“AND PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW”

Hallie's appointment at David's Bridal in Seattle was Saturday at 2:30. So, Hallie and I arrived at the store at the appointed time. She had been there before and narrowed the field of dresses to two or three simple styles, none of them "poofy." The consultant assigned to her was a young Russian lady who led us to the rear of the salon where there were mirrors everywhere – rows and rows of mirrors that proved to be doors opening to fitting rooms. I was practically dizzy with the effect and was glad to sit and get my bearings. There wasn't room for Hallie to model on the slightly raised platform before me, so I was given a chair near her dressing room which allowed me to observe the other brides modeling their choices.

I knew I was watching people and it was none of my business. On the other hand, the set-up was for the purpose of watching, so somehow it seemed okay. I couldn't help but wonder about the story each bride might tell. One slender, poised young lady, probably 20, with beautiful long dark hair was modeling strapless dresses before four women – her 40-ish mother, a grandmother with long gray braids, a younger sister, and another who might have been an aunt. All the women, including the bride, were unpretentious in appearance. The choice of dress was serious business. Discussion was quiet with no joyful animation. The bride seemed indifferent about the dresses she was trying and somehow the dresses seemed wrong for her. Something more demure would be better, I thought. Maybe they thought so, too, but there's no such thing at David's Bridal where somehow all the dresses look alike.

Now Hallie stands before me in a strapless, tea-length gown – what we used to call waltz length in the '50s – perhaps a little shorter. She prefers the short length to the long for her August 29 garden wedding at a West Seattle park with reception at a pizza parlor, but she isn't comfortable with the strapless bodice. The consultant confirms that they have no tea length styles that aren't strapless. "Unthinkable," I think to myself. In a different age I would have said, "Come on, Hallie, let's go," but we have both done enough research to know the "big box" wedding gown will cost as much as we're willing to pay. At other boutiques the gowns start at $1,000. Hallie moves back to the dressing room.

Now I'm watching the cute young girl with sandy hair and freckles. I imagine she's a high school senior who will marry as soon as she graduates. As we note with petite young girls who haven't fully matured, every dress she tried was darling on her. "Tells you something about the target group here," I think to myself. Her support group sits on the floor and takes pictures of her as she models. What a great idea – but I left my camera behind. We pass this way but once – at least for the first time.

Here's Hallie again in a strapless gown with a strap that goes around her neck. Hmmmmm. She goes back to the dressing room to try the dress she likes best.

To the credit of this corporation, they have dresses that make even the plumpest among us look great on her wedding day, as evidenced by the young woman at the end of the platform who spent a long time in her gown. A pretty woman of ample proportions, she seemed comfortable in her gown. Of all the people I watched, she seemed the happiest. That was good to see.

Now Hallie models the gown she likes best – at least she likes the halter bodice and the general line of the gown is lovely. It has a train – she doesn't like that. The consultant suggests another gown for her to try, and off they go to the dressing room.

I've been distracted for a while, and when I turn back to the platform to resume my bride watching, I feel as though I might have stepped back to the '40s. The bride is wearing a street-length white sheath dress with horizontal tucks across the front. I would guess it's probably the least expensive option offered at this store. Her consultant came with a piece of netting – more of a hat than a veil -- that they clipped to her hair. I envisioned her meeting the groom for a simple wedding so that they could move on with life.

Well, Hallie has chosen the halter dress and is once again modeling it. "But look," she says, moving closer to me and speaking in confidential tones as she points to a soiled spot. "Do I have to have this dress?" The consultant explains that they sell dresses from the rack only, but when Hallie explains, she checks and says that the store will order a fresh gown for her which will arrive early in May. They will then fit the dress and shorten it for her – for a fee, of course. I'm glad she will have a new dress.

In this environment filled with women, our final contact was with a young man, the cashier. He looked like a high school student and wasn't comfortable discussing the bra. As we finalized the sale, he said firmly and audibly, "You must sign this slip, acknowledging that you know the sale is final. No returns for any reason." KW

JUST SOME PICTURES . . .

A cool but clear morning became a lovely afternoon with a high of 54 at 5:00. This daffodil is the first of the season in my yard though the neighbor's across the street with southern exposure bloomed last week.




We had time this morning to head out to Hellsgate State Park and pick up a geocache there. Then Mike gassed up the car while I bought some white baby yarn at Jo-Ann's. I finished the "vintage collection" afghan except for six hours of weaving yarn ends and now I'm experimenting with shawl patterns.


