These recipes come from family members, friends, cookbooks and the Internet. If you would like to know the source for a specific recipe, let me know.
Makes two 9-inch crusts (use half the ingredients for a single crust)
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup shortening
dash of vinegar
ice-cold water, enough so dough is flaky but not dry or gooey
To prebake the crust, bake at 350º for about 10 to 12 minutes. Placing aluminum foil on top of the crust, with some dry beans or rice, helps prevent bubbling.
• Loving my job. Really, loving it. Just good things all around.
• Summer seems halfway over.
• Bought textbooks for grad school starting in August. Dull titles like The Intellectual Foundation of Information Organization
• Wes almost got bit by a rattlesnake at work yesterday. The key word is "almost." Should he get hazard pay?
Last weekend we went camping in the southern Bighorn Mountains. I caught tons (well, maybe a dozen) brook trout, which appeared to be lured by me calling, "Here, fishy-fishy!" Or maybe they liked the little fly I had on my line. We had perfect weather, not many mosquitoes, lots of cows grazing and bellowing nearby, plenty of food and beer and wine (pork chops, applesauce and pineapple for dinner). Wes continued to win more backgammon games than me.
Wes took a Benadryl to counteract the itching from all his recent bug bites, combined with a couple of beers and a little wine. This made him much dopier than usual. So we were asleep before dark and up at dawn, which was probably around 5 a.m. The cows were grazing and bawling nearby. Lying in the tent, not ready to get up despite my bladder's suggestions, I made up some scenarios for the cows:
"Dammit, Bobby, I spent the night with Edith! What if George finds me?"
Moooooooo.
"Well, Sam, you better get out of there. I'll send Bessie over to distract him."
Moooaaaaaooo.
During the drive, Wes observed the progress of his weed killing endeavors along I-25, while I...what did I do? Oh yeah, took pictures of stuff. The green green lands. Wes's pygmy tongue. My feet.
Driving toward Story, we passed this fire and of course had to turn into a side road to get a closer look. Alas, there were many trees in the way, but it didn't look like an intentional fire. Fun! I mean, bad. Nearby, we stopped to learn about the Wagon Box Fight. Wes was excited!
A short while later, we intended to fish a certain stream, but the water was so high that it covered part of the trail. So we thought this path might take us up and over. It did not. It also ceased to be a trail, provided much poison ivy to navigate around and continued upward at an extreme angle. Then we came back down. (Please note, Wes is not wearing a fanny pack. It's a fishing waist pack. Very different.)
Now this is camping.
Big bag of dry wood, courtesy of my neighbor. Hatchet, of course. Wine and backgammon. See the fancy dutch oven with hot coals on top? That was my contribution: dinner, in the form of Mexican cornbread casserole with lots of cheese on top. I've made it many times at home, with great results. Somehow the dutch oven was hotter than my home oven, and so I burned it. The cheese-crusted cornbread was great, especially with the honey Wes had luckily brought, but the meat, onions, olives, corn, tomatoes...incinerated. Evaporated. Not stuck to the pan, just gone.
Wes said, "We're too ugly for photos." Really, we (I) just don't do the camera-held-at-the-end-of-the-arm thing very well. But these are nice shots of Wes's (big, and Portuguese) nose.
He smiled! Almost.
Later in the evening, with darkness settling, our stomachs full of cornbread and honey, our palates tempered by wine and beer, we turned to other entertainment: firewood as drumsticks and chew toys.
I leave you with images of some common Wyoming wildlife: White-Tailed Deer, Lazily Grazing Horse and, my personal favorite, Scruffy Wild Man With Truck. Take care, these creatures are not as docile as they may seem.
Wet: Yes, rain. It's been a very Washington weekend, and I blame Leah. It's been wetter, calmer and more humid than it usually is, so she is now under the impression that Casper's climate has something in common with Seattle's. Interestingly, when my brother visited Casper from Seattle/Montreal two summers ago, it was also very rainy. But green follows rain, therefore I suppose it's OK with me. Plus I don't have to water my flowerbed tonight. And I may even see some seedlings emerge soon.
Wooly: After spending about an hour sorting through my digital music and deleting a good deal of songs (at least 2 gigs, I think), I updated my iPod and pressed play. There followed: "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida," "Comptine D'Un Autre: L'Apres Midi" and "Wooly Bully." Unique memories are associated with each of those songs. The first I listened to on a hot summer day, probably in 2004, while driving from Walla Walla to the Snake River and Palouse Falls. The second is from Amélie, but it also reminds me of a hostel in Montreal, where someone was playing the soundtrack in the common kitchen/dining area, when I was there during a very rainy week in October 2005. The third song was played an interminable number of times by my dance teacher at Whitworth, January 2003, when I took ballroom dancing. We learned the triple-step swing to that song. Over and over and over.
A sample of Wyoming's greening (compared to the same view in March):
Had a great road trip last week across eastern Wyoming and western South Dakota. Some snow, clouds, wind, but also lovely hills, rocks and caves, as well as a myriad of hot tubs and other relaxing apparatuses. Mostly it was nice just to be on the road, listening to music and audiobooks, mapping my path hour by hour, eating whenever I wanted, watching TV in the hotel room after a dip in the heated pool and hot tub. I have rarely taken such a luxurious, slow vacation.
