Ellis is talking!

...granted it's in his own special language, but he's quite the little jabber monkey these days. We have long conversations that go something like this: Ellis: rahdgia jabba gook. Charis: abbba grabba shceeeek. Ellis: aaaahhhhhriagha booook. Charis: grrrreeeighchabillago. And on and on.

Hunting season started on Saturday, and we're still trying to adjust to being some of the only non-hunters in the area. Having to explain to people why our husbands really aren't much interested in taking down a buck in our woods has been a confusing effort. People are nice about it, but I don't think they really get the term "intellectual theologian and educator types." Frankly, the multitudes in blaze orange are creeping me out a bit. We live in the middle of nowhere all year round except for 10 days out of the year, when we live in an action-packed red hot deer killing zone. CRAZY! A couple of guys in a giant truck with wheels taller than me came down the driveway to ask us if they could shoot from our hay field. They seemed a tad sketchy, so Jay and Chris told them (nicely) to hit the road (you want to be kind of careful around rednecks with high-powered rifles). Did you know that people with porcelain deer in their yards (which mystify me, by the way - real ones are in our yard all the time - don't know why we'd need to get fakes) DRESS THEM IN ORANGE VESTS to keep the hunters from just going all apeshit and shooting at them? Now really. Couldn't you tell the difference? I don't mean to be so down on it. I have to admit though that I haven't really progressed at all in my mixed feelings about hunting. I go back and forth constantly.

I keep forgetting to talk about how much fun it is to see my horses from my bed. Every morning at the same time, they come to the gate near the silo and stare at my
bedroom window because they know breakfast is coming. It's hilarious. Sometimes I mess with their heads and call to them. The horses are getting a nice break for the next week, as I'd prefer not to be picked off out of the saddle by some goggle-eyed hunter.

The workroom/Jay's practice room are nearly finished, as they're now drywalling in there. It's toasty warm once the woodstove gets stoked!

As soon as I finish this, I'm going to get Jay from work and we'll do our shopping for Thanksgiving. Quite a list this year! Last year my family decided that what Thanksgiving really needed was a goofy mascot to improve the commercialism of the holiday, so we invented the Benevolent Pilgrim, who will fill your cornocopia with squash if you're good, or fill your blanket with smallpox/buckle shoe with dog doo if you're bad.

So beware the Benevolent Pilgrim and have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Love and spray-painted gold gourds to all,

Charis