I thought this little corner of my rock garden was quite pretty -- purple crocus coming up in the agastache, I think it's called. I actually bought an agastache plant two years ago. It was somewhat expensive as I recall. And now it's coming up everywhere. That's the beauty of a weed garden! So, if you want some expensive weeds for your garden, be sure to check with me first. KW

IPOD FUN

I'm a '49er, remember, so the 1950s were my childhood years while the '60s were my teen years. That's how I think of it.

So, when I was a child, the "Golden Age of Radio" was over. Oh, there were still some radio programs. I remember "Mr. Record Man and the Story Lady." Or was that "Mr. Story Man and the Record Lady"? I honestly couldn't tell you. Our radio was in the kitchen and teen-agers in the home listened to music and danced, as teen-agers do, while they did kitchen chores. Papa had a big radio in his living room and a smaller one in his little breakfast nook. He was a fan of the news and I think other programs like "Fibber McGee and Molly." But the spoken word coming through the radio went by too fast for little me. I remember it sounded like gibberish and I wondered if I would ever grow to understand the language that adults seemed to follow with ease. And of course, I'm really a child of the television age. Who would want to just listen to the radio when they could watch tv? Turns out it's me!

I've come to love the replays of the old radio programs. When I first got my iPod I asked Hallie if we could find radio programs. She didn't have time to poke around iTunes too much, but eventually I subscribed to a number of nostalgic radio podcasts and I simply love them! Some are better than others, of course, and some have more appeal than others. As many genres existed on radio as we now have on television – news programs, comedies, mysteries, detective series, horror, dramas, adventure programs, etc. And you can find them through podcasts. One of our favorites is "The Great Gildersleeve," and we like to listen to an episode as we drift off to sleep. The old Kraft ads are just as entertaining as the show. They touted Parkay as an energy food loaded with 9,000 "units" of vitamin A! And using Parkay encourages your children to eat more bread and other foods that are good for them. And there was a cheese called Pabst-ett, which was probably the first cheese food (like Velveeta) and was developed by a member of the Pabst Beer family during Prohibition. Often you'll hear a plug for a movie incorporated into the program, and if the program was produced during wartime, they'll talk about pulling together for the war effort.

We're getting ready to make a trip to Seattle. Mike has geocaches and maps ready. I have radio programs on my iPod. We have our priorities straight – get your toys ready first. KW

IT STOPPED SHORT – NEVER TO GO AGAIN . . .

It was November 1987. My dad was ill and I hadn't been well myself. We were in the midst of a difficult time and we all knew it. Late in the afternoon Mother and I checked Daddy out of the hospital in Lewiston. It was dark but they wanted to go home. Mother would drive them back to Orofino as soon as we ran an errand. Daddy wanted to go to PayLess and buy a small heater for the bathroom. He just couldn't get warm enough.

So, I drove to PayLess and instructed my parents to stay in the car while I ran into the store. I found a small heater – an "Intermatic" in an odd '70's mustard gold. Seriously – it looked like it was leftover from the previous decade. But the price was right so I purchased it and gave it to Daddy as a gift. It was little enough to do for someone who was leaving us.

Not many days later he did leave us. Prominently placed in his desk I found the information sheet that came with the little heater on which he had written in his customary bold hand, "Kathy bought this heater. Give it to her." That little message said so much to me. It said that he knew he was going, even though none of us could speak of it. It said that he was thinking of something besides himself in the darkest moments of this life. He knew he wouldn't need the little heater, so I should have it. So, I took it home and used it to heat the bathroom for my showers during the winter months. Perhaps it was never so important to me as it was when we moved to this little modular home because the master bathroom is cold.

But it ended last night. With a loud twang – after 21 years of service – the fan in the little Intermatic heater gave out. I had just turned it on and was right there to unplug it. Today it's in the garbage can.

It's interesting how you can struggle with the things in your life – even the quality things like an HP laptop – and some little heater with an obscure brand name will last 21 years. KW

FIRST DAY OF SPRING – MARCH 20, 2009

Nellie and I have just returned from our afternoon walk. Our high was 65 degrees – the first day of spring and the first day I've walked without a coat this season.

