Quote of the Week

"Every day of freedom is like an act of faith."

- Nechama Tec

Every man who runs a traction engine ought to know something of the magnitude of the force he is working with. 

He ought to know something about the strength of materials in his boiler and engine. He ought to know the exact construction of every part of his machine.

He ought to know how to make all the necessary repairs and make all necessary adjustments and he ought to be familiar with the scientific laws governing every operation of an engine or any of its parts.
-Steam Engine Guide, by Professor P.S. Rose

The Color of Morning

I imagine more than a few of my readers hunt and fish.  They understand all about  getting up  way too early because you wanted to? Awoken while the sky was black infinitude, only a small sliver of moonlight to guide you as you leave your house. As you roamed the land seeking, moonbeams a soft caress, sculpting your form as you climb into your blind, as if climbing closer to the sky you can hold heaven even closer.

Have you ever watched the color of the dawn? Really watched it as it turns from black to pink to orange to the brilliant white of the world. When the dawn lightens behind the stark shapes of your life, and like a rose unfolding, like a lovers first kiss, there's a quivering beginning of hope.

Most people don't. Most people hit the snooze button. Weekends I do that as well, snuggled face down, legs splayed, arms out, laid out on a king sized pillowtop alter to the god of sleep. But I know, that eventually I will have to get up and go. But today? It's Saturday. Today I don't want to. I'm not really exhausted but neither am I bound by some duty to leap out of bed, I'm simply hung up, trapped under a log in a current of time and environment, that has no direction, beneath a sullen night sky that will continue to wane towards yet another evening, toying with me, until maybe I'm shot out into the current that I was pulled into sleep from, and in the meantime it doesn't matter.

For years, there was no reason to get up early.

Except him. So with soft warm breathe and the nudge of whiskers he would find me, underneath the warm Pendleton blanket, like a caretaker, rousting out a soul found napping in a pew long after services are over, nudging me towards the door with the urgency born of prisoned spring and small doggie bladder.

It's early. TOO early. The sky is the darkness of stone formed deep within the earth, that only when split open, reveals its wondrous color. For whatever reason, it beckoned. So on such mornings, rather than crawl back into bed when Barkley was done with the unexpected revelry of cold snout, I grabbed my gun and stepped out into the world to watch it unfold.

Settled up with my back against a tree, I watched as the color cracked open the earth, just a hint of a smile as it shy stepped to take a bow.

What struck me were the colors. How do you describe such color? A red of a royal blue-red, that in centuries past would have been forbidden to be worn by the masses, on threat of death. Oranges and yellows, dripping like forgotten fruit into the horizon, their taste and texture, fragrant and lush against the plate of the earth. Pink and white, the color of salt water snails found in the submerged sands of paradise, washed clean of their prison. Then finally blue, just a hint of blue, paler even than the bluest sky I remember from my last time aloft, just a hint of blue, fading, for into the sky comes the weather, thick clouds pulled up by the still slumbering earth to cover it and keep it warm.

Soon, too soon, before the sun could even warm the earth, warm me, blue grey gave way to grey, like the whole of Lee's army taking over the battlefield between night and dawn, leaving remnants, blood red on the ground, quickly leeching into the earth, til soon, nothing is left but a grey cloudy darkness again. And so I sat, under sunless, moonless cover, Barkley would go back to sleep beside me, the birds not yet awake, his interest only in being next to me. So dark. So quiet. I was left to trace in the early morning with my eyes closed, all those variated colors that I held for an instant, all the colors that I cataloged in memory, alone in the darkness, the lost hues and shades, sitting by a slumbering dog with hair the color of a starless night, alone, the world turning surely if slowly to gray.

But if I keep my eyes closed, here and now, closed real tight, I can still see the sun, bursting across the back of my eyelids, in the frames of memory of other warm mornings. Color splashing across blackness, set loose in a sudden spray, a thought of someone in the back of my mind, who's light feels warm and comforting, like electricity before the blackout. Someone long gone from this life, though they follow me on every outdoor outing. With the light, there are thoughts of those hunts, those glorious days, a sudden flash of light in this dark world. So I keep my eyes closed as long as I can, to hold the picture in. Hold that memory close. I've got the first light of thought in my soul, stored in a photograph engraved on my eyes, and it will keep me until the sight of another dwindled dawn brings you to me.

