Author Archives: kzmclain

There’s a First Time For Everything

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You might remember that I said this was going to be the summer during which my motto was When was the last time you did something for the first time? (Thanks Darius Rucker.) The fact of the matter is that I’m having a bit of triuble keeping up with everything that’s going on, and that reality looks to remain the same for the next while.

Bec left yesterday morning. Bill and I stood on the stoop waving and singing On the Road Again until such time as we realized that she was setting up her GPS and making sure that her tunes would play and she wasn’t going to be on the road again for a bit of time. We finally got tired and went inside. An hour later her car was gone, so I guess she was finally on the road again.

During her stay, she drove back and forth from Denver to Fort Collins so many times that TSA likely had her on their radar. We made trips to Estes Park and Nebraska while she was here, leaving Bill to fend for himself. I called him one night while in Nebraska and he told me he was at the cigar shop. I called the next night and he said he was at the cigar shop. Did you go home? I asked him. Something tells me he doesn’t miss me a lot when I’m gone. We saw lots of these…..

We celebrated Dagny’s birthday and watched in absolute amazement as Dagny flew the drone we gave for her birthday like an aviation master. TSA should be watching Dagny instead of Bec…..

In preparation for the end of summer, Bec cooked us up an old-fashioned shrimp boil. Alastair was eager to help….

We watched the kids go back to school. In fact, yesterday I took Cole to school and met his teacher. But not before we had lunch at McDonalds…..

This afternoon, Bill and I will meet with the nurse with whom we will be working on his clinical research trial over the next few months — actually, for the next couple of years. For two hours today and two hours tomorrow, we will be learning how to fill his syringes with the medication and will get a lesson on inserting the line from him to the pump. She will be our BFF, because we will meet with her twice a week for the length of the trial. Next week we meet with the doctor again, and the person in charge of the research trial in his office will spend several hours going over the enormous bag of accoutrement With which we will become very familiar over the next couple of years. Pray for us. I am willing to admit that I’m nervous. Bill is his usual calm and positive self.

Oh, and in case we are bored, on Wednesday a crew will come into our house and begin installing new windows. I’m sure the nurse will be happy about training us with pounding going on in the background.

I guess you could say I am living up to my vow to do something for the first time. Several somethings, in fact.

Mountain Moments

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It’s become a tradition of sorts. Bec comes to Colorado each year for a few weeks in the summer to escape the exhausting heat of AZ. And each year, Bec and Jen and I spend a long weekend in Estes Park as part of the itinerary. It’s a tribute to our childhood during which our family vacationed in this village just outside of Rocky Mountain National Park almost every summer of our formative years. But more than that, it’s a chance to escape the busyness of our lives and sit in a comfortable chair by a rushing creek with a glass of wine and talk. And laugh. And cry. And make confessions. And laugh at our confessions.

Oh, and swat bees and douse ourselves with spray to fend off mosquitoes and watch various kinds of wildlife make their way through the motel grounds. This year it was wild turkeys….

We have several Must-Dos when we are in Estes. One, of course, is to visit the taffy shop……

Don’t worry. I actually left some for others to buy.

One night each year we eat dinner at a long-time Estes Park restaurant called the Dunraven Inn. The restaurant features Italian food, and sort of specializes — randomly, perhaps — in seafood.

This year, Jen invited a friend of hers to enjoy dinner with us. Bec and I stewed a bit about whether or not Jen’s friend Karma would be put off by our sense of humor and — quite frankly — our love of good food and wine and great martinis. As it happens, we needn’t have worried, as Karma could have been one of the sisters for all anyone knew. Well, except that she is very tall and has the figure of a fashion model. But other than that…..

Here am I, enjoying my food and delicious martini and NOT looking like a fashion model…..

Our server, though quite congenial, wasn’t stellar. He made up for his incompetence (and quiet speaking voice) with a good attitude. We thought he said his name was Bill, and called him by that name for a good while. Finally, towards the end of the meal, he admitted his name was NOT Bill. “But my brother’s name is Bill,” he added happily. And then proceeded to take several pictures of us, including this one….

As I said, he made up for his shortcomings with good cheer.

