Camping Is Intense III -- Mountain Streams

The STP and I did a little fishing.  The STP caught a little fish.  Me, not so much.

I used my new fly rod.  See my fly here in the clear mountain stream?  Yeah, me neither.

See my fly here in the pine tree?  I spent a fair amount of time rescuing my fly from trees and bushes.

The rest of the time I spent walking the dog, who is not a big fan of fly fishing.

I found a new mountain stream activity.  Stacking rocks.  See how good I was at it?

That and taking pictures of streams at sunrise. 

On the Mountain.

Camping Is In Tents II -- The Yurt Stands Alone

Some things about tent camping.
1.  More people are eaten out of tents by bears than are eaten out of campers.
2.  Tents are not good at keeping out the cold.
3.  The number of men that can stay comfortably in a 'three man tent' is less than three.
For these reasons we did not stay in our own tent this year.  We borrowed a tent.  A bigger tent.  A more substantial tent.  A six sided, former military, former hunting camp tent.  In fact, let's just go ahead and call it a yurt.
And in the yurt we had a dog (E-I-E-I-O), and a lantern, and a queen size air mattress, and a table and two chairs, and a cot, and a woodstove.  Oh, yes, we did.

And even though it was freezing cold outside the yurt...

it was toasty warm inside.  As long as someone kept wood in the stove.  The STP did this job admirably two of the three nights we stayed on the mountain.  But Saturday night it was my job.  And I did it admirably as well, if the standard is that the fire was still burning in the morning.  In the process, though, I managed to get lost in the tent and to use up all the kindling wood, to step on my glasses and break them in two pieces, and to crawl outside and get more kindling (without being eaten by a bear).  I had to go outside, because I had not only burned up all the kindling in an effort to keep warm, I had cannibalized the cardboard box it was in.  I know how the Donner Party must have felt.  I would have started burning the tent poles if I had to.

The good news is that this year's Christmas picture has already been taken. 

Season's Greetings from the Happy Yurt Dwellers (On the Mountain).

Camping Is Intense I -- Bear Bait

This past weekend was the Annual Church Camp Out On The Mountain.  It was our third time to attend.  You may recall we spent the first year in a tent.  Then last year Princess Amidala and I finnagled our way into a camper.  This year we were back in a tent.  In light of the recent and relatively local eating of people in tents by bears, I inquired about the safety of keeping food in my tent. 
Tell me the truth, I said, Do I need to worry about keeping food in my tent? 
I asked only one person whom I trusted (who might be named MIKE).  I even pointed my finger at him, because everyone knows that when someone is pointing their finger at you they really want the truth and you are required to tell it. 
Nothing to fear,  he assured me. 
So I slept three nights in a tent with a cooler of ground beef, bacon, and keilbasi at my feet.  Fast forward to Monday morning.  I was clearing off a table and was going to dump a leftover bowl of jello in the woods.  The bowl was left in the rain storm on Sunday afternoon after the fellowship dinner on the mountain.  (Everything even sounds better if you add the phrase 'on the mountain'.)  It was not my jello, I was just going to dump it and clean out the bowl. 
OH,No! The group gathered around the fire exclaimed.  Don't do that.  It will attract bears. 
Are you kidding me?  (I thought briefly about pointing my finger at them.)
Sure, anything with sugar in it will attract bears.  Dump it in the fire instead.
Okay, so what about the ground beef and Hershey bars in my tent?  And why did we let the jello sit outside overnight in the middle of our campsite if we are so worried about bear attacks?  And who can you trust to tell you the truth?  So next time I sleep in a tent I will err on the side of caution.  (Luck favors the prepared, darling.)   So I will keep my food locked up in the truck.  Or better yet I will store it by MIKE'S camper.  And instead of moving stealthily, I will bang pan lids together when I go to the restroom at 3 o'clock in the morning. 
And that's the truth. 

