I opened my laptop to write this post and had these three thoughts:
First, I know what I want to write about, but what do I want to say?
Then, what time is it?
And finally, what day is it?
So, I closed my laptop.

More than 24 hours later, I was here again, trying to write. 
And yet again, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say.  Or what time it was.  Or what day it was.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. on Wednesday.

So, here I am...finally...on Thursday, with a post.

This law thing has some slight similarities to my days of counseling and teaching, but overall, it's all new business to me.  As I've mentioned previously, before dating Cliff I knew little more about the world of court than that a Judge wore a robe and hammered a gavel.  (By the way, in reality, I have yet to see a gavel.)

I helped Cliff with a criminal jury trial a few months ago.  We prepared for hours on end.  Literally, we worked for 18-20 hours a day for a few days in a row.  Over a weekend.  Reports, photos, prelim info scattered everywhere.  Pacing.  Dictating to each other.  Bouncing thoughts off of each other.  Researching the jury pool.  Then we spent a full, loooong day in court.  Then we lost the trial.  And I felt like the system failed us.  Maybe our client wasn't innocent, but I combed through every single detail of that trial and I did not believe, beyond a reasonable doubt, that there was evidence that he was guilty. 

This week, we helped the Defense with a huge jury trial in Chariton County.  It was a change of venue case that started in Audrain County, and ended up with us.  Days before the trial, we poured time in offering details about the jurors we knew.  We closed our offices for the week so we could be available all five days of the trial.  We showed up for Voir dire at 8am on Monday.  We intently surveyed the jury pool every second of Voir dire for body language, verbal cues, and attitudes.  We sat through the State's witnesses for Day One.  We got home at some point that evening and I literally can not remember what happened next.  I think we both might have slept for four hours or so.  I think we skipped dinner and I ate a bologna sandwich at 11pm.  I know I took my migraine medicine multiple times because I was in serious pain.

Then, we got up on Tuesday and started it all over again.  Except, at about 11am, the State rested.  And then we met with the Defendant, his mother, and his attorneys, and everyone agreed that we had butchered each of the State's witnesses.  The Defendant himself believed he could see "not guilty" all over the faces of the jury.  We all felt very confident that the State had lost this case.  So, without calling any witnesses at all, the Defense rested also. 

The jury deliberated.

And then the Judge read the verdict. 
Guilty of involuntary manslaughter. 
Guilty of leaving the scene of an accident. 

And our five day trial was over in two days.

Yesterday, we stayed home, tried to get back on track with our own cases, and re-group.  But at 8pm, I woke up and realized that we had both been sleeping again.  We hadn't eaten dinner yet.  I still didn't know what day it was. 

All of this has brought a lot to my mind.  It's unbelievable the way these trials completely consume our lives.  It's all we think about, talk about, dream about.  They completely exhaust us.  We discuss what could have been done, what could have been done differently, what the jury was thinking, what we learned from it, what case law we need to review, what to do better next time. And it truly feels like I lived in an alternate personality for the past four days.  It's scary that I can't remember much of anything that happened over the past 72 hours.  It's scary that my brain physically hurt from thinking so much. 

Today, Cliff had court this morning and then we took off for Columbia.  We just took it easy, did what we wanted to do, and tried to relax.  I think we're finally back into the realm of reality.  I know it's Thursday.  I know it's 6:30pm.  We've eaten dinner already.  My migraine is gone.  And Cliff found someone brave enough to go hunting with him in this single digit weather, so all is right in the world.

All except that thing about hunting in single digit weather.
Wii Sports already feels pretty archaic to me.  But Cliff has gotten on a Wii Sports Baseball kick lately, and it reminds me of my fun Fridays playing Wii with the kids at school last year, so he can usually talk me into a quick game. 

Baseball, however, does no favors for my Mii pro status.  When I play, it's sad.

Cliff got himself a pretty high pro status on his own.  Then he decided that he was an ace at pitching, but needed some help with batting.  He asked me, I made him sign in baseball sweat that he understood how bad I was at the game, and then I came in as all-time pinch batter. 

But, we play as one person, Cliff's Mii, versus the computer.

And Cliff is left-handed.

And I am right handed.

So, when he asked for my help, he had me sign in nervousness sweat that I would bat with my non-dominant left hand.

I was up.  First swing.  Home run.  Second swing.  Home run.  Okay, so maybe my whole life I've been playing Wii baseball with the wrong arm.