Here are some pictures of the crocus in our rock garden taken today. I love spring bulbs. They brighten our world when we most need it, it seems to me. Maybe you can also see that I have garden work to do -- weeding and removal of dead vegetation from last summer / fall. I'll also pull out some of the snow-in-summer (see photo right) because it's overgrowing the area. I actually look forward to the initial work. It's in the heat of summer that it becomes tedious. In addition to our xeric landscape, we'll plant a vegetable garden. Our work to amend the sandy soil here is gradually paying off.

We're anxious to see how things are on the farm, but Mike thinks it's probably too soon to go right now – too wet. But yes – we have things to do there, too. We'll plant a hundred pine trees this spring and make some raised bed gardens. It's tough to garden in two places but still doable for us. KW

SHADES OF GREEN

Today is St. Patrick's Day and I attended a meeting where 25 individuals wore 25 shades of green -- Christmas green, spring green, gray green, teal, yellow green, etc. Some of those shades didn't belong in the same room together.

That reminds me of the avocado green of the 1970s when I was married. I was never a fan but it's what was out there and so I received a number of kitchen gifts in that peculiar shade of green. I still use some of them. I always thought when I got to this stage in my life I would get rid of the odds and ends of this and that and outfit my kitchen with some truly nice stuff in colors I like. Well, now that I'm here at this stage of my life, I find I just don't care that much. I've had my hodge-podge of bowls long enough that I'm a little sentimental over them.

Take for instance the set of three Pyrex casserole bowls that our elderly Orofino neighbor Eunice Merrill gave me as a wedding gift – three different sizes, two green and one white, with flat lids that just sit on the bowls. The gift came with a nice note wherein Eunice said she felt our marriage was a right one. No, I can't recite a list of my wedding gifts, but I do remember that Eunice gave me those bowls, and when I think of replacing them, I just can't quite do it.

In fact, I broke the white bowl. It cracked when I poured hot liquid from the crock pot into it when we still lived on 12^th Avenue. It's likely that it was already cracked. I was disappointed but life went on with the two green bowls and three lids. Yesterday when Mike and I were at GoodWill, I spied one of those white bowls. "Why not?" I said to myself, so I replaced my white bowl for $1.99. (They don't give things away at GoodWill any more.) KW

ON BEING A STARTER

We've talked about how good it feels to finish things. It's good to finish projects and some people are very disciplined in their approach to this, making sure they finish one project before they start another. We lauded Aunt Chris when she finished not one but two quilts around the first of the year.

Well, I'm a better starter than finisher. Awhile back I stamped some dishtowels for Hallie's hope chest. I have yet to start embroidering those. Instead another embroidery project began to take shape in my mind – a pair of pillowslips. I studied the pre-printed varieties for weeks, but desiring better quality, today I bought a pair of Egyptian cotton pillowcases and then by means of the old-fashioned hot iron method, I stamped them with a heart design from my Grandmother Portfors' transfers. Nothing bad happened this time. I didn't scorch the fabric and that little bit of blur won't matter in the long run.

Then I sat down with Mother's left-over embroidery floss – I mean the old stuff. I chose colors with the old J&P Coats "Boilfast" labels. I couldn't believe the old labels on the floss. Besides DMC and J&P Coats, there were "Brilliante D'Alger," Silkine Art Thread by A.T.Co., Lily Floss, Bucilla, Royal Mouline, and Peri-Lusta. A lot of floss manufacturers have come and gone over the last 70 years or so. I could almost hear Mother's admonishments: "Be sure you have enough of each color to finish this project. You won't be able to match the color if you don't."

Tip found on the transfer sheet: Do you have difficulty keeping the recipe handy when you are cooking? Place the recipe card between the tines of a fork and put the fork in a glass. This also prevents the recipe from becoming soiled. KW

FROM 1947 -- DOROTHY WALRATH WEDS VANCE DOBSON HERE SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7

The home of Mayor and Mrs. C. O. Portfors was the setting for the marriage of their daughter Dorothy Walrath and Vance Dobson Sunday, December 7 at 5 o'clock.

Two younger daughters of the bride, Farrol Joan and Nina Ruth Walrath lit candles preceding the rites read by the Rev. Marvin E. Smith of the First Christian church of Lewiston. A son, Charles P. Walrath played the wedding march as the bride entered on the arm of her father.

The bride wore a dress of shell pink slipper satin and carried a bouquet of orchids on a white prayer book. She was attended by her oldest daughter, Harriet Lee Walrath, who as maid of honor was also in pink slipper satin with net trim and wore pink roses in her hair.

Farrol Joan and Nina Ruth were in long dresses of white and yellow and had shoulder bouquets of pink roses.

