Sunday morning, my wife and I decided to take Billie for a ride and to go change the memory cards on the cameras. It was an unusually warm day for the end of November. Being sunny, with a light breeze required only a light jacket. We thought we should get out and enjoy the day as it might be months before we have weather as nice as this.
Billie jumped in the sideby-side, always ready to go for a ride. We had gone about a hundred yards when he let us know, he would rather run than ride. He ran as fast as he could, down the driveway toward the cabin and up across the dam. We climbed the hill on the far side of the lake and paused for a short discussion on whether to make him ride or let him run the next section, through the timber. If he spotted a deer or most any other wildlife here, he would be off on a chase that might last ten or fifteen minutes. If this happens, we get to spend an hour or two brushing out cockleburs, stick tights, and weed seeds from
his fluffy poodle hair. We decided to take a chance on it and let him run. We lucked out and did not see a deer, squirrel or rabbit that would distract our distance runner. He ran across Twin Sluices, up the hill and across the Long Hayfield. We were just approaching the campground when we spotted Damon coming toward us in his side-by-side. He was carrying a small load of last year’s firewood on his way to burn out a stump on the edge of the campground. That seemed like a good diversion, so we
went along to supervise.
We enjoyed the warm day while sitting around the fire waiting for the wood to burn down to the point it no longer needed supervision. Jag, our terrier, showed up to join in the festivities. For a short dog, it does not take him long to make the two-mile trip over the hills and through the woods to Damon’s house. Getting ready to leave, I put Jag up front with us and tied Billie in the back. Damon led us on a short detour down the hill past the campground stopping at the edge of a steep gully. We had been
talking for a short time when the dogs started barking and wanted out. We looked over the edge of the ditch to see a buck and a doe get up from where they had been resting the whole time we were at the campground. The pair of deer walked part way up the far side of the ditch and stopped to look at us. The majestic buck’s
antlers flashed in the sunlight as he looked back at us, mostly unconcerned. Even with the dogs barking ferociously, the pair calmly strolled away
looking for a quieter place to again bed down. It is exciting to be able to observe deer from that close but especially when it is a mature buck like him.
We parted ways with Damon and headed back toward home. We again let Billie run but thought it would be best if Jag rode, to which he was not opposed. It must be a long trip for the little old dog. Billie was running slower by the time we got home and was ready for his couch. Jag was feeling good about life and enjoyed his ride. My wife and I were feeling refreshed by being able to get outside and enjoy a nice late fall day.
Sixty-Four
This year, our kids will be with in-laws for the holidays, so we were planning three celebrations in one weekend. I would do the cooking for my birthday on Friday, and the girls would make dinner for our Thanksgiving and Christmas on Saturday night; both would be at my daughter’s house in Duluth.
My birthday menu consisted of homemade beef and noodles, mashed potatoes, cottage cheese, corn, and a mixed-berry pie in lieu of a birthday cake. (Low carb, right?) Even though we would have dinner in Duluth, I wanted to do most of the cooking in my own kitchen. It’s just easier. But the day was getting away from me, so I did most of my cooking Thursday night.
“Why do you wait until so late to start cooking,” Melissa asked.
My wife was heading to bed around eleven, while I rolled out two large sheets of noodles. I left them on the counter to dry. Next, I put the chuck roast in the Crock-Pot to slow-cook overnight. I went out to the three-seasons-room to watch an episode of M*A*S*H while the noodles dried. I’ve learned from experience to never leave noodles unattended on the counter; dogs will steal them! I took Nova Mae with me and closed the doors. I dozed off while watching my show; I felt like I slept for about fifteen minutes.
When I awoke, I looked at the clock. Wow, I’d been sleeping for two hours! I went to the kitchen to cut and crinkle the noodles so that they could finish drying. Meanwhile, I’d try to finish watching the episode of M*A*S*H. I took the dog with me and closed the door. Again, I dozed off, this time it seemed like an hour. When I awoke, I looked at the clock. Wow, I’d been
sleeping for three hours! I went to the kitchen and checked my noodles. They were almost dry and the roast was done, so I turned off the CrockPot. I went back to once again, trying to watch the episode of M*A*S*H. I laid down on the futon and just started to doze off, but something wasn’t right.
