Reclining Airline Seats

This past week, three incidents of rage over a reclined airline seat brought back vivid memories of an incident we had while returning from Greece in December 2011.  It was probably one of the more bizarre incidents of my life.

The flight from Athens was a very early morning one, so once we got in the air, I reclined my seat to sleep.  When breakfast was served, the man behind me had the flight attendant ask me to push my seat up.  Sure, no sweat.  Made sense while he ate.  So I pulled it up.

Once the flight attendant picked up our breakfast trash, I reclined my seat again.  Suddenly, the man behind me started pounding on my chair.  "You B@@@," he screamed.  "You lousy B":*&."  And he went on and on.  I immediately pulled up my seat, shrinking down into it.  Don, sitting next to me, was wondering what was happening and he, too, sunk into his seat.  The man railed on and on.  I said I was sorry, but that did not help.  Scream, scream, scream.  He had had a large bottle of water on his table and apparently when I leaned my seat back, it spilled.  I refrained from saying, "In the States we put our lids on our water."

Eventually, as he went on and on, a woman about three seats up from me, in her beautiful English accent, loudly said, "Be quiet.  You are awakening everyone on the plane.  She didn't mean to do it.  Shut up."

That quieted him down . . . but he silently fumed behind me.

Now nevermind that their child was continually kicking Diana's seat so she could not sleep.  And his wife was contributing to the noise by berating me as well.  We just took it, which in hindsight appears to have been the right thing to do.

About 45 minutes later, we heard an urping noise behind us.  Their son started throwing up.  Frankly, Don and I silently smiled - served them right.  And when we stood up to exit the row, we did not look at them.  It was certainly the most uncomfortable I have been on an airplane in a long time.

Peach Cobbler

I do not normally make cobblers, not because I do not like them but because they seem like a lot of work, they heat up the house, and I eat the whole thing in one serving.  It could be the last reason is the most valid.  But I found a great recipe in my O Magazine, so I decided to try it.

The recipe was for blueberry cobbler, which would have been fine, but I had peaches.  So I found a recipe for the inside peach part, used the O recipe for the crust, and cooked it while we were at Kenneth and Melinda's.  

The crusty part is a sugar cookie recipe . . . It just sounded too good not to try, and it was.  It was so good, it is now a permanent part of my baking repertoire.  That does not mean much since I have a small inventory, but this one is wonderful.

I think any sugar cookie recipe would do.  After chilling it for about an hour, just cut it into pieces, lay it on top of the fruit, and cook at 350.  The instructions said to cook for an hour, but mine would have been a little crispy (or cripsy, as I like to say) - it was more like 40 minutes.

We loved this new topping.  It was a little crispy, but sweet and delicious.  I believe cobbler will be cooked a little more often at our house!

Webs

Each year about this time, I have a post about spider webs and their beauty.  As much as I hate running into them, they fascinate me.

When I posted the following picture, which is the best I have taken, I had some very funny comments about it.  I said that I loved and hated webs.

Debra made two of the funniest.  First she said running into a web gives a person 30 minutes of cardio in one second.  SO TRUE!  Then she said, in response to Doug who said he goes outside arms swinging to make sure he doesn't get a web to the face, that after that, she always wonders where the spider is.  SO TRUE AGAIN!  Yech.

Anyway, this web has been built near a light in our back yard, and the placement of it allows for what I think is a pretty cool picture.

Lumberjacks

It seems appropriate that just after returning from Whistler and Oregon, the lands of lumber, we are slated to attend a football game against a team whose mascot is a lumberjack.  How cool!  I had to do something out of the ordinary for it.

First, I googled "lumberjack food" to see if anything would pop up.  I do not know why I even thought it was a bizarre idea . . . within seconds I had everything from Lumberjack Party to Lumberjack Cake to . . . aha!  Lumberjack Sandwiches.

They sounded a little different, so Don and I decided we would try them first.  Bread, a butter/mayo mix, cheddar cheese, apple slices, bacon, and maple syrup.  We followed the instructions, took our first bite, and . . . YUM!  We were surprised by how good they were.

To make sure, we made one for the Gaskills.  They, too, liked them, so the decision was made.  Lumberjack sandwiches.

Then Don had the brilliant idea to take his electric chainsaw with  purple bow on it for the centerpiece.  We let Kip, the tree man, do the honors of placing it on the table when the time came.

