Sober But Hopeful Days, and BBQ Sauce

 

            I was certainly wrong about one little detail yesterday. It turns out that the price of a gallon of organic apple cider vinegar is a heck of a lot more than half of a roll of quarters! Goodness sakes! Yes!

            But, just to stay on topic a little, I offer you Bulgar Wheat's North Carolina BBQ sauce recipe. He said that it was meant to be mixed with pulled pork.

            Ahem, here goes:

• 1 1/2 cups apple cider vinegar
• 1/2 cup hot water
• 2 Tablespoons brown sugar
• 1 Tablespoon paprika
• 1 teaspoon black pepper, (ground I'm positive)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon cayenne

            To tell the truth, I have never encountered pulled pork. There are authentic bbq places up here, but I almost always go for brisket.

            One thing about these real bbq places that mystifies me are the slices of plain white bread they serve with it. Huh?

            Now that the recipe section of the blog is dealt with, I will attempt to say something not completely vacuous about these few days in January.

            We all know what's up. It feels like a pivot point. In a way no different than it's ever been, but so much more overt! I feel like crossing my fingers.

            By the way, I wonder if crossing the fingers was originally some sort of silent prayer demo? Wiki thinks so, but others consider that spurious.

            As usual, I pray for a gigantic fizzle of all the rotten plans of the usual suspects!

           

            Now, we shall see what we shall see!

🤍

            

The Story That Was In The Video

 

But the video was unwatchable!

            As we were rolling down 530 yesterday, somewhere between Arlington and Darrington, I was reminded of the time Ralph decided to hitchhike into Darrington to go to a grocery store, just like anybody, because Ramona wanted some vinegar.

            “Apple cider vinegar,” she had said.

            Why did she want vinegar? It’s hard to say. Maybe she was interested in pickling. That could be Thaga’s fault. Maybe she was interested in salad tossing, or vinegar based BBQ sauce, such as they make in North Carolina. (I have the authentic recipe given to me by a man of NC years ago!)

            Why didn’t Thaga just give Ramona some vinegar? She must have used hers all up I bet.

            In any case, Ralph decided to take his rolls of quarters, which he had won arm wrestling with Ranger Rick, and go to town and buy the girl a gallon of this special liquid, which her heart desired.

            Ralph decided to try his hand at catching a ride down on 530. Others do it, he thought, why not me? There has to be one broadminded person on the road today.

            Why didn’t he take a portal ride down to town any intelligent person would wonder? I will refer you to THIS. There was some maintenance needed in the portal system.

            Besides, Ralph likes to try things.

            So, he walked down to the highway and stuck his thumb out, being careful to be headed in the right direction. Rather a lot of cars passed him by. Even some large trucks! Some of them went clear into the other lane to stay way away. Maybe they thought hirsutism was contagious? Or…? Who knows.

            But finally an old lady with rather bad eyesight, Sylvia Phillips, in fact, did stop. She was driving a step van full of eggs. She probably just thought Ralph was an Armenian student from the community college in Milltown out for a day of hitchhiking in the country.

            Even though Sylvia had neglected to marry and all that, she was full of advice and nosy questions. She herself had never been in charge of anything but chickens, but she still felt she had a lot to offer in the way of useful recommendations. She wanted to know all about how many children he had and if his wife was a blond or a brunette. Lucky for Ralph, he was the dad, so he didn’t get quizzed about his labors!

            They had plenty of time to talk on the road, which is always much longer than your raconteur remembers it to be! Sylvia had lots of advice for Ralph, such as, always do exactly what Ramona wants you to do. Ralph thought this was pretty funny as he pretty much always did what Ramona wanted. Ramona also did pretty much everything Ralph wanted. You know how it is?

            They had a little picnic in the van as they traveled along. Sylvia  had some of those overly flavored chunky pretzels and liverwurst. This was going down fine, but pretzels and liverwurst are dry work, and they got thirsty.

            Sylvia had a sixpack of warm diet Cokes for drinks. That’s all. Now Ralph had never had a diet Coke in his life, or a regular Coke for that matter. But weird as it is, diet Coke does have water in it, it is wet and can be drunk in a pinch. He didn’t like it. It left a weird taste in his mouth. But he didn’t tell Sylvia that.

