dinner

I have never made a thanksgiving dinner before.

My mom, grandma, or Miriam always took care of that detail.

The day was spent working on a door into our down bedroom. It did not go terribly well, but we have company tomorrow, so I got it so it would work, and let it go.

I cleaned up a bit while Miriam finished working on a batch of cookies she was making.

Being vegetarian it is quite impossible for me to worry about fixing a “regular” dinner.

So I made potato soup. I got the recipe from Cooks.com. The recipe called for “heavy cream” so I used the poor people’s version: evaporated milk. When it was all finished, I put it in the bowls and sprinkled some selantro on top.

I also made some biscuits. Miriam made a salad, and in my fiew no thanksgiving or christmas dinner is complete without cranberry sauce, so I opened a can.

Of course there was grape juice to wash it all down. Shucks I even lit a candle.

It was a good meal with enough soup left over that will go in the freezer for another day.

It is not my goal to have a lot of thanksgivings with jsut the two ofus, but we can if we have to.

As long as I am not expected to do that proper dinner we can make it.

and

Today is the special day set aside to be thankful, in the USA any way.

Even on a bad day we should be thankful, mom always said.

We rarely spend Thanksgiving alone, but that is how it will be this year. That was my choice, daughters offered fine invitations.

We will have company tomorrow, but today is just my beloved Miriam and I.

And so far, I am in a dark mood.

I have never been this age before.

I am not sure I like it.

Once I had a friend who, at 85 complained that he just was not the man he once was. He said he used to carry two bags of cement (100 pounds each), one in each arm, and now, he said, he could only carry one, and that with some difficulty.

This week a couple of times I have felt that twinge, or more.

There was a british comedy (those brits have a way with comedy that mixes silliness with biting reality) about two old coots who were living in a retirement center. They got into a lot of mischief, either brought to them or created by them, but at the end of the series the mood became quite dark and hopeless.

I sense that. Last night I was watching tv and reading and Miriam was sitting in her chair sleeping, and I got this feeling of impending doom. One of the things I read was by Thomas Friedman from the New York Times:

For the next few years we’re all going to be working harder for less money and fewer government services — if we’re lucky.

Right now I can still do pretty much what I want, physically. I just do not want as much, maybe. I just finished a project here at our house, and I could start another soon, but I there are other constraints.

And it is winter, my most unfavorite time of year. We took up cross country skiing once to give me something to look forward to in winter. Still have the skis, but the fear of falling reduces the potential joy of that activity.

This morning I got up at 5, emptied the ashes from the wood stove, and built a fire. It did not sound right, so I looked again, and the rope sealer that keeps the fire box tight and controls the burning is falling lose. I don’t know how to repair it yet, but it is to hot to try now. I will have to wait for it to cool.

Sort of like life itself.

The British comedy was called: “Waiting for heaven.”

Hmm.

paul

I have been buying glass at the same store for a long time.

It has been long enough that the owner and I are on first name basis as well as the assistant: Paul.

Paul and I have become friend in a limited way. He is not married now, but may have been in the past. That was never a matter of conversation. I do that he was the caretaker for his father who was in his mid 80’s.

Paul was very fond of his father. IT was easy to tell as we visited.

Full time job and being solo caretaker is a heavy load and Paul has carried it for a long time.

Today I went to the glass shop to pick up a hunk of glass.

HE was busy and frazzled, but we visited a few minutes.

I asked him how his father is doing, as I often do. “Dad died in August.”

Obviously I had not asked in a long while.

“You were very fond of your father,” I offered lamely.

Indeed he was and he said he did ok until he started thinking about it then he got real sad real fast. I apologized for bringing the subject up and patted him on the shoulder.

We will still be friends, though I won’t go into the glass shop too often, though now that I am retired and am finished with the church job I won’t be in there often.

I know he was sort of glad the pain was over, but he also misses his father terribly.

There is no end of grief in this world.

formula

How to make granola -- or not.

Ok, what do I know about making granola. I am good reading recipes, but not too good at following them. Mostly.

Daughter Arline makes wonderful granola, and one day I got her recipe. (when I worked in a bakery when I was in high school, products were made from a “formula” and not a “recipe”. I still follow that warped view).

10 cups of quick cooking oats. That one I never mess with.

1 cup of shredded Cocoanut. (OK, if 1 is good 1 ½ would probably be even better, so I use 2)

1 cup of nuts/seeds. (Now hang on: big hand full of roasted peanuts; another hand full of almonds, chopped; the same of walnuts; any other handy nuts, hand full or more; then a whole bunch of sun flower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and even sesame seeds.