I returned to the kitchen to find my dog poking her nose to the edge of the counter where the noodles were drying. “If you even think about it dog, we’re going to have a serious problem,” I threatened. I corralled Nova Mae into the three-seasons-room and restarted the same episode of M*A*S*H, but promptly fell asleep again – for what seemed to be fifteen minutes. Two hours later, I woke up.
I returned to the kitchen. The Crock-Pot was still hot; too hot to shred the beef. I decided to let it cool a little more, and went back to the futon. I restarted the DVD player and fell back asleep again. I heard a noise. “Nova? Nova are you here,” I called out. The door had been pushed open. “Oh, no!” I jumped out of bed expecting the worst, that the noodles would be gone, but Nova wasn’t in the kitchen. “Whew,” I sighed with relief. I found her in the bedroom, sleeping on my pillows, next to my wife and Edgar Allan, the cat. It was mighty tempting to climb into the warm bed and join the family, but it was seven a.m., and I decided not to wake my wife. Instead, I returned to the futon, once again starting the same episode - but again drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to the theme song playing with the closing credits. “I’m never going to get to watch this episode of M*A*S*H,” I complained. I tossed the
covers to the side and got up.
In the kitchen, there was no sign of the noodlestealing canine. I pulled the beef from the slow cooker. Amazing; Nova was now at my feet – she must have heard me set the meat on the cutting board. I shredded the beef, then packed it and the broth into containers to take to Duluth. While I was bagging the noodles, I heard music; it sounded like the Beatles. I had forgotten what day it was. Melissa danced her way
into the kitchen, singing, “When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now…” She reached her arms out inviting me to dance. “…will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?” The song continued to play. Nova Mae watched us dancing in the kitchen and wanted to join. Melissa and I opened our arms, holding her front paws as the dog danced with us on her hind legs. Edgar jumped up on the counter by the coffee pot, to cut in. Melissa gathered him into her arms and he also danced with us.
“My dance card is now full,” I said. Nova and Edgar let Melissa and I finish the dance alone. “What a way to start my 64th birthday!” But the fun and surprises were just beginning.
Melissa gave me a gift bag. Inside was a variety of gifts, “Oo, Scottish porridge!” I really took a liking to porridge while we were in Scotland! I made porridge, while she brewed the Arco Norseman Grog coffee and cleaned the blueberries. We enjoyed breakfast outdoors on the deck. The sky was sunny and the weather was perfect. “Who thought I’d be eating breakfast outdoors in my bathrobe in the middle of November in northern Minnesota,” I boasted. The day kept getting better.
Later, we loaded the partially prepared dinner into the van and drove to Duluth. While we were carrying the food into Sydney’s house, I noticed the moon rising through the trees. It was big and yellow as it slowing climbed into the sky. What a treat for the last super moon of the year, the Beaver Moon, to arrive on my birthday. It was beautiful.
It didn’t take too long to (Just
(Just the Other Day cont’d from pg 3)
finish making dinner and we all enjoyed the feast. After dinner, everyone was too full to have pie just yet. “Come to the living room and open your gifts,” the girls said.
First, I opened the gift from Sydney’s family. It was an Astor electric water kettle, much like the ones we used in Scotland. I really wanted one of these and loved it. Still, it was a bit awkward. Annie’s jaw dropped when she saw the kettle. I had no idea Melissa was coaching Sydney on this birthday gift. Meanwhile, I had been helping Annie with Christmas gift ideas for Melissa, and suggested she get an electric water kettle for Melissa for Christmas. Annie and I smiled at each other, that issue would be dealt with later, there were more festivities for the evening. (It sure caused a good laugh when Melissa opened her Christmas gift on Saturday night: an electric water kettle from Annie and Zack.)
We sliced the pie, had our dessert, and then all gathered around the TV to watch the main event. Mike Tyson would step into the ring for the first time in twenty years. Tyson being three decades senior to his opponent, Jake Paul, made me suspicious of the sincerity of the match. The whole spectacle seemed a bit far-fetched, but we would see. Maybe we would see.
