Raising Functioning Adults

I don't have children. I married rather late in my childbearing years, to someone who knew he didn't want children. I was ambivalent about the whole thing (I'm the oldest of five, so already knew quite a bit about the non-romantic aspects of caring for babies). So when it came right down to making the decision I was ok with agreeing to no children (truth be told, I'm probably too selfish anyway).

But I like being an auntie. Some of my older nieces and nephews through marriage I'm not very close to. I probably entered their lives too late to form much of a relationship or, being a "second wife," maybe was never thought of as their real aunt. I don't know - water under the bridge. Some of the interpersonal relationships in my inlaws' family are a bit bewildering to me anyway.

But I treasure the relationship I have with the children of my own siblings. I'm especially close to my California sister (let's call her Annodear), and have been a part of her two boys' lives on a regular basis since they were born. They're seniors in high school now (yes, twins), starting to think about college and leaving the nest.

Our mom always said her goal was to raise self-sufficient adults. She succeeded, too. All of us have had our fits and starts, ups and downs, but we are all, indeed, leading successful lives. Annodear has the same aspiration, and she and her husband are doing an admirable job. Besides overseeing their schoolwork, the quest for a driver's license, assigning their share of the household chores, Annodear has also included some life skills lessons.

When I first went away to college myself, as a teen, it was interesting to see how many freshmen boys were suddenly wearing pink t-shirts and socks - one red shirt in with the whites will do that, and they obviously had never had to deal with doing their own laundry. Annodear's boys have learned about laundry.

Sewing is another one of those life lessons. At the very least, the boys now know how to thread a needle, sew on a button, patch holes in their pants, and hand-sew a seam. Money management, too, is an on-going lesson.

The ability to feed one's self, without resorting to a diet of fast food and vending machine fare, is their latest endeavor. Annodear has a blog, writing even more sporadically than I. But she did just recently write about how a household with two working adults and two teenage boys deal with mealtime chores. I think it's a great plan - read more about it on her blog, here (the above photo is in my kitchen, after Thanksgiving dinner - the first time the boys, raised in a house with an automatic dishwasher, had been faced with a sinkful of dirty dishes. I gave them a quick lesson in washing dishes by hand, and left them to it).

An Email to Mom

I've been busy with lots of stuff lately, and keep thinking "I really need to write about that" but then I get distracted and another day goes by without a post here. To try and get back in the posting mode, I decided to just paste in an email I wrote to my mom earlier today [with a few explanatory edits added]:

Hi Mom,
I canned 16 half-pints of applesauce the other day. I picked through all the apples [she helped me pick when she was visiting a couple of weeks ago, from an antique tree in the old part of town; that's her feeding my chickens below], and put 4 trays of really nice ones into the cellar for fresh eating this winter. I still have almost 3 basketfuls in my living room. [Aries] wants to grind and juice most of them (maybe leave out enough for another pie, or two) for a batch of cider to ferment, as soon as the five gallons of beer he made last week is finished fermenting so we can use that bucket.

He went back to work today, after his last week of vacation. I went up to Tahoe this morning, to the [casino's] Clinic, and had some moles removed. I now have 9 stitches on my arm where a cluster of them were, and just a small bandage on my thigh. I asked about a shingles vaccine [Aries and my mom both have gotten shingles, and both said it's the worst pain they've ever been in - I'm not a big fan of pain, especially if it can be avoided] and I'll get that when I go in to get the stitches removed in about 10 days.

I have a job interview tomorrow, as a favor to a friend, with a CPA in Gardnerville that wants someone for maybe 10 hours/week now, and full-time February to April. I'm going to can a five-pint batch of tomatillo green salsa with the last of my tomatillo and chile harvests. I picked all my green tomatoes, and have them spread out on the table in the guest room to ripen. The garden *finally* froze last week, so [Aries] pulled out the dead plants and shredded them for the compost pile, and now I have to get out there and clean up the rest. I still have to plant my garlic and shallots sometime soon. I also want to transplant some stuff as soon as it goes dormant, but before the snow starts and the ground freezes solid.

I found a guy in Reno that does accordion repair, and took my old white one in to get the strap bracket replaced (it broke on one side, and would swing open - I was afraid the straps would slip through and I'd drop it). He had to open it up and take it apart inside to get to the broken part, so he also blew 60 years worth of dust out of it, tightened everything up, and fixed the one key that sometimes wouldn't sound. He says it's in great shape (and that it's a really good instrument: the old ones are the best, if properly cared for and stored - the new ones now are mostly made in China, even the ones from German companies, and are really cheaply made) [my folks bought me that accordion, second-hand, when I was 8 years old]. He guarantees his work so said just bring it back if I notice any more problems. I played it for a while yesterday when I got it home. I'm a bit rusty but the fingering on some songs came back quite quickly. I'm thinking I'll practice this winter, memorize some songs, and maybe try busking downtown next summer - might even earn myself some traveling money. Later! Love ya!

The Art of Dish Arranging

It's my turn to post on the Simple Green Frugal Co-op blog, so I've written a post entitled the Art of Dish Arranging. It might bring back some memories if you've ever lived without a dishwasher, or spark a note of recognition if you've ever unloaded a dish drainer someone else put together.


