Cherry Christmas

Normally, I go to the grocery store or butcher shop to by a Christmas Turkey or Ham. Being as I got my Christmas Turkey a few weeks earlier, I decided to try something different; I whacked Christmas dinner myself. I has a wonderful time outdoors, taking in all that Mother Nature could send my way. I braved the cold and headed out along the river to hunt some ducks. As luck would have it, I had ample opportunity and made good on every shot. I will say that after watching some extremely stout brown trout hovering in the deep pools, I had a back up plan that would have made good use of my fishing pole in the back of the truck.

Cover your eyes if your squeamish about this stuff, but let's face it, that's how you get from point a to point b! You may not recognise them with out their feathers, but those are the two in the middle.

If you gently start humming the song "Akuna Mutata", from the movie Lion King, I'll continue on with the story. I have four beautiful fruit trees in the yard. The birds all love the cherry tree and we all share as does the bear and the rest of us eat fruit from them all; apple, plumb and crab apple respectively. I decided to use some of the tart cherries to make a reduction for the ducks.

I am employing the latest technology in smellavision. I you wiggle your cursor over the pot of cherry sauce (Ala scratch and sniff) you will actually begin to smell the love.
Dinner capped off with a crispy duck, cooked to perfection, some home canned pickled red beets and for desert? What else, home made cherry pie. Ah, the color. Oh, the delightful smell and yum yum the taste.

200 mile, Mountain Man Run

If last weekend taught me anything, it's that if it's going to be warm and sunny, it ain't duck hunting weather. So if it's too nice to hunt ducks, might as well get the bike out and go for a ride. One of my favorite rides to take during the winter months in Montana, is the mountain man run. I called my pal Chad and he was itching to log some saddle time as much as I was, so we were off.
    The ride starts off at the base of the Absorkees and heads due north on U.S.89 toward White Sulphur Springs. It's not long before you get flanked by the Crazy Mountains and the Bridger's. (Named after mountain man,Jim Bridger) A man they said shot elk three miles away with bullets cast out salt; so when he got up to 'em the meat would be cured!
     Soon after you get north of Wilsal, (Home of the "Black Jack Ditch"), you have to stop and have your picture taken (or your bike if you're camera shy like me) with Thunder Jack. He's a statue paying homage to the mountain men of the Rockies. After that, the road opens up and you have smooth sailing, all the way up to White Sulphur Springs. If you blink along the way, you will miss the little town of Ringling. A town named after John Ringling of Ringling Brothers Circus. The family owned quite a chunk of property there at one time. Jimmy Buffet even wrote a song about it called, Ringling,Ringling.

     Not far past the little circus town, you head straight for the Castle Mountains that welcome you to White Sulphur Springs (WSS). Not much going on there, so we stopped for lunch at the Truck Stop Cafe. A couple of strange looks from the locals as we walked to our seats dressed more like snow mobile rider instead of bikers. After some good beef stew and corn bread, we headed out to the snow packed parking lot and decided to keep heading north. Funny thing about that truck stop is they keep their fine china stacked outside. Not sure what that is all about, but I took a mint out of one cup and put some pennies into another.

Normally, I like to head east to one of the reservoirs, to have my picture (my bike actually) taken next to the ice fishing shanty's. Today, we decided to head north towards Great Falls and stop by the Showdown Ski Lodge to taunt the sledders with our bikes. As we headed north into the Little Belt Mountains and through Lewis and Clark National Forrest we ran into too much ice and snow and had to pull a u turn. When the thermometer on Chads bike started to read 28 degrees, we decided that one or two bikes on their side would provide the local sled heads with more yahoo fodder than we were willing to part with. Besides what kind, if any sympathy would either of us receive for getting hurt while attempting to summit Kings Hill on motorcycles, December 17th?
   We made a b-line right back to WSS and took the nestea plunge at the WSS Motel. It's an outdoor pool that is supplied by natural hot springs all year long.

Swanky, it ain't! But if you loved the 70's, man, you'll love this place. They just added a new pool that has lots of curves and good seating, along with a mock water fall. The 104 degree water felt good on the bones and the real challenge proved to be getting dressed in all our warm gear, without over heating.
   Piling on layers, riding up into the mountains, taking a winters dip in some hot springs. Sounds like a mountain man day to me.

From Carpe Diem to Damn Skippy!