Picture Day

Of the few blogmoms I follow, three of them have kindergarteners this year.  I makes me sad that I did not have a blog when my children started school.  I remember the highlights, but there are all those little moments that are forgotten.  And I don't think there is a single picture of the princess with the funeral bow on her head.  Sad.
This year my last child started high school.  In less than 4 years our school years will be over.  I have an urge to document each day.  But the truth is, it is neither as poignant nor as cute as kindergarten.  For instance, today is picture day.  The only thing I have to report is that he has braces and his face is broken out with an especially bad zit which is more like a second nose.  This does not make anyone go aaaahhhh.   It is almost to much eeeewwwww to record.  But it is picture day, so what can you do?  One of the options,besides background colors, that you can pick is retouching.  For eight dollars they will airbrush away your child's blemishes.  I did not choose this option.  We want to remember this as the year of braces and blemishes.  Look for your wallet size to arrive around Halloween.

Not Me Quote of the Day

An intellectual snob is someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture and not think of The Lone Ranger.
Dan Rather

To The Dump, To The Dump

Yesterday I hung out all day with the STP.  We worked together on two projects. And he took me out. 
To the dump.  One of our projects was the rock border along the sidewalk.  We put in about 65 ft. of edging and dug out an equivalent amount of dirt.  We loaded the dirt in the wheelbarrow, and then into the truck, and then we hauled it to the dump and unloaded it.  At the dump.  I didn't even know such a place existed.  It is like a dumpster on steroids.  (This summer we dumpster-dived some wood, two saw horses, and legs for a camping/potting table.)  On our first trip to the dump I brought back some grass clippings to add to my compost.  On our second trip to the dump I dump-dived some animal hair for my fly-tying supply box.  I spied a pile of bricks at the dump, but they were behind a fence, and the STP is a stickler about Keep Out signs.
The edging is all in and now we just need to haul more rocks.  From out by the beet dump.  (Which is NOT a place to dump rotten beets, but a place to gather beets together after harvesting before they are hauled for processing.) Good thing the STP has a truck.  (I am going to learn to drive it right after we have all the rocks hauled.)
After supper, the STP and I watched a Tom Hanks movie together.  There's nobody I'd rather spend the day with.  (And of course, I'm talking about the STP, not Tom Hanks.)

Aaargh! Not Doing Anything

But if I looked this good in leggings, I would definately wear them.

Final Arrangements

The STP and I have a deal.  Whichever one of us dies first does not have to do any funeral planning.  The one who remains gets to do whatever they choose as far as 'final arrangements' are concerned.  When we were in PA we visited the STP's mom's final resting place.  It is in an old cemetery where her parents are buried.  It is a cemetery worthy of an opening movie scene. 

I told the STP that if his mom were alive she would love being buried there.  He knew what I meant.  (My mother-in-law, however, was probably looking down from heaven and thinking, "I never did think she was right for him.")  

I hope I go first, but just in case, I have been thinking of what to do with what is left of the STP.  I've ruled out storing his body in the freezer or leaving him on the couch.  I asked my favorite WY retired law enforcement officer if it is true that you can just bury someone in your backyard in WY.  And he said, "Oh no, you can't just bury someone in your backyard.  You have to get a permit first."  Glad I cleared that up. 

The STP and I gathered a few ideas this Spring from a local cemetery. 

The STP favored something with skulls and horns.

I leaned more toward crosses and antler art.

Although boots as flower vases and a little sagebrush held a certain appeal as well.

We both agreed that "TO ED, ONE TOUGH S.O.B." was not our idea of a fitting epitaph, but remember that the first one to go has no say in what goes on the grave marker.

But if I go first and if you're going to go with a poem, I would like to suggest that you read it aloud all the way through so you're sure it actually rhymes. 

Because I would hate for you to stand at my grave and laugh.  Although it would make a good closing movie scene. 

I Got Nothin'

Me:  I'm growing a third pumpkin.
STP:  (Silence)
Once again, I leave him speechless.

The Dog Ate My Homework

The Goob started High School this week.  How is this possible?  Oh, I know.  He has had a great support system.  A dad to remind him of 'the rules' as he drops him off at school each morning.  A mom who makes sure there is food in the house so he never has to buy a school lunch.  And a dog to eat do his homework. 

In other Goob News:  He got his braces on earlier this month.  It was pretty much a non-event. (Which is really a big deal if you recall the ordeal that it has been getting to this point in our orthodontial journey.)

And in a stunning election upset, he is the freshman class treasurer.  So I guess he won't be dropping out after eighth grade after all.  

I Am The Clay

The potter likes clay in its basest form. He doesn't abhor it because it can't figure out how to break out of its lumpiness on its own. He doesn't look at the clay and think, For goodness' sake, why can't you pull yourself together and make something of yourself?
The potter looks at the clay and sees possibilities.... The potter really, really loves clay.