But maybe, just maybe, during this holiday season, it's not really about dishes at all. Check it out here, and let me know what you decide.

Thanksgiving Orange Stuff

Our weekend company is gone, and the guest room bed changed and made up again. Having an extra set of flannel sheets for that bed means I can put the room back into crafts/office mode right away, without having to rush wet sheets out onto the clothesline in gale-force freezing winds. The turkey carcass was cooked into soup last night (with barley, carrots, and mushrooms), and the leftovers are slowly disappearing. The last of the Thanksgiving Orange Stuff made a great lunch today.

Orange Stuff is one of those really retro recipes. I first tasted it more than 20 years ago, as a regular dish at my mother-in-law's Thanksgiving table, and I'm sure she'd been making it since the 1950's at least. It never really even had a name - it was just that orange stuff she always made. It's a regular on my Thanksgiving table now too.

Thanksgiving Orange Stuff
16 oz cottage cheese
8 oz Cool-Whip (thawed)
3 oz box orange Jello (dry powder)
15 oz can mandarin oranges (drained)

Mix everything together and chill until serving time.

My Texas cousins gave me their church fundraising cookbook, and this type of "salad" appears in quite a few variations - drained pineapple with lemon Jello, or miniature marshmallows with pistachio instant pudding powder. It's good enough that I always think I should make it more often.

I tried something different this year, that really ended up being a hit. Wednesday before Thanksgiving, my sister's family is on the road from California, and I'm trying to decide what to do for dinner when they get here. I need something quick, easy, that everybody will like. The refrigerator is full of food for the next day, including the brined turkey air-chilling, so there's no room for leftovers either. So, how do I feed a vegetarian, two hard-core meat-loving men, two picky but hungry teenage boys, and an omnivore (me). How about make-your-own pizza? My pizza dough recipe makes enough for two 12" pizzas. Figuring half-a-pie per person, I increased amounts by half again to feed six people. That evening, the dough divided into six equal balls, we set up a dough-rolling station, opened up a jar of tomato sauce, shredded a mountain of cheese, and sliced up a variety of topping choices. We could cook two pizzas at one time, so everyone was in the kitchen. It turned mealtime into a fun event, everybody happy and well-fed, and no leftovers. Everyone agreed that ideas's definitely a keeper.

Bottling Sparkling Hard Cider

It took about three weeks for our five-gallon batch of apple cider to ferment completely. After our overflow emergency had settled back down, we put the regular airlock back on the fermenter and let it bubble away for a couple more weeks. It eventually slowed, and then finally stopped bubbling. If bottled before the fermentation has stopped, the gases produced are powerful enough to blow the tops off the bottles, or even break the glass. So we always wait another day or two past the last bubbles through the airlock, just to be sure. When the level in the airlock starts to lift backwards, it's time to get the bottles out.

As with the fermenting process, cleanliness is still very important to prevent any off-flavors in the cider (or exploding bottles), so an empty bucket, the tubing, bottle filler, bottles, and caps are all washed, then rinsed with a weak bleach solution to sterilize. The spent yeast has sunk to the bottom of the fermenting bucket, also helping to settle out everything else in the juice. Hooking the tubing to the spout of the fermenting bucket, the clear, fermented cider is transferred to the clean bucket, leaving the bottom dregs behind.

We want a sparkling hard cider, with a bit of carbonation in the bottles. So Aries dissolved 3/4 cup of corn sugar (not cane, beet, nor from any syrup - I don't know why, but he says we need to use only corn sugar) in one cup of boiling water, and then left it to cool earlier. That's enough for the whole 5-gallon batch. He gently stirs that into the bucket of cider (with a sterilized spoon), puts the lid on top loosely, and sets the bucket up on a stool on our counter so the cider will flow out the bottom valve. We're ready to bottle. That little bit of sugar will ferment in the bottles; the little bit of CO2 gas produced is enough to carbonate the cider without (hopefully) blowing the bottles.

My mom was visiting, so she helped Aries bottle the cider. From the valve on the bucket, the cider flows through the tubing to the filler. It's a rigid tube with a spring-loaded valve on the end. When the bottom of the filler is pressed against the bottom of a bottle, the cider flows. When the cider reaches the top of the bottle, lifting up on the filler stops the flow. The filler displaces just enough space in the full bottle so that when it is removed, it lowers the level of the liquid inside just the right amount.

Aries hands clean bottles over to Mom, taking back the filled ones to seal. When making beer, we like to reuse 16-oz Grolsch-type beer bottles, the ones that seal with a gasket, porcelain top, and a metal bale. Since we added extra sugar before fermenting the cider, it has a higher alcohol content than our beer - quite a bit higher, so we want to use smaller bottles. A 12-oz bottle is enough for three, even four, servings (and then I often mix my portion with ice and club soda). We reuse regular beer bottles, sealing by crimping on new metal bottle caps. Domestic bottles with twist-off caps can't be resealed, but we (and our friends) save empty foreign beer bottles that still need a bottle opener for our home brewing endeavors.

Hey lady! No sampling!

