All I really want for Thanksgiving Day is to go to a movie. That's it. Happy place. I really want to see "2012" or maybe "The Blind Side." But, no-o-o-o-o ...... the theaters in Mt. Airy and Galax have reduced/nonexistent showings that day. What are people supposed to do? Listen to each other masticate and belch for the whole dreary day? Argh!!!!

I especially wanted to have Thanksgiving Dinner at Sonic. Really. I love that place. I was looking forward to a decadent, happy day, good flick and Sonic munchables. Until I checked schedules.

I think I have a back-up plan. I might just go loiter in WalMart for a while, hunt for a few hard-to-find items. I never go in there. It could be just different enough to help me forget about the movie. I will try again next week for that.

Meanwhile, Thanksgiving is a very special day for Rachel and Joe (nudge, wink). Hey, you guys, pop something in the microwave and... have a nice day!

I'm going to cheer myself up now with a wonderful, crunchy, fresh hash brown. Take one potato, just dug out of the garden, grate right over a pan of hot oil, brown, turn, brown, drain, devour. Mmmmmm, tater heaven. Now there's one of the many things I am thankful for. Thanks!

It's that chilly time of year again when simmering a big pot of veggie/deer soup makes the house cozy and life all better. I gave some thought to where all the bits in there came from and who grew it.  Abby, the garlic. Sue, the squash. Laura, the deer. Me, the green beans, parsley, tomatoes, bell peppers, jerusalem artichoke. The store-bought additions came from locally owned stores with women in the owning families or running the stores. I look in the pot and think of all the ladies that made it possible.

I hardly use any processed food anymore. It can be very time-consuming to produce three squares a day from scratch. That's why I like to make a large dish that still tastes good many meals later.

I caught the end of the Ellen Degeneris show today and learned something new. The swine flu actually originated on a hog farm in North Carolina. Yup, home grown in factory meat.I hope all you youngsters are getting your vaccinations. Us over 49-ers are supposed to be less at risk because of exposure to something similar in the 50's.

A little trip to Christiansburg today. A long trek with fellow realtor in tow for an historic vote. No, not a mixed race president, just the whole board of directors of our association so we can take back control and reverse the damaging decisions made this year -- by the people we pay to serve us. If only the nation could function this way.

I hadn't been to Chrisiansburg since I was last there with Rachel. Talk about a flood of good memories. Every corner, every business, we'd been there over the years. Hey, over there is the driving school where she did her road work. There's the bookstore, the pet store, the Target, on and on. I even get sentimental over the Kmart.

Reporting live, from uptown Meadows of Dan, Virginia. Our itsy little community on the Blue Ridge Parkway is overrun with people and sporting the eye-popping phenomenon of traffic jams. October weekends in general are buzzing with leaf peepers and folks coming for special events and demos at Mabry Mill. But, two Sundays are really insane.... the dreaded Pancake Days. This is one. All-you-can-eat pancakes and sausage at the Ruritan draws huge crowds. I'm riding it out at the real estate office, minding the visitor center next door, giving directions, and doling out bathroom keys. After all these years, the traffic and crowds still amaze me.

News for local eaters: I learned that Willis Market butchers all local beef and pork and makes sausage right there. Which means... the associated MOD Market has the same. I'm thinking, too, that when I haul this year's deer to Willis for butchering, I should have some made into sausage, if they add local pork to the mix. Mmmmmmmm..........

Were you ever driving down a road and, cresting a hill, seen a sight that made you laugh out loud? I was heading home from a really great weekend seeing Rachel and Joe, enjoying their terrific wedding/house-warming/reception. I was really short on sleep, so the drive was a gruesome trial. Then the sun came out as I got to Winston-Salem and turned north onto 52, pointed for home, an hour to go. I crested a hill and there loomed Pilot Mountain, a gorgeous view. But, the view is not why I laughed. If I were actually on top of it, I could see home. There are a lot of places on my mountain, near my home, with a great view of Pilot Mountain in the distance. Some of the tiredness fell away as I crossed into my territory. I even stopped in Mt. Airy for fuel and coffee.

