This Past Week

O.k., I'm back to a pleasing shade of light-medium brown with beige highlights. The box actually says, "beige highlights that are flattering to maturing complexions", or something like that. Really. Hmm.

It is so nice to look in the mirror and not cringe. When we bleached my hair the second time, to get as much red out as possible, things got even worse. Most of my hair was a light banana yellow but still had a lot of red. There I was with braces and hair in an unbelievable shade. I was miserable.

But now that's all behind me. I am very happy with this color and, hopefully, they won't discontinue it.

On a sad (and obviously more important) note, my favorite (and last) uncle died last week. I couldn't make it to the funeral. Sometimes it's tough to be so far away from my family. With kids and all, I just can't jet down for things like that. This uncle always called me "Chatty Cathy", which was the name of a doll that came on the market the year before I was born. I actually never saw this doll until the last few years, when a company re-issued it. Apparently, it was a new kind of talking doll and when I was small, I chattered quite a bit (not unlike my own daughter). My family calls me Kathy and my Uncle Derrell dubbed me "Chatty Cathy". The name stuck.

My daughter, Carmen, was chatty all day long today and I finally asked her why she was talking so much. She sighed in exasperation and said, "I just don't know!" I said I'd start calling her "Chatty Carmen", to continue my uncle's tradition. I haven't seen him since 1999, but I miss him, knowing he's gone.

We also got news last week that the husband of friends of ours passed away this year. It's been a long time since I've received news like this so this week has been rather sober.

The good news is that after more than a week of bright sun and temps during the day of high 20's to mid 30's, with lows in the low 20's at night, we finally got to 40 degrees today! It was down right balmy! I never thought I'd be happy about 40 degree weather! I'm always so cold but after freezing temps for so long, you can really feel the difference in just a few degrees. At least I can.

Now I need to start work on my Christmas letter. Make it short, funny, informative but not too much detail. I hate writing these things but people say they want to know about the family. I got the annual Christmas letter from a dear friend of mine that usually expounds upon how brilliant her children are and how many trips they've taken but this year was different. She was rather subdued. It's been a tough year for many. Praise the Lord for keeping them afloat. Praise the Lord for keeping us afloat, as well!

Hair Of Gold?

Oh, boy. You should see me. I don't think much about posting photos (for whatever reason, or no reason) but I'm SO glad you can't see me.

Being a woman of a "certain age", I dye my hair. But this time, we (my husband is my colorist) dyed it a bit too dark. It looked o.k. but I thought it was too dark brown for me. So ... we tried to lighten it up. Twice we tried a lighter brown - didn't work. My poor hair.

The next step was to bleach all the dark out of it. What I am left with is what my dear old Dad left me, genetically. My Dad was a redhead. My son was born a redhead. And now, I am a redhead, too. Can you say "copper-top battery?" Carrot head? Look - your hair's on fire!! That's what I keep thinking every time I happen to see my reflection. It's unbelievable. Totally.

It's, like, orange-gold-unreal. I cannot leave the house. I have become another Christmas decoration, put me on the mantle. I do have a soft hat that I stuffed my hair into this afternoon because I just couldn't take seeing it anymore. When my kids first saw me, I told them to get their comments out of the way, I knew what they were thinking. Bless them, they all kept saying how nice I looked. Liars! Todd keeps looking at me and smiling. He likes it, for goodness sake!

The good news (I think) is that we will be dyeing my hair again, this time to a nice shade of light-medium brown. I hope, hope, it works. As long as my hair doesn't all break off or fall out in the meantime.

Give Thanks

I'm starting to mold. It has been raining for so long I've quite forgotten what a sunny day looks like. Oh, we had a bit of sun break yesterday and I ran outside with the kids for a quick walk. Within minutes after we returned home, the rain began again. At least the wind has calmed - three bad storms in one week is all one really needs. At least the power only went out once for 1-1/2 hours. I consider us fortunate. Today it went out for just a few minutes for no good reason. Just for fun, I suppose.

Oh, Happy Thanksgiving, by the way. I dislike this holiday but I've written about that several times so I won't go into the details again. However, I truly wish everyone who reads this a very happy time where ever they celebrate this holiday of thanks. I try to be thankful each day, anyway.