Jeannine Larson sang, "Through the Years" and "I Love Thee" accompanied by Barbara Hughes.

The ceremony was performed before the altar which covered the fireplace flanked on either side by tall candelabra. The mantel was draped with chrysanthemums, iris and buddleia.

The bridegroom is the son of the late Julian Dobson and Mrs. Ina Dobson, pioneers in the Gilbert area. He was attended by a nephew, Dale Johnson as best man.

Mr. Dobson has made his home here for several years after teaching piano at Raymond, Wn., and is currently conducting classes here in addition to his farm interests.

A reception followed at the Portfors home with Mrs. T. M. Walrath cutting the mammoth wedding cake, Mrs. Vernon Kalbfleisch pouring tea and Mrs. Francis A. Portfors serving coffee. The hostess wore a gown of rose beige with a corsage of talisman roses.

COLD FEET

The weatherman says we can expect some warming soon with highs in the 50s by the weekend, but our lows have been in the mid-teens for three or four days. Mike has had enough winter, he says. He warms his shoes, boots, and slippers before putting them on and soaks his feet in warm water at least once a day. I remember my grandfather doing that – are we there now? And he says that next year he'll get one of those boot warmers. When I mentioned that a friend of ours suddenly decided to leave for Arizona for a month, he stated his envy.

My winter's reverie was broken by a jury duty summons. "Aren't you glad for the opportunity to do something different?" Mike asked. The only something different I truly welcome is maybe a different afghan pattern. It's a different kind of "cold feet," I guess, and I've had it forever. Mother used to say the only way to get me to leave the house was to push me out and lock the door behind me.

Mike and I were both called for jury duty frequently in Nez Perce County. Often we never had to go in – just had to remember to call the court every Wednesday evening for the duration to be sure they didn't need us to come in. But today I was one of a pool of 46 prospective jurors who showed up at the Asotin County Courthouse. The judge observed that in this district they get 100% juror participation, so for this round involving several trials, he has a pool of 46. He added that one Washington district gets less than 20% participation, which means that when they need a jury pool, they have to call 500 people. But that's interesting – because I thought I had to do it.

In fact, I tried a little test. I was not selected to serve on the jury today, so I was "asked" to return Tuesday morning – "if possible." "Would you be able to come back on Tuesday?" the clerk asked me, smiling pleasantly. "I belong to an organization that needs my services Tuesday afternoon," I replied. "Please come in the morning and we'll see if the judge will excuse you for that reason," she said. So see – I really didn't have a choice.

"You should want to do your civic duty," someone once told me. But that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is that any call for jurors means service for only twelve people and an alternate. But being one of the pool is just an inconvenience – something you have to remember to do under threat of penalty until released. And if you do get as far as the courtroom for jury selection, they'll ask you all kinds of questions you might just as soon not answer in a roomful of strangers. "I wasn't sure how much of what my kids did I was supposed to confess," remarked another prospective juror during break. KW

TOWN TIME: COLD, COMPUTERS, AND COOKIES

Another time change – another adjustment. Today was crisply cold – still 34 when I took Nellie for her walk at 3:00. The paper says the overnight low might be 15 and that temps will warm to more nearly normal (highs in the 50s) later this week. I don't know if this cold snap will adversely affect fruit trees or not. Hopefully it's still too early to be a consideration and it won't last long.

Mike has never been exactly happy with the Dell computer we bought in 2005, so he has shopped and considered options and last Saturday he ordered a custom-built model from the local "computer guy." He'll pick it up this afternoon. It remains to be seen if this was really a good move. I so hope we like it. I don't use the "desk" computer much, but I need it for scanning and printing and I'm glad the new one is ready so quickly. The Dell will now replace the "slow-as-molasses" model on the farm.

Some weeks ago, two fifth-graders from Asotin Elementary School, one of them the next-door-neighbor, came to my house selling cookie dough – three dozen pre-shaped cookies, ready to bake, for ----- $15.00. I bought the oatmeal raisin variety. "Wow!" was Mike's response. "I agree with you," I explained. "But the neighbors helped our children when they had to sell stuff for the school, and we believe in helping the school and supporting the neighbors. So, I bought three dozen cookies for $15.00." Frankly, I would like to have ordered more, but that would have been six dozen cookies for $30.00. It just seems to get worse. I also briefly considered just making a donation to the school, but when I looked at the girls' shining faces – so happy that I might buy some cookies dough – I just couldn't say no. Anyway, the cookies were delivered this afternoon, so without further ado on this cold day, I'm baking them.

