#217 A NEW STORY

#217 A NEW STORY

This post is about what has happened to us in the past month. There’s a little about travel, but not much about photos. First the travel. We had planned a 14-day trip to New Mexico for the end of September and beginning of October. Most of our time would be spent in non-handicapped rooms (hotel and timeshare). It was the best we could get. We decided we needed to take a short trip (two days) to the coast to see if we could make non-handicapped rooms work for me. We stayed at Newport in the Hallmark Resort. We discovered two things. First, with difficulty we could make the non-handicapped accommodations work. Second, we found out the rest of our long trip was badly planned. Among other things I noted that I had planned far more driving than we could reasonably do, that I had planned far too many activities, and that I didn’t leave enough rest time during the trip. When we got home from the beach we reluctantly cancelled our New Mexico trip. Back to the drawing boards.

One of the things I probably brought home with us from Newport was an uninvited guest, Covid-19. I’d had Covid before—a mild case helped by anti-viral meds. This case is different. We had planned to get a booster before NM, but didn’t plan for Newport. Also, my Parkinson’s is much more developed than before. The current Covid variant, Covid-19 KP 3.1.1, has the affect of worsening Parkinson’s Disease non-motor symptoms, such as sleep disturbances, cognitive function, mood and appetite disorders, and pain, especially pain. Besides not being able to take the anti-viral drug that is available in my area, I have the runny nose, low-grade fever, and hacking cough of Covid. I also have new sore muscles and joints (a Parkinson’s symptom I didn’t have before) called Rigidity. But Covid just keeps on giving.

A few days ago I was feeling particularly poorly and for the first time since testing positive I took my vitals. I discovered my heart rhythm, which had been under control since late 2018, was out of whack. I was again in atrial fibrillation (a form of heart failure) with a heart rate steady at more then twice my normal resting rate. After three hours in the ER, three lab tests, an EKG, a chest X-ray, and consultation with my cardiologist, it was decided to do a cardioversion (use of quick, low-energy shocks to restore regular heart rhythm). The procedure wasn’t very comfortable, but did succeed in getting my heart rate stable at the correct rate. Thank you, Covid!

I’m recovering now, though I still have to sleep sitting up in my recliner (laying in bed stimulates the cough). Now Anne has tested positive and is feeling quite rotten—she just started taking anti-viral meds. The lessons this experience leaves me with are stay up to date with Covid, flu, and other vaccines; take Covid seriously, and test plans before you commit. STAY SAFE, friends.   

PHOTOS

Thanks for reading this far into this post. I hope these few nostalgic views (from old files) of the past add some brightness to your day. 

From my 2010 File

Osprey nest near Mt Angel, OR

From my 2012 File

Scott's Mill, OR

Fall Creek Falls in the fall

Mt Hood Scottish Games

From my sled dog racing days 1970-1984. These are pictures of me and my team racing or training, They were taken by friends or professional photographers,

We trained mostly on gravel roads.

Sister's Race

Start of the Beaver Marsh Race.

Start of the 2nd day of the Oregon Mail Run--not a race, but a commemorative 72-mile run through the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. The trail was through dunes, beaches, creeks, and rivers.

Tired, muddy Attica.

A training run of 4 miles at Pistol River, Oregon.

NOTE: Thanks for being patient with my lack of creativity. It's been an exhausting time.

#216 It's All about the Food

 

This post is centered around food, as is most of our lives. While writing in my personal history journal (a journal I started as a place to write down early and important memories and stories) I saw that a lot of my notes to write about involved food and eating. I don’t have many related photos, but this blog is both stories and photos, so here it goes with the food stories and I’ll see what I can do for the photos.

ROCKET CAFE

In McMinnville, Oregon, while attending Linfield College (now Linfield University) our fraternity house, Omega Delta Phi, was on College Avenue just down the street from the Rocket Cafe. The Rocket was a true greasy spoon with counter seats by the kitchen and booths along the sides and ends. I have no idea what the complete menu was like or even if they had one. I only remember what I usually ate on a trip to the Rocket. Depending on the time of day and what mood I was in, I would either order a “fry two” or a “rocket burger.” It didn’t matter if it was a substitute for a Commons meal (college cafeteria), for a late night study break, or the munchies these were my go to Rocket fare.

American breakfast at a diner in Durango, CO.

A “fry two” is cafe speak for two fried eggs, hash browns, and toast—at the Rocket seventy-five cents (1964 money). Plenty of food for a good price. It was always hot, greasy, and delicious. One time after and all-nighter studying for an exam, I ate one “fry two” and ordered a second which I ate with as much relish as the first. If I wasn’t in the mood for breakfast I’d order a “rocket burger” (also seventy-five cents or a buck and a quarter with fries). There was something special about this burger other than the shape of burger and bun—oblong like a rocket. The sauce was a concoction of ketchup, mayo, relish, and grease. Is there any surprise that I can remember how good the Rocket Cafe food was while I can’t remember a single meal in the Commons.