The filled bottles are labeled with item and date (little dot stickers on the caps) and packed away into a couple of boxes (I kept a few out for experiments in vinegar-making). Aries put the cases on the floor of our bedroom for another week or so. The secondary fermentation, the carbonation inside the bottles, gets off to a good start in the warmer environment, and we can keep an eye on the bottles to make sure none break. He just moved the cases down to the cellar yesterday, putting one bottle in the refrigerator for tasting last night. The cider still has quite a sharp taste, but it's not bad, even this early. There was a bit of a hiss when he opened it, but no bubbles yet. By Christmas, it should be mellowed nicely; by next summer, make for some wonderful cocktail hours, out on the deck watching the sunset.

20th Wedding Anniversary

Twenty years ago, we got married outside the Virginia City Courthouse. It was basically an elopement. I didn't really want a big wedding or lots of guests showing up - this was just for us. My sister and my roommate at the time stood up with us. Three friends from work showed up unexpectedly, making the Justice' Chambers a bit too crowded, so we took it outside - a little lawn area under the golden-leaved cottonwood trees, next to the building. That was really nice. I also liked the idea that our officiating Justice of the Peace was a woman (Aries was surprised, but I'd set it up so I knew).

Something old: I had an antique linen handkerchief with crocheted edging that belonged to my grandma in my pocket. Something new: I wore brand-new white tennis shoes - they hadn't even been scuffed up yet. Something borrowed: my sister loaned me a beautiful pair of earrings to wear. Something blue: blue jeans (after the ceremony we went down the street to one of those old-timey dress-up photo places for our "official" wedding photo, so Mom did get a wedding picture of me in a wedding dress). And a 1953 silver dime in the heel of my left shoe.

I keep my wedding night peignoir and negligee tucked away in a satin-lined pouch, getting it out again each year, to add to that sense of occasion (note to the ladies: if this is a tradition you'd like to try, I'd advise choosing either something diaphanous and floaty or one with some stretch and ribbon ties - you'll be glad you have that bit of leeway in the fit during all stages of your life together). Sweet husband gave me an anthurium. For him, I looked up the list of traditional gifts. China, it said, for a 20th anniversary. So I told Aries he'd need to get a passport - couldn't talk him into that though. Instead, we spent the afternoon at the Italian Fest in Reno (he liked that - he's half Italian-descent), tasting pasta sauces and wandering about in the crowd.

Our Little 1972 Honda 600

We have a busy calendar - lots of things to do as our summer continues. Some of it revolves around a little toy in our garage - a 1972 Honda 600 2-door sedan. It's been in the family for years - originally a niece's high school car. After she blew up the engine, she dumped it at her grandfather's house. Aries' dad started fooling around with it - finding another engine to at least get it running again. He gave the car to Aries, and over time he's cleaned and fixed it up a bit more.

A few times a summer, a local car group puts together a Run-what-ya-brung Show-n-Shine and Street Dance in a local casino's downtown parking lot. Since Aries works on Saturday, he's never around for any weekend daytime car show events, but we do like to take the car downtown for the occasional Saturday evening dances.

The car is no showpiece, but since it's still running and pretty much still all original is it a bit of a curiosity. I don't remember them at all. I grew up in Colorado - maybe none of them could make it over the Rocky Mountains. But I guess they were really quite common back in their day on the West Coast.

We set out our lawn chairs, pop the hood and the trunk, sit back to people-watch, and visit with all and sundry. Lots of people stop to tell us stories from their high school days and "a car just like that." Kids just love it - a real car just their size. If there were a prize for "cutest car" we'd win it - that's what women say when they see it. I love seeing the smiles on faces when they see us driving it, out and about for in-town errands. It's a great little "town car." The trunk will hold five bags of groceries; it gets maybe 35 mpg (it is just a 600 cc motorcycle engine after all - you do have to rev it up quite a bit). And it's a great excuse for a little community social time.

Dad's Apron?

I was back in Colorado earlier this year, visiting my mom. She was going through the basement, garage, and closets, getting things together for a garage sale. She told me to look through what she was planning to sell, to see if there was anything I wanted. As a kid, I vaguely remembered seeing this silly old apron, hanging in the broom closet way back when. I now have it hanging in my pantry. I don't really remember anyone in particular wearing it, but just seeing it brings a smile to my face.

I always tell people I really did grow up in a 1950's sit-com family. Mom quit teaching school when I was born and stayed home until the baby, five kids later, started school. Dad worked, Mom did the shopping, laundry, and cooking, us girls did the dishes and cleaned house, the boys mowed the lawn. But Mom didn't wear aprons like my grandmothers did. If she was canning or cooking something splattery, she might wear one of those backwards shirt-type smocks, but not a tied around the waist-type apron.

Dad would cook on camping trips and outside on the charcoal grill, but didn't do much cooking inside the house. I don't remember if he ever really did wear this apron. The one thing I do remember though, is that sometimes on a weekend morning, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, he'd cook pancakes for us kids and let Mom sleep in. That was something different, something special, a treat - having Dad in the kitchen. Now that I'm older and think about it, after taking care of five kids all week, getting to sleep in must have really been a treat for my mom too.