I've always considered myself, somewhat of an opportunist. If you ask me to play chess, I'll almost always pick the black pawn. Simply put, I'm comfortable with you going first. I know when to pump the breaks and I know when to mash the gas pedal and strictly steer.I had no clue what the day had in store for me.
   This past Sunday I headed out looking for ducks. The sun was shinning and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I remember putting on sun screen before I left. What in the world could I have been thinking? In spite of everything telling me this was not a day conducive to duck destiny, I had the endless feeling, It was going to be a golden day. After a good 2 1/2 hours of walking along the creek and peering over the embankment to the river, I saw 6 ducks. Four of them took off for the friendly skies while I was every bit of 100 yards away. The other two were a mile high and bent for leather. (or chapstick)....(you know, for their bill) Duh?
Tired, I walked lazily back to the truck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flock of turkeys, doing what turkeys do; setting up a table to start a game of 3 card Monte. No, I'm just kidding. They were moseying across a field. Quickly, I changed my duck rounds out for goose rounds and began to put the sneak on. The closer I got, the lower I belly crawled to the ground. In my best turkey voice, I putted and clucked and chirped. As I laied flat on the ground, the flock made it's way over to me and just like that, BANG, Tom's your Uncle!
     In order to share the love, I rang up a few friends and we decided to cook up the turkey, Colonal Sanders style. That's right, FRIED! My friend, Al the Bear, took charge and Monday night was to be teamed up with football and turkey dinner. That night Al and I plucked the bird and dressed him out. Monday Night Football AND fresh turkey? C'MON MAN!

The first thing we did Monday night was to coat the turkey with some chunky peanut butter before we dunked him into the hot oil. This is great, I can't wait to do it to my chicken strips!
After keeping the Tom submerged until his temperature was 165 degrees, we pulled him out to rest.
While we waited, my pal Shellie (with a p) made some buttermilk onion rings and we cooked up some redskin potato fries as well. As I began to carve the turkey a crazy thing happened......................................(enter dream sequence distortion waves)

As I began to carve the turkey, I noticed the appearance of what looked like herbs and spices. I asked if someone had stuffed the bird when I was not looking, and they all looked at me quite odd. I knew I had dressed the bird and stuffed him in a cotton sack and hung him over night in my garage. I took him out of the bag on Monday and smeared peanut butter on him and put him promptly into the molten oil. He had never been out of my site!
What had actually happened was I forgot to remove the crop. The crop is actually an expanded section of the esophagus. It is a place where turkeys, and some other species of birds, store whole food, before sending it down to be ground up in their gizzard. This crop was bigger than a baseball and jam packed with corn, wheat and grass. The aroma was heavenly and the flavor enhanced the meat like nothing I've ever tasted. While some folks were a bit "put off" I figured, the turkey mearly stuffed himself with 100 percent natural organic fixens. Yum Yum.

 Sometimes the best laid plans of both turkeys and men, often go awry.

Life's too long to eat bad food or share good food bad people.

Current Events; "Speed Blogging"

Since my last blog, there has been lots going on and I have failed to keep the keyboard clicking. In lieu of that, here is an attempt on speed blogging.

The moose ended up spending 3 weeks in the back yard. It was fun to watch him wake up in the morning and roll around like the dog. When it snowed or rained, he would wake in the morning and shake all the water or snow off. So cool to see. He even followed me home one day as I pulled into the garage, he ran up the driveway.

My pal Murphy went to West Yellowstone and texted me a picture of the Pizza Pie he got at Wild West Pizzeria   http://www.wildwestpizza.com/ That inspired me to bake a pie of my own

The weather turned a bit ducky, so...............I headed out looking for ducks with Mr. Baker and Mr. Speckelsworth. I bet we put up well over a hundred ducks. While hitting 6 out of 100 wouldn't get you a batting title, or even the bottom of the batting order, it makes for a scrumptious dinner. Tonight's dinner? Lightly breaded, lightly fried, strips strips of duck breast. If you think that sounds delicious, wait till you hear about last night cook out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got a different call this past Saturday. While I am accustom to being on call 24/7 for work, I too am accustom to being on call for adventure. Sometimes the call of the wild starts off sounding remarkably like my cell phone ring tone, "Shipping off to Boston" by the Dropkick Murphy's.
My pal Beau called at 5:30a.m. and said he and his brother were setting up to take pictures of the full, lunar eclipse, and he knew if he didn't call me I would have said, you guessed it, "Why didn't you call me?"
I scrambled to get dressed because Mother Nature waits for no one. Come to think I may have, at one time or another scrambled to get undresses for that same reason. But that's a whole other blog.
As soon a JD puts his pics up on flicker, I'll send you all a link. I've seen them already and they are "WAY COOL".
Oh yeah, I spent 5 solid days chasing elk around. I was into them all day every day. One day I watched a heard of well over 1000! My pal that works for the state Fish and Wildlife was so impressed, he called a co-worker biologist to take off in the plane and photograph them. The other days, in a totally different location, I watched, easy 800 at a time. And yet a third day a heard of only a hundred or so. Bulls of every size for miles! And no, not in Yellowstone Park.

I did manage to put the sneak on this old school tractor! It's a prize for the eyes.
And rounding off a hectic two weeks was a wonderful Thanksgiving Dinner. Great friends, my family and lots to be thankful for. I texted all the guys that I get to work with and told them I was thankful for all they do. Their replies were among the highlights of my holiday. I'm so blessed.

