It’s football season in Texas. “Friday Night Lights” means high school football, of course. But the Funny Grandson’s season began last Wednesday night (although it will be on Tuesday from now on). From what I understand, Mondays are for 7th grades, Tuesdays 8th, Thursdays JV.
They have a system.
The FG played several positions in offense and defense, plus special teams. He proudly informed me that he had never come off the field in the second half.
Hmmm…I remember his stamina when he was a terrifying three-year old. I’m glad it’s coming in handy now.
In his glory.
An enterprising high school student took these pictures and charged $1.00 each. What a great business!
As you may remember, September is the social season here at the lake. As grandchildren have returned to school, company has returned back to where they came from and gardens are shutting down, folks around here have more free time to party.
I just counted eleven gatherings (lunches, dinners, parties, Oktoberfest) we have committed to this month. Plus one eye appointment, which could mean having lunch in town.
‘Tis the season for emptying the upright freezer, an annual highly dreaded chore. I’ve inventoried what’s still in there, moved all the frozen fruit to the kitchen freezer and plan to use what’s left in the next 22 days. If not? It all goes to the dump despite Banjo Man having a nervous breakdown at the thought.
Tuesday I mailed a frozen blueberry cake to the Funny Grandson in Texas. The post mistress thought that was extremely daring, but I reassured her that I had done it many times before. Last year I carried it on the plane with me and decided never again. A blueberry bundt cake is heavier than you’d imagine.
We are heading back on the road on September 28, right after Nebraska plays Purdue. Hopefully the car will be packed the day before and we will be highly organized (I have already started) and will arrive in Missoula in time for dinner with friends. That’s my dream, anyway. Stay tuned for a blog post on September 29 to find out how that actually turned out.
Yesterday I baked blueberry lemon breads “for the road”. We like our 10 AM coffee breaks. They should last until we get to Nebraska, the halfway point.
Speaking of coffee breaks, I am now going to take a fresh mug of coffee down to the dock. The skies are blue, the water is calm and the ospreys are fishing.
It’s definitely the season to relax on the dock, too.
Are we excited? You betcha! Banjo Man was awake at 5 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep. That’s how it is on Game Day, people.
The traditional chili is simmering on the stove. In a red pan.
There are Doritos. Salsa. Lemon bars. Potato chips. Rolls. A party for two, right here at the lake. George left this morning and that was sad. I know he’d rather be watching football than dealing with airports and planes today.
The Texas Rolofsons are excited, too. We are all keeping busy until game time and then? It gets serious. New quarterback, home game, and hopefully a triumphant start to a season full of hope and anticipation.
This summer I’ve been making angel food cakes. I have an inspirational new pan and it’s an easy and “light” dessert served with fresh berries and fruit, of which I have many. Banjo Man and I have enjoyed having it around to snack on.
And yes, I use a cake mix. I’ve tried Betty Crocker and Duncan Hines, but only this one creates a not- overly sweet, gloriously high cake (hence the title of the blog).
Unfortunately it is very hard to find. At Yokes, one of the markets in town, it is almost always sold out. I’ve only bought three boxes there all summer. That spot on the shelf? Empty. Before I knew how scarce these Food Club boxes would be, the one time there were actually five of them on the shelf, I left two boxes behind for someone else.
No longer.
No more Mrs. Nice Angel-Food-Cake-Mix Guy.
Food Club products are not sold online, the typically easy go-to for everything in the world. Nope, only in stores. One of those stores is between the lake and Missoula, so the first stop on our road trip home was to be the baking aisle of Harvest Foods in Thompson Falls.
But…on a rainy Tuesday afternoon I needed to go to town to buy a different brand of iron pills. Doctor’s orders from that morning’s phone call. I won’t bore you with medical stuff, but let me just say anemia is no fun.
An opportunity to try the other grocery store in town that carried Food Club brands? Of course. My expectations were low, my mood a bit dreary, my energy failing, but there in the Super 1 baking aisle–bottom shelf, far left corner, almost out of sight–sat a box of Food Club Angel Food Cake Mix.
I had struck gold.
Was I going to share? Not this time! I got down on my old knees–not easy– and hauled nine boxes of cake mix from that corner. There were ten boxes, but I would have had to have stretched out flat on my stomach on the floor in order to reach it.
And even I had my limits. Nine boxes would do. Nine boxes will go back East for the winter. The weather forecast for our New England winter is warmer, wetter and wilder. But I have a dozen jars of canned peaches and nine boxes of cake mix, so we will survive.
And next summer I’ll start the Food Club hunt all over again.
In fact, it is 54 degrees this morning. Yep, 54. I am wearing long pants, socks and a sweatshirt. It is 11 degrees colder than the typical Idaho August morning and 23 degrees colder than the usual afternoon high of 77.
So…is summer over? It would seem that way. I look out the windows and think, “Uh-oh. October.”
And on the upside? This cold weather might kill the rest of the yellow jackets. Banjo Man has been diligent carrying out his murderous rampage. He even counts the dead bodies when he empties the trap. He will proudly tell you that he has eliminated almost a thousand.
Go, Banjo Man!
