Home for the holidays

This weekend we finally got around to disassembling our behemoth of a Christmas tree. If you saw the effort it took to get the thing back in the box you probably would have called the Christmas Tree authorities on me for abuse of an evergreen.  Since it was our first Christmas in the new house I went a little overboard with the faux greenery. On the railings, in the hallways, in the kitchen, dining room... everywhere. We're one year away from being those people with a tree in every room. I'm ok with it if you are.

I thought I would post some photos of our holiday decorations today to help make up for sad nakedness that is our living room now.

After Thanksgiving I put up our old tree. It was 6 foot tall and most of the lights do not work. When I plugged it in I died a little on the inside. I didn't want to spend the money on a taller tree... but after what I'm pretty sure is my closest brush with a craigslist kidnapper, I decided splurging was best for my safety.

We got a decent (I don't really know... I don't shop for large fake trees frequently) deal on a 7.5 foot spruce-ish looking tree.

James was even able to add his touch to our decor! I imagine little woodland creatures decorate their trees... deep in the secrecy of the forest... in a similar fashion. He also got a deer target for Christmas. Here it is "under the tree" where it sat, posed for the mail lady and everyone to see, for a week or so. Finally, after scaring everyone in (and out) of the house daily, she made her way to the basement. Seriously. You just cannot adjust to coming down your stairs every morning and seeing a deer in the living room.

Our old tree was able to find a home at the top of the stairs in a perfect little window nook. Which also looks empty and sad now, without it.

Even the fish got in the spirit! I already have big plans for next year... "Theme Trees"... it's happening.

Dedicated to the Dream

Well, if you are friends with either James or myself on Facebook you have already seen our news. If not, then you're in for a surprise! Here's a little hint: we have a lot of party planning to look forward to and this has been a long time coming (eight years to be exact, eternity if you believe in fate).

So, the purpose of this post is two-fold: first, to show and tell you just how amazing our Kentucky thoroughbred farms can be and second, to announce our engagement! 

Let me walk you through a glorious October day in Versailles, Kentucky. James had told me that he thought some of the thoroughbred farms had the availability to give tours and we had discussed getting a few of these scheduled so that we could continue to add to our Authentic Kentucky experiences (but if we keep opening up distilleries, at this rate we will never run out of blog fodder!). As it turns out, he has a friend who knows someone who was now the Maintenance Manager at one of the biggest and best race farms in Versailles. We had already planned to spend the day bettin' on the ponies at Keeneland Racetrack so it just made sense that we would stop by for a tour of their homes on the way! Throughout the week I kept asking James about the tour: Are you sure we can go? What time is it? Who's this guy again? The entire time I got the same vague answers. Finally, on Thursday, James let me know that his connection would be at the farm on Saturday and had obliged to let us come and take a little drive through on our way to the races. I was thrilled!

These are the kinds of "farms" that take your breath away. Imagine a postcard of Kentucky. They probably took that photo here. James explained to me that we may not even get to see any horses this day, because he didn't know what the "tour" consisted of. I didn't care, seeing the land alone left me in awe.

We started our day with some Heine Bros. coffees where I commented on a pumpkin sticker they had given me. "Look at that! Your first surprise of the day..." he quipped. I brushed it off without much thought because, to me, the tour alone was going to be full of surprises!

We sipped our lattes as we drove the long and winding back roads toward Lexington. We didn't know what we were looking for, but James told me "Charlie said we'd know it when we saw it". I kept my eyes open for a large farm with a green and white star and something that would let me "know". When we pulled up... we knew.

The view of the office as you pull up to the main gates of Winstar Farm.

When you arrive you pull through large gates adorned with stone pillars and topped with horse statuettes. From behind the gates you can see a massive stone and glass building perched atop a rolling hill, overlooking lakes and pastures - this is the office. The horses watch you as you drive past.