We have had a jar of cake decorating sprinkles in the cupboard for decades (plus or minus), so I put a fist full of those in.

½ c of oil. I used olive oil and did not cheat

½ c of honey. Often add some molasses, but did not this time.

1 ½ t of salt

2 t vanilla.

I use our largest stainless bowl to mix it all in, and I get in there with my hands. Sticky, yes.

Put it all in a big pan of some sort, and put in the oven at 170 degrees. Every hour turn it over for about 4 hours or until it tastes “cooked.”

Cool totally.

Add another really big hand full of chocolate chips (or two), any dried fruit you can locate (chopped), and a fair bit of cinnamon.

With that chocolate and dried fruit and nuts you can hardly taste those "healthy" oats.

When Arline comes to visit, I will hide the tupperware container, lest she think that was HER formula!

Next time should I try some Worcester sauce?

the three of us

I've run this picture before, but it is the only one I can find of Pepper.

In 1992 the Chevy pickup was new, Alan was 2, and Pepper “belonged” to Arline and Sid.

I drove the pickup 230.000 miles and sold it to a friend. Then it was wrecked. Pepper lived with us until we put him down at about 17. Alan is a college freshman, planning on being an Engineer.

At this point I was 55. Wow.

Pepper

I dreamed about Pepper last night.

Pepper wondered into Arline and Sid’s summer job site once day. He was obviously a well bred dog and they did their best to find his owner, but it was not to be.

A year or so later they moved to Walla Walla, where we were living and Pepper and I were guarded friends. Then they moved into a house that required a hefty deposit if they had a dog, so they offered him to me.

Now I know that the idea was that he would be with me on a temporary basis, but he and I bonded so throughly and so wonderfully that I had him the rest of his life. I did not know remember the temporary idea until I was reminded recently.

I never wanted a Dalmatian for a pet. They are beautiful, a bit high strung when young, but make very fine pets once they reach adulthood.

I would drop the tail gate on the pickup and he would jump in. The pickup had a back window that opened and he would put his nose inside, delighted to go any where. We hiked a lot of trails, we drove a lot of miles.

We made winter trips with him in the back, covered with a canvas, but with his head sticking inside the warm cab. He loved it.

In time he arthritis got him down. He got so he could not jump into the pickup. I would have to lift him. He would cry from the pain. Then he got so he could not keep up with us when we went on hikes in the desert.

Finally we had to put him down.

It was a sad day. He was a good pet.

Thanks for being part of my life my friend.

my pickup

When I need to haul or pull this works great, and as pickups go it gets fairly decent mileage.

happiness!

Happiness is a full tank of gas!

Yesterday, I bought a full tank of gas for my pickup. For the last year or so I have been buying $30 a month (about 7 gallons) and driving that rig 120 miles or so a month. It has worked pretty well.

But soon I have to move a travel trailer 250 miles to 2Walla, which will take more than a tank. So, this drop in fuel prices is a help budget wise.

I am one of those strange people who think gas should have been $5 a gallon for a long time, but this has some advantages. Curiously, it is putting a crimp in some oil exporters budgets.

NY Times story this morning: Putin Vows to Fight Economic Collapse in Russia. Part of that is because of the current low price of oil.

I will let Putin take are of putin. But today that tank of gas feels very luxurious.

For me.

frank

On average I live among wealthy people. On average.

My neighbor Frank is 99 years old this year. His father began a seed corn business about a hundred years ago. Frank and George his brother, ran the company until they passed management on to other family members.

In fact, no matter where you might live, if you ate fresh sweet corn last year, the seed probably came from the Frank and George company!

I am told that Frank is very wealthy, and as I think of it I am sure he is. I commented on the fact that, while he does not drive any longer, he always has a newer Chevrolet in his driveway, and was told that the car belongs to the company!

I think the fun part of this story is that I live in a very humble neighborhood. Some houses are a bit larger, with more space and dirt and grass, but Frank’s is very modest. His house was built in the early 70’s, a bit before mine, and Frank and his wife moved in. He was about 60 then. He could afford anything he might want. He could life in a Mac-Mansion, but he chooses to live very humbly.

Frank and I are not fast friends, though we wave when we pass. But he impresses me big time.

Next year Frank will turn 100, and one of the vp’s of Frank’s company (another neighbor) tells me that a big party is being planned.

My guess is that he will be embarrassed by it all, but will “allow” all of us to celebrate his birthday.

