elk sausage

In the process of moving from location A to location B, I emptied the freezer. Upon pulling out the meats, I expected to be handling your standard beef and pork. Instead I found packages that, out of the following list, had the contents of the particular pound marked:

*Buffalo
*Moose
*Venison
*Antelope
*Elk

I had elk sausage for breakfast this morning. I don't think I'm in Kansas any more.

in a land far away

....there is Greek homework that should be done. But I'm taking advantage of the unexpected wireless signal that I was more than a little shocked to find in a world of no cell phone service. Somehow I managed to go for 18 years without a cell phone and now that I don't have one, I feel strangely paralyzed.

Back on track. I'm in Montana, living in a small and cozy camping trailer for the next 7 1/2 weeks, listening to the train on the other side of the river, feeling my shoulders ache from the sudden impact of learning the ropes course today. I learned the art of tying sturdy knots, of arranging multiple straps of nylon that I was told were the safety harnesses, juggling miles of rope and leaping off of tall trees. My hair got smashed under the helmet, my hands formed several new calluses from belaying people 60 odd feet up in the air and my heart leaped into my throat several times as I took my turn as the belay guinea pig. I admit it. I am not fond of heights - sturdy rope and belayer on the ground aside, jumping off of trees of abnormal height is, to put it mildly, an adrenalin rush.

Yesterday was horse moving day, shifting from their winter lodgings to the new camp ground. Three trips, twelve horses, and five hours later, darkness had fallen and the herd was exploring its new stomping grounds. My saddle emerged from the darkness of its shipping bag and took its rightful place among the rest of the camp tack. We hit the sack around midnight, exhausted from the day's work. Weed whacking, mowing, moving horses, moving gear, watching three extremely active children ages 2 to 7, admiring the not so lovely leg of horse the dog had drug home (complete with knee, fetlock, hoof, enough tendon to hold it all together and some hair....).

Tomorrow the plan is to set up the arena. And the plan tonight is to at least do some Greek.

Further bulletins as events warrant. Or as time warrants.

every day grow older...

...and learn something new ~ Solon

Since I'll be in Montana over my actual birthday, we celebrated yesterday. And since Mom was a professional cake decorator, I decided that it was high time I learned how to decorate a cake, and decorate it well.

Did you know that frosting is made of nothing but sugar, grease and a touch of flavoring (almond, in this case)? Neither did I - but now I know why the stuff makes me queasy.

This was the fun part - Mom had me practice on the tabletop, then on the cake. It turned out fairly well, I thought.

The finished product. The actual cake was fairly small, with the result that we almost ran out of room for the candles. The 20th one is in the corner by the : ).

Happy birthday to me.

It was a pretty memorable day, if I do say so myself.

niiiiiice

Turns out the location of Lone Ram has changed. We still won't directly have electricity to my knowledge, but we are now across the highway from our base camp. Happiness! This summer should be a good one.

i'm not crazy, i'm just a little insane

When people ask me what I did this summer, the answer will be something akin to "I spent two months out in the mountains of Montana without electricity or running water." And to prepare for the adventure, I've been breaking in my heavy duty paddock boots, learning the feel of a Leatherman, figuring out ways to make my hair look halfway decent without the usage of hairdryers/flat irons (ok, I'm a bit vain, I admit it), and wondering if I'm really ready for this.

Unless something drastic happens between now and June 2, I'll be a counselor/wrangler/woman of all work at Lone Ram Ranch, a Christian horse camp. The owners are great people with some great horses, and I am looking forward to working with them, but no there is electricity. *deep breath* I keep telling myself that back in the good ol' days no one had electricity and it didn't phase them in the least. But e-mail only on the weekends?

Be still my beating heart.

how do you tell a cucumber?

Or a broccoli, or an orange or the differences in pricing as revealed in units, for that matter.

This post could be called a number of different things, for instance:

* Why I don't ever, ever want to live in the South
* Readjusting to reality
* Where is spring and what did you do with it?

But as for the cucumber - I admit it. I really don't know my way around Winco, or any supermarket for that matter. Of three daughters and two sons I hail as the youngest daughter and so never bothered learning the skills needed for survival in an urban jungle. I can cook. If you give me all the ingredients and have a comprehensive insurance policy. So my long-suffering mother is attempting to teach me to tread through the paths of Winco.

"See this broccoli?" I love broccoli, so I'm all ears. "It's priced by the pound. You don't want a lot of stem; choose the shorter of the two." She holds up two heads of broccoli and I notice that, yes, one has a longer stem - inedible weight. I'm intrigued. I learn how to determine the juiciness of an orange, to judge the freshness of a red pepper (another favorite) and discover why it's a waste of money to buy pre-made salads. "So how do you tell a cucumber?" Apparently by checking that it is not to thick, not too thin, not gouged at all, not wrinkled or smushy. I have a long way to go.

As afore hinted at, I'm at home. When I left Moscow, Spring was just beginning to appear. The snow was fighting a losing battle, but it was still fighting. Beautiful one day, snowing the next, an altogether delightful mix of weatherish confusion. I forgot I hail from the desert. In the Northwest, yes. But a desert, none the less. Desert = Dry. Desert = Arid. (remember I just finished a year of much snow and coldness.) Desert certainly does not equal 60% humidity. But that is what I came home to. Heat is not my thing. Adjusting to arid heat is one thing. Adjusting to humid head is a whole new thing. And when you go from winter to the middle of summer with barely two days of spring to ease the shock....

Let's just say that today while working with the horses I was seeing more black than horse. I've learned from experience that when the world dissapears completely, hit the ground. Fast. And hope you don't have a horse staring at you wondering what on earth you are doing down there.

are you sure?

Because I don't think so.

I'm officially an NSA junior now. I can say that 15 times but it still doesn't sound quite right. Junior year. I went to through sophomore year so fast I feel like I need to do it again so that I can understand what I learned. *whoosh* and it was gone.

Five totally amazing teachers for a *cough* rather hellish year. My journal entries say the same thing over and over. "I'm tired. But [theology, history, math, greek, voice] was amazing."

Dr. Leithart
Mr. Schlect
Dr. Stokes
Mr. Schwandt
Bray Wilkins

There was the day I fell asleep in Theology recitation, right across from Dr. Leithart. - The day I was so sick I had to skip a full day of classes, two quizzes and Disputatio. - The day at the Wilkins when I was so tired my knees gave out from under me (*hint* it helps if you can mask this by playing with the conveniently placed child). - The day I got my first M ever in Greek. - The day I asked Dr. Stokes if I should drop math.

Then there was the day I got two SCLs and a CL on the same day. - The day Mr. Schlect told me that he was putting my paper research in his files. - The day I pulled my M to a CL in Greek. - The day Bray's jaw hit the floor twice in one lesson. - The day that Dr. Leithart wrote "outstanding" on my presentation feedback. - The day that I discovered that I was having fun crunching numbers for math.

It was a good year.