Angus at 8 weeks

In his eighth week of life, Angus is already promising to be exactly what we had hoped for.  He's sensible, fairly calm, inquisitive, eager to please, not too emotionally sensitive, unflappable around just about everything, and not bratty.  For this package, we thank Terry and Laurie Scott (the breeders) who raise physically and emotionally sound Labradors.  We thank the early training and exposure to stimuli at Scotts' house during those first 49 days.  Personally, I also thank my lucky stars.

Angus is doing exceptionally well in his "home schooling."  He's learned not to play-bite or jump up.  He's learned to COME (and sit in front), he's learning STAY, CURB (don't rush thru doors, etc.), and is learning DOWN and LEAVE IT and LET'S GO.  He also walks very acceptingly with a leash.  He sleeps quietly through the night in his crate (in our bedroom).  He eats 3 meals a day, and takes a 1.5-mile walk every morning with us to go get the paper.  He's been swimming and has shown that fetching agrees with him.  He's been around a ton of healthy, vaccinated dogs and lots of people. His big sister Lizzie, the pit bull, is a wonderful mentor/playmate for him.

Don has a buddy once again to sleep at his feet in the living room or rest on a mat out in his shop.  Today Angus "helped" him rototill the garden by following along behind him.  It reminded me of that hokey old Walter Brennan song about "Old Rivers and Me."

Sanders Sippers: Bourbon Night!

Eleven of us gathered at the Shorthorse bar last night to sample and learn about Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

We started the warm-up act with traditional frosty Mint Juleps.  Next came the main course of food:  barbecued pork (with whiskey sauce), cheese grits, cole slaw, corn muffins, and bourbon pecan tarts.

Dessert was, of course, the headliner:  Bourbon!  We sampled:
Makers Mark--got rave reviews from everyone.  Smooth, tasty, well balanced.
Wild Turkey--whoa!  At 101 proof, it tasted as strong as it was.  Okay if you can handle the bite.
Russell's--Surprise!  We'd never even heard of this one till Deb Oliver who owns D&D Liquor suggested we try it.  Unanimously great reviews!  Super smooth, with a little less kick than Makers Mark.  Close to the same price too.
Buffalo Trace--another fun discovery.  The bottle was appealing, so we got it.  Buffalo Trace is not as smooth as Russell's, but very sippable, with an interesting long, very sweet finish, almost like a blended Scotch.
Rebel Yell--nothing wrong with this one either, but definitely less smooth and distinctive.
Early Times--Eeugh!  Bottom shelf.  I'll use this one for cooking.  Acceptable if that's all you have, or if you're out roughing it.  But if you order bourbon in a bar, spend a couple more dollars and ask for something that's truly outstanding.  You would not believe the difference...until you taste them!

The scores:

1.  Makers Mark

2.  Wild Turkey

3.  Russell's

4.  Buffalo Trace

Angus comes home

On May 10 we drove back to Helena to pick up Angus, now 50 days old.  He weighed 14 pounds.

Meet Angus Manning

Angus is a 4-week-old pointing Lab puppy from Foxhaven Kennels in Helena.  Angus is ours, but we won't be taking him home till he's 49 days old, which will be in three more weeks.  Today we made the four-hour drive over to Helena to meet him.

This is primarily Don's dog/buddy/hunting companion.  He's wanted a Lab, specifically one that points, for a long time.  At 4 weeks Angus doesn't show much real personality yet, other than being extremely laid-back and a bit chunky (8 1/4 lbs.)  The laid-back disposition should make him very compatible with Lizzie.

Irish Whiskey Night

Sanders County Sippers celebrated St. Patrick's Day a day late at the Mannings'.  On Thursday, March 18, 12 of us gathered to sample and learn about Irish Whiskeys.  We featured:

Jameson

Bushmills

Redbreast

Powers

They finished in this order of popularity:.

1. Redbreast (smooth and rich, long finish)
2.  Jameson (good, but not as good or expensive as Redbreast)
3.  Powers (VERY comparable to Jameson and several $$ cheaper!)
4. Bushmills (tasted like colored water compared to everything else)

As accompaniments we had corned beef on home-made biscuits, plus Irish Butter Shortbread Cookies (pictured above, in Waterford crystal, compliments of Christina Ashbaugh!  Thanks, Christina, we proudly use it all the time!!!)

We finished the evening with a classic Irish Coffee....

• Pour strong, hot coffee into mug
• Dissolve 2 tsp. cane sugar in coffee
• Add 1 oz. Jameson
• Top with frothy floating cream, gently poured over the back of a spoon.