My daughter has been wanting all our Pilgrim story books read to her. We decorated the piano with a cornucopia and she wants to make a paper bag turkey like her brother did years back. But she doesn't want to go to Grandma's for dinner, she wants our feast at home. So do I. But this is one of those times when you can't do what you want, you do what is expected of you. Can anyone relate?

Praise the Lord for family, for keeping us safe and providing for us. I am thankful for God, for our country and those who came before us who worked so hard to eventually create what we call America. What we have is special, important and worth hanging on to. May God bless our country and give those in power guidance and wisdom. They need it.

Worth Your Salt

My oldest son, Chad, decided he wanted to see how much salt was in sea water. What is cool about this is that Chad has never been too interested in science - he's a history/music guy. So, of course, I took him down to the beach and let him brave the wind and rain to gather two gallons of sea water. One thing I love about Oregon beaches is how desolate they are on days like that. It was just Chad down by the water with nothing but the shipwrecked Peter Iredale (the iron remains of a ship that ran aground about 100 years ago) for company. Of course, as soon as he left the car, my Prius decided to flash an unfamiliar warning light at me. While he was enjoying the surf, I was frantically thumbing through my owner's manual, trying to decipher this strange symbol lit up on my dashboard. The bad thing about Oregon beaches on days like this is that they are desolate - just me and my Prius and possibly in need of a tow home. Todd was at home asleep (he had to work later) and the younger two were home but they would be of little use. I did have my cell phone but, fortunately, I figured out what that dang light meant. I had put my cell phone on the car charger for the first time and this light was to politely tell me that my phone was fully charged. AS IF I NEEDED TO BE TOLD! The symbol was of a key with an exclamation point through it. I ask you, does that mean "cell phone fully charged" to you? And the owner's manual showed the symbol but conveniently forgot to say what it meant. I discovered on my own by unplugging the cell phone charger, thinking that it might have something to do with the light. It's a good thing I have a few wits about me. Anyway ... We got home with the water but waited until the following day to start boiling. We were thinking it would take all day. We have been discussing Lewis & Clark for the last month or so, since we just went through some of the places that they traveled. And the Salt Works where the Corps of Discovery made their salt during their winter stay here on the coast is down south of us in Seaside, about 17 miles away. We have visited this place in Seaside and during the summer, there is a Salt Work reenactment down on the beach where the actors immerse themselves in the roles of the Corps. If you ask them about anything modern, they don't understand but they'll tell you all about the Lewis & Clark expedition and the making of salt from sea water. So, now, Chad wanted to make his own salt. It actually didn't take that long. We got it boiling pretty good and after about 45 minutes, salt started boiling over onto the stove top. I think it took about an hour for the water to boil away. Chad ended up with nearly a cup of salt. It was pretty amazing to me. He spread the salt out on a cookie sheet to let it dry out thoroughly. We are not going to consume this salt as it has a lot of impurities in it but the boys will be using it for further science experiments. I think they want to figure out some kind of fuel source involving salt, something like that. So I think the experiment was a success. Chad enjoyed the process and we all learned something. Fortunately, we don't need this salt to season rotting elk meat, as I believe that was the reason Lewis & Clark needed their men to make salt. The next time you use your salt shaker, be thankful you don't have to work too hard for it. I know I am.

Kitchen Blunders, The Sequel

I'll have to admit that making mistakes, wherever you make them, has the potential to teach you something. It should, anyway. And I suppose that I have learned a few things as I've blundered along in the kitchen for 20+ years.

I have learned that omitting the seasoning in the homemade pizza sauce and then sprinkling dried oregano, garlic and basil on top (before the cheese) is a sacrilege. It doesn't work. You may as well scrape the pizza sauce off into a bowl and then mix in the seasonings. Trust me on this (Todd agrees, whole-heartedly).

A recipe printed on a box or package seldom goes well. Forget it. Betty Crocker is best for most things. The first meal I cooked for Todd was on the back of a pepperoni package and involved some kind of pasta. We both still shudder when this is spoken of. I am surprised he proposed to me, after this nightmare.