Home Again

Miss me? I've missed all of you. I just spent a week in Denver visiting my Mom. She doesn't (didn't, anyway) have internet access, so my only time online was a couple of 15-minute sessions at the local library - just long enough to check my email. But all five of us siblings (I also have a Colorado Brother and a California Brother) had pitched in together and bought Mom a new laptop for Mother's Day. Colorado Sister lives near Mom, and California Sister flew in for a visit the same day I flew out, and she brought the new laptop (and even put together a personalized how-to manual). So in between our flights we three sisters went to lunch with Mom and gave her her present - with a new email address already set up for her and all her contacts notified. California Sister will spend her time there getting Mom's new internet access all set up and give her some internet lessons. I think she'll really enjoy it once she learns how to maneuver in cyberspace (and that means there will be home internet access next time I visit).

It was a wonderful little get-away for me - the perfect little space on my calendar, spent just hanging out with Mom and Colorado Sis. I walked with Mom when she played in her 9-hole golf league one day (great view of Red Rocks Amphitheater from a high point on the golf course - top tiers of the seats visible between the two big rocks on the left, Lookout Mountain beyond),

and spent another day with my sister out geocaching up on Lookout Mountain (even nicer view of the Rockies from the parking lot for Buffalo Bill's grave).

Now I'm back home again, with bunches of things to do in the garden and my calendar booked solid for the next two weeks. The lilacs are in bloom, and so are the last of the fruit trees - the apples and the pie cherry. The netting is still intact over the garden, and my peas and lettuces are coming up. Guinea Tweedit is still sitting on her nest out front - I haven't heard any peeping out there yet, but it should be any day now. It was my day to post on the SGF Co-op blog. My Colorado Sister has had problems with blossom-end rot on her tomatoes, so I thought I'd write about Troubleshooting Tomatoes for her over there. And with that, I think I've done enough writing for today.

Echo Summit and a Birthday Party

We took off for a couple of days to visit some of Aries' relatives near Sacramento. This trip, we took Highway 50 over the Sierras. First, we drove up out of our valley, over Spooner Summit and then down to and around the south end of Lake Tahoe.

Tahoe is said to be a Washoe Indian word, meaning Big Sky Water, and scenes like this make it easy to see why they named it that. The natural lake, more than 6,000 feet above sea level is so deep that it never freezes, and almost always reflects the color of the sky.

Once around the lake, we start to climb up out of the Tahoe Basin over Echo Summit. This narrow mountain road is one of the major routes between the Lake and California. The snow is finally starting to melt from the hillsides above, sending rivulets of water cascading down next to the road. The granite rises straight above the road on one side, and drops more than 1000 feet on the other; rooftops and trees dot the valley far below.

Dropping down the western slope, Desolation Wilderness is north of the highway. Despite the name, this wilderness area is one of the most accessible in California. It is 100 square miles of glaciated granite, dotted with many small lakes. Above the Twin Bridges trailhead, a quick glimpse of Horsetail Falls (in the middle of the photo, right below the saddle) shows quite a bit of water coming down. During the winter, the falls are sparkling white, blue and green ice; by September the water will slow to a trickle sliding down the rock face.

As the highway drops lower in altitude the snowbanks get smaller and smaller. By the time we've dropped down into the American River canyon, they're gone completely. As we continue westward, Springtime advances and by the time we reach the Apple Hill area above Placerville the trees are in full bloom; the Sierras just a snowy line on the eastern horizon.

We had a nice visit. One of Aries' cousins hosted a barbecue for her dad's 85th birthday. The brother of Aries' dad, his uncle is the only one of that generation left on either side of Aries' family. His other cousin flew in from Salt Lake City for the party, so it made for a nice reunion. While Aries and I had visited his uncle and aunt before, I'd never met these cousins. They're all great people and we had a wonderful time.

It was sooooo hot and humid down there though. After a couple of days, I'm so glad to get back to my cool and dry desert. I can wait a bit longer for summer to arrive, thank you.

Something Gardeners Should Read

When I was about eight years old, and visiting my Granny on her farm in Texas, I stepped on a rusty nail while exploring around back of some old sheds. I limped back up to the house, the inside of my shoe squishy with blood. Mom washed my foot with soap and hot water, checking to make sure no debris was left inside the deep puncture wound. Then Granny sat me down in the kitchen, my foot soaking in a pan filled with hot water and a heaping handful of Epsom Salts, "to draw out the toxin," she said.

"Lockjaw!" I heard from every adult relative that came in and saw me sitting there. I'd seen The Wizard of Oz. I imagined the rust from the nail creeping up through my body, freezing me up just like the Tin Woodman, until I couldn't even utter the word, "oilcan" . . .
Anyone planning on working in the garden should read "The Rest of the Story" (RIP Paul Harvey) in my post over at the Simple Green Frugal Co-op blog, here.

Since I was writing about Texas, I dug out this old photo of my Uncle Emmett and me. One time, early in the morning at Granny's, I heard a gunshot. I ran outside, barefooted and in my pajamas, to find my Uncle holding an armadillo he'd shot when he and his old hound dog caught it digging under the chicken coop.

Canning Salmon

I love salmon. When I get the chance to go out to dinner at a really nice place, odds are I'll order the salmon. Even though I've never lived near an ocean, I've caught and canned my share of salmon. Sockeye salmon, the pink-fleshed tasty kind, spawn and live for a while in fresh water before heading downstream to the sea. But there's also a landlocked variety of sockeye that lives its entire life in fresh water, called kokanee salmon. When I lived in Leadville, I'd try to make it out to my favorite spot on the river in the fall, just before it entered a big mountain reservoir, for salmon snagging (Colorado has a legal snagging season in the fall - the mature salmon heading upstream to spawn aren't interested in hitting a lure, but you can snag them with big weighted treble hooks using a jerk-n-reel tactic. They're going to die anyway, and it's food in the pantry).