And, who should be waiting at the door? Why, a very wiggly and happy Kitty. She apparently survived my absence and being tended by someone besides Rachel or me, for the first time in her life. She forgot all about her supper and just wanted to run and play with me. Wow, after a great trip, nothing like a great homecoming.

A commercial swims into view on the small screen. It's all pink, mmmmm Carefree Chewing Gum. I was only half listening to the Carefree gum commercial. Something about protection. Huh? Protection from what? Ewwwww, it's all about Carefree feminine pads. It made my mouth feel funny. pfew, pfew.... Ever had your brain jump the track?

I woke up this morning with a seriously itchy boob. Yikes, there's a tick embedded under there. Can't get at it, can only see it in the mirror.... in an awkward position. Fortunately, I had an appointment in a few hours to look into a possible bladder infection. Great! My Nurse Practitioner dug the critter out. Not like I could ask a friend to do it.

Having straightened myself out for the day, I dashed home later to retrieve some mailing supplies needed to try to locate a missing and possibly dead client. And lo, Kitty had peed on the floor. Kitty, the dog that never pees in the house. I let her out and she did it some more, for about half an hour it seemed. Is something wrong with her? Are we all falling apart here? Who's going to look for me if I'm missing or dead? My boob still itches. Oh yeah, no infection, just a little cystitis. Responds very well to guzzling lots of water and cranberry juice.

Best way to fix up a weird day? Buy a pound package of Kuntzler thick sliced bacon, aka BIG BACON, pop some in the oven then crunch away between bites of warm, nicely texture-contrasted mac and cheese and sips of, you guessed it, cranberry juice. All better now.

Business is very, very, very slow, and I am chronically broke. S'OK. I'm making a pot of tomato sauce. Good reason for growing tomatoes. I so miss having apples on my trees that I bought a bag of Woolwine apples from Pete's produce stand so I could make the traditional humongous apple crisp. I get nostalgic in the fall. Memories of many apple crisps past. Rachel would make the topping while I peeled and chopped. I also hauled out her dehydrator and loaded it with apple slices. I also bought a couple of Pete's homegrown cabbages. Don't know why but cabbage helps me not have leg cramps. So, very cheering to peel, chop, cook, process. Hey, it's fall. Tomorrow, I'm "culling" a hen. Hey, Joe, stop by will ya? I hope the paint fumes aren't messing you two up. Makes me grateful to have only the aroma of apple crisp to deal with. Hang in, y'all.

My latest agricultural experiment? Making leather britches. You don't wear 'em, you eat 'em. It's brine soaked green beans, strung up and hung to dry. Old mountain technique. I wanted to dry apples this fall, but the whole mountain top was devoid of bees. No apples for anyone. And yet, our local tourist-trapista (you know who I mean) has boxes of apples in front of her place with little cards that say they are local. Right. From the local produce wholesaler.

Enough said.

Wow, it's been like an echo chamber in here. Everyone busy. Me, too. Staying too busy and not seeing much return for it.

Did you know that Memory Lane is on the wrong side of the tracks? Think how many of one's fondest memories are not from the winery but from someplace like Payless Shoes. I desperately needed an ink cartridge -- if I expected to use my printer ever again. That always means going to Mt. Airy and trudging through Staples and the same old other practical places while I'm at it.

Well, this time I rebelled. I decided to see if WalMart had the ink, with a stop at Dollar Tree on the way. Both places bring back sweet memories of gleefully bargain-hunting with Rachel. Among other fab finds in Dollar Tree, I found Armour lunchables in the cooler for 25 cents each. I savored my 25 cent lunch in the WalMart parking lot. Wally World did have the ink, barely, as well as the Pam cooking spray I needed for the chickens' legs. That's right. It's a better treatment for leg scale mites than WD40.

Ah, homeward bound with leaf lettuce, decent OJ, and mushrooms. Oh yeah, early studies indicate that mushrooms may well boost the immune system.

So, now I sneak up on the hens on their roost at night and spray Pam on their legs. If they would just hold still, I could qietly rub on Vasaline. But no, they've reduced me to stealth.

The Perseid Meteor Shower is back!  Best seen between midnight and 5 AM, hopefully away from city lights. I seem to have problems already getting adequate sleep, so I doubt I check it out.