We parked and got out of the car to meet Gerry, who showed us the office first. Immediately when you walk in you notice the massive trophy case, and there, in front, is the large, gold, Kentucky Derby trophy (estimated worth over $90,000.00 in raw materials alone). It took me several minutes before I could break my gaze from the famous award, but when I did I was shocked.

I begged James to hand me his phone so I could start taking pictures and as he did.. he was shaking. It was quite chilly that day, so again... I brushed it off.

After my eyes adjusted to the light I could see a large open room with plush chairs, a massive stone fireplace, and gigantic paintings of horses. Gerry told us a little about each horse, pictured and walked us through. I could have stayed the entire day just asking about items on the walls and on display in these rooms, and I can only imagine the conversations that take place at the tables.

But, there was much more to see... We were whisked away in Gerry's truck as we drove through the 2,400 acre farm. There are over 26 miles of roadways winding from barn to barn, over 24 residences for owners, trainers, veterinarians, etc. and over 130 miles of the iconic black four board fencing.

The owner's home.

We drove past house after house, barn after barn. We learned about the original farmhouse built on the 200 year old farm, the birthing stables, the paddock routines, and everything else.

Finally, we arrived at the Stallion Barn. I peeked over the dashboard at another, equally as impressive stone and brick "barn". Gerry barely blinked when he told us we had to stay within arms length of the horses... because it isn't so much our worry about your fingers getting bitten off as much as we are worried about a horse choking. We pulled up in awe of the building, filled with 180 million dollars worth of horse (that's approximately 20, by the way).

I practically burst through the doors. James had told me we might not even get to see horses and here we were standing in the presence of some of the winning-est horses in the sport! We walked into the atrium, a large and open center room used to view the conformation of each horse. Then we slowly walked down the side aisles, stalls on either side, with horses poking their heads out of each opening to see who was coming. 

We passed some of the greats: Distorted Humor (daddy of 3 triple crown winners), Tiznow (the only horse in history to win the Breeder's Cup twice), Gemologist, Bodemeister, Paynter to name a few... and, the winner of the glorious Kentucky Derby garland and trophy: Super Saver.

Distorted Humor

Super Saver

After we gawked back and forth at each other (the horses and I) for quite a while we walked out of the barn together. There, in front of us, laid out like a quilt, were acres upon acres of rolling pasture. Horses lazily walked past, glancing up from their grass occasionally. The morning mist was just lifting from the fields and all you could see was everything you imagined a Kentucky Horse farm to be. It was picturesque. It was perfect.

So there, while we were posing for a photo, with the Stallion Barn behind us and Kentucky before us, James dropped down to own knee and pulled out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen in real life.

Of course I said yes... when I, eventually, could speak.

I wish I could give you more details, a play by play of the moment, but I was so surprised that I can't remember exactly what was said. Everything was spinning and I was giddy and thank goodness Gerry was there to take pictures or I would have a hard time remembering what happened at all! I can tell you that I honestly had not suspected a thing or even had an inkling of an idea that anything was going to happen remotely soon, which made it that much better.

I can tell you that as soon as he stood up we hugged, kissed, and he told me that this was not the first time he had been to the farm... He and Gerry had been in cahoots for over a year. And for the first time that day, I saw his accomplice smile.

We laughed and hugged and our secret audience in the barn came running out with congratulations all around. After I finally caught my breath we were bustled back into the truck to finish our tour. 

I'll be honest... the next few barns, the practice track, the fields: they were all a blur. A big beautiful blur. I remember discussing the state-of-the-art treatment facility and some of the resources the farm had available to the horses, such as a giant, horse-sized jacuzzi and water aerobics. Understandably, I was a little distracted.

After we left the farm James and I sat in the car. I ogled my ring and gushed over everything. I had a million questions! Did my mom know? Yes, she helped pick out your ring. Did you ask my dad? Yes, he's terrible at handling serious situations. Were you nervous? Of course. And the list goes on...