My dad loved fishing. Every summer, my folks would camp at mountain reservoirs, taking the boat out all day, rigged for salmon fishing. Mom would take the pressure cooker and jars along, and after a couple of days of fishing success would can the salmon right there at their campsite. Since moving to Nevada, I'd always beg them to bring me jars of salmon when they were coming out to visit. But, while writing my last post, I realized that with the passing of my dad earlier this year, those jars of salmon might not be quite so plentiful now.

My Colorado brother has dad's boat now, he likes to fish, and probably even cans his salmon. But I don't see him very often. My Colorado sister and her husband also have a boat, fish for salmon, and might have to start canning their own catch (Mom might still do it for them - they live close by). So I still might be able to beg jars from family on occasion. But then again, Lake Tahoe, right over the hill, has kokanee in it. I might have to start looking around for someone with a boat, and start canning my own salmon again. When I asked Aries to ask his co-workers about who goes fishing, he said one guy had mentioned maybe trading fresh salmon for our eggs. That would work. Or maybe I can find someone that would trade salmon for my canning efforts - we could split the results (especially if I could get them to return the empty jars for "re-filling"). I'll have to look into that. If you do have access to fresh salmon, whether from salt- or fresh-water, and a pressure cooker or canner, salmon are easy to can.

Canning Salmon
Kokanee aren't as big as ocean salmon, so they're usually canned cut in cross-wise chunks, skin-on, instead of filleted. Gut the fish, and cut off the head and tail. Remove loose scales and clean the skin by scraping. Cut away the flabby belly flap and the fins (cutting down into the flesh to get the fin bones too). Cut crosswise in lengths to fit your jar leaving at least ½" headspace. Pack into sterilized pint jars - straight-sided wide-mouth jars work best. Add 1 teaspoon vinegar to each jar, seal, and process at 10 pounds pressure for 90 minutes.

Salmon creates its own juices during the canning process. Leaving the skin on means more of the Omega 3 oil that makes eating salmon so good for you. The vinegar softens the little bones so that they just disappear. When I use a jar of salmon, I'll drain off the liquid, pull off the skin, and pick out the big backbone sections. Then I'm ready to make salmon patties, dip, pasta salads, all kinds of good eats.

100 Random Things About Me

When I logged in to my blogging Dashboard, I saw that the Zucchini Muffins post made one hundred posts. So, as I've seen other bloggers do to honor the occasion, I've done this post. Enjoy, or ignore, your choice:

1. My first "real" job was working for Burger King
2. I've sold dictionaries door-to-door – I was one of the company's top 100 salespeople that summer and made enough, working straight commission, to pay for my next 9 months of school
3. I've lived in Colorado, Michigan (1 summer), Iowa (1 summer) and Nevada
4. I'm the oldest of five – two brothers, two sisters
5. I love to travel – anywhere, any time, even just going for a drive
6. I’ve climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, as my 50th birthday present to myself
7. I've hiked the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu
8. My first time in an airplane was flying from Los Angeles to Hawaii, when I was nine years old. Looking down, at blue and clouds, I thought we were so high up it was like looking up towards the sky – until we went over a ship and I realized the blue was water
9. I can read music, both bass and treble clef - I took accordion lessons when I was eight years old
10. I still have two accordions, and I still play (not in public – only for my own amusement)
11. I can also play the harmonica – just straight notes – but wish I could bend notes and play the blues
12. I earned my B.S. degree, in Human Ecology, on the 25-year plan – pulling together the credits from four different institutions of higher education
13. I lived above 10,000 feet for 10 years – I feel better at high altitudes
14. I donate blood – more than six gallons, a pint at a time, to date
15. My maternal grandmother taught me to embroider
16. My mom taught me to sew
17. My first college roommate taught me to crochet
18. I taught myself to knit (still working on that)
19. I'm a certified open-water scuba diver
20. My favorite author is Robert Heinlein – ever since reading "Have Spacesuit, Will Travel" as a fifth grader
21. Kim Basinger is my "famous birthday twin"
22. I got my motorcycle license when I was 19
23. I've owned motorcycles since I was 21
24. I have a scar on my left knee, from the four stitches needed when I dropped my first bike – I picked the bike up, got it home, and then drove myself to the hospital
25. I don't care for liver, lamb, or lima beans
26. I've eaten guinea pig in Peru – looks like road-kill, tastes like chicken dark meat
27. And tried the goat in a Masaii warrior camp in Africa (didn't like that at all – I spit it out without swallowing. I liked the shredded goat in barbecue sauce - at least, I think it was goat - at a Filipino party)
28. I love hot springs – my favorite is the Tabacon Resort in Costa Rica: an entire hot river, flowing from the base of an active volcano, diverted into various pools and waterfalls, with beautiful paths winding through the jungle landscaping
29. I'm nearsighted – I remember getting glasses in fifth grade and how amazing it was when I could see individual leaves on the trees
30. I now wear mono-vision contacts – my left lens is for distance, my right lens is for reading
31. I won a Gold Key in the national Scholastic Art Contest in high school for a pencil drawing
32. I've worked as a free-lance sign painter, doing free-hand lettering before they came out with the computer graphics design programs – my specialty was writing backwards on the inside of glass windows
33. I used to work as a construction laborer – working both highway and high-rise jobs
34. I was a certified Traffic Control Supervisor for Colorado state highway jobs
35. I have no fear of heights (but have no desire to jump from them, either – I'll probably never skydive or bungee jump. I’m more the "stand at the edge, lean over, and spit" type)
36. I think of my gardening and landscaping as the slowest art form
37. My favorite color is dark hunter green
38. I'm missing four premolar teeth (one each side, top and bottom, just behind the canine teeth) - pulled as a teenager before getting braces. I used to think someone in the future would someday find my skull and think I was some kind of missing link
39. Novocain works on me, but slowly. I hated the dentist that pulled the above teeth because I wasn’t numb when he pulled them. He just put sunglasses and headphones on me, told me to hold onto the arms of the chair, and pulled the teeth anyway (I threatened to bite him if my mom ever took me back there – she didn't). I got numb later, at home. I've finally figured out that if I need dental work, to go in and get the shots, then wait at least another hour
40. I wrecked my first car on an icy winter road when I slid sideways over a fifty-foot cliff. The car rolled and was totaled – I got a bruise on my right thigh from the steering wheel. They had to lower a rope so I could climb back up through the waist-deep snow
41. I have photos of me with every car I've owned, when the odometer turned over back to zero
42. My favorite artists are Maxfield Parrish and M.C. Escher
43. I prefer to sit cross-legged with my feet up under me, and will often kick off my shoes and do so whenever I can manage it (I do try to act "normal" in restaurants and during job interviews though)
44. Visual spatial relationships come easy to me (examples: I'm really good at packing all the camping gear into my compact car's trunk, or putting together a pleasing layout for a newsletter)
45. I hate any percentage of polyester in sheets – it makes them feel like plastic. Only 100% cotton for me
46. I won't drink diet soft drinks – I can't stand the metallic aftertaste of artificial sweeteners
47. I like the taste of club soda
48. My favorite television show is Doctor Who (ever since the Tom Baker days, which we could only see occasionally on our PBS station)
49. If I ever get a personalized license plate, I want it to say TARDIS
50. My favorite rock band is Queen. Freddy Mercury had such an amazing voice. I never saw them live
51. The first live rock concert I saw was the Moody Blues, when I had just turned 16
52. I learned to drive in a car with a standard transmission
53. I still prefer manually going through the gears when driving – all our current vehicles have standard transmissions
54. I've never owned a cell phone
55. I love my IPod – it’s completely filled with my favorite rock albums. I set it on shuffle while out walking with the dog
56. I've always had "mobile music" devices, with earplugs - starting with a transistor radio, then a little portable cassette player, CD players, and now the IPod
57. Cross-country skiing is great with music – I had never really gotten into the right rhythm until I started skiing with my earphones on
58. I don't wear music downhill skiing
59. I learned to ski downhill when I was 15, and still get out a couple of times each year (although I now find it harder to get up if I fall)
60. I used to work in a restaurant at the top of a ski run. My commute included riding the lift up in the morning, then skiing down a 1½ mile intermediate run after work each day. I'd do it without thinking, easy – just like other people would ride an escalator
61. I was a "ski bum" for years. For one of my annual passes, I talked them into letting me get my picture taken wearing big black Groucho nose-n-mustache glasses. A lot of the lift checkers never even noticed, but when they did, they loved it
62. I love animals
63. I have, however, been bitten hard enough to draw blood by a rabbit, a hamster, a pony, and two dogs (the hamster died the next day – mom took the dead hamster to the vet to make sure it didn’t have rabies or distemper – just crotchety old age, I guess)
64. I also got a two-inch "hickey" on my arm, playing with a 5' stingray while diving near Stingray City in the Cayman Islands
65. I've petted, swum with, and dove with wild dolphins. Though they look like fish, I find it interesting that they're warm to the touch and when they make that eek-eek-eek noise it comes from their blowhole, not their mouth
66. I've stroked a wild moray eel, half-out of its cave while the dive master was holding some food for it just out of reach. They feel soft, like firm jello, and a bit slimy. That was in Bora Bora, French Polynesia, and the dive master would only speak French to me (I don’t speak French) but it wasn’t an issue once we were under water
67. Long as we’re talking sea creatures, I’ve also carried a 4' reef shark around, cradled under my arm, while snorkeling. The dive master had made a pet of it – it would come up, swim up under your arm and just lie there, along for the ride
68. If I ever get the chance, I want to ride a camel and an elephant
69. I'm fascinated by the ruins of ancient civilizations – I think initially sparked by reading an article, as a child, in National Geographic about excavating Pompeii
70. Egypt, Italy and Greece are high on my list of places I want to visit (and New Zealand)
71. I'm right-handed, but prefer using a computer mouse with my left hand
72. I played fast-pitch softball for 10 years as a child, usually at shortstop
73. As a waitress, I've waited on a few famous people: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Chuck Norris, Red Skelton, Mary Tyler Moore, Randy Quaid, and Sally Fields come to mind
74. Jack Nicholson once came over to our table in a Mexican restaurant in Leadville Colorado, drunk as a skunk, and sat down to tell us all about the rafting trip he'd taken that day – another round of margaritas, please
75. I speak Spanish well-enough to be able to function by myself in a Spanish-speaking country
76. Working with numbers – math, budgets, accounting, bookkeeping – comes easy for me
77. I would rather read than watch television
78. I read the newspaper regularly, and like to read any English ones I can find when I’m in a foreign country
79. My mom read to me so much when I was a toddler that I memorized my favorite books. I'd sit and recite them, turning the pages at the right place and people thought I was reading as a three-year old. I wasn't – I learned to read in first grade, along with everybody else
80. My birthday is in December. My parents had the option for me to start Kindergarten early and be one of the youngest in the class or wait another year. They waited, so I'd only be two grades ahead of my sister. As a result, I was a head taller than most of my schoolmates all through elementary school
81. School was always easy for me – so easy that I'd finish the assignment, then turn around and talk to the other kids. So I was usually seated up front, next to the teacher's desk, to keep me from bothering the other children while they were still trying to do their work. I think this is why no one noticed I needed glasses until fifth grade
82. My early elementary schooling was in combination classes - first & second for first grade; second & third for second grade. When I finished my assignment, I'd do the other grade's too. I was always being given "extra credit" assignments to do by myself. I loved it, especially when it was something to read
83. I like dark chocolate, especially Dove dark chocolate
84. I dip my grilled cheese sandwiches in ketchup
85. I've never colored my hair
86. I prefer my toilet paper to roll off the top, away from the wall
87. I keep the toilet lid closed. This habit started when my Afghan hound used to drink from the toilet, dunking his long ears in the process, and then dripping them across the seat
88. My Afghan hound's name was Omar. He was a pound hound I raised from a half-grown puppy. He’s been gone 10 years now. I held him when I had to have him put to sleep, then went out to my car, sat there, and cried. It was a hard thing to do, but I felt it was also the right way to do it
89. I dread the thought that I might someday have to make that type of decision about a person
90. I have long straight hair, and I’ll play with it and twist it when I'm bored or thinking about something
91. I don't wear rings – not even a wedding ring (if my now-husband wanted to spend a lot of money on me, I asked that he buy me a motorcycle instead. He did. He doesn't wear a ring either)
92. I rarely wear necklaces either
93. I do wear earrings. I have one hole pierced in each ear. If dear husband wants to give me jewelry, he buys real gemstone earrings (he’s been well-trained)
94. He says I proposed to him. After we'd been dating for over a year, I was out in my garden working and he came over to visit. I said something like, "Where do you see our relationship going – are we getting married, or what?" He said, "Ok. When?" I just stood there open-mouthed, looking at him. "Well,” he repeated, “When?" "How about October, after I’ve harvested the garden," I finally said. "I don’t want to move until then."
95. We eloped. I didn't want to deal with all my relatives showing up. We were married by the Justice of the Peace outside the courthouse in Virginia City, Nevada (that courthouse is one of the few where the statue of Justice does not wear a blindfold), with my sister and my roommate at the time standing up for us
96. The Justice of the Peace was on vacation on the date we originally picked. We already had our work vacation time arranged for our honeymoon, so we went on our honeymoon and then got married when we got back a week later
97. My honeymoon was a camping trip – through Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks, over to the Pacific at Morro Bay, and up through Big Sur
98. We agreed before we were married that neither of us wanted children
99. I don't really like babies much. I like other people's children after they're potty-trained and can talk
100. I love my life – I wouldn't change a thing!

