an interesting list of camp-like activities has not. Yesterday’s three part Harvest Fest 2010 had me running around Red Wing farm like a teenager high on a six pack of Dr. Pepper and a Snicker’s bar.

Harvest Honey
Last fall, Gecko bought a bunch of bees with the intention of harvesting some homemade honey. Unfortunately, it was a long, hard winter and sadly the bees didn’t survive, but they did have just enough time to sweeten up the hives.
So how is honey harvested?

The Sticky Seven
It’s a sticky job, but someone’s got to do it. Lucky for us, we had a fun group of seven.



The first step is to remove the hive trays from the bee box (yes, that’s my own technical expert terminology).

Then scrape off the waxy coating with a knife so that the honey can be released.
Do not eat the honey trays - although they are sweet and tasty.

Do pretend you are Vanna White with the honey trays.

And definitely spend time admiring the beauty of the hives.



Put the trays into the extractor – exactly what happens inside the metal drum remains a bit of a mystery – all I know is that with enough turns of the handle, sweet, sweet honey will start to pour out.

It's pretty simple and pretty darn cool and I totally recommend you try this at home.

Harvest Mead Wine
If only I had known sooner that I could make wine with honey, water and a few weeks time, I may have saved myself a pretty penny buying Chilean bottles of red from the grocery store. But now that I do know this, the bees better get prepared for double time because the world’s honey supply just may go extinct.

Beth introduced me to Mead wine at our very first family dinner on the farm. Homemade, infused with fruit and herbs and bottled in recycled Pellagrino bottles with labels that read ‘Lavander, Lemon Balm and Sumac’, this honey wine is a pretty dreamy summer drink.

So how is it made? The Sticky Seven get involved.



In a one to four ratio, mix a quart of your homemade honey into a gallon of water.

Strain the honey for maggots while getting pelted with one by Gecko.

Then walk along the path to the river and pick wild berries to mash.

Stain your hands and wave to the camera.

Pour the mashed berries into the honey water.

Funnel it into a jug.

Add some herbs (Lemon Balm).

Then twiddle your thumbs for three weeks until it's ready to drink.

And don't forget...

Don't forget to drink plently of Mead while your making Mead.

Harvest Friends
We started Thursday night family dinners on Red Wing farm last week with seven of us and it was a fabulous success. Well, it seems that the good word got out and about because this week – with seventeen of us – it looks as though the next thing we’re going to have to harvest are more chairs.

Nicole and I cook a chicken we may very well have killed.