A Techno Heads Up

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Here is my warning that my may be cut off from on-line activity soon. This is my new joy for the day apparently as this computer, Terry's, is starting to act up and shut-down. Since mine lost its on-line ability the night before Terry died, when this one goes, I will vanish without warning. Bear that in mind, please.

The cluster bung continues unabated and I have never seen so many dropped balls in my life. With the exception of a couple of folks, the expression "If there is anything we can do to help ..." is one not meant to be seriously redeemed. And some help adds more stress than alleviates it. Still no word on when our access road might be repaired and made passable again after last week's horrendous rains and run-off. So far a no-show on the folks who promised to pick up my empty propane tanks and gasoline cans and deliver them to Virgil who will eventually perform a supply run. If the propane runs out, I will lose the freezer full of elk meat and other foods. If the gasoline runs out, no more generator electricity. Those supplies and the dog food will run out in less than a week ... hope the dogs don't get too much flatulence from eating thawed elk meat and the last of Terry's much loved ice cream. The diesel fuel tank was upended and fell off the stand in the BIG rain storm (the required containment tanks will float when immersed in a pool of flood waters - a brilliant idea). The water pump at the water tank died. Without the water pump, no bathing, no dish washing and the evaporative cooler will not work in this 90 degree heat spell so the fur friends and I just sit around swooning a lot, trying not to move at all. Aside from one night of sleep-over guests, it's been three weeks of being alone through the night and most of the days unless Earl stops by briefly on his well run. Hopefully the scumbags that stole Terry's ID have been finally stopped. And there are other upsetting, worrisome things that I care not to mention. There, that's just so I don't hear any "Hey, sounds like things are really coming together, babe, let's do lunch some time." Sorry if I sound unusually discouraged but July has sucked in record-breaking ways. Shall we see if August brings something better? Why not ... something has to give sooner or later ... and hopefully it won't be me. No comments needed on this one - hopefully I will be back soon with better news.
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One long Week Ago

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It's been one week now since Mark left us. His real name is Terry but when I started this blog, we were concerned about the weirdos and scumbags out there. Doesn't seem to matter as much any more. But we both had fun with it while it lasted and he always liked the name Mark. That was the point; to just have fun out here. Most of the wonderful folks we met over these past three years had 'nom de blog's and they were given the opportunity to choose the names they liked, too. Everyone seemed to enjoy that element of mischievousness. Try it yourself, you won't regret it. I'm not saying to ever do things which hurt other people because that is plain rude and selfish ... just have maximum harmless fun when you can. And laugh and make others laugh, as much as you can and while you are able because there are few other gifts as powerful and healing as laughter when times are not so good.

So many more twists and complications have developed in this last week but I am not yet able to write about them, not until some sense of closure comes home to our canyon. But soon Red will be here to help and comfort as he always has for so many.

Thank you, all of you, friends known and yet to be known, who stopped by to pay your respects and express a love and appreciation for Terry - we will not forget it. It has meant so much to all of us dealing with the loss of a great person and friend.
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I will be back - God willing and if the creek don't rise.
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Our End of the Trail

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If you have been following along on our trials in living out our dream, you may have caught my occasional subtle hint to get on with your dreams rather than wait until everything seems perfect. This corporeal world bound by time and fate doesn't always oblige a so-called perfect time.
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Yesterday marked the end of our dream when Mark died of a massive heart attack. In his very early 50s. Listen to me here ... his early 50s. There is more that I should write here but he left with half of my soul and the better part of this marginal heart of mine. I need to convince you that we don't really know how much time we have to pursue our dreams. Mark would have wanted me to make some good of his passing and I think this would best honor his way of turning disaster to something beneficial for others so I will be back. I don't know if it will be in a day or a month so have patience with me, okay? If I can't make it back, I will make sure that someone tells you so. In the meantime, DO NOT put off your dreams, start working towards them NOW. I know you will make Mark smile if you do.
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Note: I have always loved to reply to each and every comment but I don't think I have quite the heart to do so right now. Please forgive me.
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Also, if you happen to know of someone who has had a dream of trying what we did in this beautiful and unforgettable desert wilderness, let me know. I may be renting out our beloved homestead for a year or so while I try to make some sense of yesterday's unfathomable events. It might be a chance for genuinely good people with many sterling references but without enough money to buy a place like ours to try out their own dreams. If you leave a comment with contact info, I will not publish them to the blog.
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The Adirondacks of the High Desert

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Below: Previous seating experiments on the Rat's front porch. Sad at best.
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A) Having been through at least six of them, I can say that this configuration was by far our worst investment. Within a year, their fabric rips, their tubing and connectors break and you might incur bodily damage or possible sterilization depending on where and when they inevitably let loose. Land-fill cloggers. Don't even go there.

B) Unrestored chairs from the moving trailer. Don't wince - almost ALL the furniture in the Rat looked like that at one time. This Renaissance Revival survivor will look very different some day when I get a real shop back into my life. In the meantime, these long neglected relics might have a leg or a seat pan let loose at the most inconvenient moment, especially if you have that unforgivable habit of rocking back on their rear legs - ask any cowboy.

C) Yes, it's the ever versatile dairy crate again, ONLY called into play when more than one visitor showed up. But do note that it has a much better pattern for avoiding waffle-butt than the one shown in The Generation Wars.

D) Another desperate measure in porch seating. It might have surpassed the dairy crate but for one fatal flaw; notice that there is a molded-in hinge in the lid which is well offset to one side. It does not, therefore, match the God-given symmetry of the human buttocks. This will cause an never-ending shifting in hopes of finding a comfortable alignment. Somewhere in that process, you will find yourself radically off its safe center of gravity. At that point, if the container has been used to store the product well-used by felines, you will not only find yourself flat out on the porch but with a goodly amount of cat doodoo and litter covering you. So avoid this one if possible and resort back to option C if necessary. This one is safer being used as an end table.

