For My 3 Followers

Even though I just saw you guys over Christmas, I figure I owe it to all my undeclared followers to rededicate myself to keeping the fascinating news of my life up-to-date.

I got a job; however, I'm not sure if I'm suppose to post the name on my personal blog so let's just call it...a dress shop.  I'm a part time employee.  I got the job purely by accident, but that's a good thing since I needed to get a job.  I still need to find something with benefits.  As to the question of what I want to be when I grow up, I still haven't figured it out.  I'm not sure, but I think I might be like a novel with no plot.  Hopefully, it's more like an intriguing best seller with an unexpected plot twist.

Went home for Christmas.  We weren't sure we would be able to leave Billings because of the weather, and when we got home the snow followed us.  I haven't seen snow like that in Texas at Christmas in a very long time.  The last white one I remember was back in elementary when Jess and I got new bikes for Christmas.  It was cold out and icy when we met up on the corner between our two mobile homes.

I had a wonderful visit with my family, even if it did start out stuck in a snow bank. My Pop, brother-in-law Luke, and Kevo had to dig out the abandoned truck on Christmas afternoon.    My sister, Michelle and I had a late night bull session.  It was great to spend time alone together.  My mom couldn't sleep and got up to hang out with us, but I soon passed out mid-conversation on the couch. Santa was very generous to me and my family.  He brought me lots of bakeware, smelly goods, coupons, pj's, ornaments, margarita recipes, a scarf from Scotland (Thanks Katie, my neck is no longer naked) and some beautiful bobbles.  OH! and a seahorse shirt!

I'm thankful that I got to see my soul blistas, Jessica, Rachel, Aaron and new baby Wyatt.  I'm grateful that they could take time out of their busy holiday schedule to spend time with me.  It was the best present ever - knowing that our friendship was mutually important.  Your friends are the family you choose, and I would choose those guys again and agian.

I'm also glad that I got to meet Bryan's (Jessica's fiancee) friends; eventhough, I just hope they did not judge me for  my going..being put..to bed early.  Too much Holiday Cheer I guess.

The next day, I got to see my big sister and first follower, Janet Jackson. No not The Janet Jackson, but you can still call her Miss Jackson if your nasty.  I didn't get to see my niece, nephew or their kids, but Jazzy JJ got me up to speed.  I was glad to hear that Stephanie got a new job and is doing well.  I think the change will be good for her and I wish her all the best.  Love you Steph! My nephew Thomas has a Lady Friend.  Too bad I didn't get to meet her.  Probably would have scared her off anyway.

I didn't get to see any of my brothers, but Gary in Arizona sent me a Christams email.  We share a love of music.  He is actually talented and I just like to listen and sing off key.  I've already used some of the itunes gift he sent me to replenish my Reckless Kelly songs I lost when the old laptop died.  Thanks Brother :)

Let's see what else?  Oh, yeah Kevin and I were able to spend a few moments at Raphael's with Steve and Cindy Schoenke, Shelly and Colleen and a few drinks.  Saturday night we spent dinner with the kids, and had way tooooooo much food at the Shogun.  We met up with Jodee and Tryg at the Gaylord Texan and went to listen to M80 at the Glass Cactus.   They were the best 80's cover band I've ever seen.  Sadly Kev and I couldn't stay too long we had to be up at 3:30, but we stayed until 11 because you just can't leave early when Jodee and Tryg are around.

3:30 came so early.  Kevin and I both fell asleep on the plane, or planes I should say.  We had a layover in Phoenix.  It was SNAFU we had to find a bus to take us to another terminal, but the first bus literally took us 200 yards then kicked us out saying "Next stop, parking lot."  We had to go have another round of security. (SECURITY) After all this, we had another layover in Denver.  Despite all the switch-a-roos we landed in Billings at 12:30.  We were both bone tired but managed to make an awesome stew and stay semi-concious until about 8:30. 

Whew, it was a Christmas Hurricane, and now I'm ready to settle down into a normal routine and better myself for the New Year.  I've got some serious work to do if I'm going to be smokin' hot for my birthday.

So long friends.  Sorry for the lapse.  I won't say it won't happen again, but for a while I'll try to be a better blogger.

Scotland

I've been back from our Scotland trip for almost a week, and I just haven't had the energy to post about our trip.

I still don't think I have the words to describe the rugged beauty of the highlands where we stayed the first few nights of our trip.  The Capital of Edinburgh, where we spent the most of our time, was an amazing city.  I felt as if I had been thrown back in time.  The people of Scotland, those we encountered, were warm and inviting. 

Here are a few pictures.  I'll have to brush off the cobwebs and relate some of the more interesting aspects of our trip later.

Pork Pozole

MMMMM.  I love pozole.  Before going to San Miguel this summer, I had never had pozole.  I was forced to eat hominy, what we called indian corn, by my sitter once when I was a kid; therefore, I was traumatized and stayed away from it.  In SMA I met Javier and Thelma.  Javier was a big pozole fan.  I think he ate it almost everyday.  His enthusiasm for the Spanish soup won me over and I tried a steaming bowl of chicken pozole.  It was wonderful.  The broth was made of clear chicken stock, with tender chicken shreds, onion, hominy, and some spices.  In Mexico they bring out a tray of fixin's: Fresh chopped cilantro, onion, jalapeno, crushed cumino, fried pork skins, avocado and lime wedges.  I think adding the lime to the dish was what really woke me up to this soup. Oh that, and the crunchy crunch of the crispy pork skins ( I remember sharing those with my dad on road trips when we were little).  Who can resist fresh cilantro?  The smell will always and forever remind me of summer, Right B?

Any way,  I've tried a few times to make pozole since my Mexican hiatus.  Last night's batch I think was the best.  I used pork instead of chicken.  I also used canned hominy.  I'm not going to attempt the process of taking corn and turning it into hominy.  Too many steps, it seems intimidating.  Kevin loved it.  If your feeling froggy try it out.  Make it your own, leave off the hominy if you don't like it, add more spice, use turkey.  For my vegetarian friend leave out the meat, substitute vegetable stock and add lots of aguagate.

In a slow cooker place pork loin (2lbs) 1 large diced onion, 2 minced garlic cloves, 1 bay leaf, 1 serrano pepper, 1 tbs dried oregano,1 tsp cumino, 1 can rotel with green chili's, 1 large can hominy, 1/2tsp chili powder, 32oz each chicken and beef stock, cook on high for 4-5 hours or on low for 7.  Shred pork with fork once cooked.  Ladle into bowls and don't forget the fresh toppings.

I'm having this for lunch today and dinner again tonight.  Join me, and let me know how your's turns out.  Buen provecho, bon appetit, eten smakelijlik.

