The Pirate House

A mile down the country road that our neighborhood sits off of, there is a house that we refer to as "The Pirate House."  We call it this because they fly the Jolly Roger flag on the tall flag pole in their front yard.

Let me just start by saying that this house is not exactly what I'd call the lap of luxury.  As a matter of fact, I'd call it a crap hole.  It sits on a very large lot, which is also a crap hole.  I seriously have the urge to sneak over there with the dumpster in the middle of the night, just to get rid of the garbage.

The fun part of The Pirate House, though, is the literal menagerie of animals that live there.  I kid you not when I say it changes on a daily basis!  I wish that the house didn't sit on a dangerous S curve in the road, because I want more than a quick glance into the backyard each time I pass by.

When we first moved here 2 1/2 years ago, there were the goats.  One brown and one white.  For funsies, we like to name the animals.  I'm sure by we, you'd assume me and my children, but you'd be wrong here.  J, my sister Laura and I are the masterminds behind the names.  We call the goats Rhonda and Wyatt.  We loved to see them standing on top of whatever crap was laying around the yard.

Then Junior arrived.  Junior is a mini horse.  Next came Dale, a pot-bellied pig.

When winter came, the we never saw the animals anymore.  Laura joked that they were probably in the house for the season.  Absurd, right??  Except come Spring, they were all back.

Junior, by some sort of luck, moved to the cow pasture at a neighboring farm.  I guess he didn't fit inside the house.  He's living the good life in the green fields now, with all of his cow friends.  Every once in awhile, I see him standing at the fence right up at the road, seemingly having a lovely conversation with a horse standing at his fence at the horse farm on the other side of the street.

The chickens arrived that Spring.  I have no idea how many.  They escape the fence frequently.  A few have met untimely deaths from passing vehicles.

Another winter passed.  The animals disappeared, then returned come Spring.

We can't keep up with the names of all of our animal neighbors anymore.  A couple of months ago, my mom told me that she saw a big pink pig at The Pirate House.  Weeks went by and I never saw such a pig.  But with all the crap laying around that yard, it's easy to miss things.  Yes, even giant pigs.  I finally saw the giant pink pig we named Gert walking around with Dale.  Only since then, I discovered that it wasn't Dale, but another big black pig.  As yet unnamed.

The kicker came last week, guys.  As I was coming around that S curve, glancing as I always do into the crap hole, I couldn't believe my eyes, and I seriously couldn't wait to get home to share the news.

"J!  You're NEVER going to believe what I saw at The Pirate House today.  They got a YAK.  I don't think I'm going crazy.  I don't know what else that thing could be.  I swear, it's a YAK!"

A few days later, I drove by again, and realized that they hadn't gotten a yak.  They'd gotten TWO yaks!

(I have since done some googling, and I realize that yaks aren't exactly domesticated animals.  I believe they are actually highland cattle.  But I'm going to keep calling them yaks and come up with some good yak names for them.  Laura- put your thinking cap on.)

Please believe me when I say that although it is a large lot of land I'm talking about, it is in no way a farm.  It's a big ass yard, littered with God only knows what.  Garbage, toys, broken down household appliances, old furniture, and what must certainly be a huge amount of feces.  Guys, I don't know why the pirates down the street need all these animals, but they are an endless source of amusement for me. 

My guess is that they don't want to cut their grass or clean up after themselves.  The yaks will probably take care of the lawn maintenance, and the goats and pigs will probably eat all kinds of junk from the yard.  The chickens just might be dinner.

Yo ho ho, mateys.

Ah, the South

Teaching phonics to children who speak with a southern accent is a real trick.  For example, there is absolutely no difference in pronunciation between 'pin' and 'pen' here.  They are one and the same to many of my students.  Using 'pen' as a spelling word was a favorite mean teacher trick of mine when I taught first grade.  At least 80% of students would spell it p-i-n.  That's what they say, that's what they hear, that's what they write.

Today, my kindergarten groups are reading a book about looking outside to see the weather.  One sentence reads "I can see the hail."

At the first read through, one student immediately YELLED out "THAT'S A BAD WORD!  YOU SAID A BAD WORD!" 

And try as I might, I absolutely could not convince this child that hail was not, in fact, a bad word.  Because to a southern child, hail is the place you go if you don't make it into heaven.

We have to continue reading this book for the rest of the week.  Oh, hail.

Things I Heart: The Southern Disposition

Have I mentioned lately how much I love living in the south?