Have a Can of Beer? You Can Bake Bread

I know a number of folks who have never made a loaf of bread - preferring to pay 3 to 4 times the cost to buy a loaf in the store.  Now, frankly, we don't always have time, especially if you have jobs and children. Certainly, in my house, the occasional Aldi loaf shows up at my house to make sandwiches.

Baking yeast bread takes time, and a little practice.  THIS bread does not.

You only need six ingredients. There's no kneading, and it's pretty hard to screw  it up.  Plus - it involves buying beer and you have to figure out WHAT to do with the 5 cans you DON'T use.

Beer Bread - crusty and buttery on the outside and tender and slightly sweet on the inside, it's perfect with soups, stews, or just a light supper of grilled chicken salad.

Mix in a bowl

3 cups flour (sift it or gently spoon into the cup or you will have a door stop)
1 Tablespoon Baking POWDER
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sugar
1 can beer (I used MGD - as that is what Partner likes for a post lawn mowing beverage but a bottle of Guinness with a pinch of rosemary is also really good)

Spoon into a bread pan sprayed with non stick spray.

In microwave - melt 3 Tablespoons of butter and pour over bread and place in preheated 375 F. degree oven.

Bake for about 50 minutes.  Crust should be brown and knife inserted into center should come out clean.

Paracord for the Pooch

Paracord is all the rage. I've a number of things made out of paracord, dog things and bracelets and what not as gifts for friends but making them can be a lot of work (unless you're Stormdrain who can make anything out of paracord).

If you want the latest in paracord accessories for your canine best friend without the fuss -  there's an easier way.

• Pudins Paw

This family owned business can make paracord leashes and collars of all shapes and sizes with just the click of a mouse from their secure website! With all sort of colors to pick from (this one was in U of I colors as that's where Partner got his engineering degree from).

Pudin's Paw paracord accessories are made out of the best quality, durable paracord and the weaving is precise and beautiful.  The nice thing about paracord--even though it's extremely strong - it has a slight bit of natural give, which keeps it from pinching your dogs neck if they suddenly tug on the leash or collar.

We like unique things - When we got married - since I'm in a male dominated profession and work with all guys -  the joke was the wedding theme would be Ninja.  It was just a joke but Partner made me a handmade leather garter for the wedding with Ninja Throwing Knives which I  wore under my very girly wedding gown, and everyone cracked up when I lifted the dress up to show it.

Things that are handmade, have their own kind of value - not just workmanship, but pride and a sense that you are getting the best for your loved ones.

Pudin is a lab who lives with his family in Seattle near where my brother lived, which is how I found them.  Pudin's family loves dogs and they love providing quality products for your beloved family members.  You can get collars and leashes for your favorite, colors, your favorite football teams,  boy collars, girl collars, "who the heck neutered me!" collars ---so many colors to pick from.

My order was easy and secure with Pudin's Paw being an Authorized Net Verified Merchant and certified secure by Volulsion SSL.  Pudin's Mom also is a member of of the National Association of Professional Woman,

Pudin's Paw has an assortment of styles and colors - of both leashes and collars, each one custom made from your dog's measurements. Though they are meticulously crafted---Abby's collar was delivered very fast!

So if you want a unique and affordable paracord leash or collar, check them out.

Mornings

For those occasional lousy days, followed by  bad hair, bad breath mornings, when your furry best friend let's you know you are absolutely the most beautiful, important thing in the world.

I miss you Barkley - on each and every morning.

Posts From the Road - Stagecoach Rules

This listing of rules for Stage Coach Passengers was found in a very old Durango, Colorado Newspaper.

1. If the stage team runs away or you are pursued by Indians, stay in the coach and take your chances. Don't jump out, for you will be either injured or scalped.

That's OK, he'll buff out.

2. In cold weather, abstain from liquor, for you are subject to freezing quicker if under the influence than if you were cold sober. But if you are drinking from a bottle, pass it around. It is the only polite thing to do.

3. Don't smoke a strong cigar or pipe on the state especially when women and children are present. If chewing tobacco, spit to the leeward side.

