Author Archives: kzmclain

Saturday Smile: Coots

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Bill and I finally got our hike along Saguaro Lake on Thursday after plans were thwarted earlier in the week, and Bec joined us. As you might know from reading last week’s blog post on her trip to see the sandhill cranes, she has gotten interested in bird watching, and knows a fair amount already.

As we walked along the hiking path, we stopped to look at some ducks that were swimming in the lake below. While we were stopped, a group of hikers — all older people somewhere seemingly in their early 70s — went by us. We exchanged cheerful greetings. They were just a few steps past us when Bec said, “Those are American Coots.”

Thinking about my dad, who always referred to senior citizens as coots, I said, “Bec, shhhhh. They’ve hardly passed us!”

She, of course, was referring to the ducks, which were, I learned, American Coots.

I was just kidding her, of course, but we had a good laugh about it.

American coots……

american coots image

Old coots…..

Old Coots

Have a great weekend.

 

Friday Book Whimsy: A Rule Against Murder

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imgresI don’t make a habit of reviewing books that are part of a series. In particular, I wouldn’t normally review a book that is number 4 in the series.

Still, I can’t stop myself from writing a review highly recommending A Rule Against Murder, the fourth in a series by Louise Penny, if for no other reason than to strongly urge mystery lovers who haven’t yet discovered Inspector Gamache to do so AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

And I would suggest you not start with number 4, but, just like Maria in The Sound of Music, start at the very beginning; it’s a very good place to start. Pick up Still Life, and begin your journey into the French-speaking part of Canada around Quebec in the little town of Three Pines.

Penny’s mysteries are gentle, but definitely not cozy mysteries. The townfolk – at least the ones we hear about in every book – are not typical small-town characters. They are complex, sometimes unlikeable, but always interesting. The protagonist, Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Sûreté du Québec, might be my favorite detective of all the mysteries I read – and I read a lot. He is smart and logical, kind and gentle, a combination of Sherlock Holmes and Miss Marple. People who meet him can be lulled into thinking he’s simple, but he most definitely is not.

The first three books in the series had a mystery-within-the-mystery that encouraged you to read the next story to see how and if it’s wrapped up. That mystery is brought to a surprising and satisfying finish at the end of the third book in the series, The Cruelest Month.

While that storyline was tantalizing, the absence of it made A Rule Against Murder a refreshing change. That, and the fact that the first quarter of the book is simply a love story about Inspector Gamache and his marvelous wife Reine-Marie. Their relationship is one of the things I like best about this series, and it permeates this entire book.

Gamache and his wife are taking their annual vacation at the country inn where they had spent their honeymoon many years earlier. Penny’s descriptions about the couple’s sweet and loving relationship make this a love story as well as a mystery.

The Gamaches must share the inn with an extremely unpleasant and odd family, and predictably, murder ensues.

Gamaches team arrive at the inn and begin the process of trying to figure out the identity of the murderer.

Readers are rewarded with Penny’s beautiful descriptions of the location and the marvelous food and service. I don’t think I’ve ever read a book that made me so wish I could be there. Well, except for the murder part.

The best thing about this book, and all of the Gamache mysteries, is Gamache himself. Treat yourself to a wonderful read.

Buy A Rule Against Murder from Amazon here.

Buy A Rule Against Murder from Barnes and Noble here.

Buy A Rule Against Murder from Tattered Cover here.

Buy A Rule Against Murder from Changing Hands here.

 

 

Reluctant Traveler: Cranes, Wine, and Archaeology

Posted in Reluctant Traveler, Whimsies by

By Beckie Borman

bec-closeup-twoI’ve been living in Arizona full time for a little over two years, and it’s time I start getting to know my state a little better.  I’ve been to the Grand Canyon, and I visited Sedona years ago.  I’ve blown through Flagstaff, Winslow, and Payson on my way to or from Chandler.  But, this is a big and beautiful state, and I want to get to know it better.

So, I spent last weekend in Willcox, Arizona.  I had never heard of Willcox and had no idea even whether it was south or north of Phoenix.  When I mapped it, I discovered that it is a bit east of Tucson, and quite close to the Mexican border.  I also learned that one of things that takes folks to Willcox is the thousands of sandhill cranes that migrate there every winter.  Hence, the trip.

When I first got to Phoenix several years ago, I became a member of the Desert Botanical Garden because of an offer on Groupon.  It was a wise and fortuitous decision, because the DBG is beautiful and offers lots to see and do.  Last winter, it hosted an exhibit of some of the Chihuly glass…stunning!  But, I digress.

