Barb and I went mushroom hunting today. We missed the turn off the first time but Barb recognized it as we went past and she looped around and connected on the second pass.
A similar thing occurred as we were walking along the trail looking for the path up the hill.
Regardless of the minor lack of turns we found a bunch of mushrooms. Some editable, some just pretty.
As I was unpacking at my new clock tower* Barb L. encouraged me to throw out old clothes. She told me, “A general rule is that if you haven’t worn it in over a year it’s time to let it go.” I went to the closet and pulled out a sweatshirt. I told her, “I use a different rule than you. I bought this 40 years ago last month and I haven’t worn it in at least 20 years. I don’t plan on throwing it away.” She seemed to understand the new rule and there were no further discussions about it. But then a while later she told me, “Okay. I’m going to take a picture of all your hats, gloves, and t-shirts. Then I’m going to post them on your blog and tell everyone to not give you any more.” “Why?”, I asked. She gave me a look that seemed like she was about to burst into some incredible snark but was exercising extraordinary restraint and said nothing. Women. You are supposed to “communicate” with them then they don’t talk even when you ask them questions. Whatever. That was a couple days ago. Today I finished unpacking all my clothes and was thinking about what she had said. I decided I might be able to figure out what she was talking about if I spread the items out and took the picture myself. Here is a picture of some of my hats:
I think I understand now. She wants to be the one to give me new hats so I can express genuine pleasure at getting a new one rather than a duplicate of existing one.
* The view from the Clock Tower at my “neighbors” over two miles away through a 6X scope looks something like this:
Tonight Barb and I went to the first half of an Interlake football game where Max was in the marching band at half-time. We volunteered to pass out plumes to the band members just prior to them marching onto the field.
The weather was good this time. Last time it there was a light drizzle and they decided to do without the plumes. It was surprisingly intense as several dozen band members descended on us and we handed the plumes out so fast that we didn’t really get a chance to even look up at the band members. It was head down, looking into the box, grab a plume, shove it up towards the crowd, both hands working independently.
Something surprised both Barb and I. Nearly everyone said, “Thank you!” Because there were so many and the transfers were going so fast one “Thank you!” blurred into the next and even if we tried we could not have replied, “You’re welcome!” as rapidly as the thank yours were coming in. I think I got out about one “You’re welcome!” for every five incoming “Thank you!”.
Retrieving and boxing up the plumes at the end of half-time was similar. Very intense with lots of “thank you”’s.
You don’t get to be your own museum.
Barb L.
September 15, 2013
[I moved to a new clock tower today. I now have a clear field of fire into the lawns of homes over a mile away. It’s awesome!
I sorted through dozens of old boxes of stuff. Some of them contained stuff from 40 years ago. I’m a packrat and it’s difficult to let go of things. But I threw out garbage bag after garbage bag of stuff.
There were some things I had received from Microsoft that I considered historic. I help build Direct X and Windows Phone 7. I participated in the attempt at worlds record for the largest number of paper airplanes in flight at the same time and have one of the airplanes.
When I came across an artifact from the launch of Windows Phone Seven I wanted to pack it for the move. Barb was there and said to throw it. I started to explain how it was from the launch but she interrupted me with the above quote.
My response was: 
Picture by Barb.–Joe]
Barb got a little tired helping me move to my new apartment.
It doesn’t take much to cause me to break out into a sweat. A tiny bit of exercise and I start sweating. Even the spices in the mildest spaghetti sauce will cause my forehead to start sweating.
It turns out my fear of heights triggers an increased heart rate and sweat—just from looking at this picture I took when I was in Yosemite last month:
Update: Here is a cropped version of the same picture:
Visualize where his center of gravity is versus his right foot. He’s taking a picture so he isn’t using much more than his proprioception and ears to maintain his balance.
Now give me a towel to wipe the sweat off.
I had to look away after taking the picture. It made me way too uncomfortable.
Barb wanted to look over a similar edge about 50 yards away. When she got within about eight feet I asked her to stop. It was making me too uncomfortable. She got down on her hands and knees and continued. As she got to within about two feet I again asked her to stop. She stretched out and looked over to my extreme discomfort. She pulled back and said, “That’s a long way down.”
I don’t know why she is smiling unless for some bizarre reason she likes my sweat.
You don’t really pack a suitcase. Do you? You just put a few clothes in your gun case.
Barb L.
August 28, 2013
[There is more than a little truth in this.
This was from her watching me pack my duffle bag and before she knew about the case that had nothing but a gun, magazines, and 400 rounds of ammo in it.—Joe]
Meh.
Maybe I’m getting spoiled but one stunning view looks pretty much like another.
Barb L.
August 24, 2013
[This was while looking at the scenery seen in the images below.
We walked over 11 miles, at altitudes from 6000 to 8000 feet, looking at stunning view after stunning view.
It was a pretty awesome way to spend the weekend.—Joe]
Of all of the things in Mom’s little box of recipes the only one I wanted was the one for rhubarb cobbler. The oatmeal cookies might have been nice and to know how she made pancake syrup might come in handy someday but I don’t think she had that one written down anyway. But the rhubarb cobbler is in a class of it’s own and I had to have it.
I’m pretty sure I got it shortly after Barb S. and I were married but I don’t recall ever making it. Rhubarb is not something you see very often in the grocery store and even though I think there was some rhubarb somewhere on the property of our house in Moscow I never bothered to actually pick it.
Last summer Dad gave me a bunch of rhubarb and the recipe but, again, I never got around to actually making it into cobbler. The rhubarb spoiled and I lost the recipe.
When Mom died I got the recipe again and this time I put it in OneNote on my phone. Barb L. called around to various grocery stores and found just one that had three packages of frozen rhubarb in stock. I drove over and bought them all. They sat in my freezer for months until I finally made it into cobbler a week ago today.
I shared it with Barb L. and her family when I went over for dinner. I warned Barb’s daughter that not everyone likes it. I told her my son likes the topping but the body of the cobbler isn’t something he would go out of his way to have. She tasted it and proclaimed it, “Delightful!” Since she is not the least bit shy about telling me she doesn’t want to eat the food I cook this was not her just being polite. It really is delightful.
Yesterday I bought another Pyrex 9”x13” pan when I saw it at a Goodwill store. I wanted it specifically for making the cobbler. I then went to three different stores before I found one that had rhubarb. I bought four pounds so I could make two batches.
9”x13” pan
2 pounds rhubarb
2C sugar
2T instant (preferred, but regular can also be used) tapioca
2t vanilla
1.5 brown sugar
1.5 C Quick oats
1C melted butter
1C flour
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Put the sugar, tapioca, and vanilla in the pan, mix, and spread evenly. Wash and then cut the rhubarb into sections about one inch long and spread evenly on the sugar mix in the pan.
Combine the topping ingredients in a mixing bowl and mix until uniform (about 30 seconds in my Kitchen Aid mixer). Spread evenly over the body of the cobbler.
Bake for 40 minutes at 350F. The top should be slight browned and crispy.
Let it cool before serving or serve hot in a bowl with a scoop of ice cream on top.
