I started the day thinking how bad it was.  Everything I tried to do seemed a larger task than it should have been.  For example; I was putting the dishes away and couldn't get a dinner tray in the slot where it goes.  Someone had crammed some stuff in the slot next to it making it impossible to get the tray into it's slot.  Ugh, why can't people do it right? (In other words; my way.) Then when doing something in the refrigerator I found a huge package of string cheese with one piece of string cheese left in it.  Who does that?  I mean, for heaven's sake, take the cheese out and throw the package away.  I stirred up some pancake batter; enough for one cake, and put it on the griddle.  Then while I was distracted feeding the cat I burned it. The pancake, not the cat. I had to make another batch of pancake batter.  Life was horrible. 


Then I got a Coke and stepped back to reflect. 

My problems were my own making; it was my reaction to situations that were of little, if any, consequence.  I chose to react negatively, I wasn't forced to do so.  As I pondered that I came to understand that I needed to adapt. Some people are forced to adapt to situations not of their making or choosing. 

A person I've known since I graduated from high school, and became better acquainted with over the last 10 years, died a week ago.  He was 6 weeks younger than me.  He left a large and loving family who now have to cope with the loss of their father/husband/son/brother/friend.  It was a sudden death and shocked all who knew him.  He will be missed. But the ones left behind didn't choose to have this happen.  They are having days of grief and sorrow, but are choosing to look past this life and into the next.

I have a good friend who is going through some particularly devastating health issues.  She didn't choose to have these issues, but have them she does.  She chooses not to react negatively, but to deal with them.  I don't know that I'd have the fortitude to be as upbeat as she is.

Very recently I've begun correspondence with a friend from when I lived in the Sulfur Springs Valley, near Douglas.  She had really bad stuff happen to her when she was quite young.  It has affected her for many years, and rightly so.  She deals with it, and other bad stuff in her life, as best she knows how.  And I believe she deals with it well. Like the above examples she didn't choose to have this happen to her but she deals with it.  I'm pretty sure that if half of the bad stuff that's happened to her had happened to me, somebody would be dead; either me or the perpetrator. 

So I've decided to attempt to try harder to be positive and ditch the negative.  I mean, what do I have to complain about anyway?  I've got a great life with a beautiful wife; no worries.  Heck, I was sitting on the couch reading Classic Motorsports magazine this evening when Linda says to me "Call Steve Edwards and go to this hot rod show tomorrow."  She handed me the newspaper which had an article on a rod show in Prescott tomorrow.  I didn't have to whine about wanting to go, I didn't even know about it.  She's even letting me take her car which she filled with fuel yesterday.  I really do have a great life. A great wife too.

Of Biscuits and Beans

I grew up in a farming community outside of Phoenix, AZ.  I don’t know how poor we were; I mean I don’t know if were poor or not.  My mother was fabulous at budgeting money and my dad always worked extra.  Probably like most kids, there were some who had more money than us and some who had less.  I recall that among my particular group of friends we never counted how much money we had in our pockets in order to be friends with each other.  Our family ate our share of beans and I thought everyone did.  Maybe they did; I don’t really know. But that being said I’m recalling how both of my parents would act and react to money.

My mother was frugal.  She enjoyed good things in life but she never spent money she didn’t have.  For most of my growing up years she was a housewife and considered it her job to take care of the house and household finances.  She hated being in debt.  She still does.  She owns everything she has and has no debt.  Admirable, for sure.  She taught us that pursuing finer things in life isn’t a matter of money, that it is a matter of deciding what you want for yourself and going after it.  And maybe it’s using your time wisely to pursue good things and not having time for the trashy stuff.  Mom loves poetry; Robert Burns is a favorite.  If you have any experience reading Burns in the original dialect you know it is challenging.  Mom thinks the challenge is worth it to gain an understanding of the author’s meaning.  She loves good music and would gather her kids around the old phonograph player and play the early (50’s) versions of the Time Life compilations.  There was everything from Turkey in the Straw to Tchaikovsky.  She liked Country music so we heard that too.  But thank heaven she liked Marty Robbins and not Tex Ritter. 