The Race at Lost Creek

This weekend, Kevin and I were one of ten participating teams in the first annual Race at Lost Creek hosted by Catherine and John Geisecke of Grey Cliff, Montana. Catherine and John have a beautiful home on 3,000 acres with stunning views of the Crazy Mountains. Their property has a pond, trees, hills, creeks, Indian burial sites an old homestead, the graves of two little girls, wagon parts, and horses...It's truly beautiful and amazing.

The Geisecke's along with their friends Bryan and Sarah Zales planned the big event as a charity fundraiser for the local Big Timber grade school and a way to show case their ranch to all their friends. They devised 10 challenges testing your mental and physical abilities, as well as team work and communication. There must have been some extreme preparation. All the challenges were well put together and planned.

Before we could even begin the actual race, the teams were tied together at the wrist and had to toss pine cones into a bucket. Once 3 pine cones had made it to the target the teams were then allowed to scavenge for their maps and score cards. The "Rangers" - judges- had hidden each team’s items in a corresponding bandana (for instance, Kevin and I were the red team so we had to look for a red bandana bundle) and tied it to the brush in front of the house. This was no easy feat. Kev and I saw yellow, blue, purple, turquoise but no red. Finally we struck up an agreement with team purple: "We'll tell you where yours is if you show us ours." Team Purple - Sam and Robin- were true to their word and we found our stuff and were off. Teams blue, Kathy and Terrence, and silver, Brian and Dana, were not so lucky; they were the last to find their packages. Team silver's goodies were tied to a silver sage bush, camouflage for sure.

After finding our map and score card, we were off to challenge #1 "Trust Me" I guessed that one of us would have to be blindfolded and the other giving directions. Sure enough that's what it was. We decided I would be the blind contestant and Kev would be the caller. There were several stakes with colored flags tied to them and the caller had to direct the blind one to the appropriate stakes. Three flags were to be found and delivered back to the caller. Sounds marginally hard right? Add in the fact that 5 or 6 other people were there as well. It was so loud and all the voices were blending together. But Team Red had the edge. I couldn't distinguish Kevin's voice from the others until he started directing me in Spanish. Brainiac! It was great, I only ran into two people and retrieved all flags in a flash. Once back to the Ranger, we were given our clue to the second challenge, jumped on our atv and were off. The next challenge may sound easy but it was more difficult than the 1st.

Challenge #2 "Count It Up" the clue read: "Are you smarter than a fifth grader? Find the dead tree and count the branches. Count it wrong your here all night long." Sounds simple find the tree count the branches. There's a kicker you can't touch the tree, and everyone else is there counting to and it seems as if the branches move around. It took us 2 times to get it right. Good thing Kevin is a better branch counter than me.

The 3rd challenge was a detour meaning only one team member could participate, but on the next detour would have to be completed by the remaining teammate. The challenge moniker: "Bon Appetite". I knew it was going to be bug eating, so Kevin was our designated player. Sure enough, they had squid, not so bad, dried chili covered worms, and a dung beetle. GR-ROSS.

"Pioneer Ways" I think was the title of #4. I initially thought we would have to chop wood until I read the clue which said "Push and you are on your tush, Pull and you will be success-ful." so I'm thinking "oh, great we have to hike up this steep hill and then pull a cartload of rocks or something." My first instinct was correct. When we got to the top of this hill and there was a two person saw and a log. The orange team,Kendra and Shiell, passed us on the footpath up, and were already sawing when we got there. My teammate and I pulled together and cut that log in no time. We were even awarded a prize later in the day for our accomplishment. When I first saw the challenge I didn't know if I was strong enough to do it. My pits were sweaty and my legs were rubbery. This chubby girl was winded from the hike and all the running around previously. After sawing through that log, I felt like I was on top of the world. Literally. The view from where we were standing was amazing. You could see the snow capped Crazies the Yellowstone river and miles and miles of beautiful land and not a single house.

We had no time to relish the view Team Orange, despite starting before us, finished a breath after us and we had to race back down to the atvs.

#5 "Hook, Line, and Sinker" this was the second detour, since Kevin had done the previous, I was up to bat. I had to build a fishing pole out of sticks and twine, go to the dock and fish out weighted bobbers. The pole making was swift and sturdy. Kevin was able to direct me, but he could not touch or go out on the dock. He kept telling me, "lay on your belly, get on your stomach." but I didn't listen. "Why would I do that, I'm not going to fall in." Finally, I realized why he wanted me to do that, to get closer, duh. Team Pink fished out their bobber first, followed by Team Orange and then us.

There was tension in the air. The first elimination pit stop followed #5. We had no idea what teams, other than Pink and Orange, had been there. The first seven teams could continue while the last three were eliminated. John, the Grand Pubah, did a very good t.v. personality impression when he presented us with our race standing. I thought by his air and demeanor we were ousted, but that trickster was good. We were in 3rd place at the half way point.

With a cheer and exploding knuckle bump Team Red, headed off in search of victory and an Indian Grave. Hot on the heels of Pink and Orange we find our way to Challenge #6 "He who lies here" grab our clue for #7 and are off. 6 was easy, find the grave grab your stuff and get out. Little did we know our precious 3rd place standing would be threatened soon after.

"Come on Baby Light My Fire" #7. You can guess right? Yes, we had to start a fire using a steel and flint. I've never done this. Heck I can barely start a charcoal fire using a lighter and fluid. Kevin and I are bent to the task sparks flying everywhere, but no flame whilst all around us more teams are arriving and fires are blazing. 45 minutes and three unsuccessful flame ups and Kevin and I finally are able to sustain our flames and build a fire to burn through our rope. Sadly we knew this meant elimination, but determined to push on we race to challenge 8 "No Whining" all the other teams are finishing 8 and heading to their vehicles when we show up. Team blue is in the rear with us. We decide that the imminent elimination can not be reversed so instead of hurrying through the challenge we take our time. Who wants to rush a wine tasting anyway? It was great. We were given 4 wines. 1 white 3 red and had to decide what varietals we were enjoying. Chardonnay, Syrah, Cabernet, and Merlot were the wines.

To temper the agony of defeat Kevin and I ride off into the approaching sunset to have a real gander at the beauty surrounding us before we head back to the house to cheer on the winning teams.

In the end, Kevin and I were almost glad to have lost out in the fire challenge. We never would have gotten the final challenge. There were two questions to answer: 1. What three rivers empty into...what i don't remember, but the answers: Gallatin, Madison, and Jefferson. 2. What river did Lewis and Clark traverse? Answer: The Columbia. Never in a million would we have gotten those answers. Team Orange -Kendra and Sheill, were the winners followed by Green -Tim and Jone-, Pink -Philip and Cindy.

The race was the most fun I have had in a while. I feel lucky to have been a part of it and was thankful to meet so many new people who share a love of fun. Catherine and John were wonderful hosts providing us with an excellent after party.

