I don't feel like I've traveled much in the past year. But in the past 4 months? Yeah.
October was Spain and Italy. November was San Francisco and Seattle. December - Ethiopia.
It's January, and now I'm headed to Brisbane, Australia. Could be for 2 weeks, could be for a month. Heck, I'm supposed to leave tomorrow and I don't even know if I have tickets yet, so why would I know how long I'm going to be there?
No wonder I've been feeling a little harried these days. I remodeled my upstairs somehow in the midst of all this travel, and sold my 2nd car. I will sign over the title and collect the cash tomorrow as soon as the bank opens. Right before I leave for the airport. I got to see the NDSU Bison win the NCAA Football Division 1 championship, and my niece sent me video that shows us rushing the field after the game. Best weekend ever!
One of my cats showed me how HE felt about my stress level last night by peeing and pooping in my bed. I know from previous experience that it does me no good to fuss at him - I'm better off keeping him as calm as possible. Between Ethiopia and now he hasn't done this at all, probably because I was home for a change and not racing around getting ready to leave again.
Speaking of critters, I've been riveted the last couple of nights by a black bear named Jewel, who lives in Ely, Minnesota. She's about to give birth, and researchers have put a camera and microphone in her den. Thousand of people have been glued to their computer screens watching her every move, from "counting" her fingers, eating snow, stretching, and yawning to listening to her snore/moan in her sleep. She's sound asleep right now - I think it was false labor. Check out www.bear.org if you want to watch Jewel yourself...or Lucky, Honey, or Lily, all who have cameras in their dens too.
One more load of laundry and I'm off to bed. I'll be dreaming of summer and snuggling with bear cubs, er, I mean kittens.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Gratitude Letter, Part 3
In part 3 of Dad's letter to his folks, he describes some of his adventures, including a run-in with a drunk beggar.
...
I will never be a city boy although I like it in the city. I like the excitement and above all I get a bang out of watching people and trying to imagine what kind they are. I don't like to have to constantly keep feeling of my pocket to see if my billfold is still there though.
A drunk fellow approached me on the street last Friday night and wanted some money to get coffee. I said "I wouldn't give you any money as long as you can afford to get drunk". He got angry and started threatening me. He didn't know me from Adam and he said, "you better not report for work tomorrow morning" and then walked off.
Later I ran into him again and said "hello pal". He stopped and looked at me and said, "where have I seen you before"? I told him he never had. He wanted a cigarette and I gave it to him. He was so drunk he could hardly stand up. He talked to me awhile and then asked me if I had any money and I said "sure, lots of it". He said "give me some". I wanted to know what for and he said "to buy a drink". I started laughing and said that before I would give him any money for a drink I would buy myself one. He got mad again and walked off. Things like that make a city interesting. Of course no matter what you do or say, you know it doesn't make any difference because you will never see the people around you again anyway.
Fred was just up and we decided to eat and then take a long walk into the old part of Brookline. It will be about a four or five mile walk but I enjoy them.
In your letter Dad you asked if I was coming home if inducted into the army. I cannot see any sense in doing so because of the cost. $40 for a railroad ticket is a lot of money. However if after taking my physical here and if I pass, I get two weeks furlough and might come home then. No better way of spending my money that I know of. No word from the draft board as yet.
Your loving son,
Clayton
P.S. My diploma will arrive in a few days. Guard it! Represents 5 years of my life.
...
I will never be a city boy although I like it in the city. I like the excitement and above all I get a bang out of watching people and trying to imagine what kind they are. I don't like to have to constantly keep feeling of my pocket to see if my billfold is still there though.
A drunk fellow approached me on the street last Friday night and wanted some money to get coffee. I said "I wouldn't give you any money as long as you can afford to get drunk". He got angry and started threatening me. He didn't know me from Adam and he said, "you better not report for work tomorrow morning" and then walked off.
Later I ran into him again and said "hello pal". He stopped and looked at me and said, "where have I seen you before"? I told him he never had. He wanted a cigarette and I gave it to him. He was so drunk he could hardly stand up. He talked to me awhile and then asked me if I had any money and I said "sure, lots of it". He said "give me some". I wanted to know what for and he said "to buy a drink". I started laughing and said that before I would give him any money for a drink I would buy myself one. He got mad again and walked off. Things like that make a city interesting. Of course no matter what you do or say, you know it doesn't make any difference because you will never see the people around you again anyway.