I completely forgot about the yearly pumpkin pie episodes! I know of at least two times I have forgotten to put eggs in the custard. One year (or two, maybe), I actually removed them from the oven, poured the too-thin batter back into a bowl, mixed in the eggs, poured the batter back into the pie tins and rushed them back into the oven. They survived. Then there was the time I went a bit heavy on the cloves - whew! Way too spicy. Another time, I put the pies in and Todd wanted to go driving, to look at the Christmas lights (we make our pumpkin pies for Christmas dinner). I thought it would be o.k. as long as we were back in half an hour. As we were driving, I started getting anxious about the pies and we finally returned home. The timer had plenty of time left on it but the pies were way too brown. Um, oh, yeah ... I was suppose to turn down the oven temp after 15 minutes. We foiled the pies and they turned out o.k. - once again. I don't think I've actually ever ruined my pies but I really don't want to push my luck. Someday, I may not fare so well.

I will say one thing in my defense - my pies usually do taste good. They often don't look very pretty but I do know how to crimp and, armed with Todd's paternal grandmother's recipe, my crust nearly always tastes good. I say this now but I just found out that I am expected to make the pies for Thanksgiving dinner at my mother-in-law's. My sister-in-law usually makes them but things have changed this year. I need to pray.

Let's see - when I was single, used to broil steak whenever I had to cook for someone, as most of my friends couldn't afford steak so it was a treat (I worked full-time while my friends all went to college). I nearly always caught the steak on fire. That was before the days of required smoke alarms in apartments. Good thing.

I know I've caught at least a few things on fire in our married life but I can't remember right now. Scary isn't it? Oh, and then there are the times that are completely out of my control. When we first moved to Oregon, we lived in a little old house built in 1949, with an oven to match. I swear it had a place to put wood in to heat with, it was so huge. Anyway, that old oven gave out on me right in the middle of baking Christmas cookies, either the first or second Christmas we lived here. I finished baking the cookies in our toaster oven. Fortunately, we were just about to head home to see family and Todd's grandmother had an oven she didn't need anymore. What a blessing that was. Another time, I was experimenting with baking scones (I sometimes crave scones) but I don't think I had made them before. Anyway, the oven element decided to fail, right in the middle of baking my scones. Bummer. I can't remember if it burned the scones or if we finished baking them after we went and got another element. I guess I subconsciously try to forget these things, small wonder why.

There are many more stories but I'm sure you've had enough (I know I have). Tonight, I watched my husband skillfully make perfect steak and sauteed mushrooms. Watching him cook is like watching a ballet. He is so confident. He makes it look so effortless. I used to be jealous of his kitchen ability but I am over that. Now I just appreciate it and thank God that I have Todd to rescue me in the kitchen.

Never Ask Me To Bake Cornbread

I have had it.

When it comes to kitchen blunders, I top the list. But my biggest and most frequent goof-ups always involve cornbread.

Don't ask me why.

I never, never seem to be able to make my cornbread come out the same way twice. Even when using the same recipe, it ends up being too ... something ... or whatever. I just can't get it right.

But tonight really took the cake (or bread but it really seems like cake to me.) Tonight I made cornbread in two smaller pans in our large toaster oven (yes, it has a bake control). I had a ham going in the big oven so I thought this would be a good idea. And it was. The cornbread looked terrific and baked about the same length of time as it would have in the big oven. I brought them to the table and Todd started cutting the breads to serve. I went back to the kitchen and when I returned, Todd asked me how much cornmeal I had put in the recipe. I about died. That's when I realized I had completely forgotten the cornmeal! As I stood there, speechless, my entire family was looking at me, waiting for my response. I finally admitted that I hadn't put ANY cornmeal in it. You should have seen their faces! Surprise, shock, a bit of fear (my kids REALLY love cornbread and probably were afraid to eat it). While I began to whimper, my dear husband (who is no longer surprised by anything I do or don't do to a recipe) said with a smile, "Mommy made 'Cornless' bread". Every child got up to hug and kiss me and say it was o.k. Talk about an embarrassing/humiliating/frustrating moment. What a dufus I am. (But what sweet kids I have!)

Then I tasted the cornbread (I figured it was only fair to be first). It wasn't bad. Everyone liked it, actually. Whew! I absolutely can't stand to waste time and resources on something that turns out inedible. I'm just not good in the kitchen, at least at cooking. You can read what you want into that sentence.