415 West Hickory Apartment B

It seems many of my good friends, Soul Blistas, have extra cause to celebrate this holiday season.  As I've blogged before, Brendee is engaged but Kevo and his Vanessa are expecting.  With all the good news flying around the level of emailing has been up, and along with the influx of correspondence we've each in our own way been reminiscing.

Brendee dug up this picture today.  It was taken in front of my little tree-house apartment on Hickory street back in 2004, I think.  Before the Forsyths were parents.  Before Stacy was a mom.  If I remember correctly Marina, our dutch friend, took this picture.  I loved that little apartment with hardwood floors and a weird door from the kitchen to the bedroom and the holes under the windows that were as big as my finger and not insulated or patched.  I would sleep with the screenless windows open when it was nice and my cat Andy, short for androgynous, would stare out the windows and make the squirrels bark.  A few times a neighborhood cat joined us through the open window and Andy chased him off.  I remember so many things about that period in my life.  Standing next to my refrigerator, something was always going down in the kitchen, when Rachel told me she was pregnant.  That was where Marina almost drove her rental car through the lawn (scary) and Becky Camp and I locked ourselves out when the screen door somehow happened to latch itself.  Andy attacked a French guy, must of given him cat scratch fever because we never saw him again after that. (He was kind of strange anyway looked like the scissor wielding bald guy from Stephen King's Insomnia)  Brendee and I became really good friends in that apartment.  That's where Stacy and I became friends too, before she was just a friend of B and Rachel.  We drank A LOT of wine in that place, on the steps and the lawn.  That's where No Shower Sunday was born.

But what really got to me about this photo was not the remembering but the unremembered, the forgotten.  I had forgotten about that picture until Brendee sent it out today.  How many other things have I, or we, misfiled or shoved aside to make room for new memories.  Hmm. 

Once remembered those moments in time are sweeter than any candy.  I almost said it was like money found in a winter pocket, but it's not it's better.  I spend money I find no matter how long it was in my pocket, but those moments....I'm putting them in the vault.

A Bird on the Head...

Everygirl wants to look marvelous, beautiful and fashionable for her special day and to some, Like SJP's character Carrie Bradshaw, that means haute coture or birds and feathers.  Wanting to refrence one of our, Brendee and my,  favorite movies,  I trained my eagle eye on the internet to find something fine and feathery for B's big day.  What I found were awesome birdcage veils, wedges and angle veils at Unveild Bridal Designs. Now I don't know that Brendee wants to put a bird on her head, but these classy modern style veils were just too faboulous for me not to share.  Each of these brides shared their stories and photos with Dorene after wearing her beautiful headpieces.  The first photo was taken by Lynn Michelle photography.  The next lovely photo was done by photographer Angela Fuller.  The third bride's photos were done by Maria Bernal.  I would love to give credit to the final bride's photographer but couldn't find the information on the website.

Happy Birthday Brooke

From brooke and aaron's

Yeehaw, It's Brooklyn's birthday.

From Jessica's Birthday Celebration

My beautiful friends Jessica and Brooke

From brooke and aaron's

So long ago.

From brooke and aaron's

Brooke, Aaron and Lukie

I couldn't be in Texas today to celebrate Brooke's birthday.  Instead, I looked back through all my photos and had a good laugh and felt merry.  I'll send a toast your way tonight, Tooker.

Hollywood Weddings

Once a bride's maid never a bride?  This myth is soon to be proven false by Brendee Medina.  Hip hip hooray for my soul blista.  I've decided to dedicate a few posts to my friend's up coming spring nuptials based on some of our favorite movie and t.v shows.  I won't ruin the suspense by telling wich of our fav shows, but just know that while some of the refrences may be obscure, B will get it.  Kevin says that I have my own language and he's scared that he is starting to actually understand it.  This language isn't mine own, but developed with my gal pals, and Kevo, throughout the years.  For enstance when I tell B she is like a dead babies finger she doesn't get offended she just laughs and asks me where her favourite raindeer jumper is.

So, some of the next few posts may be alot like the twinspeak that my friends and I have.  For those of you without years of inside knowledge....just curb dog it and make me a bicycle, Clown!

Craig's Scam-A-Lot

Last week I posted my services as a tutor on Craig's list.  I have received several different emails from potential clients, but my internet-smarts red flagged the first and all the following were eerily similar.

I was so excited when I received the first one that I had to read it twice before I caught the stench of a scam.  I replied to the email, thinking I would be a detective and try to bust the would be criminal.  I'll let you read all the responses for yourself. Here are the emails I received:

Jones White to me show details Oct 10 (8 days ago)
Hi,
Let me know if you are available to tutor my Son great things and how much it will cost for a minimum time of 3hrs per week.
Dr.Jones.
 
To which I reply with the following email.  Check out my sneaky detective skills. I refrained from referring to him as Indiana. I figured if I kept it light and simple he wouldn't catch on to my ploy and divulge all his sinister plan to me at which time I would swoop in with a team of internet snipers and make him pay for his egregious crimes.
 
Dr. Jones,

I charge $25 an hour for tutoring sessions. Were you interested in the Spanish lessons or English Language Arts and Writing? What grade is your son and what is his name?
Please respond with days and times if you are interested in my services.
Thank you,
Amber
 
He responds:

Jones White Oct 15



Hi Amber,


Thanks for getting back to me...am Dr. Jones White. I am from Fresno,California but currently based in Elizabeth Vale, South Australia. with my wife and children.. My son Frank will be coming for an holiday in the States,and i want him to be busy throughout.
Therefore, i just want to know if he can always come to you and teach him good things on Spanish every afternoon..If this is possible,i will want you to get back to me with the cost of your teaching him for a month which can start by 26th of October to next month...
He will be in the state in 2 weeks time...He will be coming to your Place for 1 hour each morning or afternoon..The Local Library would be your meeting place and Nanny would be dropped off/picked up during the hours of teaching
My Son's name is Frank,he is 13 years old and he is just a beginner. I will want you to calculate 1 hour per day for Monday,Wednesday,Friday for a MONTH,and get back to me so that we can arrange on payment.Kindly get back to me with.. TOTAL CHARGES FOR 1 MONTH THAT HE WILL BE TAUGHT 3 TIMES PER WEEK..
Thanks and waiting to read from you soon.
Dr. Jones.

Does that smell fishy to you?  I think so.  I haven't figured out how to get into my angelienajoliesque harness and body suit yet, but am planning something ingenious to catch this lowlife who preys on unassuming victims.
Here are the other emails that followed the wily Dr. Jones:

Davis Micheal to me



show details Oct 17 (1 day ago)
Hi,
Let me know if you are available to tutor my Son great things and how much it will cost for a minimum time of 3hrs per week.

Dr.davis

 Rev James Vincent to me show details 4:13 AM (6 hours ago)

Hello,


How are you and how was your day be like,I saw your teaching ad's on craigslist and i will like to know if you can teach my son in your field 3 times in a week and 1 hour each day. Please get back to me with your charges per hour and your cell phone number,so that i can call you to discuss about it better. 