Fred was just up and we decided to eat and then take a long walk into the old part of Brookline. It will be about a four or five mile walk but I enjoy them.
In your letter Dad you asked if I was coming home if inducted into the army. I cannot see any sense in doing so because of the cost. $40 for a railroad ticket is a lot of money. However if after taking my physical here and if I pass, I get two weeks furlough and might come home then. No better way of spending my money that I know of. No word from the draft board as yet.
Your loving son,
Clayton
P.S. My diploma will arrive in a few days. Guard it! Represents 5 years of my life.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Gratitude Letter, Part 2
Dad had just graduated from Iowa State College, was visiting Boston, and decided to thank his parents for his education. In part one, he enumerated the ways his parents had helped him both financially and emotionally through his five (5!) years of college. He received his Bachelor's of Science degree in Horticulture.
Part two is a snapshot of the place and time he was in - Boston in August of 1942.
...
Additional thanks are in order to you Mom for sending me such grand letters the past week. I have appreciated them more than I can ever say. I received the cigarettes and they are very welcome. It means $1.60 more that I can save.
Quite a few things have happened since the last time I wrote even though it was only a few days ago. The stevedores and another group went on strike in the terminal Monday morning tying up the entire food supply for the city of Boston and surrounding territory as far north as New Hampshire. They, the strikers, wanted $42 for a 40-hour week instead of $36 for 48 hours. They wouldn't let any trucks in to unload the produce except government agencies. Thousands of dollars of produce was out of refrigeration and was starting to spoil. The strike was settled yesterday afternoon about two o'clock for thirty days and then if nothing definite is done they will strike again. In case they do the government is likely to step in and take over.
I hope the crops in North Dakota get threshed before anything happens to them this year. I hope Dad that you manage to find storage room for all of the wheat. I would give a lot to be home now to see the waving fields of grain, the flat prairies, and just generally a good country where one can stand in his back yard and see for several miles.
...
Part three covers more of Dad's adventures in Boston, as well as his attitude towards beggars and drunks.
Part two is a snapshot of the place and time he was in - Boston in August of 1942.
...
Additional thanks are in order to you Mom for sending me such grand letters the past week. I have appreciated them more than I can ever say. I received the cigarettes and they are very welcome. It means $1.60 more that I can save.
Quite a few things have happened since the last time I wrote even though it was only a few days ago. The stevedores and another group went on strike in the terminal Monday morning tying up the entire food supply for the city of Boston and surrounding territory as far north as New Hampshire. They, the strikers, wanted $42 for a 40-hour week instead of $36 for 48 hours. They wouldn't let any trucks in to unload the produce except government agencies. Thousands of dollars of produce was out of refrigeration and was starting to spoil. The strike was settled yesterday afternoon about two o'clock for thirty days and then if nothing definite is done they will strike again. In case they do the government is likely to step in and take over.
I hope the crops in North Dakota get threshed before anything happens to them this year. I hope Dad that you manage to find storage room for all of the wheat. I would give a lot to be home now to see the waving fields of grain, the flat prairies, and just generally a good country where one can stand in his back yard and see for several miles.
...
Part three covers more of Dad's adventures in Boston, as well as his attitude towards beggars and drunks.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Gratitude Letter Part One
Although I am deeply grateful for many things in my life, I thought it might be interesting to read a letter written from my father to his parents upon graduating from college. Written in 1942, he knew there was a chance he'd have to go to war (he didn't pass the physical, so he didn't go), and was experiencing the "big city life" of Boston.
It's a long letter, so I'm going to split it into a few blog posts.
August 5, 1942
Dear Folks,
Today I received my diploma from Iowa State College. It set me to thinking and one of my thoughts was whether or not I have ever thanked the two of you for my education. It is hard to put into words the thanks that both of you deserve for all you have done for me the last five years. You have made it possible for me to get something that no matter what happens, no one can take from me. A man's education is his own and he cannot be deprived of it once he has it.
The things that both of you have gone without and which I have not known about are probably innumerable. My education cost you a tidy sum of money--approximately four thousand dollars more or less. The things that both of you could have had with that money are hard to think of. When I think of the trips, the furniture, the clothes, and all of the other things which you could have had, I can only say thanks a lot. Whereas many of my classmates in school have had to work for their education, I have merely had to write you Dad and a check was forthcoming. You stood the expense of a car for me so that I could have more additional fun. I hope that some day I can repay both of you tenfold but I don't think it possible. When I have written homesick letters, you Mom have always sent a cheerful one in return, cheering me up and realizing the world isn't such an awfully bad place. When I have had a problem that bothered me I knew that I could always turn to you Dad and get the proper solution.