4. Don't swear, snore or lop over on neighbors when sleeping. Let others share the buffalo robes provided in cold weather.

Buffalo robes are not to be confused with the Buffalo Snuggie

5. Don't shoot firearms for pleasure while enroute, as it scares the horses.

6. Don't grease hair with bear grease as travel is very dusty.

7. Don't discuss politics or religion.

8. Don't point out sites where robberies have taken place.9. And don't imagine you are going on a picnic, for stage travel is inconvenient.You all travel safe now!

Half Priced - Full Adventure - What's on your Nightstand

Partner in Grime and I have a Half Priced Books store within a short drive of both homes so we go a lot.  But some of you may not know that in the very back of their stores,  they have "all under $3 Section", a lot of them in excellent condition for only $1. With some careful hunting through the higher and lower shelves there that aren't picked over as much, I brought home several bags of really good condition books, for less than forty bucks.

Always nice to add a few more things to the bookshelf.

I just finished Peter Grant's Forge a New Blade - and it was a deftly enjoyable read, and a great blend of the two separate series of books.  Also on my shelf to be read this week is a re-read of Looking for Lynne by John L. Moore (seriously, if you love Western themes and haven't read Mr. Moore, who Tom Savage called "breathtakingly good" you are missing out.)  But when those are done, I was needing something new to read.

I love to read  - all genres with the exception of lot of YA and Erotica with humans paired with werewoves, dinosaurs (don't even ask), large kitchen appliances (I'm sure those books exist somewhere on Amazon) or sado masochists who are OK because they're cute billionaires.  Everyone has their own tastes but I'll pass.

I want a story I can relate to, or aspire to, and other than the one guy with a serious back hair issue unveiled during a scorching day in a bass boat, I've never been romantically approached by a werewolf.

Abby Normal the Lab, guarding the bookshelves from "her" couch.

There's something about opening up a new book, that sense of impending adventure.  A good portion of Saving Grace - a Story of Adoption took place in the years I was a pilot, those stories written of in that book, not in specific detail, but as how I viewed it, an adventure. . . and my escape.

Even though it's been 15 years since I flew any sort of jet or heavy transport, I can still recall those mornings on the ramp, my bird on the ramp awaiting release to her wandering life.  I'd look out across the long shining stretch of the tarmac,  the setting sun shining obliquely on the winged form that awaited me, noticing everything - the primordial smell of dinosaur in the tar-pit which is what JP-4 always brought to mind, to the tiniest drops of rain on a massive propeller, sparking there like a billion tossed diamonds.  The ramp was quiet - the aircraft still drowsing in the  impending night, looking less like plane and more like somber ruin upon an ancient landscape.

As the C - check was signed off and the fuel truck retreated, the crew chief would wait with the meditative torpor of a disillusioned philosopher. Crew Chiefs seldom said much, conveying as much with a look or the movement of a finger in the air as the most garrulous of narrators.  In the cockpit as well, very little was said until that first checklist began and my aircraft came to life under the soft kiss of fingers on a switch.

There was always a pause there as my ship and I summed each other up as fuel was introduced, and  the engine rotated to life.  My ship, with a form so massive and a weight that was so solid and myself, her skipper, only a small form, a shadow that would fill her flight deck with a unceasing stir. Our truce for the night complete, we launched into the storm tossed skies, darker than the night, and more restless than the thoughts of men.

There was so much in my memories, in your memories, that can't be contained between just two book covers, so many stories, so many grand days  There is so much that is too voluminous for the narrow limits of the written word yet writers continue to write - releasing to the world that which had from the beginning of thought had demanded their eventual release.  I'd write even if there was no one to read  my words and I will read, as long as I have books and breath.

So I look at this big bag of books not as $37 spent but as the writer's life, their greatest adventures real or conceived being offered to me.  There are great risks and great loves, swashbuckling pirates and cowboys, heroes and starships.  There is plundering and mutineers and those moments when men's lunacy has posed as the delicate mediator of fate. There are world's seen from the depths space, a night beyond our own night, viewed through a thin crevice in the glittering sphere of which our earth is a tossed diamond among billions that spark against the darkness.