Another tradition we have adopted is our annual visit to Cinnamon’s — a bakery featuring the most delicious cinnamon rolls one can imagine. And there is no need to point out that all of our traditions seem to include food. Anyhoo, the proprietor of Cinnamon’s is a retired baker from somewhere in the midwest (Kansas? Missouri?) who lives with his family in Estes. The bakery offers a very limited number of choices — pecan rolls, gluten-free blueberry muffins, one type of fruit roll, and, of course, cinnamon rolls. There is really no need to look further than the cinnamon roll, and most people don’t. The hours during the summer, according to their signage, are “7:30 – 10 or when sold out.” The day we went, I got into line at 7:15…..

…..and brought cinnamon rolls back to the room. When we drove past the restaurant at 8:30, the SOLD OUT sign was already out.

I’m happy to tell you that we do have one tradition that does not involve food. We try our best to walk around Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. It isn’t always possible, as Bear Lake is the tipping-off point for many popular hikes so parking is often unavailable. This year, Bec and I found a spot Sunday afternoon around 4, and had just enough time to take a lap around the lake that was one of our mother’s favorites…..

Our time in Estes Park is always one of my most special memories of each year.

Saturday Smile: It Was Worth the Drive

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Bec and I got in the car Thursday morning and proceeded to drive seven hours or so to the town in eastern Nebraska in which we were born, spent our formative years, and learned right from wrong. We spent much of yesterday driving around Columbus and the surrounding outskirts reminiscing about our childhood and noting how where we grew up and with whom we grew up formed who we are.

We ate two nights in a row at Husker House, where we celebrated numerous birthdays and other notable events. Both meals were outstanding. Friday night was special because we dined with some of our cousins from our mom’s side. Good folks all…..

Though it was a quick trip, it was worth the drive, and it made me smile.

Have a good weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Word is Murder

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Author Anthony Horowitz has created and written some of my favorite mystery television programs — Foyle’s War being my most favorite of all. As a writer of fiction, he is known primarily for his young adult books, with Alex Rider being perhaps the most well-known. But I fell in love with him originally for a book I reviewed a while back called Magpie Murders, a cleverly-written mystery story within a mystery story. Intrigued by that book, I quickly read a couple of Sherlock Holmes stories that he had written. Many have attempted to duplicate Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but most haven’t succeeded. Horowitz did.

I was very excited, therefore, to see that he had a new novel being released. The premise of The Word is Murder was again so, so clever. And the result, I’m happy to say, met my expectations.

In The Word is Murder, Horowitz literally writes himself into the book as one of the characters. A disgraced police detective, let go from the London police force, is hired as a consultant for the case of a mysterious murder of the mother of a famous actor. In Sherlock Holmes/Dr. Watson style, the detective — known only as Hawthorne — hires Horowitz to work with him on a case, and chronicle it by writing a diary.

The actor’s mother visits a funeral home one day, making arrangements for her own funeral. This isn’t particularly unusual. However, what IS unusual is that she is murdered that very afternoon. Hawthorne and Horowitz work together to solve the mystery.

The character of Hawthorne is modeled directly after Sherlock Holmes. He is brilliant and cocky and brash. Horowitz writes himself as a likable Watson.

The ending was a surprise, and quite gratifying.

I will warn you that, while I absolutely LOVED this book — finding it so incredibly clever — I can see where a reader might be turned off by the way Horowitz portrays himself. There is lots of name-dropping, lunches with Stephen Spielberg, and so forth. It didn’t deter me. I recommend this book with great gusto!

Here is a link to the book.

Thursday Thoughts

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Let the Good Times Roll
After the previous days’ posts, I felt you should be told of the outcome of all of our baking. We were lucky that there were some rolls left by dinnertime Tuesday because everytime I looked, one or the other of the kids was snitching a roll…..

As For Pie….
Dagny couldn’t make up her mind, so she chose a piece of peach pie and a piece of cherry pie…..

As for Alastair, he likes a little pie with his whipped cream. Well, maybe a lot of pie….

School Daze
Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole are the first of our grandkids to go back to school. Their school district starts a bit earlier and lets out a bit earlier than the Denver Public Schools. The kids looked darling in their back-to-school attire. I hope those teachers are ready for Mr. Cole…..

Ragin’ Cajun
I have been hankering for a seafood boil. Tuesday night, when I mentioned it to Alastair, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. I’m in, he stated emphatically. So last night we filled our big turkey fryer with boiling water, and Bec prepared a shrimp boil for a gang of nine. It was delicious!…..