To prepare cream, shake heavy cream just until it is barely "pourable."  Add a dash of Licor 43 (Mexican vanilla liqueor) for flavor and sweetener.  I had no Licor 43, but used Kahlua instead, and it was sensational.

I'm not a big fan of Irish whiskey, but this Irish Coffee recipe is an absolutely decadent treat at evening's end!

One downside to this spirits education we're giving ourselves:  we really, unfortunately, CAN tell the difference between the good stuff and the cheap stuff, and will never be quite satisfied with bottom-shelf again.  However, consider that a bottle of really good spirits will be sipped and savored over a year or two, rather than masked and quickly guzzled in mixed drinks.   It's worth paying $10-$15 more for a bottle of great product.  Life is short, after all...too short to waste on inferior anything!

A Hot Time in Trout Creek!

Don is now a "roady."  I am now a"performer." Amazing the new roles we have begun learning in the past two years here!

Last Saturday night we took part in the Trout Creek Gala Event of the Year...the fund-raising comedy show to benefit the local animal shelter.  This was the fourth year for the event, which we've attended annually, but this was the first time I actually performed as part of the cast.  About 16 local folks, all with varied comedic and theatrical talents, got together to produce a splendidly entertaining show.  The room at the Lakeside Resort was set up to hold 160, but nearly 250 bodies scrunched into the standing-room-only show.

Each eight-minute act was a take-off on a TV show.   Our audience got to watch "Dragnet," "All in the Family," "The Honeymooners," PBS opera, "Trout Creek Gots Talent," and (my act) "Hee Haw."  Dave Oliver, our good friend and professional entertainer extraordinaire, paired up with me for a Buck Owens/Roy Clark skit.  In true Hee Haw form we sang "Where, where are you tonight," (complete with spitting in each other's faces at the end of the song), we told cornfield jokes, I sang and yodeled my creation of "Into the Dog Pen" (to the tune of "Under the Boardwalk,") and we ended our set with a wild fiddle hoedown.  Dave accompanied me on his guitar.

After the show, the cast retired to the Naughty Pine Saloon next door and closed down the joint.  What a hoot!

And Don's role in all this?  First, he helped write "Into the Dog Pen," he coached Dave and me in practice, he spent half a day moving and setting up stage, lighting and sound equipment, endured a dress rehearsal, and spent the "morning after" tearing down and packing up the stage.

Oh yes, and he also drove me home after the cast party....good thing, because I never would have made it out the door without him!

"Lonesome Dove Day" in Thompson Falls

It had long been a dream of mine to see the original TV mini-series "Lonesome Dove" (first shown in 1989) on a full-size theater screen.  Apparently I shared that dream with a few others, because we made it happen today at the Rex Theater in Thompson Falls.  A small but enthusiastic first-time crowd of 23 turned out at 11 a.m. to see all six-plus hours, shown straight through except for a one-hour lunch/eyeball break in the middle.

 Sponsoring the event was the Rocky Mountain Rangers cowboy action shooting club from up the road in Noxon.  This is is Don's cowboy shooting club, and they're a fine bunch of folks.  Joining them at the theater today were cowboys shooters from Missoula, Kettle Falls, Wash., and some locals from Thompson Falls.

We decided beforehand to donate any proceeds to the Sanders County Sheriff's Office fund for the care and feeding of horses it has rescued.  We took in enough to make a nice little donation.

Next year we may try this feat again, with more regional advertising to draw outsiders.  Maybe we'll look into getting some good musical entertainment for a dance after the show.  The possibilities are endless!

The real "Galt's Gulch"

In Ayn Rand's book Atlas Shrugged, there was a secret town in Colorado called "Galt's Gulch."  The residents were the most brilliant artists, performers, scientists and industrialists of the socialistic society they'd gladly left behind.  They reinvented their own money exchange, which was based on gold.  They offered their services to one another at subsistence rates, and frequently bartered.  Sometimes the services were voluntarily shared with others at no cost.  The system promoted individual achievement, and the town's hand-picked residents were motivated to work hard and produce excellence in all their endeavors.

Sanders County, Montana, is a "Galt's Gulch" of sorts.  The longer we live here, the more brilliant people we discover who have dropped out of the world and settled into a quiet existence in this very unassuming and unpretentious valley.  Nobody flaunts anything here--not wealth, appearance or background.  The person sitting in the booth behind you at Minnie's Cafe could be a retired nuclear physicist or former Broadway choreographer.  They're all wearing flannel shirts, jeans and Carhartt jackets now.  They all drive dirty pickups with dogs in the cab.