            In this version of the story Ralph doesn’t ask to be let out of the van and give up on his mission. He stays true to his decision. He let Sylvia drop him off at the small supermarket in Darrington, which has a large sign on the front advertising smoked meat on the weekend. A sensible person might wonder why only on weekends. I certainly wondered when I saw it. Perhaps the smoker works in timber during the week, because Darrington is for sure a timber town. Before the internet and such, it was quite insular and rather full of Washington’s own version of hill people. These people were not kidding! Ever. At all, if you were from downhill. That’s what they called people from elsewhere. Downhill people. (This is true.)

            How can a person such as Ralph just walk into a supermarket and expect to make a purchase? Well, it depends on the checker.

            I think I implied that the citizens of Darrington were tough? Yes. Well they didn’t wig out when they saw him in the grocery aisles. They just looked at him funny. You know, how insular peasant types all through history have always done. So it went okay.

            He asked a stocker where there was a gallon of organic apple cider vinegar, and the kid did that head twitch thing in the direction of the vinegar. Ralph took the hint, got the bottle and headed up to the nearest checker.

            (Oh, another answer to a question that should have been asked. He carried his rolls of quarters in a little cloth cross body bag with a very long strap, made by Thaga.)

            The first checker was a six foot tall, 250 lb. strapping mother of loggers. She had birthed six of them and raised them successfully to manhood.

            No mere Wookie was going to put her off.

            A gallon of vinegar really only costs about half of a roll of quarters, so he didn’t need to bring them all. But he didn’t know that.

            “Have a nice day,” said the checker, Tisha. She got on the phone the minute Ralph cleared her area, to share the news, right?

            “Sure, thanks, you too,” said Ralph heading out of the door with the precious bottle for his Ramona.

            His ironclad bonhomie was a little weary right about then. He just wanted to go home.

            You know how sometimes the very best thing that could happen does happen? Well, the very best thing that could have happened did.

            Ralph saw a big British green Escalade roll into the parking lot. Oh glory! It was Milly, his buddy the lady reporter!

            He eased up to her driver’s side window and tapped. She jumped a little but opened up and inquired as to what the heck he was up to. He said he would tell her on the way back to his general area if she would give him a ride.

            She said, “sure, but let me run in here for a minute, I want some of that smoked brisket they sell in here, okay?”

            Ralph hopped in the passenger seat and just closed his eyes. “What a day,” he thought. "But I got Ramona her vinegar!"

            It was enough vinegar to pickle a few things and make a little NC BBQ sauce too…..

A Couple of Questions For Ralph

 

If you click it, there is lots of detail!