Cornhuskers
As you read this blog, Bec and I will likely be flying down I-80, heading towards our old hometown of Columbus, Nebraska. It will be a quick trip, with just enough time to have dinner with a few of our cousins.

Ciao.

Comin’ Home — The Next Day

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I mentioned in yesterday’s blog post that I was somewhat nervous about the prospect of making Aunt Lauren’s crescent rolls, bread-baking being something with which I struggle a bit. I was so nervous, in fact, that I stewed about it for some of the night. At one point, I had an epiphany. Jll had said that she was serving pulled pork for dinner. Why, these crescent rolls weren’t appropriate for pulled pork AT ALL.

Yesterday morning, I called Jll and said, “Why, these crescent rolls aren’t appropriate for pulled pork AT ALL!”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” she said. “I bought hamburger buns for the pulled pork. These rolls are simply because Dagny loves them so much and is so excited about baking them with you.”

She went on to tell me that if I wasn’t inclined to make the rolls, it was not a problem at all. Still, I just imagined Dagny’s big brown eyes looking at me, and her saying, “Why, Nana? Why?”…..

I am fully aware that the biggest problem I have making bread is a lack of patience. In the winter — when I am most likely to be making bread — my house is pretty chilly. As such, bread takes a very long time to rise. And if my recipe says let it rise until it’s doubled in bulk (about one hour), there I am in one hour frantically concerned that it hasn’t doubled in bulk. I am even liable to push ahead, ending up inevitably with a door stop, calling it a fail. In fact, if I could just talk myself into waiting until it is actually doubled in bulk, I would be fine.

A chilly house was not a problem yesterday as Dagny and I began our roll-making process. She proclaimed that she had watched her Aunt Lauren make these rolls many times, and she knew exactly what to do. And she was quite right.

My brother-the-baker tells me that when yeast won’t ferment, it is much more likely to be from water that’s too hot for the yeast than too cold. I always use a thermometer to make sure my water is in the neighborhood of 110 degrees, something that my brother would find amusing.

We mixed the yeast and the water and the eggs and the flour, and Dagny took over. “It’s just like mixing slime!” she proclaimed with delight…..

A bit different, I told her. I showed her how I learned to knead the  bread.

Once the bread was fully mixed, we put it in a bowl, and headed off to our next adventure: buying school clothes at Old Navy.

And can I tell you that I don’t know when I’ve had more fun. Despite having all of these granddaughters, I have never — not once — shopped for clothes with any of them. Dagny is 12, and has her own very defined taste in clothes. Comfort is her primary requirement. My kind of girl.

When we returned, some hour-and-a-half later, the bread was doubled in bulk and ready to be rolled. This was the point at which Dagny took control. She divieded the dough in half and rolled one half into a circle. Modeling her Aunt Lauren, she then cut the dough into triangles, and rolled the triangles into perfect crescent shapes…..

She then did the same with the other half. Once they were baked and cool enough to pick up without burning her fingers, she popped one in her mouth. “They taste just like Aunt Lauren’s!”…..

Yay. And phew.

Comin’ Home

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As the McLains made their way back to Colorado at the end of their summer sabbatical, they drove right through Palisade, Colorado, the Western Slope community that is famous for their delicious peaches. I’m serious. There are no better peaches anywhere. Anyhoo, they bought a box of peaches as would any traveler with knowledge about the western slope fruit. The peaches are at their ripest.

On Friday, as I was packing clothes, toothbrushes, pajamas, underwear, picnic supplies, and wine in preparation for my sisters’ weekend in Estes Park, I received this text from Dagny (Let me warn you that despite the fact that she is as smart as a whip, her spelling, well, suffers. I am not changing a single thing.)…..Hey nana we stopped today to get some peaches could you help me bake a pie. (Punctuation is also not a strong suit; her love of cooking and her fondness for her Nana, however, are.)

I explained that I was leaving town, but if she could wait until Monday, we could definitely make a pie. Her response: I can wait. but i would love to make a cherry pie as well so we can eat them for desert for my birthday party.

It’s true, my friends. She was baking her own birthday treats. And thoroughly delighted to be doing so. But she went on: I can’t wait to be with you. Hey can we also make aunt Laurens roles. Mom has her resipie.