Recently, the Garden advertised a trip to Willcox, primarily to see the cranes and to take part in other birding experiences.  Cranes, Wine, and Archaeology sounded interesting to me, especially since I had wanted to see the cranes for a long time.  So, I signed up for the trip and wondered how I would like it.

It was a fabulous weekend!  The high point for all of us, and the focal point of the trip, was seeing the cranes, of course.  We saw a few (maybe a hundred) on a brief birding trip not far from our hotel one afternoon.  We saw other birds, as well, and that little adventure whetted our appetites for the next day’s activities.

There’s no reason people can’t see the cranes on their own.  Any local hotel will tell travelers to go to Whitewater Draw to view them.  What they probably wouldn’t know to tell visitors is that the cranes sleep at the Draw, but they leave there very early in the morning and go elsewhere to feed.  So, if you’re there around 7:30 a.m, you might see them all take flight, which would be amazing.  But, it would also mean leaving your hotel around 6 a.m. to make sure you’re there on time.  Once the cranes finish feeding on leftover grain in nearby fields, they return to Whitewater Draw, around 10:45-11 a.m.  This is when we went to view them.

And view them we did.  Neither words nor pictures can describe what it’s like to see swarm after swarm of these large (and noisy) birds landing in marshes or fields a hundred yards away.  We watched them for three hours.  Several times there was a “scare off,” meaning something startled them into taking off and then circling to land again.  It was spectacular; our leader estimated we saw more than 10,000 birds.  And I didn’t have to get up at 5 to see them.

crane photo

In addition to seeing the cranes, we also visited one of the local wineries, for which the area is well known.  We went to Coronado Vineyards where we ate tapas and sampled their wines.  They were tasty and reasonably priced…we all walked out with a few (or more than a few) bottles.  I particularly liked their Malbec and dry Riesling.

On Sunday morning we had one more adventure, a trip to the Amerind Museum and Art Gallery.  It’s a small but excellent museum dedicated to Native American archaeology, art, history, and culture.  Our docent was outstanding, and I, for one, am fired up to learn a great deal more about the cultures of the peoples who inhabited this area long before I came along.

I enjoyed the weekend very much, and I learned more than I could have imagined.  I got advice on how to choose a good camera for wildlife photography.  I discovered some good Arizona-produced wine.  I saw a natural wonder of the world.  And, I know that I will take many more trips to that area, because there’s a lot more there to discover.

Best Laid Plans

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The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry – translated from a poem by Robert Burns

Sometime about midmorning yesterday, Bill and I began hatching a plan. The day lay glorious before us. We usually don’t go to the gym on Tuesdays. The weather was perfect – blue skies and a temperature expected to reach about 72 or so. Not an obligation between us.

“Let’s take lunch up to Saguaro Lake, and then do an easy hike along the lake,” I suggested.

There you go. The best laid plans.

We stopped at one of the ubiquitous Subways near our house to pick up sandwiches and headed out. As we were leaving the parking lot, Bill commented on the poor man in the parking lot who couldn’t get his car started. “Sucks to be him,” he said.

“Should we offer a jump?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t help him,” Bill replied. “His engine is turning over, it just won’t start. Might be his fuel pump.”

We had, of course, forgotten all about the man within five minutes as we made our way to Tonto National Park.

saguaro lake from picnic area

Saguaro Lake as seen from our picnic spot.

We drove up to Saguaro Lake, parked our car, and walked up some stairs to a lovely picnic spot overlooking the lake. As we enjoyed our sandwiches and the view, I was thinking about my mom and dad and how much they would have loved that spot. In fact, I told Bill that if Mom and Dad were alive and lived where we do, they would almost certainly have driven the 12 or 15 miles to the lake at least once a week to eat a picnic lunch.

When Mom and Dad lived in Summit County, Colorado, when the weather was warm enough they would often pack a lunch or pick up sandwiches from Mad Munchies and go to Lake Dillon to enjoy the view and the beautiful weather. Mom was a great picnicker. In fact, as Bill and I walked to our picnic table yesterday, I commented on the fact that if I were my mother, I would have remembered to bring a tablecloth to set on the cement picnic table. She loved picnics and had them nailed – down to the summer sausage and cheese.

Anyway, after we ate, we used the simply LOVELY toilet (with its lock that was apparently just for decoration and the nonexistent washing facility), and then headed back to our car to drive to the Butcher Jones trailhead, a short ways further down the road.