One of our favorite Scottish restaurants (Boat of Garten).

Pie Night at Anderson's. I had the lamb shank.

The menu at Acorn Garden Cafe in Lancaster, England.

Anne had the hotbed soup.

SCOTTISH BACON ROLL

In Scotland there is a sandwich which is eaten for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and/or snack that is iconic to Scottish cuisine—the Bacon Butty or Bacon Roll. It’s a golfer’s standard clubhouse bar breakfast and a well known hangover cure. The Bacon Roll is a standard soft burger bun, buttered, with an amount of Scottish bacon (more like Canadian bacon rather than the American streaky bacon). In a golf shop tearoom or cafe it would contain a couple of slices of bacon. At the Horn between Perth and Dundee it would have five or more slices. There’s nothing gourmet about the bacon roll, but when it’s dripping with bacon grease and butter, it’s just decadent!

JOHN CLIFFORD’S PORRIDGE

At Merlindale B&B in Crieff, Scotland—our Scottish home—Jacky is a Cordon Bleu chef and John is a traditional Scottish cook. John’s specialties include boiled potatoes, neeps and tatties, mince, and bone soup. But there is one specialty John makes for guests at he B&B who ask for it—Scottish porridge. I asked for it every morning, along with Jacky’s full Scottish breakfast. John cooks his porridge in a special pan—nothing else is ever cooked in that pan—and stirs it in a certain direction with a special spoon (spurtle). John says the porridge should be eaten with salt and milk, but I loved it with sugar or honey and milk. American oatmeal can’t compare.

A light breakfast (after porridge).

Jacky makes paella for dinner.

NONA’S BAKING

My mom’s mother was my Nona (Italian grandmother).  In elementary school I would come home each day to Nona’s and then be picked up by Mom or Dad when they got off work. I remember there were always snacks for me when I got to Nona’s. Two I particularly remember were cheese bread on Monday and chocolate chip cookies on Friday. The cheese bread would be made as a special loaf on bread baking day at the start of the week. Nona baked a special loaf with dry Monterey Jack cheese (less expensive but just as good as parmesan) layered in the middle. If I were on time I’d get a fresh slice of the cheese bread right from the oven. Another treat was fresh chocolate chip cookies made for the weekend. Again, if I was lucky, straight out of the oven. If I stayed over on Friday night I might get another cookie after the Friday night fights on the radio—if Gramps was in a good mood. Nice slices of life.

Fresh breads at the Watermill Cafe, Blair Atholl, Scotland.

ANNE’S DISASTER WEEK

When we were still dating Anne tried to impress me with her culinary skills over about a two week period. [She said I could tell the story and I did marry her anyway. ] The first problem I remember was the day of the meatloaf and baked potato. Anne couldn’t get her stove to work—two hours and neither the meatloaf or potatoes were done. I don’t remember where we ended up going for dinner. The next problem was when Anne was cooking a small roast in the oven (once she’d figured out the stove). After a while we noticed the smoke and then saw the flames coming out of the back of the oven. We got the fire out, but the charred mess was inedible. Again, I don’t remember what dinner was. For the next attempt Anne made a big pot of clam chowder (pretty safe, huh), but couldn’t find heavy cream at the store and thought it would be alright to substitute whipping cream. What we ended up with was pot of sweet clam chowder and another dinner out. The next day Anne didn’t cook—I took her out to dinner. Fifty-five years later we can still laugh about a week of dinner disasters.

No disasters here. Chicken on the Bottle made by Annie from Romania and Anne/

Anne never has a disaster when she make Earthquake Cake for pudding.

Our favorite last meal of a trip at Edinburgh's Mussel Inn.

THE SEAFOOD PLATTER IN GAIRLOCH

We’d played golf at Gairloch Golf Club on the west coast of the Scottish highlands. It’s a lovely 9-hole course, but it’s so far out of the way that we had to arrange a night at the local hotel after golf. We’d heard the food was good in the hotel pub so we were looking forward to the local seafood treat. The restaurant was filled with hotel guests and locals looking for a meal out. Anne ordered the fish and chips, always a safe bet. I felt a little adventurous so I ordered the seafood platter—several different type of seafood at a really decent price (about $20). When the waitress brought out our dinners the whole pub erupted with cheers and hoots. The giant platter came with four lobster-size langoustines, clams, mussels, white fish, salmon, a stuffed crab shell, and several unknown fried fish dishes. All this with at least two types of potatoes, three salads, and veg of the day. As the waitress set down my feast, a local shouted, “No pudding for you until you clean your plate!” Even I had to laugh at that. When I was done with about a fourth of the fish, I looked at the menu and was right, it didn’t say serves six.