Many many times Dad that you haven't known about, I have been on the verge of quitting school and Mom has talked some sense into me. Knowing how much my getting a college education meant to both of you, I just couldn't let you down. I was just a mediocre student but I felt that an education did not consist in merely knowing the assignments out of a book. I'm proud of both of you and when I was thinking of the past five years after receiving my diploma, I again realized that I have the best two parents any fellow could possibly ask for and my hope is that I have fulfilled your dreams for me. If we were only living in a more settled world I would prove to you that your faith in me has not been in vain. These next few years are going to be tough even if I do not have to go into the army, but your son is going to win out in the end. Thanks for everything, you're both just simply swell.
It's a long letter, so I'm going to split it into a few blog posts.
Dear Folks,
Today I received my diploma from Iowa State College. It set me to thinking and one of my thoughts was whether or not I have ever thanked the two of you for my education. It is hard to put into words the thanks that both of you deserve for all you have done for me the last five years. You have made it possible for me to get something that no matter what happens, no one can take from me. A man's education is his own and he cannot be deprived of it once he has it.
The things that both of you have gone without and which I have not known about are probably innumerable. My education cost you a tidy sum of money--approximately four thousand dollars more or less. The things that both of you could have had with that money are hard to think of. When I think of the trips, the furniture, the clothes, and all of the other things which you could have had, I can only say thanks a lot. Whereas many of my classmates in school have had to work for their education, I have merely had to write you Dad and a check was forthcoming. You stood the expense of a car for me so that I could have more additional fun. I hope that some day I can repay both of you tenfold but I don't think it possible. When I have written homesick letters, you Mom have always sent a cheerful one in return, cheering me up and realizing the world isn't such an awfully bad place. When I have had a problem that bothered me I knew that I could always turn to you Dad and get the proper solution.
Many many times Dad that you haven't known about, I have been on the verge of quitting school and Mom has talked some sense into me. Knowing how much my getting a college education meant to both of you, I just couldn't let you down. I was just a mediocre student but I felt that an education did not consist in merely knowing the assignments out of a book. I'm proud of both of you and when I was thinking of the past five years after receiving my diploma, I again realized that I have the best two parents any fellow could possibly ask for and my hope is that I have fulfilled your dreams for me. If we were only living in a more settled world I would prove to you that your faith in me has not been in vain. These next few years are going to be tough even if I do not have to go into the army, but your son is going to win out in the end. Thanks for everything, you're both just simply swell.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
The Reality of Travel
After my cruise vacation, I went on the road again for work, this time to San Francisco. Well, Burlingame, which is near the airport. I did have half a day to explore - we went to lunch at a seafood restaurant, laughed at the sea lions at the end of Pier 39, and even rode the famous cable cars of San Francisco.
The crab cakes gave me food poisoning - I was up barfing all night. And the cable cars were so crowded we couldn't see anything but the people standing next to us.
The next night I started my shift - 5 pm to 5 am. I did that two nights, then went to a 7 pm to 7 am shift. It's a good thing I had food poisoning the night before - I slept for a couple of hours during the day, even with the jack hammers, airplanes taking off, and general daytime noise.
Day 5 I awoke at 3 pm to a message that I had a ticket to Seattle on the first flight out the next day. So being a good soldier, I did as I was told, and went to Seattle, where my shift was 4 pm - 12m. Hey, at least it wasn't 12 hours anymore!
Our hotel here was an "extended stay" motel, meaning there was a kitchen in every room, Not having a rental car, my choices for meals were 7-11 and Starbucks, both within walking distance. Oh, and a Hawaiian Grill. Working until midnight meant that I would sleep until 10 or so, which meant that most days housekeeping would pass me by due to the "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door.
I did get one day off in Seattle - spent it at the mall buying warm clothes and a coat and seeing a movie. Afterwards I spent quality time pushing coins into the washer and dryer at the hotel so I'd have clean clothes for my late-night shifts.
Did I mention what this kind of travel does to a girl's intestinal system? I'm just now getting regular again, after a week being home, working a normal shift, and eating food other than the pre-packaged crap at 7-11 and Venti Mochas from Starbucks.