Don, Rick, and Christy actually grilled the sandwiches, and many were a little hesitant to try them.  But when all was said and done, we were only left with about three sandwiches (2.5 in reality). . . which is fewer than we expected.  I would say it was a great day!

Lumberjack Sandwiches

1T. softened butter mixed with 1 t. mayonnaise/sandwich
1.5 slices cooked bacon
three thin slices of Granny Smith apple
two slices of cheddar cheese
two slices of bread
1 t. maple syrup

1.  Butter one side of each slice of bread with butter mixture.  Place one slice of cheese of the dry side of each slice, and place both, butter side down on a hot griddle or skillet.

2.  Put three slices of apple, bacon, and maple syrup on one slice of bread.

3.  Turn the other slice on top of the sandwich.  Press down to compact and cook.

4.  Flip over to grill the other side.  When done, slice in half and serve.

DELICIOUS!

Homemade salsa, beef chip dip, peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip cookies, Call Hall ice cream . . . yum

Babs

Dr. Cederberg said we would know when it was time, and indeed we did.  Don and I were hoping Babs would just quietly pass away, but that was not to be.  By the time we returned from our trip to Oregon, we knew time was short.  She had lost so much muscle she could no longer stand up.  That was just not fair.

Thursday morning we called the vet and that evening we took her in.  It was heartbreaking to say good-bye, but it was the compassionate thing to do.  Her 22 pounds had withered to under 8 pounds.  She just could not continue the way she was.

Babs was quite the trouper.  As long as Sepia was alive, she was his sidekick - literally.  He would back up to her and kick at her to keep her from getting too much attention.  She would lie down on her side to allow Chaco to groom her.  She did not really like to be held, but she liked to sleep next to people.

The bald cypress in our backyard was particularly difficult for Babs.  The fronds would stick to her fur and not let go.  She hated the way we pulled those off of her!  And she had a fang that was with her until her dying day.  It is particularly visible in this picture.

After Sepia passed away, however, she became the queen bee, and she knew it.  She took her spot in my seat in the RV and did not relinquish it.  She followed me room to room, and she made sure to let me know she was here.  She still did not like to be held until the last month, and then I think it was a comfort to her.  She was a delightful little dog who was great company, and we miss her.  But she, her brother, and her sister are all together again.  We will be spreading their ashes at the cabin where they loved to explore.

Hunting Wabbits!

Go 'Cats!

San Isabel

When Don was a little boy, he used to visit San Isabel, Colorado, with his family.  His Uncle Rod and Aunt Zelma owned a cabin there, and some of Don's best memories during his childhood come from his trips there.  He has always wanted to return, and this trip gave us an opportunity to do so.

Getting there we had to cross Monarch Pass, which stressed the Willie . . . and Babs.  Climbing the hill to over 11,000+ caused both of them a little difficulty.

We drove through beautiful areas, following the Arkansas River down the hill.

We really, really, really wanted to stop and fish!

By the time we arrived at San Isabel, it was close to sundown, but we could still see the beauty of the place.  The next morning we found the cabin where Don spent several summers.  He enjoyed reminiscing about the Crazy 8 games, the trip to the silver mine, and the hike up the hill.  Then it was time to go, but we enjoyed our short stay in San Isabel.

Gorged

Yesterday's drive was so dull, we were hoping for better today.  Neither of us had been on this drive before, therefore we had no idea what we were facing.

As we approached the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, I suggested to Don that we stop. After all, we had a National Park pass.  We should use it.  The twisty, winding road was just a preparation for the rest of the day . . . We just did not know it.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison, a geological marvel in and of itself, is a one-half mile deep gorge, which is half the size of the Grand Canyon . . . but it is straight down.  No gradual decrease.  Because of the nature of the rocks, they eroded at a torturously slow pace, and without a glacier to help, it just went down, down, down.  

Later in the day we stopped to see a gorge of a different kind.  The Royal Gorge was carved by the Arkansas River.  We were anxious to see it since we were both quite young when we saw it last.  To our disappointment, it was closed.  A fire in June of last year destroyed over 90% of their buildings and the visitor's center.  No one was allowed in, and although there was a free viewpoint, Willie could not make it, so we left without being fully gorged.  Good thing we had spaghetti and fresh Colorado peaches for dinner!