           Millicent Kelly was sitting in her office up on the third floor of her building, where she had
a really good view of the bay. It’s only about four blocks away, so she can let her mind wander, watching the boats come and go, and the heavier traffic out further in the deeper water. 
            There are mostly pleasure craft, but once in a while she will see a working fisherman’s boat, and for some reason this pleases her. It seems so legit.
            On her screen are several questions sent in by readers of her column. Most people who encounter her writing assume that it’s fictional and let it go at that. But sometimes, there is a reader with more imagination who can really get into what she is reporting.
            Millicent pulls no punches. If she sees it, she will say it.
1.      A reader from Edmonds, a bit south of Milltown, an instructor at the local community college wonders if she would ask Ralph what he thinks is the most problematic semi-hidden problem that humans have, but don’t take seriously.
2.      A young guy running a small business of his own helping elderly clients with chores they can no longer perform for themselves, asks if she would ask Ralph what he does with discouragement.
3.      A child, about 8 years old, girl, from Mt. Vernon, just up the freeway a bit, wonders if she could come with Millicent some time and meet Ralph and Ramona, and Twigg and Cherry and of course the cats too.
            Millicent is really thinking about this last one.  She thinks that it would make a charming story, if she could pull it off somehow. The little girl has left a phone number, so Millicent can talk to her mom and get permission.
            Now, as it happens, Maeve checked in with Millicent most mornings, on her rounds, to see if Millicent needs to send a message to Ralph.
            So, when Maeve landed on the window ledge and pecked on the glass a few times, Millicent opened the window and told her yes she would like to let Ralph know that she was coming up to do an informal interview and might have a child with her.
            Maeve knew her duty and she blasted off for the Great Forest. Not a long trip for her with her powerful wingbeats.
            Millicent was a little bit hesitant about calling this woman and asking permission to take her young daughter for an outing in the woods. She thought it might seems strange. But she thought she would try anyhow.
            Millicent thought that her relative local fame might clear the path with this mom. So, call her she did.                 When the woman found out that her daughter had requested it, and so on and so forth, she said, “sure,” and sounded really pleased. It turned out that mom, Sheila, was a Sasquatch “true believer.” So, the trip was a go! Arrangements were made to pick up the child, Lizzy, on Saturday, early.
            Millicent stayed in her office, writing up stories that she had notes for, all day Friday. When she got home she and Colin got her little Passat ready with supplies for the trip to the mountains. She liked to bring treats for Ralph’s family and himself when she went up to visit them.
            She drove up to Mt. Vernon and met Sheila and Lizzy. It turned out that not only was Sheila a true believer, she was a member of the Suquamish tribe, but didn’t live out there. Lizzy was a bright eyed little black haired and brown eyed American Indian girl. Lizzy was also a talker. That made it nice for Millicent. She didn’t have to entertain the child. She just had to sit back and let the kid chat on about this and that and ask questions.
It made the drive up to Ralph’s domain go quickly and pleasantly.
            It was a beautiful day. Cool, breezy and sunny. Before they knew it they were at the wide spot on the verge of the highway.
            By now, Millicent didn’t need a guide to find the Home Clearing. I don’t really know if there was any special knowledge involved, or if maybe Millicent was just an honorary member of the family up there.
            Millicent brought dark chocolate, potato chips, pop rocks, and a big can of salted and roasted Virginia peanuts. She always brought a lot. She also had some espresso coffee beans coated with chocolate, for the adults, well actually, Ramona and Thaga.