Memorial Services

I'm home again, after a very emotional week in Colorado. My mom and two sisters had taken care of a lot of the arrangements before my two brothers and I made it home. Such a difference from when my in-laws passed. Aries' family is so different from mine - they observed no services, no family get-togethers, nothing.

My family is different. We all needed to be together. There were lots of hugs and tears but it was a healing experience too. One sister had a birthday that week, so we all went out to dinner to her favorite Mexican food place one night. Everybody got into a cribbage game or two, childhood friends dropped by, we took turns checking our email on one brother's laptop, cooked and ate family dinners together. I put together a couple of collage displays for the services from the photos Mom liked best. We three sisters went to a yoga class. We watched another brother's favorite DVD movie. Dad would have loved having the whole family together there (darn, now I'm making myself tear up again).

The memorial service was very nice. Dad was a Mason, so the Masonic Lodge did their formal ceremony. The man leading the opening prayer got so choked up he couldn't finish and I was afraid he was going to collapse on the spot, but another Lodge brother got up and took over. It was very touching. The funeral home had put together a nice video display, my sister's childhood friend sang, the pastor read the obituary my sister wrote, and afterwards there was a luncheon reception with food brought by all Mom's friends.

Dad was WWII Army veteran, having served in the 10th Mountain Division in Italy and the Aleutian Islands. After the service and reception, we had a family-only, full military honors ceremony at Fort Logan Cemetery. Taps was played, and the flag unfurled and refolded and presented to Mom. Half of Dad's ashes, wrapped in his Mason's apron, will be interred there.