The thing is – I belong to an organization that asks each member to donate three dozen large home-baked cookies for a fundraising event, and those cookies are priced at $3.00 per baker's dozen. So, for three dozen, you would actually get 39 cookies for $9.00, and the cookies are already baked! Most people recognize that as a good deal – if they want cookies, that is. Last year we sold all the cookies and that was great. But I watched people think about spending that $3.00, and I wonder if our students are really successful with their sale in support of the school. And how much does the school realize from that $15.00? KW

A WEDDING AT THE HERITAGE HOUSE

At the time that I managed The Heritage House, the thinking of the board was that the house would appeal for very small events – like a wedding chapel. I remember only once when it worked like that.

A woman called from Orofino one afternoon and said she and her boyfriend were getting married. It would be just the two of them on Friday afternoon. No guests, no attendants, no cake – they just wanted a place for the ceremony. Sure, I said, and told her it would be $35 for such an event. She was pleased – maybe even relieved, I thought. Did I know where she could find a minister, she asked. I suggested Stan Lyman. And would I serve as her attendant? At that point my heart went out to her because I realized she had no one special to be beside her at this important time, and I said I would. She also asked me if I could find a second witness. Yes, I said, wondering which board member I could coax into helping.

I didn't have to wonder long. Just then Johnny Johnson of Lewiston Morning Tribune fame came through the door. "Johnny," I asked, "would you serve as best man for this couple?" To my surprise, he said yes without even asking questions. It was so easy I wondered if he would remember or if he would wear a suit. (My job at the Historical Society was much the same as my job at home -- mother.)

On the appointed day, I wore a dress to work. Johnny showed up at the right time wearing a suit just as Stan Lyman walked in. The three of us greeted a beaming and nervous middle-aged couple – he in an old suit, she in a two-piece white dress with a lovely corsage. My intuition told me they had come to Lewiston that morning to shop for her dress, the corsage, maybe even the ring. They weren't prosperous but my on-the-spot assessment was that the groom was doing what he could to make the day special for his bride. Immediately following the ceremony, the bride blurted out, "Didn't I get a great guy?" And I still remember how Stan and Johnny nodded and said "uh-huh" in unison.

It turned out that Johnny was an old hand at witnessing weddings. He related that as a reporter covering the courthouse he had frequently been asked to step into the role of witness. It couldn't have worked out better if I'd had time to think about it! KW

FROM 1929 – YOUNG COUPLE TO WED SAT.

Miss Muriel Dorothy Portfors and Mr. Fairly John Walrath, both of Orofino, will be married at the Lewis-Clark hotel in Lewiston Saturday, May 18^th, by Rev. Chas. H. Addleman, pastor of the Christian church of Clarkston, at 5:30 p.m. The ceremony will be performed in the presence of a few intimate friends of the bride and groom. The informal double ring ceremony will be used. Following the wedding the young couple will immediately leave by car for Walla Walla on a honeymoon tour which will take them into Washington, Oregon and southern Idaho. They expect to return to Orofino May 25^th and will be at home after the first of June.

The bride is the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. C. O. Portfors of Orofino, a graduate of the Orofino high school, and for the past year bookkeeper for her father in his Ford garage. The groom is the elder son of Mr. and Mrs. H. L. Walrath, Orofino, also a graduate of the Orofino high school and of the University of Idaho forestry school, and for the last two years has been employed by the Clearwater Timber company in woods and office logging work.

They are well known and well liked young people of this community and have many friends who wish them future health and happiness.

Mrs. E. W. Jewell and Mrs. H. R. Snider tendered the bride-elect a china shower at the latter's home May second, when many beautiful dish gifts were received. (From the Clearwater Tribune, Orofino, Idaho)

So, one day I questioned my mother about this wedding. She explained that she and Fairly arranged to have all the furniture removed from a room at the Hotel Lewis-Clark in Lewiston. Grandma Portfors made her wedding dress, a flapper-style dress of gray satin with an overlay of gray lace. On her wedding day, she and Fairly together with their attendants left their parents behind and drove to Lewiston where they were married as pre-arranged at the hotel. To my knowledge no photographs were taken.

"What!" I said. "Surely you could have had a big wedding in Orofino!"