Now, every Mom kitchen blunder is always followed by my family recounting and retelling every kitchen blunder I have done in the past. What is funny is that several of my blunders have turned out to taste o.k., even to the point of being asked to repeat it. Like the time I had the oven turned to broil when I made pizza. I make homemade pizza weekly but I've only broiled it once and the kids liked it but Todd would have liked the crust a bit more done on the bottom. That blunder is talked about frequently. Omitting an ingredient happens a lot but I also get distracted a lot when I'm cooking. I've taken to telling the kids not to talk to me when I'm in the middle of a recipe.

There are so many, many things I've done wrong, I don't feel like discussing any more right now. I'm still so miffed about the cornmeal thing. I'd like to go back to Jiffy mix cornbread which is what I grew up on but my family prefers from scratch. My Mom used to make it from scratch until she discovered Jiffy. Now I know why. I never liked the way she made it until she started using a mix. Cornbread was a major staple in her house as well as my Dad's when they were young. It was made weekly when I was growing up. You'd think I'd learn a thing or two. But that's part of the problem. My mom didn't teach me a thing about cooking and I never was interested enough to learn (I'm not blaming you mom, it's just the way it was).

When I got married, my husband taught me to cook. But he just can't teach me the essence of cooking. He tries. Tonight he asked what ratio of flour to cornmeal did I have. I just looked at him. He then asked what the consistency of the batter was. I said I didn't really notice. He just shook his head. I feel badly that I don't notice things like that (not often anyway). But that's the difference in a cook and someone who just makes a recipe - attention to detail.

Sigh. My Mom burned a lot of food. My Dad would always say it was just the way he liked it. Now that's love. Still, I am fortunate - my husband continues to eat my blunders. And fortunate that he tries to help me improve. If only I were a better student!

Yellowstone or Bust

We got the trailer. We went to Yellowstone. And now we are home.

If only it was that simple.

The funding finally arrived on a Mon. to pay the seller of the travel trailer (also known as a caravan to some of you). But the seller was out of town until Saturday. We had various problems and delays equipping the van (our tow vehicle) for this 10-day trip. Todd got his flu shot on Friday and spent the next 48 hours having an immune response (chills/fever). Finally, on Sunday, we crossed the Columbia River to get the trailer in Washington. Transaction completed, shaking of hands, a few words of advice and we hitched up. As we pulled out of the driveway, it was then that I realized the scope of what we had just done. Driving the narrow (oh, so narrow) winding road along the river back toward Oregon, I could feel just how looming and large that trailer was behind us. Going through the tunnel, then over the steep incline on the bridge back into Oregon, I shuddered at the thought of following the Lewis & Clark trail on our way to Wyoming.

Whimper.

There was no turning back now. On Monday, we had the transmission serviced on the van, obtained insurance for the trailer and got it registered with the state. We spent part of Monday and all day Tuesday cleaning the trailer and packing for the trip. Amazingly, we headed out on Wednesday, September 23rd, taking the highway that goes through the mountains headed toward Portland. My son, Alec, shouted, "Yellowstone or Bust!" Little did he know. 1-1/2 hours into the drive, we started seeing steam pouring out from under the hood. Todd pulled over to the side. We were in the middle of nowhere, about 1/2 hour from Portland. Cell phone service was sketchy but we talked with our travel club (AAA) to arrange to be towed. They didn't know where to send us. So I called an RV store I knew in the nearest big town (Hillsboro) and they recommended a radiator repair shop. Todd kept stopping to fill the radiator with water and we limped into Hillsboro. They said it could be fixed by the next day and offered to let us park next to the building, even allowing us to use their electricity. I was in tears. This was not the way I pictured starting our trip. But it was really the best option. However, at about 6:15 pm, the manager knocked on our door of the trailer and said we were good to go. What an angel! He stayed late so we could get on our way. This was only the beginning of us seeing God's hand at work on this trip.

We stayed at a campground in Portland. It had been an extremely hot and exhausting day and we were so thankful to finally stop for the night. Our first night was interesting because no one knew where anything was or how things worked in the trailer (there had been no time for a tutorial) and sleeping was difficult as no one was used to the shaking of the trailer everytime someone rolled over in bed. Carmen was especially whiny, a bad habit that we became used to every night of the trip.