Have a nice Day and i hope to read from you soon.


You Are Bless
 
Reverend James
 
Bill Blauer to me show details Oct 12 (5 days ago) -- Notice how in this last email from Bruce he tries to close the deal by selling the non-smoker aspect of his Son.  Reads more like a pedophiliac singles ad.

A tutor Teacher is needed urgently for my 14 years old Son, possibly 2-3 days a week. Very flexible hour, Non-smoker, Excellent compensation. Get back with your price per/h if you are available.
Regards


Bruce
 

 
I think I'll respond to all with the following message:
 
Dear all,
 
I think you all are in greater need of my services as an English teacher than your children are in need of my Spanish tutoring.  Your grammar is horrible, and the thin veil behind which you have hidden your scam is laughably poor.  Maybe this type of ignorant plot to extract money from a victim would work on you and your Son, but not me.
I would love to teach you Great Things.  Lesson number 1: Learn the language through which you are trying to deceive your victims.  Lesson number 2:  Learn about American culture if that is the country you would like to rob the most.  Here in the great U.S of A, the professional doctors don't generally sign correspondence with the title and their first name.  Idiots!  It would read Indian Jones, Ph. D, M.D or D.D.S etc..  Lesson number 3:  Learn your Geographical facts.  Billings, Montana is nowhere near Fresno, California.
 
I'm sure if you decided to grow a set of cojones and come here to the United States that my fellow countrymen and women would love to round out your education.
 
Sincerely,
 
Amber

Dirty Dancing

 Jessica, her sister Jamie and I use to put Madonna on the tape deck in Jess's living room and make up routines for our living room show. I also remember one time we played the Beach Boys or some other group that did surfing songs and we used the bench to the Prose's kitchen table as our surfboard.  Inovative we were. I had never even seen a surfboard, or the ocean but I was a pro that day. 
That memory led me to the one where my sister Janet and my cousin Deedee did our hair in that awesome 'do we call "the crimp" baby, I'm pretty sure Dirty Dancing was playing in the back ground because it seems like for a period of time that is the only movie females in my family watched. 

Dancing seems to be the thread I'm following here, so go with me to the high school dances at the cafetorium in Ponder, Texas if you will.  I remember being in elementary around 5 grade when the whole school would go to the dances.  My cousin Deedee and her friend would dance in the big group circles, that my friends and I would eventually embrace, and they would let me in sometimes too.  I remember my cousin being at the valentine's dance when I was in fifth grade, around 1988, and was nominated to be the princess.  I think Lori Crider may have actually won, but the point is I remember being so proud that my older cooler cousin was there rooting for me.

Years later it's Jess and I in the big circle dances, and don't remember them being "dirty" in high school but I do think back on them as being nerdy.  Back then, the big thing was to jump around your friend laying in the floor without stepping on them.  Sound weird, dangerous?  I think I stepped on Crystal Patterson's throat at my aunt Emma's house once. 

I wish I had this one picture.  It was taken infront of Jess and Jamie's house before the black and white dance, or maybe it was the polka-dot dance, we all had on blue jean shorts and polkadot tops. (is that right?) We being Jess, Jamie, Crystal and me.  I think Erin was there too, but maybe her shirt wasn't dotted. 

I don't know what got me thinking about hair and dancing, but it makes me smile to remember that stuff.

Just a bit

This is what I woke up to this morning. You can tell the pond isn't frozen over but there is snow on the ground, in the trees and roof tops. It's suppose to be a high of around 26 today, but warm back up tomorrow.

Beef Stew

When the weather turns cold I always crave hearty chunky steaming bowls of comfort food. Yesterday, to combat the falling snow, I made a delicious beef stew. Sorry, I forgot to take pictures. I don't think it would have photographed well anyway.  It was brown with chunks of other brown things (meat) and white things (potatoes) and orange things (carrot) and you get the point.  It made the entire house fill with mouthwatering aromas and I couldn't wait to dig in when it was done.

To prepare the stew, I used a pound of beef stew meat seasoned well with salt and pepper. I browned the meat in a large sauce pan for about 8 minutes. Then I removed the meat and added butter to the meaty juice in the pan and put in peeled pearl onions. After cooking the onions for several minutes I added minced garlic a bit more butter, then potatoes, celery, carrots and cherry tomatoes. I should have peeled the toms first because their little skins were floating in the stew at the end. I added a touch of salt, more black pepper plus red pepper flakes. Once the vegetables were seasoned and in the buttery meaty sauce I sprinkled flour over the top of everything, I had also added a bit more butter. I stirred the mixture to combine and check its thickness then I poured in beef stock and let the whole mess come to a boil. Once the concoction boiled, the burner was turned down so the stew could simmer for an hour or so until the veggies are soft.

When Kevin got home I toasted some sourdough jalapeno slices to serve with the soup. The stew was delicious and had enough spice. Kevin didn't need to doctor it up, but it wasn't too spicy for me. I'm having the left overs for lunch and I know it will taste even better today. Like so many other things I love, soups only get better with age.

en coche

Since I've been in the great state of Montana, I've probably seen most of it from the front seat of various vehicles. I can't think of one weekend that Kevin and I haven't been traveling either within the state or outside to Texas, Utah, whatever. I'm not complaining. I've seen a lot of landscape, animals, rest stops and gas stations, but it will be nice to have some time "at home" this weekend.


I'm learning a lot about living here. It's an entirely foreign thing to me to WINTERIZE stuff. One thing that's different for certain is that in Montana fall means snow fall not autumn. We had about a week and half of fall-like weather and then it started to snow. I missed the first snow fall of the season, due to our journey back to Texas for the Peanut Festival, and Aubrey Homecoming, but it's snowing right now and I can't stop looking out the window to make sure it's still there. CRAZY. Snow in October.

If it sticks I'll take some pictures, but for right I've got to winterize myself. Where are those long underwear?

Great Expectations

One would expect a 32 year old woman to be able to park in a garage.  Well I can but it was filled with anxiety.  When you grew up in a trailer and have rented apartments your entire adult life, in Texas no less, there wasn't any garage in which to park.

Here in Billings the weather has turned cold and gray.  They high for today was 53 which we reached about 9 am and it's been falling since about 11.  It's 42 and raining.  That rain may turn to snow, so I decide the garage is the best place for my car. 

I pull into the drive line it up with the outside of the garage door and then get out of the car to stand infront of the garage and mentally measure the width of my car and compare it will the really small looking garage door.

I go inside because the pressure is just too much, it takes Jessica making fun of me to build up my confidence enough to give it a try.  I block out the metal scraping noises echoing in my head and slowly creep into the garage.

I did it!  I did it!  I didn't even hit Kevin's bike when I surrounded with the trash bags just to give myself a bumper. 