Dad was an easy going, hard working carefree individual.  He worked hard so that he and his family could enjoy the good things.  We never had a new car but we always had a good car.  We bought good shoes so they would last but we didn’t buy shoes often.  Dad raised cattle so we could have meat.  He had grown up having to milk cows and hated it, so thankfully his kids didn’t have to do that, but we learned to work in other ways.  Dad always had money in his pocket so that when we were in town we could stop at the Dairy Queen for a cone.  We could get whatever we wanted for $.25.  I guess that in a nutshell I’d say about my dad that if he had money, everyone had money; he shared what he had with everybody. 

But Mom and Dad talked some, not much, because they weren’t whiners, about growing up as Depression era kids.  Dad in particular would talk about him being the youngest of 11 kids and how his mother would bake 4 loaves of bread every day.  On a wood stove mind you.  She was always preparing a meal, cooking a meal or cleaning up after a meal.  Dad talked about there always being plenty to eat but that it was usually not fancy.  One of the things he remembered was having dried biscuits or maybe some leftover bread, especially the hard crusty ends in milk.  Mom learned to make a great pot of beans because that’s what they had.  While I was growing up the word “beans” meant pinto beans.  If you had green beans you said green beans.  If you had Lima beans you said Lima beans.  But if you said beans it meant pinto beans.  I’ve spent years trying to make beans the way Mom does.  So later in his life, while I was growing up, my dad would save biscuits for a couple of days, let them get good and dry and put them in milk and consider it a special treat.  One of Mom’s comfort foods was beans.  Nothing fancy in them; maybe a bit of bacon or a ham hock, but mostly just a few spices and beans. 

So for breakfast this morning I had some biscuits in milk and thought of my dad.  Comfort food.  Good thoughts, remembering him sitting at the kitchen table eating biscuits and milk.  My dear sister still has that table and I think I need to visit her and have some biscuits and milk.  Mom lives with my sister now and maybe I can get her to give me one more lesson on making beans.  I make some pretty darn good chili beans, people have asked for my secret.  But I want some “beans”, beans the way my mom makes them.  And now I wonder what my lovely daughters will think of as comfort food when they are my age.  I hope they have good thoughts, the way I have good thoughts. 

A Short Treatise on Being Free

As a man, David E. Davis was a rapscallion, a rascal, a rogue; in general a knave.  As a raconteur and automotive journalist he had few peers.  The quote below pretty much sums up my feeling about cars, and even a little about my politics.

"We drive cars because they make us free. With cars, we need not wait in airline terminal or travel only where the railroad tracks go.  Governments detest our cars; they give us too much freedom. How do you control people who can climb into a car at any hour of the day or night and drive to who know where? An open car gives us another dimension of freedom. In an open car we enjoy the heightened freedom of the coursing hound, racing across the land with only the wind for clothing.  It is the freedom of wild ducks, shining in their colorful plumage, flying at impossible speeds through the treetop to impress the duck women they love. In an open car on an open road, we can feel what that man felt eons ago, when he first managed to grab a horse's mane, throw himself on its back, and feel himself transported at unthinkable speed into mankind's next stage of development."

So, the Thunderbird will get done and I'll drive it with the top down whenever possible; maybe even when it seems foolish to others.  I'll have the top down and a jacket on, maybe even a scarf around my neck. I'll wear a hat to keep the sun at bay, but the top will be down. I'll also pursue the purchase of a British or Italian sports car.  I'll do it because of the fun I envision there being, and the freedom the cars allow me to have.  I crave the open road.  I crave it for the things to see, the conversations with passengers and the joy of the solitude when traveling alone.  I also crave it for the freedom and knowing that it's my choice to travel where I want and when I want.  A right turn or a left turn is my choice. I'll know that even when asleep, if I choose to, I can get up get dressed and go for a ride.  That ride is more pleasant in an open car. I have the luxury of having a closed car for the times when it's absolutely necessary to be practical. And I have the opportunity to have an open car for the times when practicality be damned, I'll drive what I want and go where I want. I'll travel by air when necessary and by rail when it's fun, but I'll put the top down on a convertible whenever I can.  Lela and Mary Lynne, if you read this use the following as part of my will: Forget the hearse; make my last ride sitting up in the back of a convertible with the top down. 