There's a guy who--unlike Al Gore--really was instrumental in the invention of the Internet.  He's lived all over the world and is a wealth of stories and knowledge.  Now he spends his time building or repairing saddles, for next to nothing.  He likes the work.

There's another guy who was a POW in the Hanoi Hilton for seven years.  He's just a regular member of the community now, although I can't look at him without feeling deep emotion and awe.  He's shared his stories of what real torture is.  How he can live a normal life after seven years of that is beyond my comprehension.  He will tell the story if you ask him, but otherwise blends into this eclectic community. 

There's an 83-year-old woman who's the world's best "tatter."  She's a true artist with her shuttle.  She hosts several yearly seminars, which draw tatting devotees from all over the country.  She feeds and houses up to 30 tatters for each seminar, and she does it without any compensation at all.  She simply wants to share her knowledge with those who seek it.

There's a reknown gunsmith (I bet you know him) who offers his services for next to nothing.  Yesterday a guy called, wanting Don to look at his gun, which was giving him fits.  He drove down to the house and Don fixed him up in about 10 minutes.  Basically his scope needed adjustment.  The charge:  $3.

There's a woman whose musical background is from Juliard.  She's done operatic arrangements and choreographed dances on Broadway.  She offers her services freely now, to whoever wants to learn to sing or dance.

There's a guy across the river from us who used to play guitar and piano with some of the top rock'n'roll and jazz groups of the '60s.  Arthritis has slowed him down now, but he can occasionally still be convinced to pick up an "axe" if it's for a good cause, like a musical fundraiser for the local animal shelter.

We have a friend--our Realtor, in fact--who played professional music for 12 years.  As an emcee, comedian and entertainer, he's as good as they get.  You'll see him donating his services to groups all year long.

There's the Master Gardener down the road, who freely shares her knowledge with those who seek it.  The accomplished woodworker next door, who can exquisitely craft anything you can imagine, and will charge very little for it because he does it for his own enjoyment.  The nationally recognized dog trainer who donates her services to those who can't pay.  The phenomenally successful water witcher who will find you a well and charge nothing.

Compensation comes in other forms besides an exchange of currency.  Jams, preserves, fresh baked goods, firewood, and good deeds done "in turn" seem to work out very well here in "Galt's Gulch," where extraordinary people have chosen to live quiet lives with like-minded believers in the production of excellence.

Breaking News, Thompson Falls Style

Our weekly paper, the "Sanders County Ledger," always runs the sheriff's log on page 3.  This is where you really find out what's been happening in the neighborhood--you know, the really important stuff, like...

"Woman called about a fat, lazy bear that won't leave her porch."
"Deputy called to break up bar fight, but says it didn't look that bad."
"Female called at 5:20 a.m. to report a worm in her bowel movement."
"Male reported to be drunk and disorderly with severely broken heart."

It sure beats the stuff we used to read day after day on the front page of the Yakima Herald!

Safari to Reno

Don and I just returned from Safari Club International's 2010 convention in Reno.  We flew down on Thursday night and spent all day Friday and Saturday wandering around the gargantuan Reno/Sparks Convention Center, which was filled to the brim with everything for hunters:  safaris for every critter in every corner of the world, $110,000 firearms on display,  wildlife artwork selling for  $15,000 to $80,000, and priceless taxidermy works of art.

It was like a giant "home show" for well healed hunters.  However, the majority of the 25,000 attendees were sort of like us...tire kickers who admired and dreamed and may occasionally give in to purchasing a "reasonable" hunt somewhere like Africa or New Zealand.  The rationale for booking a hunt, of course, is that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  The joke is that anyone who's gone on one good professional hunt gets hooked and must do it again...and again. 

Nonetheless, Don kept his hands in his pockets on this trip and was happy just to finally see what this marvelous convention was all about.  There were sufficient "girl things" for me to look at too, like jewelry, furs, fancy English hunting clothes, and sculptures.  So he'd go one way in the huge exhibition hall and I'd go another, agreeing to meet every three hours.  Neither of us got bored!.