Now, this particular text post told me that she has a lot of her Papa Bill’s lobbying talent. Suck them in with compliments, and then deliver the final blow. It worked. Today, perhaps as you are reading this blog post, I will be kneading bread with Dagny at my side to make my daughter-in-law’s grandmother’s famous crescent rolls. And I feel compelled to tell you that while I believe myself to be a passable pie maker, bread is certainly not my strong suit. Still, a promise is a promise. Here are we two pie bakers as I taught her the art of making pies — one cherry, one peach, and one gluten-free peach for her Uncle Allen……

 

It was absolutely wonderful to catch up with this young woman. I heard about the fun they had (Alaska was her favorite spot), and about how nice it was to sleep in her own bed without Maggie Faith’s feet in her face in the middle of the night. We talked about her playlist on her phone, and about facing seventh grade in a few days.

She even took a bit of time (well quite a bit of time, actually) to eat dill pickles and fly a drone with Papa Bill…..

It only required one trip to the neighbor’s house to retrieve a drone that she flew over the fence. Bill is so happy to have a drone-flying partner.

As for me, I’m so happy to have those grandkids back in my neighborhood. I want to get lots of quality time before school starts. It’s almost certain I’m going to get lots of pie.

Unlikely Shopping, Redux

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As you read this blog post, I am in Estes Park, Colorado, with my sisters, where we are enjoying the beautiful mountains and talking about whatever family members don’t happen to be here to defend themselves. No time, therefore, to write a blog. However, I thought you might get a kick out of rereading the blog post I wrote about a year ago — September 12, 2017, to be exact — regarding a problem I ran into while visiting Estes Park with the same sisters. Rest assured, I double-checked my bag for underwear this year.

I always tell people I grew up in a small town in Nebraska. The truth is (and I actually checked the figures on the internet, so you know it’s right) that when I was born in 1953, there were probably close to 10,000 people living in the Midwestern town of Columbus. When I left for college in 1972, there were over 15,000 happy Columbus residents. Well, I don’t know if all 15,000 were happy. I’m overthinking….

Size is relative, my friends. I continue to maintain I lived in a small town. Still, that town had a J.C. Penney store, a Montgomery Wards, a couple of dime stores, a great drug store, and, of course, a fabulous bakery. My point is that if I needed to buy underwear, I knew exactly where to go.

Last weekend, I spent a few days in Estes Park, Colorado, with my two sisters. Estes Park, for those who might not know, is a small resort town of just over 6,000 located near Rocky Mountain National Park. There are lots of restaurants, two – count ‘em – two taffy stores, and shops selling all manner of chatzkies.  We have wonderful memories of Estes, and its proximity to the beautiful national park makes it one of our favorite places to visit.

Bec arrived first, driving in from Fort Collins, and I met her there. I had packed my bag quite hastily, and had included a picnic bag full of items for a cook-out that evening. At some point later in the afternoon, it occurred to me that, while I had remembered the steaks,  I had forgotten to pack pajamas.

No worries, Bec said. I have a spare pair.

Great news, except by that time I realized I had also forgotten to pack a toothbrush and, worse, underwear. (I did, however, have three corkscrews.)

Bec and I put our heads together to try to come up with a place that sold underwear. Had I been looking for a t-shirt that said My Mom and Dad Went to Estes Park and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt, or a coffee cup with a cross-eyed bear saying I Can BEARly Think Before Coffee or a lifetime supply of petrified wood, I would have been set. But we simply couldn’t imagine where one would find ladies’ underwear in this tourist spot. No Walmart. No Target. Amazon can’t make one-hour deliveries.

So I set off to the motel office, hoping against hope that the proprietor – Fred – wouldn’t be attending the desk, and that instead a woman would be sitting there. No such luck. There was Fred, looking cheerful.

Can I help you? he asked happily.

In a voice that was truly sotto voce, I said Hello Fred. This is really embarrassing, but can you tell me where I can buy women’s underwear in this town?

Fred gives it a moment’s thought, turns towards the back room, and hollars – HOLLARS – Hey Joe! Where can this lady buy women’s underwear?

Help me Lord.

Joe comes out, and you can see he’s giving it a lot of thought. After a moment or two, Joe says, Try True Value Hardware. It’s in the Safeway Shopping Center.