Self Reliance

I'm struck by the different way people look at things; how some people don't see things the way I do. I'm also struck by the fact that if everybody saw things the way I do they'd be right more often. Linda and I are starting off this President's Day Monday by her doing some alterations to some clothes and I'm working in the kitchen in preparation for doing some cooking. (Green chili stew.) I was pondering some of the speaker's comments heard in church yesterday and I needed to use Lin as a sounding board. I said to her "Thinking about what Sister XXXXXX said..." and before I could finish she said "That bothers you too?" So Lin and I think alike; that's a good thing. Now about what bothered us: The speaker was talking about the answer to prayer and personal revelation. She related a story about having a flat tire in a remote area of Arizona. She had a number of children with her in a mini van when a front tire lost air. She sat in the car for 15 minutes until a stranger came along to assist her. She used it as an occasion to build her faith in human kind and that's not a bad thing. On the other hand, she freakin' sat there for 15 minutes instead of getting out, finding the jack and spare and changing the danged tire! What if it had been 30 minutes? An hour? Ok, the Lord doesn't give us what we can't handle but why not just fix it yourself? God has given us the ability to think for ourselves and to do for ourselves. I'm glad for the women in my life who will do what they can on their own and call for assistance when they need to. I feel a little lost because both of my daughters live a distance away but I feel better knowing that they can handle most situations when they occur. I'll let them tell about their various adventures with cars, one involving a PT Cruiser loaded with Japanese exchange students and a flat tire in almost the same spot as the incident above. Another more recent involved a dead alternator and the self reliance shown to get the car to where it wasn't a danger. I'm proud of my daughters and what they can accomplish. I'm glad they take care of themselves when they can. I'm also glad they like each other and help each other when they can. I worry about Linda being off in the far reaches of the Indian reservations but I also know that she can change a flat tire when the occasion arises. I appreciate my daughters' and wife's self reliance, knowing that they will pray for assistance to help with the situation but knowing that they will do what they can for themselves.

Frazzled

The morning started out badly but it also made me be grateful again that I'm married to Linda. While still in bed I grabbed my laptop to check email. I got several notices from PayPal that I'd authorized payments. I hadn't authorized any payments! I panicked, got flustered and began trying to fix an obvious hack. (Insert picture of Stan in his underwear using phrases like Egg Sucking Dog to describe the folk who hacked me, all the while wanting to throw the computer because it won't give me the information I want.) While I'm in a dither trying to get it fixed on line, Linda calmly found me a phone number to PayPal customer service. I talked with a gentleman named Colin who helped me straighten that part out; PayPal is ok. I think. Still working on the credit cards but so far nothing bad.

So after taking care of that and while Lin is at work I'm supposed to take the dogs to the groomer. I'm a big boy, I can handle that. Ever try to put a harness on a flea? The danged little red dog gets excited when she hears the harness rattle. She comes running to the sound and flits around like a flea waiting to get it on. Then when you approach her with it she backs up. I chased her for 45 minutes while she's going backwards trying to escape the very thing she wants put on. After finally getting her harnessed up, and getting Barkley in his, I look for their leashes. And I look for their leashes. And I can't find their leashes. I mean I scour the likely places and many unlikely places but no luck, can't find the leashes. While I'm looking for the leashes in the garage, the door is open and the red dog comes downstairs and out into the yard. At first that was an additional irritation but then I thought it would be a good idea if they both did stuff dogs do on our lawn instead of the floor of the groomer's, so I got Barkley and put him on the lawn. Of course by the time I get back to the lawn Kitty is gone. I wandered up and down the street and found Kitty, chased her back to the yard and searched more for the leashes. And searched more for the leashes. Still can't find the leashes. It's getting closer to the scheduled appointment time with the groomer but you can't take your dog to the groomer unless they're on a leash. So here I am, back in a dither because I hate being late. What to do , what to do? The appointment is for 10, it's a 12 minute drive to the groomers and it's 9:52. I grabbed a chunk of electrical wire, cut 2 lengths of 5 feet each and tied it to their harnesses. Walked them into the groomer and acted like it was an everyday occurrence that people use electrical wire for a leash. Coca Cola and chocolate and I'm doing fine now. Oh, BTW, the leashes are in Linda's car.