The main event was Saturday night, when President George W. Bush was to be the guest speaker at the gala banquet.  For us, however, the main event was Saturday afternoon when the President made a quiet appearance at the exhibition hall (accompanied by a platoon of secret service, of course).  I'd received intel on the previous day that this was going to happen, so I was ready at 2pm when the Secret Service marched in and fanned out to their positions.  I followed the main group of them, and within 15 minutes President Bush made his entrance into the building, on foot, and started working the crowd.  Don and I had a few close encounters early on, but seemed to always miss being in position for a handshake.  We persisted, however, and eventually parked ourselves outside the Beretta tent, where we knew he'd be headed.

When he finally emerged, we were there, close enough to the rope line that we could extend our hands through the crowd to shake his hand and offer encouraging words.  The crowd reverberated with shouts of, "We miss you, Mr. President" and "God bless you" and "We need you back" and "Thank you for everything."  But as he shook my hand and began to glide on to the next, I shouted, "Mr. President, how are the dogs?"

He stopped.  He looked in my direction.  His face lit up as he chuckled and said, "THANK YOU for asking about them!  They're fine, but Barney is missing the pampering he got a few years ago with all the people around him, and he's having trouble adjusting to being a city dog in Dallas now.  He's doing all right, though."  He winked and started to move on, but then stopped and looked at me again and said, "Thank you for asking about them!"

This was a dog person, first and foremost.  I knew there was nothing I could ask him at that moment that he'd rather talk about.  At the end of his day, his term, or his life, the dogs are his soft spots.  We understand that perfectly.

That evening we accidentally bumped into (literally) our close Safari Club friends from central Washington--Glenn and Cherry Rasmussen, and Arnold and Susan Lockbeam.  In a crowd of 5,000 banquet attendees, we somehow ended up in line right behind them...and got to spend an enjoyable evening at the same table.  President Bush gave the keynote address and was splendid.  He was relaxed, happy, articulate, witty and inspirational.  And he did it all without a teleprompter!

When the banquet ended, Don and I returned to The Nugget, our host hotel, and rendezvoused with my old Nashville chum Doug Greene (aka "Ranger Doug" from cowboy singing group "Riders in the Sky").  Doug and the group had done a show that evening at the Nugget, so we met him and his wife Carolyn after the show, had a drink, and caught up on all the news about mutual music industry friends from when we both lived there in the late '70s.




The whole weekend was one for the books, with at least three unexpected surprises:

1.  Meeting President Bush and exchanging meaningful words with him.

2.  Meeting up with Rasmussens and Lockbeams at the marvelous banquet.

3.  Meeting up with Ranger Doug for the nightcap.

All this would be a hard act to follow, but we're going to try in about 10 days when we leave for Hawaii!

Sanders County Sippers: Canadian Blend Night

Last night was "Canadian Blend Night" for Sanders County Sippers.  Eleven of us gathered in the Shorthorse bar to sample  great,  good, and  not-so-hot whisky blends from across the border.  We came up with some surprising results.

Here they are, in the order we tasted them over ice:

First, Crown Royal.  We wanted everyone to taste the "good" stuff first.  There was no one who didn't enjoy this smooth, sweet beauty, thick and heavy on the palate.

Second, Canadian Mist.  A huge seller in the U.S.  Very nice, but without the body and character of the Crown Royal.  It was almost watery in comparison, but not objectionable.

Third, Canadian Club.  Oh my.  We saw lots of bad faces when they tasted this.  Harsh, bodiless, with a terrific afterburn.  This got a nearly unanimous and hearty hands-down.

Fourth, Rich and Rare (RandR).  What a pleasant surprise!  I call this a scaled-down version of Crown Royal.  The taste was similar--sweet and smooth, but with less "mouth feel."  A slight burn at the very finish.

Fifth, Black Velvet.  Apparently this is the No. 1 seller in this part of Montana.  My expectations were low, but I found it exceedingly sippable (even though most of its fans mix it with something).  It was terrifically sweet and smooth; it may have lacked depth, but it went down nicely, with no harshness.  A good "beginner blend."

Sixth, Potters.  This one comes in a plastic jug and is bottom-shelf, but don't let that fool you.  It's perfectly respectable.  Mildly raw at the end, but with substance throughout.  Lots of different flavors going on.  You may not want to request it in a good cocktail lounge, but if you're looking for something versatile (and cheap) for your home bar, stock up. Great for mixed drinks, and no apologies necessary whatsoever.

Seventh, Pendleton.  You'll find it on the top shelf, right next to the Crown Royal.  Almost to a person, we chose this over the Crown Royal when we did a side-by-side.  We even had a couple die-hard Crown Royal fans who switched last night.  Pricewise, it's about the same.  Unfortunately they don't package Pendleton in a cute little blue bag like they do the C.R., but that was the only drawback we could find to it.