From the book All I Need Is Jesus And A Good Pair Of Jeans

What To Do WIth A Large Cucumber

Saturday the STP and I picked up our basket from the bountiful basket co-op.  I love this plan and I'm excited to be part of a food co-op.  I was so excited I forgot to take my reusable bags to empty my bountiful baskets into.  Fortunately, the STP found a cardboard box to re-use to bring our bounty home.  Next time I will take my blue bags.  (Someday I will confess that I may have your blue bags as well.)  Part of today's bounty was two burpless cucumbers, each about two feet long.  So in the interest of my readers who also food co-op members, I am offering this recipe for

Marinated Cucumbers

1 large cucumber
1 t. salt
3 T. sugar
1/3 c. vinegar
1/2 t. celery seed
several thin slices of onion

(I realize this recipe has more than three ingredients and does not involve a can opener, but do not panic.  You can do this.)
Slice cucumber paper thin.  (If you sold your salad shooter at a yard sale, you can use a potato peeler.)
Sprinkle with salt and sugar;  add vinegar and celery seed.  Mix thoroughly;  fold in onions. 
Mix all ingredients.  (I edited the instructions down to three steps for you.) 
Chill until ready to serve.

May I suggest you use this table blessing when you serve this?: 
Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Your bounty through Christ our Lord.  Amen.
Because bounty is just a good word and it's important to remind ourselves where it comes from.

Life's the Pits

Because all the cherries are eaten, but I don't want to forget this great idea, I am posting this here.  (Even if youtube goes belly-up by next August, I will remember that I want to make a cherry pitter from a fork and that I want to buy the fork at a yardsale.) 
Okay, I wanted to link to the homemade cherry pitter, but instead, when I tested the link, this great idea turned out to be how to cook elk steaks on an open pit fire.  As this may also prove useful, I decided to leave it.   
The homemade cherry pitter link "appears to be broken".  Or maybe, Ooops!, I just can't figure it out.
Open Pits, Cherry Pits.
Note to Self:  Next July ask Pam if she remembers how to make a cherry pitter from a fork.  And invite her over for grilled elk steak.  Serve the cherries with stems in little cups.

SFG First Fruits--A Pictorial

Remember when we divided the garden into 16 squares?

And we carefully selected and planted the crops?

And we watered them from the rain barrel?

And we went away for a week and the garden still grew?

Until it became the amazing source of food and wonder that it is today.

Even the SLD sits in awe.  Here then is a dog's eye view:

of the sweet peppers,

and the hot peppers,

and the marigolds,

and the pumpkins (which, yes, are growing on the neighbor's side of the fence),

and the carrots,

and the onions (both of them) which, okay, may be less than awe-inspiring.

The cherry tomatoes, however, are so glorious that they deserve their own post. 

Be The Cart

I have a dozen things to blog about, but I have been spending my computer time online shopping.  I actually filled my shopping cart twice this week and then checked out.  First I did the Goob's back to school shopping.  The Goob is easy to shop for.  He wears 'whatever is on top'.  He has no desire to try things on.  He never feels the need to see how he looks in a mirror.  So I just plug in tall and skinny jeans and buy whatever is available.  Free shipping at JCPenney.  I am expecting them any day.  School starts next week.  The Goob will probably have something to wear. 
I also bought a gift online.  And had it gift wrapped.  And had it shipped to the recipient.  I qualified for free shipping, but after I checked out they told me the expected shipping date would be two days after the event. And it graciously gave me a chance to edit my order.  So I decided to change the shipping to Two Day and just see how much that would cost.  And it would cost way more than having a gift arrive on time was worth to me.  But once I clicked Two Day shipping there was no backing up my shopping cart.  My shopping cart was just sucked full speed ahead into the part of cyberspace from which there is evidently no return.  While I was still frantically crying, "No, No!" and hitting 'back' and 'escape',  my shopping cart had already sent me an e-mail thanking me for my order and coldly informing me that my order was being prepared for shipping and could not be changed. 
When I returned to my account and clicked on my shopping cart here is what it had to say:

Your Shopping Cart is empty.

Your Shopping Cart lives to serve.