I know I should be ashamed of admitting that I was unsure of my parking abilities, I mean I've parrallel parked a bus before, but I'm proud.  It's never to late to stop learning even if common expectations dictate that one should be confident in their garage parking ability before the age of 32.

Hefrowok, Ipeewoods

Sunday, Kevin and I ventured over to Idaho into the Selway Bitterroot wilderness area of the Clearwater National Forrest for some hiking at Jerry Johnston hot springs. In our guide book we read that the clothing optional thermal pools were only 1.5 miles from the suspension bridge that crosses the Lochsa River.



I wore black underwear and a black sports bra just in case we decided to get in, my swimsuit was in Billings. The parking area was packed, as were the "pools". Most of the people we saw were younger and clothed, but we did see more than we wanted.



Why are nudes always ugly? As we are approaching the 3rd bathing area, thankfully I didn't have my glasses on, I see a lot of flesh. "Kevin is that old guy naked?" I inquire. "Uh, Yes," replies Kev. "Oh My God is he bending over." I ask trying to keep the giggles under control. It seems that when you bend over naked, one must hold that pose for an unnaturally long time.



After seeing that there just wasn't enough space in Idaho for me, Kevin and a nude guy, we decide that maybe will just keep hiking up through the day use area and see what else there is to see. We hike another half mile or so into the woods; where we spot two park rangers. They tell us about a really cool waterfall about two miles away. The waterfall lies outside the Jerry Johnston boundaries and is actually in the wilderness area.

Bubba chased squirrels. We took lots of pictures. Kevin must have had a power bar and energy drink combo for breakfast because he basically sprinted up the mountain; whereas, I took alot of breaks because I'm fat. We didn’t see any wildlife other than squirrels, but there was lots of wild animal poop.  Once we reached the top of the world we found the waterfall and had a nice little mountain top wilderness pick-nic consisting of, Apples, cheese, beef jerky and chocolate chip Cliff bars for dessert. It was nice to sit there on the edge in the middle of the wilderness where there was nothing but trees rocks and water. Relaxing.

Men, or the little boys in men, like sticks and rocks. Anytime we go hiking Kevin has a walking stick. He also digs rocks. If there is a cliff, or a body of water a rock needs to be tossed, kicked or thrown down/into, I gave Kevin his Indian-- er, um, Native American-- name: Hefrowok, but I guess that sounds a bit cavemanish. The hike back down was less demanding but not necessarily faster, because I had to pee several times. I think I marked more trees than did the dog; therefore, Kevin named me "Ipeewoods". However, that name didn't stick around long I later became known as "Falling Squaw".

Once we got back down to the hot springs area all the bathers, clothed and x-rated were gone. We had the place to ourselves but didn't have the energy to get in and enjoy the thermal waters. I was less than graceful as our adventure came to a close. My hiking boots were just to heavy and the rocks, roots and other obstacles were landmines. Within 500 feet of the park exit a sniper takes me down. I'm peering out over the river thinking that a naked Sacagawea probably bathed there with Lewis and Clark, when my right foot strikes a rock, trying to correct myself my left foot becomes entangled with my right. My arms are paralyzed and my face is rushing toward the hardpan. Luckily, my right foot had been a bit forward so I fell at an angle and my right shoulder cashed into earth before my face. Since my hands were to retarded to stop my fall, my shoulder did all the work. Kevin caught the airborne portion of my routine. He turned around just in time to see my feet above my head in the air and my body kissing the dirt. Being the nice man he is, he showed concern and made sure I was laughing before he started.

I was so exhausted from our adventure that my laughing almost turned to hysteria. I started to feel the tears coming on and didn't know if it was from laughing or falling, but I collected myself. With Hefrowok's help, Falling Squaw got back up. We stood there giggling for an eternity before we could get moving again. The 45 minute trip home was filled with talk of how great our hike was and we both relived my dramatic exit more than once producing giggle fits.

So far, the Jerry Johnston outing has been our favorite, but we plan to attack many more trails in our hiking guide. I'll let you know how they go. Hopefully, I won't fall off a mountain.

Back in Black

My muse had left me for a while and without proper inspiration I had nothing to post. Lot's of things have been going on, but I didn't have the magic to express it. We've been here in Lolo for the past month and unfortunately my new phone/air card don't work at the bottom of the valley where our cabin is located. My internet connection has been limited, but here's a quick run down on what I've been doing. I went with Ely to the River City Roots Festival. Here a few highlights from that experience:

Cash for Junkers opens the River City Roots Fest

Sculptor Sunti Pichetchaiyakul show cases his

lifelike art at the Roots Fest

What can I say? This girl

made me miss my friends.

Since the Roots Festival, I've been making my way around Missoula and Lolo. I've  found an excellent coffee place with bagels and lox. Kevin and I delivered a Schwalbe truck to Salt Lake City, Utah this last weekend. While in Lolo, we've been hiking in the Bitter Root, but what got me thinking about writing in my blog again was the tasty black bean soup I made for dinner last night.

I have been craving Cuban sandwiches and felt guilty about serving Kevin a sandwich for dinner, so I decided that soup and sandwiches were perfectly okay when the soup is homemade and not from a can.

I find it takes quite a bit longer to make things due to the altitude. What should have taken 2 hours took 3 and 1/2. I started with a package of bacon. (bacon makes everything better) Once the strips were crispy, I set the bacon aside and sautéed the carrots, onion, celery, garlic and jalapeno in the drippings, then I added dried thyme, oregano, cumin and a bay leaf. I cooked the veggies and herbs together for a bit before adding the chicken stock and tomato paste.

After bringing to a boil I let simmer. When the liquids got too low I added tap water, and some beer. Oh yeah and I also roasted a red bell pepper and added it to the simmering pot.

While the soup was on the stove I rubbed the pork loin with a Chulula spiced seasoning salt. I seared the loin in some of the bacon fat that I had preserved, then cooked it in the oven at 400 for 35 minutes. When it was done I let it rest before carving it into thin slices to serve on toasted sourdough hoaggie rolls with melted Fontina cheese, pickles and mustard.

To finish off the black beans I ran them through the blender, but left it lumpy not smooth. I added some sour cream and cilantro to the individual servings. It was so good I had to tell you guys about it.

Dead Zone

While in Missoula my Sprint services don't work.  I can't use my phone or aircard in my little cabin.  I noticed after my Mexico trip that my aircard wasn't working even in urban areas.  Yesterday, I called Marquita at Sprint and was told that it would cost me $150 bucks to disconnect my aircard eventhough it doesn't work and if it did it wouldn't work where I live.  Without residential proof I had to pay the fee.  Our rental homes are under the business name and all the utilities are rolled into the lease so there aren't any bills that come in my name; therefore, I don't have appropriate residential proof according to Sprint. 