            Millicent led Lizzy into the woods and down the path to meet the family. Lizzy was so excited that she couldn’t even talk!

            It was usually quite an experience for anyone new to the place. It was dreamlike, but real too. Lizzy became shy, walking just a bit behind Millicent.
            “Say, hi Milly! Who is this,” said Ralph from his seat by the fire, though he was not surprised to see her.
            “Well, this is Lizzy, who wanted to meet you all,” said Millicent. ‘ 
            “Hello, Ralph,” said Lizzy. “I knew you were real!”
            “Yes. That is very wise of you, Lizzy,” They grinned at each other.
            Twigg came and was introduced to Lizzy.
            She met Ramona and Cherry.
            Berry and Bob came and smiled at her and let her pet them.
            Then Millicent got down to business.
“Ralph, I have a reader who has asked me to ask you, as an observer of the common run of humanity, us Hairless as you say, what you think is the biggest thing people have trouble with.” She was ready with her notebook and pen.
            “As you know Milly, I do end up hearing a lot of people talking when they don’t, um, know I’m around,” said Ralph, “and you know what I think? This might sound obvious, but I don’t think it is.
            “I think people cause themselves a lot of grief by the ways they try to deal with their emotions. Emotions seem to be such a whip! Sometimes emotions completely rule people. Sometimes people try to deaden the sensations of emotional weather.
            “I don’t think either way works.”
            “What shall I tell this person, Ralph?” said Millicent.
            “Ah, tell her or him, that emotions are just like weather. They come and they go. Just wait a while and it will change. Don’t take it too seriously. Think about something good, outside yourself or go help somebody. You know, stuff like that.”
            “I hope they take your answer seriously, Ralph. Goodness knows, your approach to life is pretty Zen, eh?” laughed Millicent. “I will write it up tomorrow.”
            “So, how about this kid with the helping grammas business who is asking about discouragement?”
            “The best thing I can think of off the top of my head, which is pretty far up there, you must admit, it to talk to himself out loud. Tell him to make courageous affirmations to himself in his audible voice. It just works better than thinking and keeping it all in your noggin. Tell him to say out loud what he wants to see in himself and get done.
            “It sounds dumb, but it works,” said Ralph, who does talk to himself when he needs to. It helps him clarify his own thoughts.
            “Praying works better if you say it too,” said Ramona, who was sitting by, listening and watching Lizzy and Twigg get to know each other. Cherry was still a little small to keep up, but Berry and Bob were following along just fine.
            “This has given me quite a bit to work with,” said Millicent to them both. “Thank you. Oh, I forgot. I bought you a couple of things for you and the kids, just some treats. They slipped my mind!”
            “I’d hang around longer, but I told Sheila, her mom, that we would only be a few hours, so I better take her back. She will remember this forever. I’ll talk to her about protecting special knowledge. I think she will understand,” said Millicent.
            “I think she will,” said Ralph. “I know a special kid when I see one.”
            “I believe so, too,” said Ramona.
            So, Lizzy hugged Ramona, and Twigg and Cherry and the cats, then she shook Ralph’s hand with her little brown hand, saying, “I knew you were real! And I won’t tell anyone but mommy who knows you are real too!”
            Then Millicent drove her back to her mother in Mt. Vernon. By the time they got to Sheila, Lizzy was sound asleep. 
            And as the sun was setting, she drove on home thinking about the day and being pretty pleased with it.  There was a lot of material there for several good columns!