"I know," Mother answered with a shrug and a sheepish grin. "That's what my mother wanted. She wanted to make me a white wedding dress and invite the Canadian relatives and have a big wedding at the Christian Church."

"Why didn't you?" I asked, still incredulous.

"I refused," she replied, with no further explanation.

I recently related this conversation to a friend who quietly said, "Your mother wanted to be in control." Yes, I think she put her finger on it. KW

MARCH – AND STILL WINTER

Last week we had some beautiful weather – almost warm. Mike and I talked about tilling the garden. I bought seeds. We'll try harder to have a vegetable garden this year. But this week we have a return of cold temps. The sun brought us into the low 40s today and lows overnight are expected in the 20s. Still, more crocus are blooming, the South Slope Nursery down the street from us is open, and don't forget to turn your clock back Sunday morning.

I was talking with a friend on the phone this morning. "Can you see the Lewiston Hill where you are?" she asked. "It's just beautiful with snow halfway down."No, I can't quite see the Lewiston Hill from my house, but I can see it when I take Nellie for her walk up South Slope. So, curious to see the beautiful site, after lunch I took Nellie and the camera and set out for higher ground. The photo to the left shows the Lewiston Hill dusted with snow.

This photo looks east over the Quail Ridge Golf Course to the Waha area. As you can see, it's not snowy in our immediate neighborhood.

And here's a picture of the Vintage Collection afghan in progress. Just two more rows to attach, the edging, and a lot of weaving loose ends. KW

HERITAGE HOUSE WEDDINGS

Talking wedding venues with family and friends put me in mind of my tenure as Executive Director of the Nez Perce County Historical Society. That's the part-time job I got when Hallie announced I would have to find something to do because as a first-grader she would be in school all day.

Anyway, one of my duties was to manage The Heritage House next door to the museum. The house is the oldest residential building in the downtown Lewiston historic district and the Historical Society owns it. Prior to my hiring, the board had "rehabilitated" the house and hoped that it would appeal to prospective brides as a wedding venue. White chairs were purchased when a wedding chapel somewhere went out of business.

There were rules and I was responsible for enforcing them. Rental was based on $100 for four hours, including set-up and take-down, with both hours and fee non-negotiable. It was a tough sell – most people need more time. Eventually I learned to allow brides the opportunity to set up in advance if they would agree to be out of the house not later than four hours after the start of the event.

Renting the house was trial by fire, believe me. I never knew what prospective renters were thinking or how they would contrive to stretch the rules with which I had been entrusted. On my very first rental, the bride asked if she could get ready in the bedroom on the second floor. "Of course," I replied, not realizing that she imagined herself bathing in the tub, which was not functional. When she discovered the day before her wedding that she couldn't bathe there, she was one unhappy lady. She said I had lied to her because I had told her she could get ready upstairs. She went through with her wedding but called afterwards to say her family was most displeased and would not recommend our facility. "Well, we don't recommend her as a bride!" laughed a board member.

Thereinafter we placed a sign on the tub and I always specifically mentioned to prospective renters that the bathtub was not functional, to which they would reply incredulously, "I wouldn't expect to bathe here." KW

 

ONE MEAL FOR TWO

We were running errands on Saturday. We happened to be in Lewiston when Mike remembered he had a coupon for a free meal at Skipper's that would expire that day. It was noon and I was hungry, so I was glad he suggested a lunch break.

"Here you are," said Mike, providing me half of the free meal. "Half a baked potato, half of this cole slaw, and a piece of fish. What more could you want?"

I thought better of saying, "My own food." We eat a light lunch anyway, so really – it was fine.

Ironically, the very next day in the business section of the local Trib an AP article appeared about how meal sharing at restaurants is becoming more common. It seems that in these recessionary times couples or groups are conserving on the cost of eating out by meal sharing. And restaurants that used to frown on the practice are allowing it – just glad for the business.

When I was a child, my parents didn't buy restaurant food for me. "And please bring a glass of milk and an extra plate," my mother would add after ordering her meal. Both parents would then place a sampling of food from their plates on mine. Remember, there was no fast food in that time and place. We were eating in family-oriented restaurants in towns like Orofino, Lewiston, Moscow. It was years before I was allowed to choose my own meal off the menu, and even then, I think Mother would have preferred to share with me because of the financial aspect and because she couldn't eat all of her food.

Here's a picture of Mike and Nellie at a geocache site last Sunday. The photo above is of the crocus that bloomed in my rock garden late last week. KW