Next up - Ethiopia again. Hopefully for the last time.
The crab cakes gave me food poisoning - I was up barfing all night. And the cable cars were so crowded we couldn't see anything but the people standing next to us.
The next night I started my shift - 5 pm to 5 am. I did that two nights, then went to a 7 pm to 7 am shift. It's a good thing I had food poisoning the night before - I slept for a couple of hours during the day, even with the jack hammers, airplanes taking off, and general daytime noise.
Day 5 I awoke at 3 pm to a message that I had a ticket to Seattle on the first flight out the next day. So being a good soldier, I did as I was told, and went to Seattle, where my shift was 4 pm - 12m. Hey, at least it wasn't 12 hours anymore!
Our hotel here was an "extended stay" motel, meaning there was a kitchen in every room, Not having a rental car, my choices for meals were 7-11 and Starbucks, both within walking distance. Oh, and a Hawaiian Grill. Working until midnight meant that I would sleep until 10 or so, which meant that most days housekeeping would pass me by due to the "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door.
I did get one day off in Seattle - spent it at the mall buying warm clothes and a coat and seeing a movie. Afterwards I spent quality time pushing coins into the washer and dryer at the hotel so I'd have clean clothes for my late-night shifts.
Did I mention what this kind of travel does to a girl's intestinal system? I'm just now getting regular again, after a week being home, working a normal shift, and eating food other than the pre-packaged crap at 7-11 and Venti Mochas from Starbucks.
Next up - Ethiopia again. Hopefully for the last time.
Monday, November 14, 2011
What a Tart!
Now that I'm finally back in town for a few weeks, I figured it was time to devote some time to my favorite hobby - cooking. I had a 4-day weekend, so day one I headed to Central Market, an upscale specialty grocery store about 20 minutes from my house. Starting in the produce section, I got some shitake mushrooms for some mushroom risotto, arugula, and fingerling potatoes. This store even has fresh figs, which I tried for the first time while in Barcelona a couple of weeks ago!
Rounding the corner to the meat section, I spied ground lamb and ground veal. I didn't have the first idea what I'd do with either one, but I got a pound of each (later I figured out what to do with both - homemade gyro meat).
In the dairy section I picked up some European style butter, Mascarpone cheese, Greek Yogurt, and cream. In the cheese department (yes, they have a whole department dedicated to cheese!) I got some Parmesano Reggiano, Pecorino Romano, fresh mozzarella, and Gruyere. The deli department sliced up some prosciutto and pancetta for me, and in the chocolate aisle I got lots of dark chocolate.
That night I made fingerling potatoes with garlic, parmesan, and truffle oil that I brought from Italy. The next day I tried something a little more challenging (but not much).
Giada has a recipe for a breakfast tart that I revised a bit. Instead of a 9 inch tart pan, I had an 11 inch pan, so I rolled out the (frozen) pie crust dough to fit, brushed it with egg white, and popped it in the oven for 10 minutes. As I took it out of the oven, I realized that I had missed a simple but crucial step - I forgot to prick holes in the bottom and sides so that the crust wouldn't rise up. I started over, but didn't want to take the time to wait for the pie crust dough to come to room temp, so I popped it in the microwave for 20 seconds on defrost. Now I had HOT pie crust dough! I was still able to roll it out to fit my tart pan (sort of - it wasn't the prettiest presentation ever), and this time I remembered to prick the bottom and sides with a fork.
After it cooled down, it was filled with pancetta I had fried to a crisp, Gruyere and Mascarpone cheeses, eggs, green onions, and my own addition to the recipe - arugula. I have fallen in love with the taste of arugula, especially in my Italian recipes. 18 minutes later a beautiful tart came out of the oven ready to eat. It was delicious, if I say so myself.
Day three I used the veal and lamb to make gyro meat - it's all sliced up into individual portions and in the freezer for when I crave a good Gyro with tomatoes, feta cheese, onions, and Tzaziki sauce.
Today is day four of my weekend, and I'm considering an apple tart or cookies to bring to work tomorrow, or mushroom risotto with those lovely shitakes I have in the fridge. How to choose...
Rounding the corner to the meat section, I spied ground lamb and ground veal. I didn't have the first idea what I'd do with either one, but I got a pound of each (later I figured out what to do with both - homemade gyro meat).