Our visitors have all been incredibly good sports up to now but we didn't want to push the limits of their endurance so we recently hit the catalogs hard. Catalogs are another invaluable resource which you will rely upon heavily if you move to the middle of nowhere and I mean for far more than classic outhouse use. When a supply run involves half a day of commuting, you no longer have time to stop here or there to browse on the slight chance of finding the occasional non-staple items you desire.
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Tah-dah!!! . .In fear of calling the Southwest Decorum Squad down upon us, we compromised and ordered four chairs like the more mission-styled chair in the middle of the photo above and only two of the Adirondacks. They all showed up unassembled in flat cardboard cartons and the assembly was done easily without referring to the somewhat odd 'Engrish' on the single page instruction sheets.

What's nice about the center chair is that it comes without any finish so you can let it weather or apply stains, embarrassingly gaudy paints and stencils, whatever your heart's desire. We will eventually use them as outdoor dining chairs. While they look great, their one drawback is that, after sitting down, you realize that the arms are strangely low and therefore amazingly useless unless you happen to have the torso of a circus midget. The advantage of the low arms is that they will fit under a table much more easily and therefore save needed space when not in use. We found those on-line at Northern Tool.

It was the surprising comfort of the Adirondacks which blew us away. Before we moved here, I had the templates to make a fixed-position Adirondack chair which was famous for comfort back home. Even if those paper patterns had survived the move, the time and materials would have been more than these cost us; under $60 each on sale from Sportsman's Guide. These were equally well constructed but arrived with a clear finish. When I finished assembling the first one, I plunked myself down in it for a skeptical try out. I had sat in plenty of uncomfortable Adirondacks in the past but this one was immediately downright cozy and relaxing. If it hadn't been sitting out in the scorching noonday sun, I would have dozed off immediately.
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. But wait, there's more! Here is that chair folded down for storage. I was as equally skeptical about the promise of how compact it might be for winter storage but when I pushed back on the lower end of the back rest, the chair easily relaxed into what you see above. And it doesn't appear to be interested in collapsing when you are occupying it (perhaps, if you are behaving like a complete and talented idiot, it could be accomplished though). Now I only regret not having ordered four of these instead of two. Okay, so maybe they look more at home beside Schroon Lake ... but color us pleased and comfy on the Rat's front porch ... finally! .
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Southwest Soup For Sickly Souls

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I knew I was running late on this Friday post but just remembered that everyone else is out there barbecuing and playing with fireworks anyway.
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Happy Fourth of July!
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Sopa del Curandera

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Carteach lobbed a food wars volley in this direction. Unfortunately it struck the column of the walking wounded out here at the Rat. Mark is still recovering from 'whatever that was' and the fanciest food production I dared assail his stomach with was a medicinal soup, southwest style.

The idea was to make vast quantities of natural antibiotics seem palatable and this soup emerged. I never was a big soup fancier but even I liked this one. With the temperatures in the mid-90s to 100 degrees lately, you absolutely avoid using the oven for anything until the sun sets and the desert's cool nights return so this is a stove-top creation from start to finish.

The soup came into being as I stood there anally trimming out a tray of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Since I am fussy about meat texture, I was busy removing any fat, tendons and mystery parts and placing those scraps into a sauce pan. I added a couple cups of water and let the whole thing simmer for a few hours, adding a good dash of Montreal Chicken Seasoning to the mix. I later strained the broth into a larger pan and the dogs and cats went nuts over the solids left in the strainer. No waste! Of course, you can avoid all that time, effort and being stared at by big brown eyes by cracking open a can of chicken broth and adding it to that large pan instead.

Then I finely diced six (yes, count 'em!) cloves of garlic, ran them through a crusher and added the entire aromatic mess to the big pot of broth and set the heat to a high simmer. The garlic is the major medicinal ingredient so don't skimp, the rest of the ingredients will help absorb its booming voice. The spice rack got raided and in went paprika, some taco seasoning, cumin, turmeric (another BIG illness fighter although it stains the chicken and your counters a bright yellow), juice of one lime, a dash of smoky marinade, a splash of white vermouth, ample ginger which would help break Mark's profound chills and what the heck - a chicken bullion cube for good taste measure. Then off to the pantry; one each 14-15 ounce can of diced tomatoes and black beans plus a small can of green chiles. Don't drain them, throw the contents in with all their juices.

I took a large onion (part of the medicinals) and cut it into 1/2 wide rings and then sliced those rings only in half. I wanted larger pieces of onion as you would traditionally find in French onion soup. Then I cut up two of the larger chicken breasts into cubes and very lightly browned them with the onions in butter (another mild antibiotic) in a large skillet. When done, I transferred this into the soup pot, turned down the soup pot heat to a low simmer and let it burble for a half hour. In the meantime, I sliced up both red and green bell peppers into roughly half inch squares. I added them to the soup pot only at the last five minutes of simmering so that they remained firm, colorful and so very slightly crunchy. I added a little water to bring up the volume and we managed to get six bowls (or two meals out of it) out of it.

We used round tortilla chips to scoop up chunks or crumbled them into the soup as you would crackers. Using them like crumbled crackers is a great way to use up the broken chips always found at the bottom of the bag and you get that pleasing corn taste and crunch in the process. Be well!
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I was going to post a review on the failures and victories of seating for the Rat's UV-drenched front porch but, since I am now running REALLY late for Friday's update, I will post that one on Monday or Tuesday. We finally found solid outdoor seating comfort at a reasonable price that you might like to try as well!
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