My new job, three days in, is looking pretty great. I am amazed how enjoyable it is to check books in and out, help people find what they're looking for, and chat with co-workers about books, movies and music. I guess I've found my geeky family.
I finalized my plane tickets for July. Four days in Seattle with family, then five days in Hawaii for my fabulous friend Kai's wedding. I already have a great Honolulu restaurant list from a generous friend, and I plan to spend a lot of time in the sun and sand. Of course, pulled pork and macaroni salad will be an essential part of my time there.
My great blog friend Leah is coming to visit over Memorial Day weekend. We're thinking big: hiking, disc golfing, sushi eating, pie making. It will be a delicious weekend, I'm sure.
Plus, Monday night was a great dance class, and tonight I had fun with the youth group at church. The kids were extra silly and rambunctious, but for once the adults were a little sillier. It was good.
Two grad school applications are in. One may not be complete, but I'm trying to sort that out. The other is in a couple of weeks before the deadline, so it should be fine. So now comes the waiting, while I continue learning at work and waiting for spring. This week I saw the first flowers: daffodils, grape hyacinth, dwarf iris. Buds are starting to appear on the shrubbery. Yesterday I even smelled mown grass. After our snowstorm tomorrow, we may actually settle into some kind of spring.
Wednesday: Wall Drug, Badlands National Park. (Found a new boyfriend.)
• Five days in Washington reminded me how much I enjoy fog and dislike wind. Lots of family time, pie, games, later nights than usual, time with old friends (and a new baby!). Good flights, The Office, even some knitting.
• Now it's 18 degrees and we've had rain, thunder, hail and snow since yesterday afternoon. I wore my happy silk long underwear for the first time this winter.
• I'm really thinking I might do this library science master's thing. So far the Kansas-based Emporia program in Salt Lake is looking most promising. I had a good conversation with one of the public reference librarians, who actually went to Emporia in Kansas. Her job sounds pretty cool: helping people, ordering books, planning events. So now the GREs. I always did enjoy tests requiring the precise shading of tiny boxes.
• I spent the evening with the youth at church, so I'm kind of hyper and tired at once. It's my usual Wednesday sensation.
• I'm reading and/or listening to three books right now, all having to do partly or mostly with the West from various angles.
- Three Cups of Tea
- Little House on the Prairie
- Where the Bluebird Sings to the Lemonade Springs
It's a huge place, this West. And not very populated. And difficult to categorize. With which states, for example, do you lump Wyoming or Utah? "Mountain West" seems most appropriate. But New Mexico? Idaho? South Dakota? How about "Those Big Square States in the Middle"?
Next month my brother and his girlfriend are moving from Montreal to Seattle, and they'll by road-tripping to get there. I'm planning out most of their route—because Matt is happy to relinquish the chore and I've been to several of the places along the way. Luckily Michele will be with him to navigate, because if he was trying to do that he'd probably end up in Texas or something. (He's finally admitted that he has no sense of direction.)
Anyway, the route will take them through Ontario, upper Michigan, northern Wisconsin and Minnesota, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Utah and Idaho. I have a pretty good idea of some of the things they can see along the way, but I would love more ideas, as well as options for places to stay (do you live in those areas? know someone there? remember a great hotel, campground, etc.?), places to eat and anything else you want to add.
After a weeklong vacation in New Mexico, it was a shock to return home to autumn. It was 90 degrees when we left on August 30, and today it barely crested 60. It's nice, though, and gave me a good reason to make a big lasagna yesterday. But summer seemed awfully fast, and shorter than usual. Maybe that's what happens when you get old. By the time I'm 50 a year will seem like two weeks. How strange.
(See, I tricked you with my previously scheduled posts. You didn't even know I was gone. In fact, you were probably surprised I had so much to say.)
I don't think I've mentioned it here, but Wes and I have been thinking about moving on from Casper soon. We both applied for jobs in various places around the mountain west, but it looks like no one wants us right now. So we'll probably be in Casper until next year. Then who knows what we'll do next.
I'm feeling that traveling itch again (always). I wish Elmer was up for a good road trip. Even though we just drove to New Mexico and back (in Wes's 1987 4Runner, which did amazingly well), I want to get out there and wander around a bit, see some new and strange places. It's hard for me to be settled in the fall, since most of my adventures and moves have begun at this time of year:
• Three years ago, the nationwide road trip.
• Six years ago, the study tour in the British Isles.
• Seven years ago, moving away for college.
• Nine years ago, driving to Lake Chelan with my parents, my first long stint behind the wheel.
• 11 years ago, moving with my family from Cheney to Olympia.
• 14 years ago, driving and taking the ferry to Canada and Alaska.
• 16 years ago, touring national parks in the western states with my family, camping in the van and exploring all kinds of forests and back roads.
New Mexico was so unusually green and lush—due to the rain they've had all summer—and it was still summer-warm there, but now I'm back in Wyoming and I already feel like I'll soon be hunkered down for winter, walking to work in the wind. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
*A little Joni Mitchell:
I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
and shivering trees are standing in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
I get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in
...
I'll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
and I'll the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay jut another month or so
She's got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go
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