I ask Marquita what it would be to terminate my phone service as well.  $180 + $150 and what ever my current balance is. I never tell her to do it, but I guess she didn't like my tone of voice and did it anyway.  I went to use my old 940 number today and it was turned off.  I became enraged with the situation, and I almost chunked it out the window, but I don't litter and I don't have all the numbers in it memorized. 

I am done with Sprint .
So for my loyal fans, I mean freinds and family,  I'll be sending you my new Verizon 406 number soon.

Roll out of Bed

I slept in a bit this morning.  Kevin left for an event he is sponsoring in Kallispel last night so I had the place to myself.  I stayed up until 1 a.m. finishing my Vampyre book.  Probably not the smartest thing to do when home alone in a relatively new place, but I was able to sleep.  Kevin woke me around 9.  He is fond of finding reason to call, but I think he is really just making sure I'm out of bed.  Of course I tried to trick him with my fake super cheery no i'm not asleep hello, it might have worked this time.

I got up and decided I was going to make homemade cinnamon rolls, well semi-homemade, based on one of my favorite desserts: Sopapilla Cheesecake.  My friend Jodee Heimdal and her daughter Jessi introduced me to that dessert and I, in turn, have introduced to Missoulan society.  You can't really eat cake in the morning and feel good about it, so I decided to turn it into cinnamon rolls.  Everyone knows it's okay to eat those for breakfast at 10 in the morning. 

The ingredients:  1 package of Pillsbury recipe creations (you can use the cressant rolls but they are perforated and harder to work with), 1 pkg cream cheese, 1/3 cup sugar, melted butter, and cinnamon. ( I actually did this at 1/2 the recipe because I didn't want to make the entire roll and be tempted to eat it while at home alone.)

Preheat the oven to 375, put on the coffee, and then start the filling. Combine the sugar and cream cheese.  It's best if you let the cream cheese sit out for a while to soften.  Keep the dough in the fridge until last minute so it doesn't get too soft and sticky while you are trying to work with it.  Then roll it out onto a cookie sheet or piece of waxed paper.  Spread the filling mixture evenly from end to end and then roll back up.  Cut roll into 8-10 even sized pieces.  Next, brush with melted butter and sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar, to taste.  Repeat last step on the other side of roll.  Bake in oven for a period of minutes that falls between 12 and 15 or until they are the perfect shade of golden brownness for your particular palate.  Generally, if a recipe calls for 5-7 minutes I go for 6 it's in the middle, but if you have a two minute spread do you choose 13.5 minutes?  I don't know, so I cooked them for 16 the bottom was a bit more crispy than the top but not burned and not hard, just right.

The only thing these rolls were missing is that orange flavored gooey thing you put on top of the store-bought ones.  My mom use to make those for Michelle and me.  If only I knew how to make that goo. I would and then these would have been perfection.

All It Takes Is One

Jessica has a saying about 8 hugs a day and how they lift you up and keep you feeling good. Yesterday, was one of those days. I had been stressing over getting a job and decided I would interview with a family looking for a sitter a few days a week. It wasn’t my ideal job, but I like children and miss being around the ones my friends and family have so I went for it.

On the day of the interview, my hormones decided to come for a visit. I couldn’t find anything to wear, I was self-concious, emotional and feeling like a loser. I was about to walk out the door for a job I wasn’t sure I really wanted, but felt I needed so as not to be a burden on Kevin.

I met with the family, but I didn’t feel the connection. They were lovely people, the mother and daughter were gorgeous and the father was very nice and welcoming. I left there feeling low. Going through my head was the thought, “Hey college, get a real job.”

The next day, yesterday, I was being extremely hard on myself. Nothing seemed good enough, everywhere I looked was negativity, resistance and self-loathing. My friends were trying their best to bolster my self-esteem and lift my mood, but it just wasn’t happening.

The family called and I knew from “Hello” that they were calling to turn me down. The wife was so sweet about not hiring me. I almost felt bad for her because she was so nice in her rejection of me. After hanging up the phone my spirits were low. I thought, “Gee, I can’t even get a babysitting job.” What I should have been thinking was, “That’s for the best.” I threw myself on the bed and silently cried and then I felt like I should cry some more make it dramatic. That always makes me feel ridiculous, the loud sobbing with shuddering and some snot.

The best way to stop crying is to feel like a fool doing it, which I certainly did. I decided to rearrange some furniture. There’s nothing like moving beds, dressers and armoirs to work out your problems. When Kevin arrived, I was still in my heavy lifting mode, “I’m sorry you didn’t get that job.” He said. As I normally do I shrugged it off and didn’t say anything knowing if I did I would cry and he wouldn’t know what to do. He saw that I was upset and feeling low, and you know what he did? He said, “Can I do anything?” most of the time when men ask that women always say “No.” and the men walk away thinking at least "I tried." but not this time. Kevin asked, “Do you want a hug?” which made me feel so much better I didn’t cry. The tears that were threatening to flood went away, and I laughed and told Kevin how I had cried earlier but moved the furniture to make myself feel productive. He said, “I noticed; it looks nice.” That one hug and compliment were the best medication I’ve ever had for feeling low and sorry for myself.

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Kevin bought me a set of diamonds that increase in size from small, medium to large. They have become a part of my daily life. They are durable, stain and stick resistant and dishwasher friendly. No, I'm not talking about jewelry. I'm talking about cookware, Swiss Diamonds to be exact. It seems the non stick technology comes from tiny diamond particles embedded in material. You don't have to worry about using metal utensils because there is no Teflon coating. They cook well, distribute heat evenly, and they are pretty hefty, so if I need to smack Kevin with a frying pan I still can.

I made chili in one the other night and of course I didn't get around to washing it until the next morning, when the residue was dried. Most of the time letting something sit too long and trying to clean the caked on substance can be a pain, but not with my new pots and pans. I didn't have to let anything soak, and no scouring was needed.

Yesterday, I wanted to make carnitas, but found the crock-pot had broken on the move from Texas. No problem. I took out the large deep skillet, added my pork loin, green chilis, salsa verde and cooked at medium simmer for a few hours and VIOLA dinner was served. The meat didn't stick to the bottom, the sauce didn't burn. Who needs a crock-pot, when you have Swiss Diamonds.

And They're Always Glad you Came

Built in 1974 in Lolo Montana by the Babcocks, The Lumberjack Saloon is my new favorite place.

Ely and several other Missoulans mentioned this rustic loggers bar to us, and Kevin and I had to see what it was all about. A short drive west on highway 12, past the Lolo peak, brings you to the dirt road, Graves Creek, and The Lumberjack is located about 3 miles north.

The view is spectacular, and not only do they have food and drink, but 4 small cabins to rent, and live music on Friday and Saturday night, but that's not the best thing. I've been to mountain bars, ocean bars, city bars, cantinas and pubs, but never have I ever been to a bar with a tree swing for a barstool.