Bill pressed the ignition, and as you have likely figured out by now, nothing happened. The engine didn’t even turn over. See? We weren’t even as lucky as the man in the Subway parking lot. So here we were, miles from home, with a car that wouldn’t start.

I quickly begged Mom and St. Frances of Rome (the patron saint of cars, whose guardian angel allegedly lit her path with a lantern when she would travel) to pray that our car would start. Lo, and behold, start it did, though barely.

Obviously our hike was a no-go. We made it home safely, and instead of

Bill overseeing the installation of his battery. No doubt the installers appreciated his help.....

Bill overseeing the installation of his battery. No doubt the installers appreciated his help…..

spending a lovely afternoon walking alongside Saguaro Lake, we plodded around Walmart dodging electric scooters while getting a new battery installed.

Maybe Thursday will be the day we actually hike, although I’m making no plans because as the old Yiddish proverb tells us, Man plans, God laughs.

A-Yup, We’ve Got Some Weather Comin’ In

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The people here in the Valley of the Sun do love them some weather. I think it’s probably because they really have so little of it. Variation, that is.

Threat of what desert-dwellers excitedly refer to as a “weather event” (which can mean anything from a drizzle of rain, just enough breeze to make the topmost fronds of your palm tree barely sway, or a haboob strong enough to blow away a small javalina) will bring the most sensible people down to the edge of their driveway to take a gander at just what is comin’ in. “A-yup,” these otherwise normal-speaking folks will say to their neighbors who are all also at the edge of their driveway, “we’ve got some weather comin’ in.”

It’s like watching the townfolk in the movie The Music Man waiting to see what the Wells Fargo wagon was bringing to them.

As for the weather people, er, meteorologists, they practically quiver with excitement when they can report something besides temperatures. They are simply breathless at the prospect of a so-called incoming weather event. I must say that it drives me crazy that the women weather….er, meteorologists here wear cocktail dresses to report the weather; I think they just want to do something to spice up the forecast.

My brother has always claimed that they just insert the occasional cloud in the 7-day forecast picture to get people’s hopes up. My theory is that’s why someone inserted the ridiculously high temperatures on the Fox News weather forecast that I linked to in last Saturday’s blog. Let’s shake it up a bit, folks!

All this is to say that in the days immediately preceding the Super Bowl, the Phoenix metro area experienced a rare few days of gray skies and actual rain.

Now, when I say rain, I don’t mean downpours. Even what they call the Monsoon Season is what our friends in say, Seattle would call heavy rain showers. You know, something they might want to shove Seahawks Coach Pete Carroll out into about now.

But during the days just before the Super Bowl, Phoenix hosted a big golf tournament featuring Tiger Woods (who played the worst round of golf since he was wearing diapers). What a disappointment that the weather all three days was cloudy, and on the second day of the tournament it was, quite literally, rainy. It’s rarely rainy in Phoenix. As I said above, it might drizzle. The skies might be cloudy. But it rarely rains. Dang the luck.

But it’s rubbing off on Bill and I, because Sunday morning, there we were in our back yard in our pajamas taking pictures of the area behind our house that was draped in fog. It was mysterious and lovely.

misty back yard mesa

The perfect weather event.

Religion Class

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Mom, Dad, and Court on the day he celebrated his First Communion.

Mom, Dad, and Court on the day he celebrated his First Communion.

When my son Court was little, once in a while his cousin (and decidedly BEST friend) BJ, who is almost exactly the same age as Court, would come for a sleepover and spend a day with him at his elementary school – St. Vincent de Paul Catholic School in Denver.

As BJ tells the story, he was allowed to sit next to Court during the school day, and whenever the teacher would ask a question, Court would whisper the answer to BJ but would never raise his hand to be called upon. He was too shy. Quite unlike the Court of today who is a Very Important Program Manager – whatever that is, but it likely calls for telling people the answer out loud.

Anyway, BJ always goes on to say that during religion class, if Court was called upon to answer a question – no matter what the question was — his answer was always something along the line of “to be good and always obey God’s will.” According to Court and BJ, it was the all-purpose answer to any religion-based question and therefore you didn’t really have to work too hard on your Religion homework.

As in: Q) Who is God? A) God is the Supreme Being who expects you to be good and always obey his will; Q) What are the Ten Commandments? A) They are the rules by which we are good and always obey God’s will. And so forth….