No pudding for me.

I hope the stories were worth the wait.

NEXT: Something from the Southwest

#215 Scottish Villages

Ballatter, Scotland

This blog may seem tp go in strange directions, but they really are related—our big move, my trip with Parkinson’s Disease, and the Scottish village photos.

The first factor controlling life for us today is our selling of the 6th Avenue house we’ve lived in for more than 35 years and moving into our new abode in Hope Village (still in Canby). As I write this we’ve just signed our share of the closing papers and are waiting for the buyers to sign their share. The house was on the market for only five or six weeks (they all blur together) and we are getting a fair price for it. The next part of the move has been putting all our accumulations into the newer smaller unit. Downsizing seems a universal problem for our neighbors in the village. Advise like, “if you haven’t used it in [fill in a time period] throw it or give it away,” is hard to adopt if you’ve lived by “I’ll keep it because I’m sure I’ll need it” for years and years. Anne is a real trooper and has the bedroom nearly box free, the kitchen completely useable, the hallway walkable, and at least some floor in the new garage v\visible. We are even able to start joining in some village social functions such as Tuesday 10 AM Coffee in the Community Room. We are beginning to enjoy our move to senior living.

Factor number two controlling our lives is my new life with Parkinson’s. Besides Carbidopa Levodopa (the gold standard medicine for treating PD symptoms), the fact that the new house doesn’t have even one step is a godsend for me—it seriously takes away a falling hazard it was getting difficult to face in our three story home. As degenerative as PD is it is also interesting—as soon as one symptom is controlled or adapted to, another pops up. This morning my left elbow started hurting seeming for no reason. Stiffness or rigidity needs my attention now. Slowness (bradykinesia) is my main motor symptom—who knew I’d need a short hospital railing on my bed to help me get in or out or rollover. Through it all my most Important help is Anne, who has had to take on new tasks I can’t do or giving new help to me when I can’t pull my pants off by myself. Beyond an Angel is she!

The move and PD have limited our travels (but not our golf). So, it’s back to the files for travel photos for this post. I’ve mostly used my photos for slide shows or for prints to sell at art fairs or highland games. So, I look at the blog as another way to share photos I like. We wish we could be in Scotland this year, but since that’s not possible, let me give you a picture of Scottish village life we’ve enjoyed in the past.

HOUSES

Early in our trips to Scotland we learned that houses weren’t always numbered, they were named. We spent most of our time in Merlindale B&B in Crieff and learned that the name was just a pleasant sounding name. Glenearn House was next door with Arduthie (the owner, Nigel, didn’t know where the name came from) down the street. Galvelbeg was a B&B we stayed at when Merlindale wasn’t available. When we got home from that trip we put up a sign naming our little white house in Canby Fionabeg, which mens “little white” in Gaelic. We have yet to name our Hope Village house.

Callander

Kinneuchar

Fortingal

STREET SCENES

One of our biggest joys of our travels in Scotland was wandering the busy streets of the villages, towns and cities. It was like being in mid-century America with crowds of bustling people and cars, doing their daily shopping and other local business.

Elgin

Linlithgow

Health and Safety weren't amused. 

A good night's work.

Peebles

Dornoch

Crieff

Crovie

RETAIL

In the time we spent in Scotland particularly in Crieff, we became familiar with many local shops and eateries. We became known in many of the shops like the Corn Exchange in Crieff—a local whisky and specialty shop. Andrew would help me find special whiskies to bring home which weren’t available in the states. He’d help Anne find new local gins to taste. It was always a difficult task to decide which four bottles, the legal limit duty free, we’d bring home from a trip. Difficult, yes, but we were up to the task.

Crieff

Kingussie

Crieff--gone now, Covid got him.

We also serve who sits and wait.

Stirling (Duh)

Callander

J L Gills, the Corn Exchange, Crieff

NIGHT

As much as we enjoyed our days in Scotland, touring and golfing, we also enjoyed the nights. In the spring the daylight lasts well into what we considered evening and in the fall night came early with its special glow. In the evening too there was usually the special smell of peat fires warming the homes.

Ballatter

Crieff

Crieff

BLACK AND WHITE

As colorful as the village scenes are they also fit the black and white photo world. That was the premise to my small coffee table-style book Scotland in Black and White: 90 Photos, which is still available on Amazon. Sorry for the shameful commercial plug.

Comrie

Dunkeld

Crieff

Kirkwall, Orkney Islands

NEXT: It's anybody's guess.