Things were going well.  He was throwing strikes and I was hitting runners home.  And that made the Wii really mad.  The Wii pitcher started throwing splitters and screwballs and I was striking out.  But, then I got the hang of it and hit a couple of splitters.  The Wii pitcher started sweating (literally, it's so cute!) and we continued to up Cliff's pro status.  And that made the Wii madder than Mel (Gibson on a rant.)  And then we lost a game.  And then I was mad.  And Cliff relentlessly cheered me on. 

We made a comeback, but my ego was still hurt.  We had to switch over and play as my Mii back on the beginner level to make sure I hadn't lost my touch.  We won our first game on the mercy rule, so I guess we've still got it. 

And then I pulled an arm muscle.

I love to cook, which works out really well because Cliff can't cook anything.  Except frozen pizza.  And over the past few weeks, the verdict has still been out on that.

Long story short, a few weeks ago I was having a bout with anemia and was ex.haust.ed.  I fell asleep late afternoon and was still sleeping into the evening.  Cliff being sweet-as-can-be decided to put a frozen pizza in the oven. 

He woke me up just as the kitchen timer went off.  I went into the kitchen with him, he opened the oven door, then announced that it wasn't done yet.  I told him to just set the timer for three or four more minutes and check it again. 

I saw him press some buttons and then proudly turn around and lean his backside against the oven.  People, I'm not wasn't 30 seconds later and I heard him swiftly turn around, open the oven door, and gasp loudly.  I turned to look, and this is what I saw:

I was confused.  How did that happen?  Then Cliff explained that he had switched the oven to broil.  High broil. 

So, as you've learned by now, this gave me plenty of leeway for teasing.

Until tonight.

I've been staying up late this week, so by the time I gave up in the office this evening, I was tired.  Tired = frozen pizza.  I popped it in the oven, checked it when the timer beeped, and told Cliff to watch me as I switched the oven to high broil and watched to prevent burning.

I had just turned on the oven light and set my eyes on the top rack when Cliff's phone rang.  It was someone calling to buy a puppy.  I was listening to Cliff's end of the conversation.  Realizing he was talking to someone that wanted photos of the pups, but didn't have an email address, I started daydreaming about the wildly unique characters I've met since dating Cliff and even more since these pups entered our lives. 

Then I heard a sizzle.

#&!$?  I had taken my eyes off the oven!  I turned to look, and this is what I saw:

I know!  I think mine was worse!  Lucky for me, Cliff thinks I'm an excellent cook--even when it comes to frozen pizza. 

(Bonus! We both actually kind of ended up liking it with a crispy top and gooey cheese underneath.)
Facebook keeps contacting me through my Night Owl page to instruct me to ask my followers a question.  Facebook also keeps claiming that it's the best way to increase business and gain followers.  So, I gave in and posted a question to our followers: What fun and creative projects are you working on right now?

Although I'd like to say that my facebook message box was chock-full of interesting and exciting fits of creativity, the question only produced a grand totaling response of ... ZERO!

So, at the risk of being completely talk-to-the-hand'ed again, this blog post invites reader participation.


Every time Cliff and I go to the library, we get a little chuckle out of a sign posted at the top of the main stairwell stating "Everyone can read large print!"  I'm not sure if it means "everyone" as in "even Helen Keller" or "everyone" as in "large print isn't reserved just for the elderly."  I take it to mean the latter.  Which is why I checked out my last book in the only version available--large print.

This, in conjunction with the fact that I just got glasses (again, more on that later), gave Cliff plenty of teasing material which was lucky for him after all my recent gigging about his new dating prospects.

When he looked over at me reading on the couch:
         We can both read your book.  You right here and me from outer space!

When I commented that I had forgotten to put my glasses on:
         You don't need your glasses for that book.  Ray Charles could read that book.

While I was reading in bed:
          Google called and asked you to close your book.  It's showing up on Google Earth and distracting some people.

When I asked him if he could read my book from across the room:
          Yes.  The letter T just jumped out at me...and hit me in the face.


So, if you have a funny one-liner that would fit this situation, I'd get a kick out of hearing it! (This is the part where you participate...or not...I now know better than to expect increased blog views because of this.)

Today's blog is exactly as the title states--a messy jumble of a mix and match topics.  Or, maybe I'm just blogging because it's 4:00pm on Sunday and I'm still in my pajamas and even though the inside of our house appears as though we have seven children and three indoor pets (none of which we have), I'm doing anything possible to avoid cleaning and laundry right now.