The rankings were:

1. Pendleton

2. Crown Royal

3. R and R

4. Canadian Mist

5. Black Velvet

6. Potters

7. Canadian Club

Lizzie the Therapy Pit Bull

Lizzie and I have started visiting the nursing home in Plains (40 miles away) every Tuesday.  She's made a lot of friends, and is helping spread the truth about pit bulls: they're the best dogs in the world for this kind of work, because they have such big hearts, lovely and quiet dispositions, and unending patience.  I'm so proud of her!

Photos from the top:  Emily and Lizzie; Sylvia and Lizzie; George and Lizzie.

January 2010 Update

Let's play catch-up a bit....we had a fantastic Thanksgiving again this year, hosting Will and Teresa Bron, plus Teresa's son and girlfriend, plus our good friend Chris Berger.  There's nothing like a houseful of activity and friendly voices to make the holidays come alive, and we enjoyed it to the hilt.  For Thanksgiving dinner we also added neighbors Jim and Kathy Hill, plus friends Bob and Maureen James.  We did two turkeys--a fancy, all-natural Hutterite and a Butterball (brought by Teresa).  I must say, I preferred the Butterball, although both were outstanding.

The menu:  turkey, sausage/apple dressing, Martha Stewart's mashed potatoes, pear and bleu cheese salad, braised brussel sprouts with bacon & lemon sauce, chipotle smashed sweet potatoes, an exquisite gravy made by Bob James, and sourdough mini-muffins.

We spent the hours leading up to dinner (and several hours the next day) alternately riding and driving Brimir (the "shorthorse") around the neighborhood, and riding Bernie, my big Tennessee Walker.  We hiked in the rain, shopped for antiques in Trout Creek, shot rifles and pistols on our home range, and, of course, cooked, ate and drank!

With the departure of our Thanksgiving friends came plans for Christmas.  On Dec. 10 we hosted another "Sanders County Sippers" meeting, featuring all the fabulous cream liqueors that had been calling to me from the shelves of the local liquor store.  Starbucks Cream Liqueor, Godiva White Chocolate, Bailey's Irish Cream, Amarula, HOT SEX, McCormick's Irish Cream...and then the non-creams like Lemoncillo, Kahlua, Frangelico, Grand Marnier,Yukon Jack loganberry and raspberry liqueors.  All are low in alcohol and high in calories...the perfect way to start out the season of overindulgence!

On Wednesday night, Dec. 16, we attended the annual "Christmas on Main Street" parade in downtown Thompson Falls.  The temps--in the low teens--kep the crowd down this year, but didn't dampen the enthusiasm of those who bundled up to enjoy the occasion.

Sunday, December 20, was our annual "really big shew," with 30+ people attending our "Christmas at Shorthorse" open house.  It seems we've started a tradition, since most of our guests were "looking forward to next year's party" as they bid their adieus.  Maybe it was the spread of food and bourbon punch, and maybe it was the pickin' and grinnin' offered by Dave Oliver and me on guitar and fiddle.  But I'm proud to say it was the type of holiday party I would have wanted to attend.  So yes, we'll do it again next year, and every year to come, as long as we're able.

Once the party was behind us, Don and I coasted calmly into the actual celebration of Christmas.  I attended candlelight service at my little country church, which was spectacular and heartwarming.  I have developed quite a family of friends there this year.

We enjoyed a prime rib Christmas dinner at Jim and Kathy Hill's home.  We couldn't ask for better neighbors.

Snow has been elusive, and I haven't had my skis on yet this year.  We're up to our eyeballs in ice on cold days and slush on warm days.  Don keeps promising me that "the snow is coming."  Maybe it'll get here about the time we're leaving for Hawaii--Feb. 4.

New Year's Eve was quiet too--we didn't even hear any gunshots at midnight!  I guess people are saving their ammo for something more important...

Life is good.  We're both healthy.  We love where we live and enjoy our days.  We're truly blessed.  Now, on to the great year of 2010!

Brandy & Cognac Night for "Sippers"

Our best "Sippers" turnout thus far was Thursday night.  We hosted 13 for this night of Brandy and Cognac education and tasting.