In the dairy section I picked up some European style butter, Mascarpone cheese, Greek Yogurt, and cream. In the cheese department (yes, they have a whole department dedicated to cheese!) I got some Parmesano Reggiano, Pecorino Romano, fresh mozzarella, and Gruyere. The deli department sliced up some prosciutto and pancetta for me, and in the chocolate aisle I got lots of dark chocolate.
That night I made fingerling potatoes with garlic, parmesan, and truffle oil that I brought from Italy. The next day I tried something a little more challenging (but not much).
Giada has a recipe for a breakfast tart that I revised a bit. Instead of a 9 inch tart pan, I had an 11 inch pan, so I rolled out the (frozen) pie crust dough to fit, brushed it with egg white, and popped it in the oven for 10 minutes. As I took it out of the oven, I realized that I had missed a simple but crucial step - I forgot to prick holes in the bottom and sides so that the crust wouldn't rise up. I started over, but didn't want to take the time to wait for the pie crust dough to come to room temp, so I popped it in the microwave for 20 seconds on defrost. Now I had HOT pie crust dough! I was still able to roll it out to fit my tart pan (sort of - it wasn't the prettiest presentation ever), and this time I remembered to prick the bottom and sides with a fork.
Day three I used the veal and lamb to make gyro meat - it's all sliced up into individual portions and in the freezer for when I crave a good Gyro with tomatoes, feta cheese, onions, and Tzaziki sauce.
Today is day four of my weekend, and I'm considering an apple tart or cookies to bring to work tomorrow, or mushroom risotto with those lovely shitakes I have in the fridge. How to choose...
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Where Would I Be?
The last ten days I've been on a wonderful vacation, exploring Spain and Italy with my friends that I've known since college. At the end of the trip, we all went our separate ways - one to the east side of the DFW metroplex, one to Denver, and me to Fort Worth.
I wonder where I would be if I had never met these women? I know I never would have moved to Texas - I followed them after they had finished college (and I had dropped out). So I never would have found a job in the airline industry, never would have traveled the world...lots of nevers.
They are both strong, mature women. One married to a wonderful man she met after a horrible marriage, the other single like me. One works for the defense industry, the other in the medical field. One tall, the other short. One blonde, one redhead. Why we became and remained friends is a mystery.
The happiest time I'll remember from our trip won't be the incredible scenery of Italy, the architecture of Barcelona, or the wine we drank. It will be the afternoon at sea that we brought the decks of cards to the Irish bar onboard ship and played all the games we played in college. One game involved slapping the cards when doubles were played, and towards the end of the evening I was a little slow (too many Guinness'), so "slap, Sandy, slap" became a phrase we repeated the rest of the trip in jest. We slid right into that comfortable, warm, place that was our friendship 31 years ago. So good to be home.
We promised at the end to meet in another 30 years - we'll all be 80 then. I sure hope we don't really wait that long this time. But if we do, we'll still be the same, and will still use our walkers to go to the Irish bar with our decks of cards. And hopefully someone will still remember the rules to the "slap" card game. And we'll laugh until we cry, and move easily into that warm, comfortable, place that is our friendship.
I wonder where I would be if I had never met these women? I know I never would have moved to Texas - I followed them after they had finished college (and I had dropped out). So I never would have found a job in the airline industry, never would have traveled the world...lots of nevers.
They are both strong, mature women. One married to a wonderful man she met after a horrible marriage, the other single like me. One works for the defense industry, the other in the medical field. One tall, the other short. One blonde, one redhead. Why we became and remained friends is a mystery.
The happiest time I'll remember from our trip won't be the incredible scenery of Italy, the architecture of Barcelona, or the wine we drank. It will be the afternoon at sea that we brought the decks of cards to the Irish bar onboard ship and played all the games we played in college. One game involved slapping the cards when doubles were played, and towards the end of the evening I was a little slow (too many Guinness'), so "slap, Sandy, slap" became a phrase we repeated the rest of the trip in jest. We slid right into that comfortable, warm, place that was our friendship 31 years ago. So good to be home.
We promised at the end to meet in another 30 years - we'll all be 80 then. I sure hope we don't really wait that long this time. But if we do, we'll still be the same, and will still use our walkers to go to the Irish bar with our decks of cards. And hopefully someone will still remember the rules to the "slap" card game. And we'll laugh until we cry, and move easily into that warm, comfortable, place that is our friendship.
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