I could not even begin to show my gratitude to Gerry, Larry, Charlie and everyone who had a hand in the coordination of our visit. And I definitely need to thank everyone I know who was able to keep a secret! This was an amazing experience, something I never expected, and the tour alone was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

If I had written down, exactly what I imagined a perfect engagement to be... this would have surpassed in every aspect. Everything was so well planned, so thoughtful, and so perfectly "us". Much like our relationship in general, James never ceases to amaze me. 

Before we left, Gerry made sure to drive us past the "old stallion barn". They just so happened to be setting up for their own wedding...

If you ain't first...

I don't get a chance to talk about my family nearly as much as I wish I could on here, but this is a great post to share. For Father's Day last year I purchased a "Nascar Racing Experience" for my Daddy. He is a pretty die-hard fan. I mean... when I was growing up I wasn't much of a baby doll kind of girl. Instead, I had a suit case full of hotwheels. Fo real. Also... expect intermittent dropping of Ricky Bobby quotes.

So we were finally able to schedule a time at Kentucky Speedway to get my Daddy in one of those cars! (I just wanna go fast, Daddy!) It is pretty hard to get these scheduled as the crews travel from NASCAR track to track and I think there were only 4 days total this year that they were at ours. Well, one of those weekends was last week.

We high-tailed it to Sparta at a rapid 80 mph. Whoa. I know. Watch it. We met up with my little brother and sister, and my Daddy, and shuffled our way to the check in - last of course. After donning the official fire suit racecar drivers wear, we all sat together in a 45 minute crash course (pun not intended... no... totally intended) on how to drive a race car. The first question they ask is "who here can't drive a manual?" Luckily, I come from a family of pros.

During the crash course we learned mostly about what NOT to do... these things consist of... do not drop below the yellow line, do not drive on the apron, do not hit the rev limiter, do not pass without radio confirmation, keep it between the white dots, do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars. We were also informed of the numerous crashes that incurred when drivers did not heed the many instructions. Next we were told how to escape a burning mangled death trap of a wrecked car. 

At this point I was ready to pack up and leave. Excuse me? You want to put MY daddy in one of those? Obviously my concerns were overruled. What's even better is that, since we checked in last, we were last to go. This left a solid 2 hours for me to sit and stew it over. (I'm still sittin' in my dirty pee-pants!)

We watched as driver after driver struggled into the tiny driver side windows, were strapped in, and rolled out of pit row. We watched as each driver rang around the track 3 or 4 times before being called back in. We watched as each had done so without slamming into the wall in a ball of fire and agony. Every time a car rolled back to the pit, the crew would remove the window net, pull out the driver, who would then stumble their way back to the infield with the biggest grin imaginable. I guess I was ok with this.

Finally, it was Daddy's turn. He had a pep talk from the crew chief before he climbed into the number 6 car. They checked everything out - not at full pit crew speed, thank goodness - and after several minutes they let him loose. (Hang on, baby Jesus, this is gon' get bumpy!)

He rolled, flawlessly, I might add, out of pit row and picked up speed fast into the first turn. We timed him as he passed us once, twice, and heard, on the third lap from behind us, the engine roar down the backstretch. On the final lap he was flying. 

It was over within 5 minutes that felt like 5 seconds. In those five minutes he had traveled over 6 miles on the 1.5 mile track, at speeds of 159.83 mph. That is over TWICE as fast as you should legally be driving on the interstate and almost THREE times as fast as you are legally allowed to drive on the Watterson (unless you are me and sometimes you forget and end up going 75 on the watterson and wondering why everyone else is being so. damn. slow.. except for that corvette... with a cop in it... giving you the "im watching you" finger to eye motion).

He climbed out of his car with the same giant grin and sea legs that everyone else had and made his way back to our tent. We cheered and clapped and yelled and generally made an all-out scene (which no one else had done). As soon as he was oriented again we bolted to the register to see what they had clocked as his top speed: almost the fasted at the track that day - 159.83 without hitting the rev limiter.