Yesterday, at the grocery store, the nugget was LOUD.  He was riding in the cart, chewing on a teething toy, and yelling.  Happily yelling, but yelling nonetheless.  Loud and constant.

This bothered no one.  People were smiling at my boy and talking back to him as we passed them in the aisles.

Distracted by the yelling, I almost ran into one older man with my cart at one point.  I apologized, to which he responded "Don't you worry!  You two are having fun!"  And he meant it.

Then, in the parking lot, I had just finished loading my bags into the car, and was hauling my 25-pounder out of the cart.  Another older gentleman was walking past, and noticed that I had my hands full of baby.  He asked if I was through with my cart, and when I said that I was, he returned it to the corral for me.

I love it when people are kind to one another.  It just makes my day.  I heart southern manners.

Hurricane's A Comin'

Since moving to North Carolina, I have gotten to experience a storm or two.  It used to be that when a storm was brewing, I ran to the store for this:

Now, I'm concerned with having this:

For these:

Ah, how times have changed.

In all seriousness, Irene is on her way.  We are far enough inland that we only expect some strong winds and heavy rains (wait...isn't that what a hurricane is?), but folks on our coast are looking at something a little more serious.

We're hunkering down, after a quick trip to the grocery store this morning.  And lest you all worry that I am no longer the (almost) ginger you know and love...beer is still on my shopping list.  ;)

Bird Odditites of the South

Before you all begin reading, I want to record to reflect that today, I am not posting about baby or fashion!  It's a bit of a miracle.  But yes, I am posting about birds.

Doesn't get much more random than that, folks.

This morning on my way into work, I saw a gaggle flock school fleet covey of quail.  In someone's front yard.  Not fenced in, not kept as pets.  Just birds, hangin' out.  (They run like chickens, by the way...with the whole head bob thing.  Now you know.)  I do believe that this is the first time I've ever seen quail!  It's certainly the first time I've seen them in a group, gallivanting around a random residence.

I just found this to be such a random occurrence.  I don't recall seeing things like this in Ohio!  (But then again, I always lived in Ohio Suburbia...here, my commute into work is a little more country, and a little less rock n' roll.)  I DO, however, recall several other weird bird sightings I've had since moving to the good ole' south.  Here are a few of my favorites.

The Wild Turkey

Now this guy I've seen on multiple occasions.  I've seen him in yards, I've seen him in fields, and I've even seen him on the side of the highway.  I'm always amazed at his size...he's a HUGE bird!  And I'm always amazed that there's a turkey, just standing there on the side of the road.  A TURKEY.  Maybe I'm easily amused.  So be it.

The White Peacock

This one has very little to do with the south, and much more to do with some family's oddness.  (Come to think of it, maybe the two go hand in hand?)  There is a blue house that I passed every morning on my way to my last job.  The owners of this home kept several white peacocks, I guess as pets?  (I find this hard to believe, as I happen to know from personal experience that peacocks are not very nice, and they will definitely bite.)  Some mornings as I drove past, there they would be, perched in a line along the rails of the front porch.  Once I saw them lined up on top of the roof.  Other times, they would just be milling about.  Beautiful birds?  Yes.  Warm and cuddly pets?  Certainly not.

And, my VERY favorite...

The Yard Chicken

Here in the south, many, many families have what I like to call yard chickens.  Northern folks, don't get confused.  Yard chickens are not found merely on farms.  They can be found in any residential yard that is not part of an HOA.  (Or maybe the HOAs here allow for yard chickens?)  I'm not exactly sure of the purpose of the yard chicken.  Maybe folks keep them for their eggs?  Maybe they butcher and eat them?  Maybe they are just kept as pets?  Whatever their reason for being, I just LOVE to see the yard chickens.  If ever we are in the car and drive past a yard where chickens are running amok, I must yell out "YARD CHICKENS!" as I press my face against the glass and point.  I'm certain that J is no longer amused.

I tried to talk my friend Kim into getting herself a couple, as she has a HUGE backyard and no other pets.  I wanted to name them Dolce and Gabbana.  Sadly, she refused.  I'd get a couple myself if I didn't think my dogs would eat them (or that J would kill me).

So there you have it.  My most memorable bird-related moments.

I warned you- it doesn't get much more random than this, folks. 

Snow Day!

 

Yes, friends, this is what a snow day looks like in North Carolina.  Yep, this is all it takes.  For reals.  Crazy southerners!