We sampled:
Korbel VS Brandy (California)--umm, well.....
St. Remy VSOP Brandy (France)--ooh!  This has FLAVOR!
Meukow Cognac--OMG, this has flavor AND body!!
Meukow Vanilla Cognac liqueur--mmmm, very vanilla, maybe even too much so...
Hennessey Cognac--heat, heat, smooth heat but not as much taste
Salignac--Nope, will use in cooking
Calvados (apple Brandy)--too harsh by itself, but will work well in mixed drinks
Gran Gala (orange Cognac liqueur like Grand Marnier, only half the price)--great for topping off margaritas or for cooking

The hands-down favorite was the Meukow Cognac.  It had it all...fruit, heat, smoothness and texture.  This is what you want to sip in front of a roaring fire.  In my book, a close second would be the St. Remy Brandy.

One thing we're learning is that there is SUCH a difference in "similar" liquors.  If we ordered a generic "Cognac" in a bar, we might get something we really don't like at all.  If we order by name, we'll actually know what to expect.

We finished the night with Sidecars and Brandy Alexanders--two classic Brandy drinks.

Next month:  creams and liqueurs.  Yum, YUM!!!!

One treasure under the roof of another

Her voice was what first drew me in her direction.  Mary Harker, who is 87 and weighs not much more than that, speaks in a melodious bass voice that could make her a fortune doing radio voice-over commercials.

Instead, she's doing what she's wanted to do all her life: she's the pastor of a little country church here in our neighborhood known as "Whitepine."  She and the church are of the Methodist persuasion, but neither one would turn away a Catholic or a Lutheran.  They wouldn't turn anybody away.  The average congregation on an average Sunday numbers about 10 people, including the pianist and pastor.  Last week there were only seven of us because of the flu.  But Mary was there.

She's been there, at Whitepine Community Church, for 28 years.  Before that, she was a rancher's wife up the road in Heron.  She and her late husband, John, raised six kids.  They operated a Christmas tree farm that's still going strong under the management of the now-grown kids.  Mary moved to Whitepine about four years ago, as the 40-mile drive was becoming increasingly difficult for her.  She lives in a "parsonage" that she bought and remodeled behind the church.  It's a tiny trailer, but it suits her needs.  She spends most of the time over at the church anyway.

Don and I first met her at a Memorial Day service at the local cemetery.  I was spellbound by her voice.  When I found out she was the pastor at that little country church a mile down the highway, I beelined it to the next service, just so I could hear more of her voice.  I've been going, fairly regularly, ever since.  It's a great group of people--usually about six women and two men.  It's casual. 

Mary always wraps up the service in just less than an hour.  That might be because she tires after more than that, but I suspect it's her very practical nature.  She's not one to say ten words when two will do.

A friend of mine once asked her a complex religious question.  He was searching for answers and hoping she would spew forth something profound.  She did.  She said simply, "I don't know the answer to that, but when I see God, I'll ask Him."  Turns out that was the very answer my friend needed.

Unlike most of my friends, Mary's not a dog lover.  She's too practical.  I told her about our dogs, and she said, "I've never cared for dogs in the house.  I'll put up with a sick calf next to the woodstove in the kitchen for two weeks, but that's about it."

Mary Harker is a lucky woman.  After leading a rich life as a Montana pioneer woman, her dream came true.  She was in her 60's when she was finally allowed to be a Methodist pastor; before that, women were not allowed in that role.  She had yearned for that position and even dreamed about having a little white country church with her name over the door.  When asked to fill the position at Whitepine, she didn't hesitate.

Friday afternoons Mary and I meet in the church kitchen for an hour of fiddling.  She learned to play the fiddle just a few years ago and still struggles with it, as do I.  But we're playing a duet during the service on Nov. 29, Advent Sunday.  We may scare all the cats away, but the few eager parishioners will probably stay for the benediction anyway.

Sippers #3: Single Malt Scotch Night

Last night we hosted our third "Sanders County Sippers" get-together. A smaller crowd--just eight of us--due to some members' colds, out-of-town company, and forgetfulness. Nonetheless, it was a congenial bunch that gathered to sample and compare six single-malt Scotch whiskies.



We featured:

1. Glenfiddich 12 (Speyside)
   
2. Glenlivet 12 (Speyside)
3. Glenmorangie 10 (Highland)
4. McClellands (Islay)
5. Bowmore 17-year (Islay)
6. Bowmore 21-year (Islay)

That left at least 30 more good single-malts that we couldn't afford or couldn't find. But our selection seemed fairly representative of the popular single-malts.

The majority seemed to prefer the Glenfiddich over all the others. It seemed to have a smoother start and a longer, sharper finish. I liked the Glennlivet because it had the opposite effect--a real front-of-mouth explosion with a smoother back end.