The next day was awesome. A beautiful drive along the Columbia river, through the Gorge and on up into Washington's lower tip, staying along the Snake river where it meets the Clearwater, right at the Idaho border. This would become our favorite campground where we biked a bit until Chad's tire sprung a leak. Then we headed out on Highway 12 which is known as a long and winding road. We were basically following the Lewis & Clark Trail and stopped to read a lot of historic signs along the way. We had to stop 4 times due to road construction but it gave us time to hop out and explore the Lochsa river. Then we started to climb. It got steeper and steeper, on Lolo Pass. Alec and Todd started to see smoke coming from under the van. It got pretty thick. We pulled over and saw something leaking under the van, where it was hitting hot metal and causing the smoke. Since we were near the top of the pass, Todd decided to keep going until we found a better place to pull over. As the van slowly lurched to the top, I yelled to the kids, "Pray!" Amazingly, there was a huge parking lot and visitor center, waiting for us to pull in. I yelled to the kids to get out of the van, as smoke was everywhere. We ran. But Todd said it wasn't going to blow up or anything, it was just the transmission leaking. We went into the visitor center where they let us use their phone (again, NO cell phone service) and we arranged for a tow vehicle from AAA in Missoula, Montana (the nearest town down the other side of the pass, we were still in Idaho). The park rangers were so, so kind and helpful to us and our kids. God put us right where we needed to be. We needed transmission fluid but they didn't have any. Then a delivery man pulled up (it was about 4:30 pm) and came in. I jokingly asked if we could hitch a ride with him. Then I had a thought, "Hey, do you have any transmission fluid in your truck?" He said no, sorry, and went into another room. Then he came out and said his next stop was a ranger station that had a store - perhaps they had some. I gave him $20 (all I had) and teased that if he didn't return, it would be on his conscience (he laughed but I just knew he'd be back). We waited while the rangers closed up the center and Todd finally got through to AAA. Amazingly, the tow truck arrived, followed by the delivery man who handed Todd the transmission fluid and our change. I ran out in time to grab his hand and thank him profusely for helping. I could have cried (I think I did). May God bless that delivery man for coming to our rescue. God put him there just at the right time. We filled the transmission and the tow truck driver followed us all the way to Missoula, right up to the campground (where I had already called as soon as we got cell phone reception.) Tow truck man waved goodbye and we parked and set up camp for the night. Another late night but at least we were where we should be. The rangers in Idaho had called a transmission repair for us and Todd had arranged for us to take the van in on Monday (this was late Friday, of course, everything was closed.) Saturday, we spent doing laundry and resting. It was hot and windy in Missoula but it was my first time in Montana so I was a little stoked. I haven't been in a new state since I was 12, which makes 39 states I have set foot in. There was, however, a fire to the northeast (in Helena) and we could actually see a red glow. This would not be the only fire we encountered and with the wind, it was a little unnerving. The kids played a little mini golf at the campground and Todd made some decisions. If we waited until the van was repaired, we would run out of time to go to Yellowstone. So I started making calls, booking a hotel room just outside of Yellowstone and reserving a rental van. If we couldn't camp in Yellowstone, at least we could go there. Sunday, we got the rental van, packed our stuff in plastic trash bags and left the van at the repair shop. Yellowstone, here we come!

We had a beautiful drive through Montana - my goodness, it's big! Mile after mile of burnished hills and valleys. It seemed to take forever, going through Butte and nearly getting to Bozeman. We turned south then and headed toward the North entrance of Yellowstone. We walked into the Super 8 that our travel club had arranged for us and, of course, they didn't have our reservation. I wasn't surprise at all, it seemed that nothing would go smoothly on this trip but things did work out and they apologized for the inconvenience (it was actually their mistake, for once!) We got a big corner room that overlooked the parking lot and the sun set over the hills just beyond. I asked the front desk for a dinner recommendation and we ate at a pretty good Italian restaurant. To me, vacations are made up of little moments and that night, as everyone else was asleep and I was just getting into bed, I heard some motorcycles zooming into the parking lot. Three way-too happy guys headed toward the hotel when one of them shouted, "Viva Las Vegas!" It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. This became my mantra for the rest of the trip. The next morning, I saw these same guys in the parking lot and couldn't help but shout, "Viva Las Vegas!" Todd was stunned and the men looked a little sheepish. I explained that I'd had a good laugh at that one and asked if they had a good time. "Oh, yeah!" came the reply and they went on. Todd said, "What was all that about?" I said I'd explain later. Anyway, both nights at the hotel, we heard the mating call of a bull elk outside the window (I was glad to be on the 2nd floor). Quite a noise, especially at 2:00 am. We saw the female in the morning, right outside. Cool.