Since January is almost over, I figured it was finally time to put away the last of the Christmas decorations.  The stockings were still hung with care, and as I took them down, I wished I could leave them up year-round because I absolutely love them and am very proud of them.  I actually made them myself just before the holidays and they turned out just the way I wanted them.  (Although there was a lot of cussing and seam ripping then re-stitching involved.)


“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” Groucho Marx.  
I seem to be finding more time to read lately.  I think it's because it's cold out, there was snow on the ground, Cliff and I have a semi-weekly date to the library, I'm putting my new glasses to use (more on that later), and we finally have the law offices in order and are on top of things, giving us more free time. 

Over the past couple of months, I finished The Patience Stone by Atiq Rahimi.  Thumbs up.  Quick read.  

Then I finished Scout, Atticus, and Boo: A Celebration of Fifty Years of To Kill A Mockingbird by Mary McDonagh Murphy.  Thumbs to the side.  Quick read.  This is a series of interviews with other authors, civil rights activists, talk show hosts--read: Oprah, Harper Lee's sister, etc.  Murphy's intro is just excerpts of the interviews, but the interviews themselves are mostly good.  And it just reminded me how in love I am with To Kill A Mockingbird, Scout, Atticus, even Boo. 

 Most recently, I finished Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple.  Thumbs mostly up.  Fairly quick read, especially in large print.  I'm speaking from experience...more on that later, too.  My feelings about the characters vacillated often, but in the end they each had a place in my heart.  In the end, I was also disappointed--I didn't really like the ending, but the rest of it was good.   

Now I'm re-reading The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls because I want to read Half Broke Horses, but thought I better refresh my memory on the first book beforehand. 


Some insane part of me is taking on a new project now.  Even though I have tons of other projects on my to-do list, and my Grandma's life story video still sitting in the closet, collecting dust, waiting to be edited and finalized.  My mom and I are attempting a Double Wedding Ring pattern quilt for a family wedding gift.  My great-grandmother was a quilting fool.  She held quilting bees in her basement.  I remember all the ladies going down there and sitting around a huge wooden frame which held the quilt tight, wearing their thimbles, and buzzing like worker bees.  My great-grandma passed away two weeks short of turning 102, and she quilted until she was 90.  She made the most beautiful quilts.  I have three blocks of a double wedding ring quilt she made and it hangs proudly on my wall. 

Mom and I spent some time at the library and online last week, researching how to even begin this project.  We aren't brave enough to attempt the full Double Wedding Ring pattern, which looks crazy-difficult, so we designed our own pattern.  Yesterday we went to the quilt shop (yes, there's actually a quilt shop here!) and chose our materials.  Then we went by my Grandma's house and actually got my great-grandma's wooden quilting frame.  With a day off of work tomorrow, we may just be out of our minds enough to start on this thing.  I'll keep you "posted."  (Pun intended.)


Lastly, while Mom and I were antiquing yesterday, I got this awesome old oil stove.  I don't know if it works, but it looks too cute in the kitchen corner for it's operation or purpose to matter!

A few posts back, I told you I would soon introduce you to our dog.  Technically, we have four dogs...well, twelve, if we're going to get really technical.  Let me explain.

Cliff had three hunting dogs: Dot (a female), Smoke (a female), and Tuck (a male).  The dogs are kind of spoiled for outdoor hunting dogs.  They have a HUGE  pen, a room of their very own in the barn full of warm, soft, and snug places for sleeping, individual beds outdoors for cool summer sleeping, individual food and water bowls, all the gross parts of two whole cows for their eating pleasure, a daily feeding routine, and frequent hunting tours.  Oh, and Cliff, who loves them all very, very dearly.  They didn't even get in much trouble the day they ate ten of the prize-winning chickens.

So this past summer, Dot, Smoke, and Tuck are all living in harmony in their pen together.  Dot comes into heat and, since she's getting older, Cliff wants to get one more set of pups out of her.  Tuck is a young dog, and Cliff isn't even sure he will figure out the whole process.  He starts by mounting Dot's head, but I guess he eventually figures it all out, because--Boom.  Eight weeks later, Dot gives birth to three little pups.  They were adorable.  Tuck was just starting to really excel when hunting, so Cliff decides to keep the male pup out of that litter and we name him The Colonel.  Okay, Colonel Beer Money to be exact, but to avoid any shame in having such a white trash name, we just call him "The Colonel"--see how we completely turned that around and made it sound so honorable?