I’m not sure that it is true that this phrase can be used to answer any religion class question, nor am I sure that they aren’t pulling my leg, but I thought of that yesterday while I was listening to St. Mark’s gospel and our All Saints Catholic Church pastor’s ensuing homily. Because every week as I try to take a message from the Mass readings, it seems like the message I hear is always the same: listen to God and always do his will.

I try to take one message from the Mass each week to remember throughout the next seven days. Sometimes it’s from the readings. Sometimes it’s from the homily. Sometimes it’s from the words of the Mass itself. Yesterday my takeaway was something that Father said in response to the gospel story about Jesus chasing out the unclean spirit from the man at the synagogue in Capernaum.  “Even the unclean spirits listen and obey him,” the Jews said in surprise.

What our pastor said was , “If we listen to the Lord and do his will, he will fill our hearts with joy. Let that happen.”

In other words, be good and always obey God’s will! Court knew the answer all along.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Unexpected Waltz

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searchI’m on just about every email subscription list having anything to do with books as I am an avid reader and always on the lookout for something interesting to read next. It was through one of these emails – from publisher Simon & Schuster I think – that The Unexpected Waltz, by Kim Wright came to my attention.

I was immediately drawn to the title and the cover – things I’m embarrassed to admit often draw me to a book. I looked it up on Amazon only to find it only had 33 or 34 reviews. That seemed like a bad omen. Perhaps few had read the book, and perhaps there was a good reason for that. Still, that title and that cover….

I’m happy to say I loved the book. And the dancing wasn’t the least of what I loved about the book, I must admit.

Kelly Wilder’s much-older husband passed away a year ago, and she has spent the past year hiding from life, despite the fact that he left her a fortune. In fact, we learn as the story goes on, that she has spent most of her life doing what she is expected to do and playing it safe. By accident, she stumbles into a dance studio run by a Russian immigrant, and before she knows what is happening, she has signed up for classes.

The dance classes and the people she meets through the classes awaken her to what life has to offer and for all intents and purposes change her life for the better.

I loved the storyline and the characters, but I equally loved the descriptions of the ballroom dances. Being a staunch fan of Dancing With the Stars, it was fun to read the about the dances, the difficulty of the steps, design of the clothing, and the focus required to dance well.

Many moons ago, some people with whom I worked confided in me about their concern for a friend of theirs who had signed up with Arthur Murray to learn to dance. Since he was a single male, they had initially been very supportive. However, what seemed to them as his growing dependence on the classes made them increasingly nervous. I never learned exactly how it all played out, but I thought about it as I read this novel. I can see how learning to dance could equate to learning to take control of your life, and become sort of addicting. Wright presents the potential of becoming addicted to dancing very well.

The novel offers a variety of characters, all loveable and quirky. I liked that the book is about friendship and never really a love story, at least not a typical love story. And I enjoyed seeing Kelly reach her potential at this later stage in her life.

It is really a lovely novel that left me feeling good, and wishing I could learn to dance!

Buy The Unexpected Waltz from Amazon here.

Buy The Unexpected Waltz from Barnes and Noble here.

Buy The Unexpected Waltz from Tattered Cover here.

Buy The Unexpected Waltz from Changing Hands here.

 

Grocery Greed

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Produce department of small grocery store in Paxton, Nebraska.

Produce department of small grocery store in Paxton, Nebraska.

Once when I was a little girl, Mom sent me to the neighborhood IGA grocery store to pick up two items that she needed to make dinner – a head of lettuce and a can of corn. I was probably around 10 years old.

So I got on my blue bicycle with the fat wheels and the wire basket hanging from the handle bars and pedaled over to the IGA store. It only took about three minutes to get there. And it was a fun ride because I rode through East Park with its curvy streets and scarce traffic. I could ride like the wind.

I returned maybe 15 minutes later with the groceries and her change and handed her the bag containing the two things I had purchased – a head of cabbage and a can of hominy. And trust me when I say I had no idea what hominy was or how it would be used. Frankly, I still don’t.

Oy vey, she must have thought (or would have had she been Jewish instead of Catholic; maybe instead she said “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph”). I don’t remember if she sent me back again. I suspect she did.

It’s funny that I remember that incident so clearly. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but it came back to me the other day at the grocery store, because I noticed – and not for the first time – just how many choices of things there are these days.

chips 1For example, there used to be potato chips. Then there were barbecue chips. Pretty soon there was sour cream and onion (a flavor I can scarce resist to this day). Now there are innumerable flavors from jalapeno to honey Dijon. For the record, while most of my grandchildren will happily eat any kind of potato chip, Kaiya has made it clear that she will only eat the chips from the yellow bag and with no ripples. That would be plain Lays Potato Chips for you potato chip neophytes.  Who knew a 6-year-old could be a potato chip connoisseur?