We spent two terrific days in Yellowstone, exploring the northern half. We could not get to Old Faithful (the most reliable and huge geyser) because of road construction to the east and a fire blocking the road to the west. This fire was near where we had made reservations to camp, near the lake, so it is obvious God didn't want us to go there. Amazing how you see things clearer on reflection. The smoke from this fire covered the east side of the park but it was far enough away not to cause danger where we were. However, we had to make a 120 mile detour on Tuesday just to get to Old Faithful, a must-see. It was worth it but, oh, so much driving. At least we had a reliable van and nothing to tow. We saw so much wildlife, nearly everything on Chad's list. Todd had his new baby, a digital camera, and would regularly hop out of the van to take photos whenever the opportunity came. We'd see people lined up on the side of the road and knew there was something to see. Remarkably there were few people at the park so we had a lot of it to ourselves.

On Monday, we spent a lot of time walking around hot springs and such and I was looking for a particular one, with a hole in the bottom in the shape of a bear. This was special to me because the last time I was here I was 6 and with my own family. They had teased me that a bear had fallen into the spring and I believed them. When I saw that hot spring, I was excited. But then I started to cry ... and cry. I didn't want to leave. Memories of my Dad, knowing he had stood here with me and my family, it just kind of overwhelmed me (PMS didn't help my mood, either). Todd and the kids moved on, leaving me there all alone. All alone. It was quite a moment. Just me, in Yellowstone, with my memories. I will not forget it.

So, after enjoying all we could in Yellowstone, we had to head back late on Tuesday for Missoula. Now, I have always scoffed at minivans equipped with DVD players for the kids. I mean, WE survived traveling without these things as kids so who needs them? However, we bought a DVD of Yellowstone and thought, what the heck! It was late, so we let the kids watch as we drove and then they all went to sleep. Don't knock it until you try it, right?!

We'd had awesome weather in Yellowstone but on Wednesday, we knew a storm was moving in, complete with snow. We headed out of Missoula (with our van and trailer), back to the campground on the Washington/Idaho border (Clarkston/Lewiston). We took a different route, to avoid the snow we had seen on the pass that morning. This route was beautiful but at one point, we began climbing, and climbing. It was awfully hard on the van and Todd was pensive. Just as we were thinking we couldn't get much higher, we came out onto an enormous expanse, like a great canyon. It looked down on Moscow, Idaho, and it was beautiful but the grade going down was going to do a number on our brakes. I think I held my breath and prayed harder than ever. Everyone was silent. I was so glad to reach the bottom. The brakes were a bit warm but we made it.

We stayed two nights at the Clarkston, WA, campground, biking and hanging out. Friday, we headed for home, holding our breath with every incline. There seemed to be a lot of inclines and we didn't know if the van would be o.k. By this time, we didn't trust it (at least, I didn't). Going through the Columbia Gorge, we encountered a head wind that lasted about 80 miles. Todd fought that wind the whole way, poor guy. It beat us around a bit. Then, after Portland, there are at least 4 passes to deal with, along the Columbia River. But we made it. It has taken us two full days to recover. Even today, (Monday), everyone is still a bit shell-shocked by our trip. We had a lot of good times but way too many tense and stressful times. The kids held up well. And we saw our faith tested and strengthened by looking for God to provide and protect. On our last night camping, I needed just one more quarter to finish my laundry. The office was closed so I took my coins and began praying for an angel with a quarter. It was dark but I started walking around the campground and finally saw a couple walking. I knew I had found my angel. I asked if they would exchange my coins for a quarter. The husband obliged and even asked if I needed more. I said, "No thank you but I was praying for an angel and you're it!" So many times I was able to share with the kids how God provided for us. It would have been nice to have had a smooth, trouble-free vacation but life's not like that. We have to be thankful for what we are given and look for the good in people, places and life in general. And that's what this trip did. Definitely.