He is a good guy. We need more like him.

tool box

when i replaced my tools, wonderfully, the Kennedy tool box was as good as the original.
I am still amazed.

tools

Once upon a time (A lot of good stores began that way). . .

I apprenticed to two of the nicest guys ever. Miles and Otto were partners in a floor covering store named “Modern Floors”. I'll write more about them later.

Plastic Laminate had just been invented, and they did a lot of it. Ceramic tile (5/32 thick) was being imported from England of all places and we were doing a LOT of tub wraps. They did not do hard wood -- that was not “modern.”

They did not do carpet, that was done by furniture stores, at least I our market at that time.

We did a lot of floor tile, battleship linoleum (long extinct( and wonderful thick filled vinyls. It was a busy store and they were great teachers/mentors.

Before I had been working too long, the parters decided I needed some tools (obvious). So they put together a “kit” of tools for me. Memory is that they were a gift from them, and as such represented a large expense.

The tools came in a 21” Kennedy cantilever box. The contents included the specialized tools that we used in the trade at that point.

Some years later, two guys got into my shop and each took something in each hand and left me without my Kennedy box.

I made the rounds of the wholesalers in my trade and replaced the tools as well as I could. Some were no longer made, some were made by not the same.

What shook me so badly was that the price was so high, and the quality of the finish was so low. My original Crane scribes were cast and machined to a level that just plain felt good in my hands. The replacement was cast ok, but very little machine work. The surface was rough and not pleasant to hold.

And so it went.

You forget what tools are in your box, until you reach for an old favorite and it is not there and no one knows what you are talking about when you search for a replacement.

So I want to join Terry in his complaint of quality. Whether you like it or not you have to buy Chinese made tools. They may be great craftsmen, but every electric tool I have that said Made in China on them have been junk.

Any more a Japanese brand that is made in Japan is highly prized, and I scorn the Chinese version (maybe of the same well known brand.)

This may indeed be one of the reasons the car companies in america are on the ropes. They never quite got the hang of making really good cars.

I complain as I drive my Chevrolet coupe and my Dodge pickup. Imagine those brands being orphans.

home

We are home, safely.
Good trip good to see the grandkids.
But, as humble as it might be, there still is no place like home.
Thanks for the hospitality!

grandparents day

We are in Washington state tonight, right down in the lower right corner.

Almost. Go left from the Idaho/Washington/Oregon corner about 100 miles by road and that is where we are: Walla Walla. The town they liked so well they named it twice, as my grandpa said years ago (he was born here in 1886).

Today was grandparents day at the school that Matt and Jessica attend. Every year about this time they have this day to honor grandparents and we have made it every time since they have been attending this school.

A while back I sent out the message that we would not make it this year, citing the price of gas as the reason. But last night about 9, I got to thinking. Grandkids are small only a little while, gas is $2.09 a gallon here now and I have some cash that I did not expect to get, and why not?

So I emailed Arline (daughter 1) and asked about the program and in 10 minutes made up my mind and made arrangements. When Matt was told we were coming, he pumped the air: “YES.” They are good kids.

We got up at 6 this morning and were on the road by 7:30. Not bad for old folks! The drive is almost 4 hours, but it was a pleasant day to drive.

We visited with Matt and Jessica, talked to their teachers, had a decent school lunch!

I gave Matt’s new teacher my usual line: “Matt is bright, capable and a tad lazy. Do not let him get away with sloppy work. And, if you need to quote me, you can.” I think he actually likes it that I care.

We will stay over night and go home tomorrow, so we can flush that new toilet!

toilets

A toilet is a pretty simple device, really.

You put something in the bowl, push the handle and a swish of water takes everything out of sight in one big push.

That is how it supposed to work, at least.

The old ones worked pretty well, but a while back the gov said we should use less water (what was wrong with using 5 gallons of drinking water to wash down 5 ounces of other stuff?).

So the engineers got going and a whole new generations of porcelain was cast. Problem was that like any thing in its first batch did not work so well. Well, we had one of those in our house and it did not work right ever. So today I pulled it out to see if there might be something blocking the trap.

Nothing was blocking, just bad design.

So a trip to the plumbing store and we came back with two boxes of porcelain. I was expecting it to be made in China, but instead it said Columbia on it!!

I am not a plumber, but I know how to do that, though a LOT slower than a good journeyman plumber would do.

But, wonder of wonder, it works wonderfully.

Swish and all is gone.

Ain’t good design beautiful?