When we first walked in, it took a minute for our eyes to adjust to the darkly lit interior. The photos turned out kind of dark so you get a sense of what it was like to walk in from the glaring sunshine. Immediately I liked it. We took a seat at the end of the bar. I had already spied the swing seat, but there was a large burly biker sitting in it and his body guard, I mean girlfriend, was sitting next to him. "I'll be sitting in that seat before the nights over." I told Kevin, but not too loud I didn't want the biker to hear. He had already made it known that only steers and queers come from Texas, and I thought 6:30 was a little early for a bar fight.

Waiting some what patiently and avoiding eye contact while coveting the swing, Kevin and I made conversation with a few of the bar's patrons and the day shift bartender, Jared.

We walked outside to check out the patio and view, and when we returned the biker and his babe were gone. For the remainder of our time in The Lumberjack, I took up the seat with small breaks to let Kevin try, and we became aquainted with our new favorite bartender Justin. The evening was so much fun that we left with t-shirts. I wore mine the next night on our return visit with Ely.

When we walked in Saturday night we were greeted by Justin with a big, "Hey Kevin, Hey Amber, Glad you guys came back."  The warm reception brought a tear to my eye, or maybe it was the tequila, but Kevin and I were certain that we had definitely found our new favorite place, because sometimes you just wanna go where everybody knows your name.

Bump in the Night

This week Kevin and I were in Missoula Montana. Our cabin is located in Lolo, outside of Missoula just up highway 12 past Fort Fizzle. It's a two story cabin that looks kinda shady from the outside, but sits on a beautiful piece of property 100 yards infront of Lolo creek.


Before coming up this week, I took the truck in to get the oil changed. While in the waiting room I decided to brush up on "Montana Outdoors" magazine reading. I read about black bear trapping, collecting bear hair and other things bear-related. One particle point of interest was the map showing the areas in which black bears are prominent. Missoula is a one of the places black bears call home.

We get to our place in Lolo early on Tuesday night, and Kevin takes us to dinner at Lolo Steak House. After dinner, we head back to the cabin to sit by the river in the moonlight. How romantic you think? No, the dog just needed to pee. We retire early but in the middle of the night I was awoken by loud crashings and thunderings. There was a bear that had came in from the unlocked back door. He was tossing things around the downstairs snorting and slobbering searching for food we must have not put away very well. I start trying to alert Kevin but my fear had locked my throat and poking him in the shoulder was inefficient. Finally he awakens me by saying, "Amber, your dreaming, it's okay." I relate my nightmare to Kevin. Then,relieved to have been dreaming I close my eyes and drift off again.

The next day my friend from home, Ely, comes for dinner. Kevin prepares grilled new potatoes and tasty chicken thighs, while I make a light blue cheese vinaigrette for the salad. Ely brings the beer and we sit outside enjoying the view and the great company that old friends always supply.

As we clear the away the dinner debris, I give Bubba a few bones, " You can't give dogs chicken bones." says Ely. Looking at him quizzically I respond, "yes, you can, we did it all the time growing up." He shrugs and Bubba inhales the vestiges of our dinner.

Neither of us have the energy to actually wash and put away the dinner dishes so we fall into bed leaving the mess behind, "I'll do them first thing in the morning." I tell Kev and we drift off to sleep; However, only a few short hours into our slumber, Kevin and I are startled from sleep by a noise. This time it's not a dream. There is a noise an actual noise, "Did you hear that?" Kevin whispers. "Yes." I reply eyes wide in shock as we both try to figure out if it is a burglar out here in the woods, or maybe a badger or raccoon. Neither of us say it, but I'm still thinking BEAR after my previous night's dream. Like the stealthy hunter he is, Kevin grabs his .357and heads for the stairs. Noiselessly, I slip from the bed and make my way towards the head of the stairs, when I see the dog. Bubba is laying on rug instead of his blanket, but he doesn't look alarmed or scared. I notice on his blanket there is a large wet frothy mess, and then it dawns on me, "It's okay, the dog threw up." I yell down to Kevin as I shake my head as Ely's words ring threw my head "You can't give a dog chicken bones".

Wind Swept

 

Growing up my parents had this painting of an old windmill spilling water into a trough, cattle milling around and a rancher climbing the structure to presumably fix something or perhaps to enjoy the view. My earliest memory of an actual windmill comes from the visits we use to make to my uncle James' house.

The Windmill seemed to tower above us at the time and it was rickety looking. I wanted to climb it like the man in my dad's picture, but I never did. I don't remember if it's because my mother put the fear of God in us or if I was too scared too. I don't remember being scared of much in those days, so it must have been forbidden. But wouldn't that have made it all the more tempting to a rambunctious tomboy? Uncle James' house was a small white wooden structure, and the water was drawn from a well on the property and stank of sulphur. Don't think we fetched it with buckets or anything. It came from the tap, I'm not that old. Visits were filled with good homemade food, I remember fried chicken and white gravy, banana pudding, cream corn and lots of lemon to make the smelly water palatable. We ate gathered around the warm sunny kitchen or on the occasion that more than one of my uncle's sisters were visiting we would disperse. Some wandering outside to eat on the kitchen steps facing the windmill. Others into the living room to eat perched on the western style couch with wagon wheel printed cushions that faced the old telephone cabinet (the kind where you talk into a trumpet shaped mouth piece and hold the cone to your ear) on the joining kitchen wall or maybe in one of the chairs next to the west wall that was littered with finds. I remember seeing, what to me, was a huge rattle from what must have been an enormous rattle snake that had been found on the ranch.

Uncle James has been employed for the same rancher in Prosper, Texas for my entire life, and I suspect at least 20 years prior to that. That job almost killed him once, and he still has a knot on the side of his eye that bears witness to the accident. My memory of those days is fuzzy and old. If my recollections were a photograph they would be the faded tin-type made more romantic by the passing of years. I can't tell about those days without telling of my uncles brush with death. This is how I remember the accident.

I was in elementary school when my mother got the call. In my family you didn't leave kids with the sitter. My cousins, Kelley and Deedee, were our sitters. So we all packed into the car. Most of the time it was my mom and dad and my aunt Emma and Uncle Stan along with my sister, me, Kelly, Deedee and their brother Gene, so there was never enough room in the car but we didn't notice it was togetherness. We drove to the hospital where my uncle lay, his sun leathered face slack with sleep. His tan hide wrinkled by the elements and age a dark contrast against the crisp white starched linens of his hospital bed. I had never seen my uncle in anyting but jeans and long sleeved pearl-snap shirt. The paper gown they placed him in turned him into a stranger, a man that was still and weakened, not the heroic cowboy that wrangles cattle and rides horse back through the blistering Texas sun day in and day out. What had happened to bring down such a figure?