The Glennmorangie lived up to its reputation as full-bodied and much more viscous...a bit too oily for me, but probably a good after-dinner sipper with the right cigar.

Don and I really favor the McClellands for its smooth smokiness. It hardly even tastes like "Scotch" to me; it's more like sipping campfire smoke. The two Bowmores, which should have been similar to McClellands, were quite different. Everyone agreed that the Bowmore 17 was better than the Bowmore 21 which seemed odd until one of our savvy members, Bob James, explained that Bowmore had actually changed (improved) their distillation process for the Bowmore 17.

We complemented the whiskies with shredded pheasant, marinated elk, smoked salmon, and goat cheese with sun-dried tomatoes. Everyone's favorite pairing, however, was the last treat: dark chocolate squares, which made all of the single-malts even more spectacular.

Don commented this morning that it's kind of refreshing to get together with people these days and talk about something besides politics.

Our next booze education night--er, Sanders County Sippers-- is November 19, when we'll feature brandies and cognacs.

Another milestone rolls down the road....

We sold our 5th wheel today and it went away.

For a few moments I felt strangely homeless, even as our beautiful house loomed 50 yards in front of me.

The 5th wheel was our first "home" here in Montana. All the memories of it are good. We got it from Mike Olson Dodge; they'd taken it in on a trade. Carl Farnsworth knew we were looking for one, so he called us. We hauled it up here in April 2004, and here it sat until today. From our first dinner in it on April 2, 2004, to the last night we spent in it on Feb 28, 2009, the "tin tepee" was our vacation paradise and our shelter in the storm.

It got only occasional three-season weekend use for the first few years. It was our retreat...a place to escape the bugs, heat, rain...a place to drink morning coffee and nightly cocktails...a place to eat one-pot meals cooked in the microwave, crockpot or electric frying pan...and a place to stretch out and sleep after a day of woodcutting or hiking.

It was also a place from which we measured success on our building project. At first, we had neither water nor electricity. Then came the well, and we were able to hook up and enjoy real showers and unlimited drinking water! Next came the power...wow, now I could plug in the mini-vac and hair dryer...and use the electric cooking appliances instead of the propane stove! Suddenly it became a space with year-round living potential...

In November 2007, we'd sold our house in Yakima, Don had closed Shooters Supply, and 80% of our earthly possessions were already in Montana. There was just one problem; our house wasn't done. "Three more weeks," we were told. The idea of living in the cramped 5th wheel for that long seemed daunting, particularly with three large, hairy dogs. But it never looked any better to us than it did that cold, snowy night of December 1 when we pulled onto the property, utterly exhausted and "for good." The "three more weeks" of course turned into THREE MONTHS. They turned out to be among the best of our long marriage.

We sold our 5th wheel to a young local couple. They're building a house, and need the trailer as temporary housing until the construction is completed. And so it's gone full circle.

At long last, it's HEALED!!

Photos:
1. The day of injury.
2. 15 days later.
3.  30 days later.
4. 5 months later.
5. The wound today.

May 1, 2008: Brimir, my little Icelandic, did the stupidest thing of his life. In a moment of irrational agitation, he vaulted over the 52-inch corral fence and got his back legs stuck on the top rail, which was thick steel rebar.

The horseshoer had just arrived and begun working close by on my Tennesee Walker. Meanwhile, our old mare Babe was screaming to Brimir to get out of there because they were all going to be killed or something. Brimir believed her. Although he was loosely tied, he bunched up and JUMPED over the corral railing in front of my horrified eyes.

Not only was this TOTALLY out of character for this calm, sensible little horse, but I hadn't a clue it was PHYSICALLY possible for him either. He's only 13.2 hands and has never, as far as I know, so much as jumped a log, let alone a high fence, and flat-footed at that.

The horrifying part was seeing him hanging on the fence, violently kicking to free his back legs while his front half was down in the dirt on his knees. He freed his right leg, but the left one was stuck. I was certain he would break both legs and have to be shot then and there.

Our horseshoer, Cary Andrews, ran to Brimir and tried to free his leg but couldn't. He tried to slide the steel rebar out of its socket on the fence post, but couldn't. He returned to Brimir's leg, lifted it and twisted it to get it off the rail. Brimir cooperated by relaxing just enough. The leg fell toward the ground, and Brimir hobbled a few steps. Nothing appeared broken, thank God. But I wasn't ready for the wound that would nag us for 15 months!