The next day, we drove up into the Rocky Mountains to one of Mom and Dad's favorite fishing and camping spots. We chose a high little point overlooking the lake, where a few early wildflowers were already in bloom and a couple of small butterflies flitted, even though a snowbank still lingered down by the road. There we scattered the rest of his ashes, along with some wildflower seeds and our silent goodbyes. Amazingly, a hummingbird perched on a nearby branch to watch. It was all sad and bittersweet and really a lot of planning and ritual, but then too brought a necessary and comforting sense of closure.

So now I'm home, sleeping once more in my own bed. I've got a garden to plant (although it snowed for a bit here yesterday), a campaign to plan, baby chicks out in the dog run, a new dog in the house (more on that later), and with the official Memorial Day start of the tourist season, work assignments starting to come in. Life goes on.

This and That, and Some Sad News

This is just a quick little catch-up post. The six baby chicks have doubled in size, with wing and tail feathers over bodies and heads of baby fluff. I've been taking them outside to spend the day in the dog run lined with chicken wire. I'm using the cat carrier to transport them, putting it down in a little enclosed, shady spot with the door open. They hop in and out, exploring and scratching and dust bathing, and in the evening they've all gone back into it so I just close it up and bring them back into the house to the dog crate and their warming light for the night.

It was time to have our septic tank pumped out again, so Aries spent an evening digging up the lid and then I spent a morning waiting for the service truck to come. I'm still mulling over running for City Supervisor, but thinking I might as well throw my hat in the ring. It will be quite a learning experience. I transplanted my tomato, pepper, eggplant seedlings into individual little cups so they can be more easily moved to the garden at the end of the month, and have been hardening off the cabbages, broccoli, and kale plants out on the table on the deck.

And now for the sad news: my dad passed away in Colorado last night. I hope I can go as easily when my time comes - he was at my sister's cabin, along with her husband, my mom, and another sister. They'd gone there for the weekend, had just finished dinner, and he was still sitting at the table when he just put his head down and was gone. I'm making plans to fly out there later this week for the services next Thursday, so posts might be a bit sporadic for a while longer. Thank you in advance for your thoughts and your prayers.
~Sadge

Learning to Embroider

I received a couple of interesting emails concerning my post on darning socks. My sister, also a darner (is that a word?), wrote, "I like doing mine in colors different from the socks... that way I can "see" & better enjoy my handiwork." I've found when I do that my mind registers "not sock" and I think I've got another hole, so I'm happiest with the patch as close a match as possible.

Another friend, Chris, wrote a lovely response: "Once a Scout, always a Scout. Where did you learn to darn? I learned as part of a sewing related badge in grammar school. Few people know the art; I did not inherit the wooden darning egg. Most people who know I knit my socks laugh at me ... and as one dear friend said, 'Why do you knit socks when you can buy a pair for $1.99?' How do you explain the love of the process? The feel of the wool in your hand? The gentle rhythm your life takes as you sit, knitting, listening to the birds who've come to the feeder you put out for them?"

What a wonderful thought! My knitting expertise is limited to cast on, knit, cast off, but she makes me want to pick up a pair of needles right now. Her question got me to thinking, though. Where did I learn to darn? I must have seen my maternal grandmother doing it, because somehow I knew you had to have an "egg" to do it (for years, I kept a silver L'eggs pantyhose egg for my darning egg). But I don't remember her ever really showing me what to do. I think darning is one of those things I more or less figured out on my own.

My grandmother did teach me the art of embroidery. She used to embroider pillowcases, and I still have a pair she made for me. When I was about five or six, she sat down with me and some embroidery floss. She taught me to cut off a length, how to separate out two strands from the six; how to wet the ends in my mouth and then pull them between pursed lips to stiffen and flatten them so they would go through the eye of the needle. Then to cross the end over a wrap around my finger and roll it off and slide it down so I had a small knot with no tail hanging out.

Then she gave me an embroidery hoop and a printed cross-stitch dresser scarf, helped me get the hoop in place with the material stretched taut, and set me to work. I'd played with sewing cards - pictures on rigid cardboard outlined with punched holes that a child could thread a shoestring up and down through, so I knew the general idea of sewing. Now I was going to learn how to do it with a sharp needle!

I worked diligently on that red flower, and ran to show Grammaw when I reached the end of the thread. She admired my little x's, all lined up so nicely, and then turned the material over. I had a big clump of knots and tangles there, but I had just pulled things tight and kept sewing. Not good. She said, "the back has to look as good as the front," and then I couldn't believe it - she took her scissors and clipped my threads and sent me back to pick out all those stitches!

I eventually finished it to her satisfaction, and then she had me hem it with a running stitch. To this day, I feel too guilty to run a length of thread across a gap instead of fastening off and restarting. I've found embroidery to be a wonderful pastime over the years - from my hippie days of decorating my denim, to playing with counted cross-stitch patterns, making up my own designs, and using the iron-on transfers I've found in garage sales and thrift stores. It's like painting with thread. I love using my collection of pillowcases and kitchen towels. Just seeing them makes me happy (and the backs look as good as the fronts). Thank you, Elizabeth Krukow Marks - Lizzie to most, Grammaw to me.