Please Stand By!

             Someone you know spent all day Monday editing some little book and didn't write anything at all.

            So, once again, it's Open Thread day, as if they aren't all open thread days really!

               Would you do it? I think I did, IIRC. Jan. 26, 2011!

                

                HAPPY TUESDAY!

🌼🤍🌸

A Question of Bears and Firekeepers

 

🍂🤍🍁

 

            Kids are always paying attention, or snooping according to some. I can remember being shooed away when the adults, especially the women, were talking. It seemed sinister to us kids.
            So, it’s certainly not surprising that Twigg had heard some things which he didn’t quite get. Sometimes he even put his own spin on information, as children will. It’s part of the way they learn. Naturally.
            Twigg had a couple of questions on his mind. He sought his sire out, down by the river, where Ralph was preparing to catch some fish.
            “Hey, Dad,” he said, when he got down there, “what do you think about bears?”
            “Oh, hi, Twiggo! Bears? Are you worried about bears? No. 1, black bears can be negotiated with. They are mainly looking for food, easily fobbed off with a cinnamon bun or something. You remember that bear cub, I can’t remember his name, that spent the night of the big rain storm in our cave? Well, neither he nor his mom were very dangerous, although they are bears, so…maybe, in a pinch, they could be, if forced to be.”
            “Then why is Thaga so afraid of bears?” said Twigg.
            “Maybe because she can read? She has heard of those big mean brown ones and thinks that maybe there are some of those near here,” said his patient father.
            “Are there any around here?” said Twigg, wide eyed and very impressed.
            “Nah, I don’t think so, and besides I’m pretty sure I could spank one pretty good, Twigg. Don’t worry about it, OK? Also, don’t talk about bears to Cherry. When she gets scared she starts flying around and it’s hard to catch her!” added Ralph, looking sideways at his kid to see if he was done asking odd questions. “Do you remember that time Maeve had to go up and get her out of the top of a tree?”
            “Yeah, I do,” said Twigg.
            Twigg sat on the bank and watched the surface of the river while Ralph went fishing. It didn’t take too long. Ralph has a way of getting the fish to come to him. It’s one of his best tricks. Maybe he smells like something they like, or maybe they just fall in love with the big ol’ fuzzy guy floating in their stream?
            When he had a good dozen big fat trout in one of Thaga’s baskets, Ralph and Twigg walked on back to the family’s main hanging out area, the fire circle.
            “Um, Dad,” said Twigg, after they had gotten settled, “I have heard you calling Mom your Firekeeper. How can she keep a fire? What do you mean? I can’t figure out how to keep a fire.”
            “Oh, that’s based on one of our oldest legends out here. It’s one of those stories that is so old that nobody knows how it got started,” said Ralph. “It’s a way of saying that she is wife and mother but using our own traditions instead of talking like the Hairless all the time.”
            “Well, what story is it, Dad,” said Twigg.
            “OK. Here goes.” Ralph cleared his throat and took a big breath.
            “Once long, long ago, Forest Keepers, like us, were much more nomadic. We didn’t stay put much. We made camp, stayed there until the game was too hard to find, and then we moved on to another place to make another camp.
            “Just like here, the fire was the most important part of the camp. Those people didn’t have Bic lighters or matches to start fires. They had a belief that their fire must never go out also. The story went that fire was given to them by some people from the air or the sky and they were warned that they must never let the fire die. It had to be the same fire that was given to them.
            “So they invented a way to move some burning coals that would last through their march to their next campsite. The oldest and most important mother would make a wet clay vessel, she would fill it with sand and some charcoal, then put some live coals from her fire into it, and she would carry this jug to the next camp. She was helped along the way, as the most important person. She was even more important than the best hunter.
            “She was called the Firekeeper. So, now days, we have kind of let that tradition go. We have other ways of starting fire, but you know, I still give your mother that honor, because though we stay here and don’t travel, she is the one who keeps the fire going, and it’s so important. It would be a sad situation here in the forest without her fire, Twigg.
            “One other thing, that I think is a bit funny, is that the hunters knew how to make a fire when they were out hunting, but that fire could be left to go out and no big deal.  So there was a very important mother fire, but also the not a big deal hunter's fire.”
            “OK, Dad, I just didn’t know,” said Twigg.
            Ramona, who was busy around the fire, as usual had heard all of this. She had to smile.
            She whispered to Ralph, “that may very well be true, Baby, but I never heard it told before this very day!”
            “It has to be true,” said Ralph. “Otherwise, where did we get the tradition of calling the woman at the camp the Firekeeper?”
            She sat down beside him and gazed into the fire, as the night descended around them. The dancing flames twinkled in her sweet brown eyes.
            She glanced back at Ralph, and he felt that he was looking deeply into the history of his race, sitting right there beside himself.