What year was it that Rachel and I set out at 2 AM to park at a Blue Ridge Parkway overlook and take in the show? It was a particularly good year. There were people all along the Parkway and at the overlooks, just quietly gazing up into the night sky. A Great Horned Owl hooted in the woods. The show was spectacular. One of my fondest memories. But, hey, we all need sleep.

When I came home this evening, I snacked on leftover fried eggplant and grape tomatoes -- both grown within a few miles of me and purchased at Sue's great little farm market. Later I fried some sliced new potatoes -- given to me by a client and grown 12 miles away. I had them with a sliced peach, grown 15 miles away and bought at a community festival. Wow! That's pretty low mileage dining. I pay a lot of attention to the miles on my food since reading the book highly recommended by Rachel: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

Breakfast included my own eggs, apples, and blackberries. I guess I could have dug a few potatoes to make home fries, but I went with corn cakes that I already had, made in large batches and frozen to use excess egg production.

The US birthrate dropped by 2 percent in 2008. Yay! No doubt due to the economy. I was a bit miffed when anchor Lester Holt pointed out that this will have long-term negative impact on economic growth and things like school funding. Say, what? Do we want to keep promoting overpopulation so we don't have to change for the better?

Case in point: On an earlier newscast, I learned that The Philippines are in dire straits. They used to be a rice exporting nation, now they must import. And that's bad because, hey, the population doubled in the last 30 years. Do we see the connection yet? The piece went on to point out that rice farmers can make out very well by selling their land to developers so they can keep building for the growing population. An island microcosm of the world.

I love watching the news, except that sometimes it rattles my issues with the total failure of common sense.

There is no way to trump a marriage. But, here's a second best..... The (old) Dalai Mama achieved single-handedly what looked impossible. I moved earth and hauled dirt until the mini mountain in the yard was sculpted into properly laying lawn. Yes!!! I confess that on the day of my lovely daughter's marriage, I was groveling in dirt. But, I think she will get my other bit of happiness of the day. She had to mow around the mess herself, for years. I finished it off after work.

I woke up to rain. Damn. A day off. The berries are peaking. I need more. When they are gone, no more awesome jelly. I paced about feeling bitchy about it then thought, "Hey, farmers don't stay in and whine. People go out and do what needs to be done in any weather." So I donned the fuschia barn boots and yellow slicker and off we went into the woods, treking to the fields.

It drizzled. It poured. Kitty and I ended up pretty soggy. But, I got enough. They were indeed at a peak. It was actually easier than on a hot, sunny day. The rain gear shrugged off the thorns that grab at skin and clothes. We trudged home in a serious downpour, my pockets heavy with baggies of berries, oddly happy and fulfilled. The thing about wild blackberries is, they are out there in the wild. And, you have to be wild enough to go get them.

I have a new berry picking tool, my cane. Besides using it to push aside brambles, I can reach into a patch, hook a laden stem, and pull it closer.

Kitty has an unsuspected talent. Wet and tired and far across the misty fields, I told her, "Let's go home." I stayed behind her, repeating my message, as she took us the shortest route to the trail head. Brilliant!

Naturally, I thought about Rachel while listening for bears and dodging thorns. We had some great times on berry expeditions. I thought she might even like the rainy version.

Two thirds of all personal bankruptcies are due to medical expenses.

The wild black berries are late and not very enthursiastic this year. Finally, yesterday, there were some ripe ones and many of those kinda small. A tour of the fields only yielded a pint or so, not enough for a batch of jelly. I put them in the fridge in the hope of getting more. I am obsessed with making jelly this year, and lots of it. One cannot buy good jelly, no way, no how.

Another milestone: After years of first Rachel then me dodging the ever-encroaching jungle to mow along the road, I wreaked havock. I cut down every bush and tree growing outside the fence and pruned the low-hanging limbs. Besides giant cherry bushes, the hazlenuts and forsythia were spreading. I even had to employ my newest toy -- the Blank and Decker cordless chainsaw. Sweet! The cutting was kind of fun, but hauling away several cords of prunings was a little much.

Yes, it would be a bit dull here if the only big news is finding blackberries. My friend Dennis encountered a big black bear galloping up the middle of the road one night a few weeks ago, less than a half mile from here. I think about that when I'm in the berry patches.