I'm in the experimental mode. After 3 tries I think I'm on to something; easy donut holes.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup of your favorite biscuit mix; Farmer Brothers for me.
3 tablespoons confectioners sugar. Don't use granulated, the donuts will be greasy little bits of junk if you do.
1/2 teaspoon vanilla.
2 tablespoons of water. Maybe a little more but not too much, you want the dough a bit dry.

Method:
Turn on your Nesco deep fryer to 375. Don't have a Nesco? Use your Wearever, Hamilton-Beach or whatever you've got. Don't have a deep fryer? What part of the south are you from that you don't have a deep fryer? I live in northern Arizona but came from the southern half of the state, even southern Arizonians have a deep fryer. Ok, if you don't have a deep fryer, heat some oil in a pan on the stove. Slightly flatten the dough balls, that makes it easier to turn them when necessary. Put several in the fryer. Not too many at once and keep in mind that these little buggers will expand a bit. Plus you don't want to cool your oil too much. Fry them until they're (as Alton Brown would say) golden brown and delicious. Take them out with a spider or a slotted spoon and put them on a drain rack. Don't have a drain rack? Go get one. You don't want to use a paper towel; they just sit in the grease that way. A drain rack is a good purchase. While they're still hot sprinkle a bit more powdered sugar on them.

See, I said they were easy. You can use different flavorings instead of vanilla if you want; while I'm thinking about it, banana might be pretty good along with the ubiquitous almond or lemon. After a bit of experimentation I might add a little salt to the batter but at this point I don't know what it would do. As I said, this is after several experiments and I'd be glad to hear from any of you on how to make improvements. We could be like America's Test Kitchen, making 20 batches until we get it really good. If you get it better, share!

































Mix the sugar and biscuit mix together really well. Add the water and vanilla and stir until the dough is completely moistened. Add more biscuit mix or some flour if necessary; you don't want this dough sticky. Roll the dough on your granite into a ball and then form into a log. Make the log approximately the size of those large tapered candles you put out when you're trying to impress someone with a fancy dinner. (That never works by the way; if they've agreed to come to dinner they already know how you really are; fancy candles aren't gonna make a difference.) Use your bench knife and cut the roll into small pieces.

Scary Moments

Some things are just scary to think about. There are lots of things in the world that will scare a sane human. One thing I'm remembering is when I was a younger man and spent time on the ranch with some pretty wild cattle. One time we had one big wild bull that did NOT want to be herded. My dad got a rope around his neck and that made the bull mad. That bull charged dad and his horse several times before I could get a rope on him and pull the other direction. We rode for a couple of miles pulling that bull between us. A pretty scary couple of miles.

Another scary memory is the time I had dropped off a date in Pima and was headed back to Thatcher in my '69 Thunderbird. I was traveling a dirt road at a rather high rate of speed when I realized that the road ended at a T junction. I foolishly slammed hard on the brake pedal and slid for what seemed like 300 yards. I slid through the intersection and stopped with my front tires just inches from the concrete ditch at the edge of the farmer's field. Sat there for a few minutes, put it in reverse, backed out and drove slowly home. SLOWLY home.

I remember when I was very young watching "Frankenstein" for the first time. Mom told us not to watch it but my brother, sister and I thought we were tough enough to handle it. By the time the monster made his first appearance it was late at night, dark in the house and I was hiding behind the big chair in the living room, scared to death. I still don't like scary movies; my blogger name not withstanding. (Actually that comes from a murdercycle I put together from several different corpse bikes which I then called FrankenBike. One of the guys who heard what I called it said that must make me FrankenStan. I liked it so I kept it.)

Now for the scariest thing ever to be seen on the earth: I bought a pair of shorts. I'm even gonna wear them. I expect global warming will increase due to the reflection of sunlight back into the atmosphere from my white legs. When I'm wearing white socks you can't tell where the socks end and the legs begin. But regardless, I'm gonna wear 'em. Only around the house at first; it may be some time before I have the total disregard for my fellow human beings to wear them in public. Plus I'm not sure it's legal for me to be seen in shorts; somebody check up on that for me, eh.