Now I simply have to decide which one to open first.

What's on YOUR nightstand?

Beefer Madness

It's hot enough to fry a cow on the sidewalk. The above picture is "Accu Cow".  He is on my  four hour each way weekly commute between the Range and where I  live while I work.  If Accu Cow is wet -  it's raining.  If Accu cow is covered in snow - it's winter.  If giving Accu Cow a pat on the rump causes 2nd degree burns - It's summer in Indiana.  It WAS warm today. When I crawled in the car after the truck sat outside with the engine running and the doors locked while I made a hardware store run (I had foodstuffs already in the vehicle), it showed 114 F. (it was actually around 93 and VERY humid)  So the last thing you want to do on a day like that is heat up your kitchen.  

This is the perfect time for your crockpot which was put to use yesterday.  It's perfect to tenderize those larger, cheaper cuts of meat. When crock pots first came out they were declared the savior of the working Mom, except most recipes call for low 4-5 hours or high for 6-8. Between commuting, lunch that's often not paid time and a stop on the way home for an errand or a child, it's not a typical day that most working folks are out of the house only 8 hours.

So when I crock pot, it's when I'm teleworking or off. This recipe, like most of mine, is a fix it and forget it while simply doing chores, spending time with friends or  taking the dog to the park. The biggest advantage is I don't have to heat the kitchen and I don't have to try do the exact sequence of movements it takes to light a 60 year old gas oven. (Brigid's blood pressure goes through the roof, as told through interpretive dance.)

Simple.  Simple is good.

This was an experiment that ended up being a huge hit with the menfolk (and OK, I had another sandwich for breakfast). The meat was "cut with a spoon" tender and the au jus? MMMM  Hot and beefy, salty and sweet, but very subtly.  The roast isn't completely submerged, so while it was basted once during cooking, it develops some great little crusty edges to lend a bit of bite to the tender roast.  Perfect.

Beefer Madness

• 1 3-4 pound boneless roast beef (chuck or round roast)
• 1 and 1/4 cup beef broth
• 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar (I used the 18 year aged one from Artisano's)
• 3 and 1/4 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
• 1 Tablespoon soy sauce
• 4 teaspoons wild honey
• a dash or two of salt (the soy is high sodium so it doesn't need more than a shake)
• 1/4 tsp fresh cracked black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes plus an extra pinch
• slightly less than 1/4  teaspoon dried ginger (remove a pinch after a level measure)
• 2 teaspoons minced garlic

Please roast in crock pot, fat side down.  Mix ingredients and pour over top.  Cook on low 7-8 hours, flipping over once during the cooking and basting with juice. Serve on fresh, crusty French rolls.  Strain au jus (just put into a colander over a bowl) and serve alongside to dip the sandwich into.  Makes 6 generous servings and it is even better the next day.

On Directions - Gifts for Men and Women - the Differences

There's a series of commercials on the Chicagoland radio a couple of years ago from an identity theft protection service. They all give a list of "things your _____ will never buy".

One of the commercials went something like "The official list of things your girlfriend will never buy: Box seats to the rodeo, a 54 inch television, 2000 lbs of jet fuel, a cannon. "

Partner in Grime looked at me and said "the TV, I can see that - the rest of it sounds pretty normal for you".

With two careers, both in male dominated professions and being the only girl in the family, my life is probably a little different than the average gal.  But it has had it's advantages, I've learned some things I might not otherwise have, or at least not as young as I did -

I know at least a half dozen phrases that rhyme with Nantucket

I know the difference between wings, hot wings, buffalo wings, boneless wings, delta wings and variable geometry wings

I know that driving really really fast on a flat tire will not generate enough centrifugal force to make it round again. 

I know how to "suck it up. . ."  and tackle a hard assignment without drama, tears or pity.

I know that of ink, Skydrol500B, hot sauce and blood, which is easier to wash out of your shirt.

I know how to grill a really, really good burger

Plus I can speak the language - motors, firearms, alcohol and even Pirate, knowing pirate speak and the 4 rules of Cutlass safety.