We went out for dinner afterwards, at the only restaurant in Sparta doesn't just serve hamburgers and boobies. Once James and I were on our way home I nagged him about driving so fast, to which he replied, "I am only going HALF as fast as your dad was a minute ago...". And then I wet myself all over again.

Froggie Leggies

It's that glorious time of year when the hillbillies from every corner of the state crawl out of their cabins, march through the mountains, take their yearly bath and strap on their "good shoes" to make their way to Louisville. Yep, that's right! It's time for the Kentucky State Fair!

I'm sorry, I know I am just perpetuating stereotypes, but come on... you would laugh, too, if you were able to peak at the crowds swarming the fairgrounds all weekend. I promise everyone had shoes on.

James and I made our annual trek to the State Fair this past weekend and it was everything you could imagine: corn dogs, endless crap peddlers, funnel cakes, beer, crowds, giant vegetables, cake decorating contests, etc. I love every minute of the state fair. There is some grade A people watching if you ever wanted it.

We went with some of our friends who suggested we make our way to the Mike Lennig's tent for some friend fish and french fries. Mike Lennig's is also famous for their frog legs...

So as we sat amongst the hundreds of other people chowing down on fish parts, I asked James if he had ever had any frog legs. I had not. I remember my papaw ordering some at a restaurant in Florida one time, but I don't recall any of my family members actually consuming them.

James scoffed. Have I ever eaten frog legs? Well, yea! He acted as if this was one of the silliest questions he had ever heard. I was shocked. James isn't usually one to venture too far out of his meat and potatoes world. In fact, it is just in the past year or two that we both started eating fish. So I ventured further with my questioning.. When? How? What?

He scoffed at me some more... "Psshh... We used to go out back and gig 'em in the ponds behind the house and bring 'em in and dad would fry 'em up". Blegh. I churled a little in my mouth at the thought of baby James giggin' frogs right out of his back yard...

Side story: I actually used to have a "pet" fire bellied-toad. He had three legs and his name was Bojangles. One time all the crickets I bought for him to eat escaped in my room. Every night from then on it sounded like you were sleeping out in a field.

Anyway, I am still coming around to the idea of picking fruits and vegetables out of the yard and eating them, much less happening upon a defenseless frog and thinking "Hmm... I bet this would taste good battered up and deep fried!"  But then again, I am dating the man who, at around eight, was pictured with his first rifle, and a belt full of dead squirrels. (Picture to come soon.) ((Unfortunately.))

Walking through NuLu

This past weekend my best friend came down to Louisville for a wedding. On Sunday, while she was nursing her celebratory hangover, we decided to meet up.

I decided to have her meet me at one of my favorite brunch places - Garage Bar. while it is normally more popular at night, this place has some badass breakfast potatoes and a waffle that could make you cry tears of joy. They also bring you simple syrup to sweeten your own tea and I kind of like that.

We sat outside under the old filling station's canopy because the day was absolutely perfect - here in Kentucky we happen to have a lot of those. We ate and talked and watched a family of birds share a fallen potato. After filling ourselves it was all but necessary to walk off the breakfast paunch, so we took off down Market St. in a little area of town now called "NuLu"... as in "New Louisville".

The street is wide and lined on both sides with those little cutesy shops I just die for. There are beer shops, taco stands, Why Lou Two - which has awesome novelties and too many t-shirts for me to make a decision.

There are jewelry stores, reclaimed furniture showrooms, record shops, and just about anything else you would want to enjoy on a Sunday afternoon.

We strolled and shopped, and if I hadn't been completely convinced that Louisville was the single greatest city on the earth (for the record - I already was), this walk would have converted.

The gardens behind Red Tree.

I understand that some people don't have a liking for this kind of place - the independence of it all, the uniqueness around every corner, and the complete lack of excuses to be "bored". It is my belief that these people just haven't found their neighborhood yet. Keep wandering, my friends...