In the nature of our family we were gathered there, my fallen uncle and his 11 remaining siblings, the adults talking in hushed tones. The children, knowing better than to make noise or otherwise be noticed, strained their ears to catch a whisper of what had befallen our Uncle James. To my child's imaginative mind and my adult's embellished misremembering, the incident was thus: durning the night a howling storm came up. Lightening cracked the blackened bruised sky as swollen clouds dumped their torrents of rain, and the wind blew the falling moisture driving it into night like a thousand sparkling needles. My uncle was there a pale figure outlined in the flashing light of the storm. Rain dripping from his cowboy hat, his muscles strained against the wet shirt sticking to his lean torso as he held onto the rope that was attached to the wild-eyed horse who had been spooked by thunder. The horse reared, it's cries muffled by the screaming wind and booming thunder. The animal began to thrash about creating chaos in the rain. Finally, lashing out and kicking the rain glittered pipe fence, James was taken by surprise as one of the rails which had become loose spun on it's axis hurling itself with a wet sickening thump like a hammer to watermelon into my uncle's temple.

The force of the blow knocked him unconscious and dropped him into the marshy mud of the corral. He was brought from the wet cold thundering darkness into the too bright and deafeningly quiet hospital room where we were all scared and worried. A blood clot in his head was the biggest concern, but men of that caliber don't let a little thing like a head injury stop them. Tough as boots he is.

I mentioned he still works for the ranch. I don't think he will ever quit. He isn't a man that works a job. He is a cattleman, it's a life style. As an adult, I don't get to visit with my ma's family like I did when we were younger. Infact, the last time I saw Uncle James the passing of time coupled with my growth and the lack of seeing one another confused our meeting. He didn't remember which one of Beatrice's kids I was until I said, "It's me, Amber Dawn". I'm sure to him, I'm still a scruffy, dirty tomboy. I miss those days, the simplicity of life. The goodness of being together. The screechy sound that windmill made when the breeze would slowly spin it on a lazy summer afternoon.

The photo at the top of the page, inspired this reminiscence and it's hard for me to chop the story up, because those days were years of my childhood but they stretch out in my mind like one long hazy summer afternoon. Growing up, we didn't have money. I grew up in a trailer. We took vacations to visit family spread out all over Texas. My uncle James' house was only one of many stops. Another frequent family adventure was to my uncles Stan or Boddie's dairy farms in Sulphur Springs Texas. The old windmill is a symbol for me of the simple happy life we led growing up in the country. It's a reminder of my family, who I am and where I'm from.

The picture at the top, was taken of an old windmill remarkably like the one in the picture that my dad still has and the one that still stands in my memory, but it was in a field littered with the new-age windmills. This prompted me to think: What quaint fond memories will those trigger? Is some kid going to look at the photo below in 20 years and say: "Once when I was little a most respected and beloved uncle had one, and it forces me to remember the laughter and innocence of being a child."

 

Dog Days of Summer

While watching Bubba taunt the neighbor's dogs this morning, I thought, "He is so funny." I'm not one of those people who replace children with dogs. Despite what Kevin says, Bubba does not wear a sweater. I may spoil him a little bit but that is because he is so sweet. He knows how to work me. He's got these amazingly sad eyes when he wants something from me, and when he needs your attention he puts his paw on your arm or leg, Like he saying, "Excuse me, Amber." I have this thing about putting on shoes. It's always done sitting on the floor (except sandals they just slip right on)and it never fails that the dog thinks, "hey she wants to play with me!" At which point there is much butt waging, he has a stump tail so his butt wags with his tail, and chewing on my hands and arms while I try to knock him away. He some times burrows his cold wet nose under my leg and it tickles.

Yesterday was our big day-o-fun. Kevin and I woke late, had breakfast and then took Bubba up to Zimmerman trail for some hiking. Before leaving we had to give Bubba his lesson on jumping into the bed of the truck. He doesn't do it automatically yet. He puts his paws up on the tailgate and looks at you like, "Help me up, I'm stranded here." His jumping tutorial goes like this: Kevin gets into the back of the truck and sits down, I take the dog about 10-15 yards away and run towards the tailgate so that the dog runs with me. Because I'm no longer the proud athlete of Ponder high school, I can't jump into the back of the truck. So when I stop the dog stops, and places his paws on the tailgate. Back again we go, "you jump then maybe he will jump." says Kevin. "Yeah right, I'd need a spring board and an Olympic medal to get any air." I reply.

After four attempts, the dog leaps into the back of the truck and in between pants the chubby dog trainer, me, helps congratulate him, "Good Boy, you did so good." There's a small voice chanting, "Dog sweater, dog sweater." In the back of my mind, but I'm not a crazy dog lady I swear. Bubba isn't even my dog really. He is Kevin's. I haven't had a pet since my black cat Fatty got eaten by Coyotes at my sister's house.

Back to Bubba, after the hike there is a reminder training session which doesn't go so well, and I think people might have seen our shenanigans. What a scene


Once we are back at the house,I decide to take the boat out for it's maiden voyage. The Skipper and Gilligan go too.


After our aquatic adventure, it's time for Bubba to push Kevin in the hammock. Notice the hammock height. I would like everyone to think it was intentional.
Yesterday was a great day for me, Kevin, and especially for Bubba, or at least I like to think he enjoyed it as much as we did.

Market Days

Saturdays in Billings finds the streets downtown,near 29th and 2nd, closed to auto traffic but swarmed with pedestrians for the Yellowstone Valley Famers Market. Where you find farm fresh everything, and live music.



Kevin and I woke around 8 yesterday and went to the store to sell some trucks and then we hit the market. Our first stop was at one of the Hutterite stands to buy onions, peas and some pickeled things: pickels, beets, jalapenos and carrots. Everything is organic and grown within the Hutterite community



(I'm thinking they are similar to Amish but with electricity and mechanical technology) they even produce fowl on their farms; however, we bought our meet from another small organic Billings farm whose name I can't remember now. The steak, NY Strip, was juicy and tender. I also picked up some marrow bones to try an Anthony Bourdain recipe.

Next was a stop at Das Kuchenhaus, owned by Debra and Tim Zimbelman, they had gorgeous looking pastries and pies, but I chose only the bread. By this time, Kev and I a both a bit peckish so we stop at the tamale stand for green corn and buffalo tamales and nice lemonade.



Finally, we stopped and bought some fresh sweet corn for the evenings dinner.



We stopped by a little wine shop on the way home and picked up a Franciscan cabernet, 2005, Napa Valley. It was a good pairing with the steak and veggies. We prepared the corn and cebollitas (small onions) by soaking them in water and placing on the grill, using the husk as the insulator for the kernels. Kevin did the steak in a chimichurri marinade and grilled it along side the veggies. I prepared the peas with a few of the cebollitas by sauteeing them in butter and garlic. It was simple, fresh, organic and delicious.



Even Bubba liked it.