Really?  Lives to serve?  The irony here is that when you ask me to do something that makes me feel put upon, I speak my native language (sarcasm) and respond, "Of course I will do that for you because I live to serve."   
Just a reminder to myself that it is one thing to claim to live to serve, and another to actually live to serve.  I'll keep working on this one. 

An Early Fall?

It was 93 degrees today.  And inexplicably I had the urge to cook things.  I mean to say I peeled potatoes.  I picked fresh lettuce from the SFG and wilted it.  With bacon dressing.  I baked a loaf of gluten free sandwich bread.  And a loaf of gluten free fresh cherry quick bread.  What is wrong with me? 
I'm thinking hormones.  Similar to the 'nesting instinct' just before labor, this must have something to do with 'the change'.  If it lasts, the STP will like this new development.  (The onset of hot flashes made us temperature compatable for the first time in our lives.)  
Just for the record:  The cherry bread recipe called for 1 cup of pitted cherries, unpitted.  I consulted dictionary.com. 
Pit being a noun meaning the stone of a fruit, a hollow depression, or the abode of evil spirits and lost souls. 
Pitted being an adjective meaning scarred with pits, or having the pit removed. 
Thus, pitted means either you have pits or you don't have pits.
As all of my fresh cherries had stones in the centers and no marks on their surfaces, I had no pitted cherries available.  What then? Should I take the seeds out and then return them?  Or purchase cherries with a  pox upon them and chop the hell out of them?  What exactly is an unpitted cherry? 
Cooking is hard.  Especially on days when it is too hot to think.

WIldlife at 30,000 Feet

Zoom, zoom.

Where To Go

I think you should just go here and see my family all together.  The first picture is in Maryland and the second one in Brooklyn.  Because I really got around last weekend.  And October can't come fast enough.

Diverted and Refueled

I love flying.  I don't do it often enough for the wonder of moving really fast sky high has worn off.  So two Fridays ago I was flying from Denver to NYC.  Even though I had a wonderful window seat, I determined that I was NOT going to take a million pictures out the window.  I did really well until we got to New York,  and we had to circle above the city.  And then the sun started to set.

This was the ultimate in picture taking opportunities for me.  Pictures of a sunset... in the middle of the clouds... out the window... of a fast moving vehicle. 

So I shot about 50 pictures before we landed.  In my defense, it took us awhile to land because there was a hugh thunderstorm below us in NYC. 

Finally we were diverted north and then south and then we landed...in Philadelphia...and refueled.  And then we flew back to NYC and landed again--post-storm.
And it made me wonder how many times in my life God has diverted and refueled me while I was blissfully unaware of the storm raging so close at hand. 
And if I was whining about the delay and having to change my plans while the sun was setting in front of my eyes.

A Square Foot of Chocolate

I currently subscribe to two magazines: 
1.  Better Homes and Gardens--because I have both of those and I am always interested in making them better.  Plus it is relatively inexpensive so I don't mind ripping out pages to add to my idea file.
2.  Real Simple--because it has big pages with big pictures and everything in it is real simple. 
Here is the difference.  The August BHG offers 50 ways to eat a peach.  Including Cheddar Stuffed Turkey Burgers with Peach Ketchup.  Chances I will ever gather the dozen required ingredients and make this recipe?   0.05%
Real Simple offers 26 (Note: half as many as BHG) summer recipes that have only three ingredients.  Including Buttery Grilled Corn.  Chances I could pull together 4 ears of corn, 2 tablespoons of butter, and 2 scallions?  5%  (But I think the percentage would go up if I just modify the recipe and omit the scallions.)
The thing that caught my eye this month was in BHG.  A tiny little mention with a tiny little picture of Chocolate cosmos.   Yes, a flower that is cocoa colored AND cocoa scented.  I believe I could spend so many summer hours tending and arranging and rearranging chocolate cosmos that I wouldn't even think about cooking anything.  Well into September.  So I went to the link BHG.com/chocolateplants to find out more like the tiny little article suggested.  And here is what I found:

 We're sorry, but we can't find

the page you're looking for.

Because BHG is not real simple.  Maybe it will not be on the website until August,  even though they send me the August magazine in mid-July.  By the time August gets here, I will forget to go back and see if the page about chocolate plants can be found. 