True Value Hardware. Men are from Mars.  If only I had three pairs of underwear and no corkscrews. But I knew that there was a pharmacy in that same shopping center, and I had high hopes that perhaps they sold women’s underwear.

I walk into the pharmacy, and there is, of course, only a man working there. I take a deep breath and ask him if they by any chance sell ladies’ underwear.

No Ma’am, we sure don’t, he said. Try True Value. It’s just across the parking lot.

Again with the hardware store. I was successful, however, at finding a toothbrush at the pharmacy.

As I left the store, I saw the True Value Hardware Store. What do I have to lose, I thought.

I walk into the hardware store, and there is, of course, a man at the front counter. Big man. Three-day growth of beard. Chewing on a toothpick. Do you by any chance sell women’s underwear? I ask him.

You’ve probably guessed his answer by now.

Yes, Ma’am. They’re on Aisle 16, just across from the ammo.

Well, I made up the part about the ammo, but I’m not making up the part about True Value Hardware selling ladies’ underwear.  I also found a Size 2XL t-shirt that with a picture of an elk and ESTES PARK, COLORADO in big letters. AKA, a nightgown….

Ace might be the place with the helpful hardware man, but True Value has the best selection of women’s cotton briefs in Estes Park. Well, the only selection, it seems.

Saturday Smile: Kicking it Off!

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At Bill’s last semiannual movement specialist appointment for his Parkinson’s, we were invited to apply to participate in a clinical research trial for a distribution system for what is probably the most important medicine to combat Parkinson’s symptoms. Bill already takes Carbidopa-Levadopa three times a day. However, in the past few months, he has been bothered more by his symptoms during the period of time between when Pill No. 1 wears off and he can take Pill No. 2, etc. This clinical trial involves the same medication, but he would wear a pump that would give him a continuous flow of the same meds, thereby eliminating the down periods.

We were delighted to learn this week that he has been approved for participation. We have already had a couple of visits with the medical and research people involved in this study. It will be life-changing, both in the learning curve and potentially in his quality of life.

Please pray for us, as it is somewhat of a choppy road ahead as we learn the ins and outs. For example, he will be seen by a nurse twice a week for the next two years. I can’t get the image of a woman in a nurse’s cap looking through our bedroom window out of my mind.

We (and when I say “we” I really mean “he and his doctor”) will be facing such obstacles as figuring out the dosage, determining how to wean him from his current oral medication as this pump starts taking over, potentially increased symptoms as they work out the kinks, finding a comfortable way of wearing the pump that doesn’t involve wearing a women’s bra, and other things that we haven’t even thought of.

Having said all of this, we are both positively thrilled with the distinct possibility that this continuous flow will improve his day-to-day activities. If attitude has anything to do with this, he will be the participant to whom all other participants will be compared…..

This possibility makes me smile, if somewhat nervously.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: A Dangerous Crossing

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A murder mystery on a cruise ship just as the world is about to embark on another war appealed to me. After all, if Hercule Poirot could solve a murder mystery on the Orient Express, why couldn’t the same thing happen on a cruise ship?

It’s 1939, and Lily Shepherd is eager to leave her home and her difficult life in England for Australia, where she is promised a job as a domestic worker as part of a relocation program.

She boards a cruise ship where, despite the fact that she is a second-class passenger, there is still promise of romance and music and cocktails. It isn’t long before Lily and her two roommates meet a wealthy and mysterious couple with a rather twisted relationship. They don’t even seem to like one another, but they certainly know how to have fun. Lily becomes friends with some of the livelier passengers, and becomes smitten with one man that she hopes has similar feelings.

In a clever twist, the author — Rachel Rhys — opens up A Dangerous Crossing with a prologue in which the boat is already docked in Australia and a woman being led off of the boat in handcuffs, having been accused of a murder. The remainder of the book challenges readers to figure out who is murdered and who is the murderer.

Rachel Rhys is a pen name for a British author who has written a number of suspense novels, but this is her first attempt at an historical novel. I found the book quite readable, though the characters were a bit flat. The ending rather took me by surprise, though I had partially figured out what was going on.

If you don’t mind a bit of slogging along, and if you can suspend belief long enough to buy the notion that a second class cruise passenger could intermingle with first class passengers in 1939, you might enjoy the story. It is a relatively light read with lots of glamorous clothes and lifestyle descriptions.

Here is a link to the book.