The event was being televised live by Netflix. The technical difficulties were endless. The screen kept freezing, locking up, and then resetting. After about an hour of this, Melissa and I needed to start home, but then the live stream would resume, so we would sit back down. The screen froze again, and we stood up to leave. The event started again, so we sat down. We entertained ourselves during the down times: analyzing the age difference, Tyson’s ability and physical condition. We took guesses how long the delay would be this time, would the two actually fight? We discussed the cost of this event to Netflix, how much the boxers were being paid. Finally, we debated, ‘Would you get in the ring
and take a few punches for twenty-million dollars. The conversation was becoming as ridiculous as the event itself.
After two hours of up and down, up and down, I complained. “Good Lord, I’m Catholic and we don’t sit and stand this much at mass!” Melissa and I had a long drive home, so we gathered our things and headed for the door. Just then, the event came back on, but we didn’t sit down. Twenty seconds later the screen locked up again and we headed for the van.
I thought about what a grand day it had been. I laughed to myself, “I had no more chance of seeing that boxing match than I had watching the M*A*S*H episode the previous night. The bright full moon was high in the sky, lighting our way for a tranquil drive home. Melissa kept the conversation going.
“Are you awake? Are you doing okay? Do you need me to drive? Deer!” At first, I thought she was calling me dear, but then I also spotted the buck, moving near the road. Soon enough, we were home and wasted no time getting into bed, and falling asleep.
After a good night’s rest, I got up first on Saturday morning and began playing in the kitchen. Melissa walked into the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What are you doing, honey,” she asked.
“I’m holding hot water races,” I said. She looked at me as if I was crazy, so I explained. “I’m checking out the speed of my new Astor Electric Kettle, comparing it to other ways to heat water.” I had already tested the new kettle, which took two minutes, thirty-two seconds to heat two cups of water and then shut itself off. Melissa rolled her eyes, then started making a pot of Grog in the coffee maker.
I cooled the pot, then placed two cups of cold water in each: the Astor, an open pan on the stove, an enclosed tea kettle on the stove, and a Pyrex glass container in the microwave. “Do you want your Ninja coffee maker to be in this race,” I asked. Melissa shook her head. Once her pot was brew-
ing, I set the microwave for 2:32. “I need your help. When I say ‘go,’ you flip the switch to start the Astor kettle.” My wife questioned why. “I’m racing all four at the same time,” I said.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
“Come on, just help me out here,” I pleaded. She agreed. I turned on both burners on the stove. As soon as they lighted, I hollered “GO!” Melissa clicked the Astor kettle switch; simultaneously I started the microwave oven. The race was on. Excitement and anticipation were building. I ran from appliance to appliance, checking the progress of each. Who knew it could be so much fun watching a pot, waiting for water to boil! (Honestly, I was rooting for the new Astor to win.)
I watched the timer on the microwave. It was coming down to the wire. I counted down, “Five, four, three, two, one. The microwave beeped exactly the same time the Astor kettle automatically shut off. I quickly turned off the flames on the stove top.
I pulled out my ThermoMaven F-1 Turbo, instantread thermometer. “What are you doing now,” my wife asked.
“Duh! I’m determining the winner,” I said. Melissa sighed, and rubbed her forehead. I probed the water in the open pan, “157.” Then the standard tea kettle, “Also 157.”
“Make sure you’re not touching the side of the kettle,” she advised. I scowled and assured my wife that I was well versed on the proper use of the ThermoMave F-1 Turbo. Melissa’s concern that the water temperatures were measured fairly, and accurately, indicated she was more excited about this race then she would let on.
I opened the microwave oven door, “158.” Who would have guessed the microwave oven didn’t heat water any faster than the LP gas stove top? Finally, I lifted the lid on the Astor Electric Kettle, placing the wand of the F-1 Turbo into the water.
“We have a clear winner! 208. BAM!” The crowd in
the kitchen erupted with cheers! Well, actually, it was just me, but you get the picture.
“That’s great, honey,” Melissa said, yawning. “Will you make a pan of Scottish Porridge?”
It was cooler outdoors, so we ate breakfast at the kitchen table. Nova Mae stood guard in case anything was dropped on the