Not long after Dot gets pregnant, Smoke comes into heat.  Now we know that Tuck knows what to do in this situation, but Cliff has tried to breed Smoke several times before and she never stuck.  So, we just leave them all in the pen together.  Then, Boom.  Eight weeks later, Smoke gives birth to nine puppies.  Again, adorable.  Seven females and two males.  I'm partial to the little runt.

Just a few weeks later, Tuck escapes from the pen.  THIS TIME, it was not because I was trying to be helpful by feeding them and completely forgot to close the gate.  Sadly, he fell victim to the railroad tracks next to our house.

So, back to this past summer again.  Cliff is outside one night and he comes in with his eyes gleaming.  He tells me all about this bird dog that wandered into the yard.  He tells me how sick it is.  How it's about to die.  How cute it is, even on its deathbed.  And how he put food out for it so it would stick around.

The next morning, Cliff is like a kid at Christmas.  He can't wait to get outside and see if the bird dog is still there.  It is not.  Cliff feels so used.

Fast forward to September.  We're hosting a big Labor Day party at our house.  Everyone is dancing to the live band, hanging out around the fire, having a good time.  Cliff goes behind the garage to...let's say, check his tire pressure...okay, fine, he goes behind the garage to pee, and magically, the skinny, sick, bird dog is there.  Cliff captures him this time, and holds him hostage, (if a bed of straw and big bowls of food and water can be considered a hostage situation) in the barn for the night.  All he can talk about the rest of the evening is his bird dog coming back to him, eyes gleaming.

So, this time, the bird dog stays around.  We name him "Labor Day" in honor of his day of resurgence.  And he turns out to be one cute dog.  Now, he's really healthy, happy, and has a permanent spot right outside the french doors on the side of the house.  Everyone loves him, and we'd like to find a good home for him, in order to reduce the dog population around here, but so far, we've only had one taker and I started crying at the thought of him leaving, so that kind of ruined that plan.

With three puppies sold and Tuck resting in peace,  our total of sixteen dogs is now down to twelve.  Cliff is supposed to sell the remaining eight pups, reducing our final total to four--Dot, Smoke, The Colonel, and Labor Day.  (Anyone want to buy a pup?  Anyone?  Anyone?)

So that was the long story of how we inadvertently started our very own five star puppy mill around here.  And how Labor Day is considered our "dog" while the others are the "hounds" and how Labor Day gets to roam the open, free range, and how he found his new home* and we found our new pet.

So, without further ado...I introduce you to Labor Day:

And just for fun, this is The Colonel:

(photo by Cliff)

And for even more fun, here's the nonet trying to eat out of the same bowl, at the same time:

*Around November, a guy that lives about 3/4 of a mile down our gravel road stopped one day and asked where we got Labor Day.  We told him the story and he told us that Labor Day was his dog and his real name was Little Frisco.  We tried to give him back, but the guy said Labor Day looked happier with us.  Obviously.  He gets to actually eat here.  And we figured Labor Day was probably most happy to be called Labor Day instead of Little Frisco, so we were all in agreement that he would not be evicted.

Cliff and I both really like to read.  We also both really like the library.  We try to have a date once a week at the library.  It doesn't always happen, but when it does, my favorite part is being surprised by what Cliff checks out when we leave.

I keep a running list on my iPhone of the books I want to read.  I choose one available book from the list to take home.  Cliff just walks down the aisles and aisles of books, until he sees things he likes.  He takes eight to ten books home.  We both look at CDs and DVDs and periodicals and Wii games, and take some of those home, too.  I like new books.  He likes old books.

So, my check out list will look like this:
(Book) Where'd you go Bernadette
(DVD) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

That's it.

And Cliff's check out list will look like this:
(Book) The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
(Book) East of Eden by John Steinbeck
(Book) The Short Novels of Tolstoy
(Book) Travels with Charley by Steinbeck
(Book) Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc
(Book) Islands in the Stream by Hemingway
(Book) The Big Book of Country Music
(Book) The Life of Vince Lombardi
(DVD) Bela Fleck Brings the Banjo Back to Africa
(DVD) Jean-Michel Cousteau Ocean Adventures
(DVD) Into the Deep--America, Whaling the World

So, yesterday, when we were at the check-out counter and the librarian just started cracking up as she was scanning Cliff's books, I said:

"What?  Is it the 'Ultimate Guide to Squirrel Hunting'?"