And what else is happening here? We are getting ready for Cabin Fest 3, which will take place in a couple of weeks. Otherwise known as the annual reunion of the Cougar Creek Band, it’s quite the afternoon. Despite having no electricity and no running water, a party at the cabin works just fine.
Last year four generations enjoyed the music. Four generations!!
Everyone is practicing their songs. The anticipation builds…
The yellow jackets are out with a vengeance right now. They are mysteriously attracted to me and won’t let me enjoy my life outside on the decks or the beach or even in my little garden.
I hate them and I have been working very hard to annihilate them.
First attempt:
We have four of these traps set out around the house.
This works well as long as there is stinky old salmon inside. The yellow jackets fly into the trap to eat the salmon, but they can’t get out. Lots of fun to watch–from a distance.
Here’s another one. The theory is that the yellow jackets eat the meat and then are so full they can’t fly, therefore toppling into the detergent-soaked water below.
This worked well with hamburger, but as you can see the chicken is not tempting them at all and has only drowned one wasp this morning. The bowl on the left is yesterday’s killing field. Alas, I am out of hamburger.
And yes, I know there are organic methods. I have tried them.
Check out the mint plant. The wasps love to sniff it instead of being repelled. See the cotton balls soaked with peppermint and lemongrass? Not a deterrent. I made up my own spray with water, detergent, and various oils (peppermint, clove, lemongrass) and yet…I still need the fly swatter if I am going to sit and try to read on the upper deck. I have had some luck hitting them with the fly swatter and then stepping on them as they lay stunned on the floor.
It’s very satisfying, but not relaxing.
So today I am bringing out the big guns.
There is POISON in that little plastic container. POISON mixed with stinky old salmon. “Fipronil” is the same poison used in tick and flea prevention drops. The wasps take their bits of poisoned stinky old salmon back to the nest and…voila! Death to all of the yellow jackets!
This is a solution that has worked in years past.
I am going to fix the trap–designed to keep birds and rodents safely out of it– to take down to the shore this afternoon. The wasps have been preventing me from sitting on the edge of the water and sifting through rocks in search of an elusive arrowhead. They have nests in the grass, I’m sure, and really take the fun out of sitting by the lake.
The weather is perfect right now–no smoke, no humidity and 80 degrees–and the only thing standing between me and reading a good book at the beach are these vicious little yellow jackets.
They grow! Seven different varieties at Shingle Mill Farm meant we took a stroll through the farm and sampled each kind before buying two gallon bags.
They are picked.
They are cooked. I could hardly wait to get home.
And–voila!–they will be eaten.
Summer means freshly-picked blueberries and blueberry pancakes, doesn’t it? It certainly did when I was growing up (thank you, Grandma Winslow, for the berries).
Saturday morning I convinced Banjo Man to go to the annual Arts & Crafts Fair with me, so off we went to town on a beautiful summer day. We had hats, water, and the cooler. The artwork was impressive, as was the work the craftsmen had put into their creations. I bought a couple of little gifts, but we resisted the rest.
We kept reminding each other that we are downsizing.
The band at the Farmer’s Market was lively, as was the crowd. I bought a peppermint plant for the front deck, as I am once again at war with wasps and yellow jackets.
We ate lunch out and then still had the energy to go to Walmart for more wasp-killing supplies, socks and oranges.
I think it was the most exciting day we’ve had since Will left ten days ago.
Banjo Man headed up to the cabin yesterday around 5:00. The afternoon was a bit cooler and breezier than previous days, so my mountain man decided he would take advantage of the weather and spend the night in the woods. He took enough food for three days, so I am not sure when he will return. I sent him with solar batteries, so he will be able to call me and keep me posted.
His recent blood test results showed no sign of the cancer returning. His treatment is still working and we are beyond grateful for the good news.
This was last night’s sunset as I sat on the porch, read the new C.J. Box novel (long-awaited but recently arrived on my Kindle from my RI library) and watched young ospreys practice flying from the safety of their nest.
Without Banjo Man’s chatty presence the evening was a quiet one. Once the sun set, I watched a rerun of PORT PROTECTION, ate a piece of angel food cake and went to bed at 9:30.
Our friends Kathy and Vada threw a party last Saturday. A very big party. Epic, even, to celebrate owning their river property for fifty years.
We’d thought the temps would hit 100, but we lucked out with an overcast afternoon of about 80 degrees. Kathy comes from a family of nine, so you can imagine the number of siblings, nieces, nephews, sons, daughters and grandchildren who were there. They camped all over the property for days and came from California, Vermont and points in between.
As old friends of 49-years, we were included!!!
Banjo Man estimated 100 people. I guessed 60.
Kathy never skimps on food, as you can see.
There was a horseshoe tourmament. Lots of visiting. Good-natured teasing, as always. Kids that I knew as teenagers are now–gasp!–in their 40’s. Kids I knew as babies were running back and forth to swim in the river and sneak cookies off the table.
I loved having time to visit with so many of them. It was fun to be in the middle of all the action!
Unfortunately there was one visitor who wasn’t allowed to join in the fun.
is there any more pie? 