The same is true of soft drinks. I am astounded by just how many chips 2choices I have these days. That’s true not just at the grocery store, but also at any restaurant that has those new fancy-dancy red pop machines that give you nearly infinite choices. Do I want 7-Up or Fanta Orange or ginger ale? If I choose 7-Up, do I want to add lemon, lime, cherry, black cherry, or raspberry? Do I want regular, diet, or the new “10” that I don’t quite understand? It seriously takes me 10 minutes to serve myself a glass of soda. And I’m not the only one. There are literally lines of folks facing the same dilemma as me. It used to be so easy.

Tropical scented handle. Dreamy.....

Tropical scented handle. Dreamy…..

What brought this to my attention specifically the other day was my search for a razor. I naively walked up to the area where the implements hung, and was struck by my choices. Once I settled upon Venus (from the plethora of available choices), I had to decide whether or not I wanted to pay extra to have shaving cream automatically squirted onto my legs from the blades, for a considerable extra cost. Once I decided I could soap up my legs myself, then I had to choose whether I wanted regular or tropical-scented. I liked the colors of the tropical scented razors, but was indelibly struck by the statement on the packaging that the razors had “tropical-scented handles.”

I don’t know what to make of this. It simply flummoxes me. Will I really be smelling the handle of my razor? But I imagine the company that makes Venus Razors has done market research indicating that having a tropical smelling handle will make consumers more likely to choose their brand than the brand with a handle that smells like, I don’t know, plastic.

It was easier in the days of small grocery stores with limited options. During our trip to Nebraska last summer, Bec and I stopped for lunch at a restaurant in the very, very small town of Paxton, Nebraska. Across from the restaurant was a grocery store – I presume the only one in town. I was very curious, so we walked into the store. From what we could tell, the grocery store sold everything a family needs, but offered limited choices. It would make shopping so much easier.

Still, it remains to be seen whether or not that tropical smell on the handles of my razors – likely not available at the Paxton grocery store – makes shaving that much more pleasant. I may start shaving twice a day!

If I was a betting woman, my bet would be no.

 

Cooking With What You Got: Refrigerator Quiche

Posted in Main Course, Meat Dishes, Recipes, Whimsies by

What you got…and what you don’t

By Beckie Borman

bec closeup twoMost nights my dinner consists of a bit of protein in the form of grilled meat or fish, and either veggies or a salad.  Besides the fact that it’s good for me (I think), it’s also a simple meal to prepare.  Occasionally, however, I don’t feel like eating the same old meal, so I begin to scrounge through my refrigerator to see “what I got” that I can use for dinner.  Many times, I land on the idea of a quiche.  Interestingly, at least to me, I don’t know that I ever made a quiche until a couple of years ago.  For some reason, I decided to make one for myself, and the rest is history!  One of the things I like about quiche is that there are as many variations as there are leftovers in my frig.

So, the other evening I was searching for a meal idea and noticed that I had one ready-made pie crust that needed to be used or discarded.  “Quiche!”  I thought.   I always have eggs and milk on hand.  That night, I had a carton of heavy cream with an upcoming expiration date.  I usually keep a small sliced ham for breakfasts and for flavoring soups or vegetables.  The recipe I use calls for Swiss cheese, which I didn’t have, but I had a little bit of shredded parmesan, as well as a small piece of a random cheese left over from…something.  I tasted it and determined that it would work well with the parm. I like mushrooms in quiche, but I didn’t have any.  However, I had a few spears of cooked asparagus from a previous dinner, so that would do as well.  Yes, I had all the makings of a yummy and easy dinner.

I pulled out all the ingredients, measured them up, and went to the back room to get a pie plate.  Hmmm…not where I expected it to be.  After a bit of searching I realized that both my pie plates were at my son Erik’s house, where we had recently celebrated a holiday feast.  Fortunately, it’s only a 15-minute round trip to his house, so I was able to buzz over and retrieve my plates.

Although quiche is a quick dish to throw together, it does have a long baking time.  But for me it’s always worth the wait.  I can enjoy a big slice for dinner and have plenty left over for future breakfasts and lunches.  Because another great thing about quiche is that you really can eat it any any time of the day.

My advice, however, is that before you assemble your ingredients, make sure you have something to bake them in!

quiche image

Here is Beckie’s Basic Quiche Recipe….

Quiche jpg