"Is it 'The Practical Pet Owner's Guide to Impractical Pets'?"


"It must be 'Pimps, Johns, and Prostitutes of Moberly, Missouri'?"


Finally, the librarian said:

"I am just laughing that he's checking out a book with the word "Varmit" in it.

So, it was the book on hunting small varmits that got her.

He reads them.  He enjoys them.  And I enjoy the surprise of what he'll bring home.

And lucky for me, today while we were eating breakfast, the Whaling documentary just happened to be at the part where the Whalers were lost at sea and drawing straws for who would sacrifice himself for the others to eat.  Even luckier, it went into great detail about the process of eating another human being.  So, BONUS!  I saved some calories by not being able to finish my pancakes!

I seem to get a lot of enjoyment out of teasing Cliff about his past girlfriends, current girlfriends that I just make up out of the blue, or future girlfriends that are also figments of my imagination.  (Anyone calling the looney bin for my admittance yet?)  It tends to bring lots of laughs for both of us. 

So, when one of the Judges emailed recently and said she would like Cliff to attend an event...AS HER gave me plenty of fodder to work with. 

"Ooooh, now you're dating the Honorable Judge So and So"

"I didn't realize you were into Cougars."

"Now I see why you have so many cases in that court."

So what if the event was a Rotary Club meeting.  So what if she was inviting him because a Missouri Supreme Court Judge was the speaker.  So what if he had just emailed to use her as a reference and she was just responding because he was fresh on her mind.  Still good fodder.

What makes it so funny for me is that Cliff seems to be a little nervous that it could be real.  Whenever I tease him, I can see the little wheels in his head turning in concern that she may really be asking him on a date.  Since I know she's not, I get enjoyment from seeing him squirm a little.  (Anyone wondering why he's dating me yet?)

This week, which we thought was going to be a breeze, turned into a hellacious one.  Cliff worked all day and night Sunday for a trial on Monday.  We had a loooong day at the office (plus the trial) on Monday.  We both worked all night Monday for a trial on Tuesday.  Ended up being in court from 9am until 5pm on Tuesday with only 30 minutes for lunch and one 10 minute recess.  Then Wednesday and Thursday ended up filling up last minute with court and office appointments, turning days we thought we were going to have off into nine hour days at the office. 

On Wednesday, we ran next door to a gas station for lunch.  (So busy, we were eating gas station lunch.  Okay, so I love this particular gas station's food, but still, it sounds busy, doesn't it?)  On our walk back to the office, a very pretty young girl walked up to us in the parking lot.  She was dressed very professionally.  She approached us and the conversation went like this:

Pretty Girl: Hi, Cliff.
My Thought Bubble: Oh, I recognize her.  I used to babysit her.
Cliff: Hi.
Pretty Girl: You don't know who I am, do you?
My Thought Bubble: What the hell?  Does she have a baby with Cliff and she's just now telling him about it or something?
Cliff:  Uh, no.
(Pretty Girl lifts her glasses off her face, but says nothing.)
(Loooooong awkward silence.)
Me: Diana.  It's Diana.
Cliff:  Okay.  I know who you are now.
Pretty Girl:  Well, I was just in Keytesville and I wanted to stop by and see you.
Cliff: (assuming she needed legal services) Okay.  Well, you can come into the office.
Pretty Girl: Well, I just wanted to see you and visit a little.
My Thought Bubble:  Now what the hell?  I think she is here to ask him on a date!  A real date.  Not one of my made up dates that I use to tease him.

It turns out, this girl now sells Aflac and she was stopping in to see if he would want to take out a group business policy.  After she left and we got inside I couldn't wait to tell him that I had thought she was asking him on a date.  This was going to be SO funny.  But before I could tell him, he said, "Geez.  I thought she was stopping by to ask me on a date."  And he was completely serious.

So, it's usually funny to see him squirm because he thinks my pretend dates could be real, but then when it really could be a very pretty young girl asking him on a's not so funny anymore.  Well, we still laughed about it all.  But it had the potential not to be funny, at least for me.
Well we're three days into the new year now, so I'm starting to feel, well, less lame.