Just A Sunday Greeting for January 12, 2025

             Willie, and Suzie, and I don't have much in the way of words today, but we do wish you the best Sunday that you can possibly have.

            It's one of those old open threads!

            Might be a good time to add the Aaronic Blessing from Numbers 6:24-26

The Lord bless thee, and keep thee:
The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee:
The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.

            All the best! 

Walking After Midnight

 

           It was a perfect night for walking. As the sun went down, so did the temperature drop accordingly. The everyday forest was magically transformed. She loved cold weather.

            She could see her breath in the air. It was not dangerously cold, around 20℉. It was just nice for a person who was inclined to being too warm all of the time.
            There was a dog. A companion in frost walking. A small female border collie. Penny.
            It probably seems strange in this day and cautious age, that she was allowed to go out night walking, but she was. There it is!
            The dim two lane road beckoned between the dark trees. It led up into the hills. She went that way. Penny stayed right at her heels, almost like she was a bit apprehensive.
            Overhead, between the treetops there was some green light in the sky, curtaining. The first Aurora of her life. She sang to it, one of those funny adolescent freeform songs.
            Headlights. A car drove by, slowly, but then sped up. No one she knew.
            Everybody knows that crows and ravens go to bed at night. They don’t compete with owls, or any other night hunter. But, we also know that Maeve doesn’t follow the normal rules. She’s a bit of an anomaly. Sometimes she goes to bed and sometimes she keeps an eye on things like the inquisitive old bird she is.
            In her travels, she noticed a mostly grown girl and a black and white dog walking uphill on the little side road. This attracted her attention. Then she heard the song. Ah. This had potential.
            An unusually large raven landed a few feet in front of our girl. The Raven spread her wings and ducked her head.
            “Hey,” said the Raven. “If you will follow me, I will show you a thing or two!”
            “Hmm! Why should I follow you Raven? How do I know you won’t lead me astray?”
            Maeve thought about that worthy question, then said, “observe your dog there. She sees no harm in me. Dogs are very good at judging things; you must know by now.”
            “Well, then, if Penny trusts you, I will come along to see what you will show me.”
            “Come up this way,” said Maeve, “there is a hidden path among the huckleberry bushes.”
            Maeve showed the way. Girl, may as well give her a name, say Portia, why not? Portia and Penny followed Maeve onto the wee hidden path deeper into the forest of alders, and maples all shed of their leaves, and even a few birches. Of course, in these tales there are always Douglas firs. A given.
            The path went on and on. It wound around massive boulders, it skirted ravines with tinkling rivulets down at the very bottoms. It led always uphill.
            “Are you tired, my child,” said Maeve, in a motherly sort of way.
            “No. I can walk all night if I need to,” affirmed Portia, stoutly. “I may get hungry, but that’s alright.”
            Maeve hopped and flew before them in little spurts, until they came to a place Portia had never seen before. It was a clearing in the forest. It was strangely attractive and seemed very welcoming to her.
            As they cleared the finale hump in the path, she saw that there was a fire burning in a sort of rustic firepit. Around the fire, on some conveniently placed sections of log, sat several figures. Two were large, very large, and two were smaller.
            “Where have you taken me, Raven,” said Portia, in a small voice.
            “Listen,” said Maeve, so Portia did listen. What she heard was singing, not entirely different from her walking under the Aurora song.
            As the song went on, it made pictures in her mind. She saw the sea, and ships tossed on the mighty waves. She saw foreign lands, palm trees and exotic buildings. There were other scenes. Homes and peoples. Troubles and love.
            She saw the forest going on forever as if she were flying over it. She beheld the mountain tops, near enough to touch. The whole of the vast sky of the western continent opened up before her as Ralph sang on and on.
            “Who is singing, Raven,” cried Portia.
            “It is the King’s song,” said Maeve. “By the by, my name is Maeve.” She winked a raven wink.
            “What King is this, Maeve?”
            “He’s right over there with his family and his two cats. We can go and say good evening to them. They know we are here anyhow,” said Maeve.
            Portia and Penny followed her to the fire circle. There she saw what manner of people lived there. They were very big, covered in soft fur, and looked quite friendly.
            “Here are Portia and Penny, the dog,” said Maeve. Portia wondered briefly how the Raven had divined her name but finally thought that was the smallest of the oddnesses of this night.
            “Hello, sir,” said the girl, Portia with her dog sitting at her left heel. “This Maeve says that you are the King here.”
            The largest figure looked at her. He had to be eight feet tall; he was a bit pouchy; his beard was streaked with white on the sides. He had widely spaced deep brown eyes with smile wrinkles all around them. He had a rather wide nose, with a bridge though.
            “I am Ralph. Beside me is Ramona, my Firekeeper. I have also a son here, my Twigg and my small daughter, Cherry.” The children beheld her with bright eyes. The woman gazed calmly on.
            “Do you have a question, Portia?” he asked in a voice like soft distant thunder.
            “Sir, whose visions were those in the song? Did they come from the words or the music, or were they summoned up from my soul?” asked Portia.
            “What I think is that the song calls forth visions of your people before you. But it also gave you a glimpse of the mighty forest. I like to throw that in!” He laughed. “For free!”
            Portia was satisfied with the answer. It made a lot of sense.
            “Are you hungry, dear,” asked the large mother. “We have some soup I made of wild turkeys and mushrooms and herbs.”
            “Yes, ma’am. That sounds very good,” said Portia.
            So, the girl and her dog had a very late supper of soup, both of them. They had some pleasant conversation about all sorts of little things that she couldn’t remember all that clearly later.
            The soup was very nice, served in hand carved wooden bowls
            Maeve watched from Ralph’s left shoulder, walking back and forth and chuckling to herself because she was quite please with this night’s adventure.
            As it got later, Ramona said, “your mother will be starting to worry about you being out so late. I can send you home in a flash, if you will hold my hand while I sing. Keep a hand on your dog. Now picture in your mind walking up to your door at home and I will sing you there.”
            So, Portia grabbed Penny’s collar and held Ramona’s hand, sitting beside her on a log by her fire. She thought as hard as she could about the walkway up to her front door, seeing each detail. Then she heard Ramona singing the going home song. It was like clouds on a spring day.
            It reminded her of something so sweet and long ago that she couldn’t quite place it, though she tried.
            When she opened her eyes, she found that her hand was on the latch of her parents’ front door. In amazement, she walked right in. The house seemed very warm after her frosty walk.
            “Hi, Mom, I’m back,” she shouted in the direction of the domestic sounds she heard in the kitchen.
            “It’s about time, Portia! Lock the door will you?” said her mother.
            Portia never went looking for Ralph or any of them again, but neither did she ever forget them.