1.  Your cutlass be always sharp.

2.  Be sure of your cutlass and what be beyond it.

3.  Keep the pointy end avast distance from yourself.

and the final one, remember gentlemen -

4.  Never let your cutlass cover something you are not willing to poke

Craftsman Adjustable Wench

For my guy friends and I have spent more than one afternoon at the range, cracking up in pirate talk before coming back to my house for grub.

Something on a plank?  (no, too predictable)

Hardtack? (no,  I got that on my last airline flight)

Kraken?  (too much like calamari)

Chum?  (no, I'm out of Chum Helper)

Now,  love my gal friends, who have taught me more about faith and firearms, self sufficiency and sacrifices than any one I know, but I am truly blessed by the men I know on and off the job.

But being pretty much the lone female in that group, I'm often queried when one of them doesn't understand something his wife, daughter, sister or girlfriend did, said or bought, as if someone who has a large ninja knife on her bedroom nightstand should give advice on women.

I do give a little advice,  on minor things, such as -

And gift selection.

Gifts to  avoid for wives (or female friends and relatives)

Shovels
NASCAR Memorabilia (unless she counts among her fantasies - winning a big race or climbing Tony Stewart)
Hair remover
Jewelry or personal item previously given an ex
Guppies
Brake Fluid (don't laugh, a lady I know got that for Christmas one year from her spouse)
Velvet paintings
Any thing labeled (insert body part here)-BUSTER
Someone at the front door with a warrant
Household appliances

And yes, I'll offer advice to ladies on what to avoid for their husbands/partners

Soap on a Roap
Any Movie with Julia Roberts
Snuggies (cammo does NOT make it better)
A pedicure
A Coupon for a Target Portrait of him with your Mom and your Cat
Unsolicited Instructions and
Socks (he thought you said sex, so now, no matter how warm they are, it's a let down)

So, don't listen to the radio, don't label a gift male or female (though big kid that likes Scotch works in our house).  When selecting a gift, be it birthday or holiday or anniversary - go with what you know the ones you love will like, not what society says they're supposed to like.

And that's your weekly advice from Home on the Range.

Brigid

Gone Faster than a Speeding Bulllitt

We all have  a favorite family recipe that turns up during birthdays or a holiday. This one was requested at most family gatherings when my brother was alive.  I imagine I will be making it again as I'm going to meet Dad up in the mountains in the West at my cousin L's homestead in the next few weeks where we are planning a big 95th birthday bash for him where the deer and the antelope play.

But for the longest time, that family favorite dessert never had a name. It was just "that dessert thing". It was requested regularly when I was a youngster; something that could be put together quickly and without a lot of grown up cooking skill. But one day, it got a name.

I remembered that, just the other day. I was in my favorite train and model hobby shop that's up by O'Hare with Partner in Grime and spotted the model. It couldn't help but remember both, the car, the movie I watched with my big brother and the dessert that was named after it.


Bullitt with Steve McQueen. McQueen is so cool I think he had condensation problems, and I always had a girlhood crush on him. So when the family tried to coax me into making that dessert, I hesitated, because I was locked into the movie. Sure, the recipe is really easy, but one doesn't want to be pulled away from that movie at least until after the car chase scene. Yes, I know - too many hubcaps come off the 68' Charger and McQueen upshifts the '68 Mustang GT 390 Mustang so many times he would have been in 16th gear by the end of the sequence, but it's one of the best car scenes ever! (OK, and the one in Ronin).

Hungry Family: "Come on, are you going to make that dessert thing?"

Me: "I'm watching Bullitt!"

Hungry Family: "It's better than Bullitt."

And the name stuck. "Better Than Bullitt". A crust made of flour, butter and nuts, a layer of cheesecake, french vanilla custard, and dark fudge pudding, topped by whipped cream, more nuts and shaved chocolate. The Family Favorite Dessert is here for your enjoyment.

It's usually gone about as fast as that .68 Mustang.

Gone West

Jeremy Monnet - you were a friend to many of us in the aviation world and a class act, not soon forgotten. You treated strangers like family, welcoming them into your world and showing them wondrous things.

Even a wandering redhead, one day, a couple of short years ago.

My sympathies to your family and your teammates.

Tailwinds and Blue skies. - B

Sunday Cannon Fodder - FIRE!