I love New Year's Eve.  It's one of my favorite things to celebrate.  I've thrown some good NYE parties in my time, too.  Like in 2003 when the cabbie that took me home followed my instructions and squealed his tires, my sister woke up with her shin scabbed over, and my dining room table was turned over with all the food dishes licked clean (well, that last one may just be the way my friend Caitlin "remembers" it, but still, I think it was pretty close.)

So, to ring in 2013, I decided we should keep with tradition and throw another house party.  (Okay, so maybe we just couldn't find anything fun to do, but that's a good enough reason, right?)  So, I created a facebook event and we texted some people.  Then, we cleaned the house.  Then we ran to the store for liquid provisions.  Then we turned up the music.  Then we made some finger foods.  Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was half way through the second board game Cliff and I were playing...alone (or 11:00pm as some may call it), when my brother and one of his friends finally showed up.  We moved down to the game room, turned on the countdown, and started a game.  An hour later, we welcomed the new year.  I texted my cousin a merry message.  No response.  I texted my bff a merry message.  Actually two--one at midnight her time and one at midnight my time.  No response.  Then my brother and his friend started discussing the pros and cons of moving to another party.

They tried to get us to go with them, so we considered it for awhile.  We were also weighing the pros and cons.  Wondering if it was a good time, Cliff suggested calling the guy who lived in the house where the party was being held.  The group decided against the call, my brother and his friend went to the party, Cliff and I stayed home and went to bed.

I was feeling down about no one showing up to our event, my friends and family not texting me back, and not moving on to the next party.

Then I talked to my brother the next morning.  He said the party was fun.  He also said it was a good thing that we hadn't called the guy who owned the "party" house...because his daughter was throwing the party unbeknownst to him while he was out of town.  We totally would have outed this high school NYE bash!

And then I realized.  I'm old!  I would have been  at least fourteen years older than the kids at that party (besides my brother, who at age 25 was the oldest {and probably creepiest}guy there).  My friends probably don't even know how to check a fb event.  Or text.  Or maybe they were all just in bed before midnight.  Or because they're all married with kids, maybe they were just at home doing a family thing.

At least those are the reasons and excuses I'm going to make myself believe.  Because I REFUSE to let myself believe I'm old and la--oh, I have to cut this short.  Matlock is coming on!

This past Sunday we held the Great American Bunny Hunt 2012 at our house.  Cliff and his friends went out like Elmer Fudd looking for wascally wabbits.  They took our dog, who I'll introduce you to in a later post, which is actually a bird dog, but apparently points rabbits and squirrels, too.  They were gone for about an hour, and came back with two rabbits.  I had the house to myself for a minute to catch up on facebook and spend some time with my Kindle.  So, I thought this arrangement was great.  They were enjoying their time and I was enjoying mine.  But, I didn't realize that they had plans for my time when they were done.

So, they dressed the two rabbits they had bagged and brought them in, soaking in salt water.  Then so politely asked me to cook them.  My options were: a) watch the Chiefs game or b) fry rabbits.  I chose the rabbits.

After Googling what I should even do once I got to the kitchen, I set off on a mission.  First, was cutting the meat off into small pieces for frying.  Disgusting.  I kept trying to tell myself that rabbit is a delicacy in some parts of the world.  Surely it is, right?  And I just tried to block from my mind that the first use of my brand new slicing knife from my brand new, nice, cutlery set Christmas gift was on wild game.

Next, I soaked the meat chunks in buttermilk overnight. Apparently, this tenderizes the meat and keeps it moist.  Then breaded them in flour with salt, pepper, and garlic, then fried them style.  After that, I put them in the oven on the lowest setting until the guys were ready to eat.

Here's how they turned out.

Okay, so that's not actually a picture of my fried rabbit because I completely forgot to take one.  This is a photo from, but I swear mine really did look just like that.

After airing out the house (because I hate the smell after frying something), the guys dug in...and LOVED it.  There were lots of compliments and they even took with them what they didn't eat in the first sitting.  Maybe they were just being nice to my face and dumped the leftovers out the car window as soon as they left, but I'm going to believe that they actually did like it.  

I even tried a teeny-tiny piece and have to admit, it wasn't bad.

Then, by the time dark settled in, they had me dressed in layers with WICK outerwear, my Muck boots, and a .22 rifle.  Before I knew it, I was sitting in the dark, in the snow, in the woods, watching for coyotes while we tried to call them in with a Johnny Stewart electronic caller.