HOW SOON WE FORGET

On Valentine’s Day, I attended a ladies’ luncheon at a local restaurant. I had my hair done, and I exchanged my sweatshirt and pants for a suit.

I parked the car, and as I walked across the restaurant parking lot, I heard a familiar voice boom “Hello!” behind me. I didn't know if the "hello" was meant for me or not, but I turned to see “Big Mike” of Disaster Response, the contractor who shepherded us through the renovation of the farmhouse after the great water debacle of 2018. We visited face to face on a regular basis for more than a year. The house was one nightmare while the insurance work was another. Big Mike worked through all of it. We couldn’t have done it without him. Clearly he was calling to me.

“Well, hello,” I said. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I guess that’s a good thing.” (In reality, it has only been six months since we signed the final papers.)

“I know that I know you from somewhere,” he said, “but I just can’t place you.”

“Oh, this is hilarious!” I thought to myself. “I’m Kathy of the Gilbert farmhouse,” I said, thinking these few words would spark his memory. I might have done better with this situation, but I was on my way to meet people and somewhat distracted.

“Well, how have you been?” he asked, as we continued to walk along together. I commenced to explain that we were basically fine but Mike had had surgery blah blah blah.

“Mike is your brother?” he asked -- and now I had to chuckle a bit.

“No, Mike is my husband,” I said, realizing that this man with whom we had worked for months and who recognized my voice without seeing my face – truly couldn’t place me.

Just then, he blurted out, “Oh!” and the farmhouse address. We both laughed as he went his way and I went mine. That’s the way it is sometimes when you see people out of context. KW

NOTES FROM THE KITCHEN

I am bombarded with recipes in my email inbox every day. Of course, it’s my fault. I sign up at various websites for their promotional bombardment. On a certain level, I enjoy it, but most days I barely give this information a first look, let alone a second. Still, I can’t quite let it go.

Despite this daily onslaught, there’s nothing like a cookbook, especially an old favorite. Back in the ‘80s – that’s the 1980s – I bought the Gold Medal Century of Success Cookbook (The Best Gold Medal Recipes of 100 Years), 1979. Even then, I had a hankering to know about how it was in “the good old days.” And this particular cookbook is nostalgic to me. Not only did Betty Crocker provide historical notes here and there but I see that some little person scribbled on a page or two – a “no-no,” of course, but endearing just the same.

If I may digress, Hallie learned to make the capital letter “H” very early, and she loved to make “Hs.” She would stand on her stool in the kitchen as I cooked, making “Hs” on scratch paper. Every now and then I turn the page of a cookbook to find an “H,” and from the perspective of many years, I love that. It’s like a message from the past.

Yes, this cookbook was well loved. Not only does it have notes from the children but also food spatters. When I googled the title, I was appalled to see what sellers are asking for pristine copies -- $27, $35, even $100+. Well, my copy will not command money of any kind, but it’s okay. I probably “bought” it with boxtops.

I made Mike’s favorite meat pies the other night – a recipe of his mother’s. It’s a bit labor-intensive and time-consuming because you wrap little seasoned meat in dough and then bake it. His old wife evidently complained about this process, so he’s when he asks for meat pies, his tone is apologetic. But I have to say, they are pretty tasty.

Anyway, I had some of the prepared meat leftover, and I happened to remember – a wonder in itself – that I used to make that same meat with a “popover topping” from the above cookbook, which involves much less prep time. So, that made a quick and tasty supper for us tonight. KW

WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, THE TOUGH GO GEOCACHING

"Swallows' Nest" from the Idaho side of the Snake River

I’m perfectly content with my household activities, but for Mike, an active outdoorsman, the winter is hard – and now all the harder since his left arm is in a cast. So, he decided that Saturday (Feb. 15), would be a perfect time to pick up some geocaches at Hells Gate State Park.

It took two hands to replace this cache

After lunch I gathered the camera, a $5.00 bill (the day-use “on your honor” entry fee), Bess’ leash with attached pick-up bags, and the car fob. Mike had his GPS and handed me a map. We were off for the adventure of finding the treasure that a fellow geocacher had hidden inside the park.

A cache in the crook of a tree

It was a good day to geocache. The temperature was moderate, it wasn’t wet and muddy, and there weren’t many other people or dogs. With Bess on a leash, we began just north of the beach and worked our way back toward the information center. In the wide-open spaces, we soon let Bess off the leash, and she had a blast, exploring here, there, and everywhere.

Our route took us to the other side of the park road where we walked trails in a southerly direction and then back into the park proper to walk through the campgrounds along the Snake River. Bess was on leash again until we reached the far campground, Loop C, which is closed to camping for the winter.

Looks like rain

It was a two-hour hike, and I think we walked at least two miles and found all eleven caches. I admit that by the time we were halfway through the list, I would happily have left the rest for another time, but Mike was determined to get our money’s worth, our concept of $5.00 being stuck in the last century, as a fellow blogger puts it.

Critchfield Road -- so near and yet so far

I function to keep untoward things from happening, and all went well except that it fell outside my control to prevent Bess from rolling in something repulsive that she thought was lovely. Immediately as we arrived back at the house, Mike managed to bathe her, and I toweled her off with a vigorous rubdown, which she loves. After a hearty supper of kibble and buttermilk, she curled up on her pillow and drifted into doggie slumberland.

A light rain commenced as we were leaving the park, and it rained more in the evening, so we congratulated ourselves that we had had our adventure at the right time. KW