Tag Archives: holiday

LIVE

thanksgiving part 2

“grimm family, table of 20”

Chad’s grandma lives in a converted trailer adjacent to his parent’s home and is the site for the Thanksgiving feast.

Every last square foot of her home is filled with card tables and antique folding chairs. The aromas of pies, turkey and the wood-burning stove overpower you when you walk in.

Relatives pile in by the carload. They run the gambit from biomechanical engineer to power plant manager for Three Mile Island to school custodian.

The meal is great… Turkey, ham, stuffing, a vat of homemade noodles, hand thrown rolls and the one token vegetable, corn.

I eat 3 plates before retiring to the porch to chat with Chad’s cousins… I don’t last too long before starch and turkey comma overtakes me and I crawl away to the guest bedroom for a 3 hour nap.

One of the more cosmo-cousins, a 20-something, incredibly articulate java slinger for Starbucksâ„¢ and part-time tech-guru, has a LiveJournal.â„¢

likes to deny he has a blog as well.

LIVE

little humans Pt. 2

the nephew

Chase, Chad’s sister’s son, was born about 4 months after Kevin’s sister’s baby. At only 18 months, you’d swear they’re trying to set the two up. I thought arranged weddings went out hundreds of years ago.

Little Chase is fascinated by my camera which makes it a challenge to get photos of him. I’ve usually got about 10 seconds while he stares right into the lens before he runs over to me and starts pressing all the cool little shiny buttons on the camera.

All babies are the same… crying, pooping, slobbering little need factories… But at this age they’re little totally unique people.

I get a kick out of comparing the personality traits between the toddlers I’ve met during this trip.

Chase and Jessie would make a cute couple, say in about 18 years – but I’d never admit this notion and encourage their parents’ extreme pre-matchmaking.

I’ll never admit I’m blogging about this either.

LIVE

deer prudence

deer steaksoh deer god!

Got back to chez-grimm, cleaned off the cow slobber and relaxed for the afternoon.

A call comes in from Chad’s brother-in-law and I soon hear that he’s en-route over with a deer… a dead one of course. His friend who owed him a favor had nabbed one in West Virginia earlier that day. (it’s deer season there a week earlier than in PA).

Kevin suggests that I stay in the house and wagers that “deer processing” will send me to the bathroom up-chucking my lunch.

I love a dare.

Chad’s dad is ready for the arrival in the garage with hack saw, knives and specially designed deer carcass hanger which is attached to an overhead beam.

I stood there and witnessed the “subject” go from Bambi, to Hell Raiser prop to “meat” like you’d see at the store.

Father Grimm knows his way around a deer’s anatomy like a pro – and disassembles the animal with Hanibal Lecter accuracy and efficiency. (note to self – NEVER PISS OFF CHAD’S DAD).

Surprisingly I didn’t get too squeamish at the sights, but the sounds were unexplainably… well… creepy.

The useable meat was cut from the body, stored in a trash bag and carried off by Chad’s mom. Legs, head, and other unusable parts were put in another bag.

The men returned into the house after cleaning up the garage and some of the fresh meat was prepared – pan fried, served with a meat-drippings sauce.

I tried a piece.. It was good…

I won the dare… And I experienced something I normally wouldn’t.

Thank goodness Kev didn’t dare me not to not-blog about this.

LIVE

lactose tollerant

#2249 says hello

Chad’s mom retired from the Connelsville School District about four years ago. “Not working” for a year drove her PA-mountain folk sensibilities crazy, so she took a part time job at a near by dairy farm taking care of calfs. She feeds them, gives immunizations and assists in birthing the occasional calf.

This morning we got to tour the farm and visit the little mini-moos in her charge. I’ve never been to a dairy farm before. My only exposure to livestock has been limited to the meat counter at the supermarket.

moo

The farm was a series of very large, somewhat weathered buildings connected by gravel drives. The building where they keep the calfs looks like a big greenhouse lined with two rows of square metal pens.

There’s cats…. EVERYWHERE… Apparently they’re good for pest control. At any given time on the tour we’re shadowed by about 6 of them – either curious or looking for a hand out.

The milking room looks like a mix between a set from an Aliens movie and a Jiffy Lube. The lighting is too demure for me to get a good photo but I linger around looking at the complicated matrix of tubes and shiny stainless fixtures. The equipment is loud – and the air feels like New Orleans in July. 

A mischievous glint jumps across mother Grimm’s eyes as she hands us two buckets filled with cartoon-scaled baby bottles…. “Ever feed a calf before?” – she asks, knowing full well that none of us have.

We head to a small circular structure containing six pens. This is where they keep the calfs which have been sold and are awaiting pick-up.

I try to avoid eye contact and busy myself with the camera as Chad and Kevin feed two of the calfs… but my busy-butting is foiled – and before I know it, the camera is snatched from my hands and replaced with TWO bottles.

I can’t help but giggle as these two slobber-machines go at it with such enthusiasm that it’s hard to keep a hold on the bottles. Meanwhile a neighboring calf nudges my side and Chad’s mom laughs from the wide-eyed look on my face.

We finish up our tour and head to a tiny mountain-top diner for lunch where everyone knows everyone – except for the strangers from St. Louis with cow slobber on their jackets.

“Betcha them low-land city-dwellers will write about this in some kind of computer journal!”