I need a magazine called Really Simple that would have great big scratch and sniff pictures of all the chocolate plants, and a seed packet of chocolate cosmos stuck onto one of the pages with that sticky booger-like adhesive.  And a dollar off coupon for a Milky Way bar to get me through until my square foot of chocolate cosmos bloom. 

Chances of that happening? 

The Sun Also Rises

Benefit of early shift at lab 30 minutes from home: seeing the sun rise.

Benefit of living in the middle of nowhere:  no traffic to interfere when you need to pull off along the side of the road and photograph the sun rise on your morning commute.

Benefit of having a God in control of the universe:  The sun rises and His lovingkindnesses are new every morning.

Great is His faithfulness. 

Amen.

Things To Photograph Besides Red Rocks II

CLOUDS

 Clouds are easier to photograph than lizards or collie dogs.  Even though they move, they do not disappear in an instant.  For some reason you can take a picture of them from a car going 70 miles per hour and they are not blurry.  This makes them excellent subjects.

Bonus Points for clouds shaped like things--such as mermaids. 

Bows and flows of angel hair...

This is picture 823 from my Sedona/Grand Canyon file.  If I had discovered clouds earlier in the week, who knows how many pictures I would have taken.

Clouds and sun.

But now they only block the sun...

Close ups of clouds and sun. 

Clouds are good for zooming.  And it is difficult to hold the camera wrong.  Up?  Down? 

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow...

Reflections of clouds and sun in a window, on the side of your car, in a mirror. 

If you can't get close enough, you can use the smoke and mirrors trick.

(Remember objects are closer than they appear.)

 It's cloud illusions I recall...

Clouds at sunset.

I really don't know clouds at all.

I suggest you put some oldies on the radio and go for a ride.  Or just take a blanket out in the yard.  And take a few cloud pictures.  Unless its a cloudless day like today.  Then you better hope there are some red rocks nearby.

Tour Training and Time Capsules

Today we started seriously training for this summer's tour.  Which is to say, we dusted off the bikes, put air in the tires, and actually rode our bikes.  We chose a road in the wilderness with a few hills, in case this year's tour has a mountain leg.  We practiced taking the group picture. 

This gives you an idea of what I mean when I say 'road in the wilderness'.  The camera is sitting on the STP's bike helmet on one side of the 'road' and we are standing on the other side of the 'road'.   The road is actually a county road off of Lane 16 1/2.  Near Lane 22 1/2.

This shows you what a good time we were having.  This is on the way out.  There are no pictures of anyone having a good time on the way back.   Again, I am of the opinion that all of my life should have a sag wagon, but definately all bike trips should have one.   On the way back, the sun was high in the sky and I was having hallucinations at the bottom of each hill of an air conditioned sag wagon loaded with iced tea and chocolate bars.

Here is the Goob and his bike.  I share it with you because it is still a source of amazement to us that they appear any where together.

I made this sound way more grand than it was.  Know that we loaded the bikes in the back of the truck and drove to the wilderness. Remember that it was our first training day.  Remember that my bike needed dusting at the beginning of the day.  Remember that I had no memory of riding my bike at all last year. 
Now let's talk about my memory.  I forgot the gorilla pod, but I remembered my camera and my waterbottle.  I forgot to pack any candy.  When we arrived in the wilderness and I opened my bike bag to put the camera and my water bottle in, there was no room.  That is because I forgot to empty out my bike bag the last time I rode my bike.

Here is what was in my bike bag:  My favorite Eddie Bauer water bottle--with a few sips of water.  My tupperware dish--with the slimy black remains of one of last summer's salad.  My library card.  A fork--one of my good ones that you are never to take out of the house.  A hair clip.  And the original Star Wars trilogy on DVD.  All things I have looked 'everywhere' for over the past year.  None of which (except the hair clip) were particularly useful on a bike ride in the wilderness.  All of which is proof that I must have ridden my bike at least once last year.  (So my training is ahead of schedule.)

It was like a time capsule that I inadvertantly created.  I have never made a time capsule, but if I were to make a time capsule for today here is what I would put in it:  A smooth red rock from along the road.  The first three pictures in this post.  A copy of the menu from the sub shop where we ate lunch.  A pressed sunflower that the STP stopped  for me to pluck from along the road on the way home (because he loves me).  And a bag a starbursts--just in case we open the time capsule when we are on a bike trip in the wilderness.