There was nothing that could be sutured. The vet suggested keeping it clean and dressing it appropriately, which I did every day for the next four months. Fortunately, Brimir was not lame once he recovered from his initial stiffness after the ordeal. But the wound changed in character every few weeks--getting worse, getting better, then seeping endlessly. We tried a multitude of treatments, including some homeopathic remedies suggested by our open-minded vet. Nothing seemed to clear it up. After a year I was resigned to Brimir always having this nasty, seeping wound on his leg. At least he wasn't lame.

In July of this year, something changed. The seeping stopped, the swelling went down, and the leg returned to a normal size and appearance. By early August, the scar started shrinking, and hair is now growing into the area. For all practical purposes, Brimir's leg can be declared "healed." Hallelujah!

They say time heals all wounds. The problem is finding the patience to wait.

Full Moon at Sex Peak

"Full Moon at Sex Peak." Sounds like a real bodice-ripper, doesn't it? The truth is, we needed our fleece jackets and warm sleeping bags to enjoy this campout, which turned into one of the highlights of the summer.

Sex Peak is an old (1920s) lookout tower in the Kootenai National Forest. And yes, Sex Peak is its real name....always has been. The lookout is no longer staffed, so the Forest Service rents it out for $35 a night during the summer. No water, no power, no nothing, except a starkly furnished cabin, 14x14, with paned windows and a catwalk all around. It's popular; I made my reservations back in February, and August was already booking up. I couldn't get Aug. 6, which would have been a full moon, but I got Aug. 5 which was pretty close to the big enchilada.

We left home around 4:30 yesterday and made the 22-mile drive to the lookout. Along the way we stopped to pick about two quarts of huckleberries. Once we reached our "vacation home" driveway, we swung the "Occupied" gate closed behind us and drove the remaining quarter-mile to our castle in the sky.

While Lizzie chased picas around in the rocks, Don and I set up our lawn chairs on the wrap-around catwalk and soaked in the 360-degree vista. The temperature had been in the 90s on the drive up, but was a comfortable 75 at the summit. As the sun dipped lower the temperature relaxed into the high 60s with a light breeze. We toasted sunset and all that's good with McClellan's single malt scotch. Don had debated which adult beverage to bring up there. We were both in agreement the McClellan's was as perfect as anything could be for that moment. Earthy, clean, simple, smokey, and rich beyond description, needing nothing to adorn it. It was in perfect harmony with the whole experience up there in the trees, rocks and sky.

The full moon poked out of a thick haze, surprising us that it had already risen above the mountains in the distance. Don shot some pictures of it through his spotting scope. We watched a few lights pop out from ranches far below us, and marveled at what a unique experience this was, up here on top of the world, with no humans within 20 miles. No ambient noise or lights. Just utter peace. It was hard to remember there was strife anywhere below us, and even harder to believe we'd been able to leave it all behind so easily and quickly.

We ate a cold dinner of great leftovers I'd brought from home, then retired for the evening. Now you want to hear the bodice-ripping part...but alas, you'll just have to use your imagination. When Don finally went to sleep, I pulled out my headlamp and read 30 pages of "Atlas Shrugged." I felt like a kid at summer camp!

Around 2 a.m. we woke to lightning in the east, followed by lightning in the north and south. Within minutes a cell of wind, thunder and rain had blown upon us, so we got to enjoy the elements for half an hour or so until the cell blew threw and all was calm again. The full moon had disappeared behind clouds, but it was worth it to experience the electrical storm in our stormproof glass tower.

This morning we explored the scree that covers the area surrounding the lookout. It's a sandstone/quartz/travertine/granite mix that is naturally broken into a variety of building blocks. The cleavage is remarkable; the pieces look almost like machine-made bricks. It was sort of like an adult version of Leggo toys; there's no end to what you could "build" by piling and piecing these intriguing rocks together.

Around 9 a.m. we reluctantly readied for check-out. After packing up and sweeping out the cabin for the next tenant, we headed back down the mountain to the World.

If you want information on the Sex Peak Lookout, go here: http://www.fs.fed.us/r1/kootenai/recreation/activitiesx/lookouts/sites/sex_peak.shtml

Sex Peak is just one of many lookouts available for nightly rentals during the summer. Next year we plan to check into another one in this area. Meanwhile, we feel a special sense of "ownership" of this one special place where we spent a magical night of solitude above the human strife below.

For more photos of our trip, try this: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2015672&id=1215276210#/album.php?aid=2015672&id=1215276210&ref=nf