Guess Who's Comming to Dinner

My grandfather shoveled coal into the firebox of a fire breathing dragon on the Reading Rail Road. My grandmother had his route schedule down pat and on nights he was due to pass by town, she would take my Dad out onto the back porch to watch him go by. My grand mom would flick the back porch light off and on and my grandfather, in return, would open and close the door to the furnace, signaling a warm greeting back. This must have been passed down to my sister and I. I manifested in the form of the both of us standing at the front window, looking out for company that wasn't due for an hour or two. I'm still like that to this day.

It all played out this past week as we had company every single day. Our company was a stranger I had met only briefly two years ago. He showed up one week ago unexpectedly and had such a wonderful time , he came by every day since. Sometimes he would show up at noon and sometimes late at night when I was so tired I just wanted to go to bed, but that would be rude.If he didn't stop by during the day, I knew he would be by that evening. You can tell when company pulls up in the driveway, because the outside lights come on. If I was watching TV and the lights would pop on, I would spring up an make sure I met him at the door. I got excited as a kid looking for Santa! You're probably thinking it's a stray dog or cat, but it's not, it's a moose. I saw him two years with his mom and twin. They spent the better part of two weeks in the spring, nibbling the buds off the fruit trees.

A Big Ram and a Monster Deer

I was out, bright and early last Saturday, checking on some cows. I ran into a snow drift that somehow broke a 48 year streak. For the first time ever, I was stuck in the snow and needed a tow. I was about 15 miles from my house and was lucky to be able to call my pal to come and get me. In true Dash fashion, it turned out to be an event.  I was happy to see the big Ram Diesel chugging up the creek and equally excited to bust out my, "like new" tow strap. For once, Id know what it was like to be on the other end. A few pictures getting sent out over the phone, two or three jokes, at my expense, a quick plan and I'd be out in no time.  WRONG! As the big diesel chugged and billowed black smoke, my Toyota stayed put and the tires on the truck just spun. There was solid ice under the snow drift, and the more the Dodge tried to pull me up and out, the closer it slid right toward my front fender. It was an "Eskimo" standoff of sorts. Call it Heavy Metal, Big Iron or Deer John, call it what you will, but it was time to get some help. After a snowy walk back to the house, we plugged in the tractor (it was 4 degrees F), we grabbed some lunch and after 40 minutes, we fired up the tractor and headed up for the trucks.



The big green and yellow machine made short work of it all.


When it was all said and done, I got a nice picture of a deer, and a ram. I had a piece of pumpkin pie and some humble pie. I have a pal that will come get me in the snow and cold. Most of all I reaffirmed my belief that if you live long enough, you will experience everything; you just need to live long enough.

As much fun to say as it is to eat; "STROMBOLI"

Thursday evening found me in my very own kitchen, celebrating some good friends getting together for the first time in a long time. While respecting the privacy of my pals, and at the same time teasing everyone else, I will say it was cool. I had 2 professional coaches, one trainer and a rock star over for dinner and I won't even say what professional sport they are affiliated with. (Nor the team either).
What I will talk about is what we cooked. For prized occasions such as this one, I busted out my signature specialty, STROMBOLI!
Actually we made 2 Strombolis and 1 pizza.
The pizza actually was made on a gluten free dough. (Yes, the Dash caters to special needs)
     If you have never had a Stromboli, it breaks down like this.
First roll out some pizza dough. Make it if you can or have time to, buy it if you don't or can't. Once you have rolled it out like a pizza, you pull it half way onto a cookie sheet. Fill it with as much shaved steak as you want, add peperoni, olives, mushrooms, sauerkraut (dried of course) [don't wrinkle your nose up at me], place on a thick accompaniment of mozzarella cheese (you gotta use the stuff with whole milk or you will miss completely), spoon on some pizza sauce (or gravy if you got no neck), fold the rest of the dough over to cover it all up, hit it with some egg wash and bake until it's golden brown.

     I like my sauce on the sweet side so I caramelize LOTS of onions and yes, I do put some additional sugar in there as well. The key is to make it the way you like. Put anything in it that you would put on your pizza.
     The best thing about this dish is that everybody gets to help. Heck, that's half the fun. You sure can catch up on old times when you're chopping, shredding, kneading, stirring, rolling and working the cork screw. Like a journey, it's not so much about the destination, it's often how you got there. Life's too long to eat bad food and to surround yourself with anything except great people. When great people become good friends that's just icing on the cake. When they feel like family in your home, well that's like a cool mint on your way out. If you do it right, you'll never need dessert.  When it comes to food and friends, Yoda says,"Choose wisely you must."

What's all that Noise?

     Have you ever sat in a big city, major league traffic jam? All the noise and nonsense of horns honking seem to drowned out any sane thought you could muster. Hours of endless honking! That is one major reason I moved away from the big city. Up until now the only pollution that makes the paper is "Light" pollution. How can we ever hope to see the northern lights if we install more street lites? The lights at the local grocery store are a real buzz kill when I'm trying to focus on the aurora borealis! But tonight wasn't about street lighting polluting the night sky, the was a traffic jam of sorts that went on for hours. Oh the honking!
    The last times I remember listening to such a racket was first in 1980. I was 12 city blocks away from Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It was game 6 of the world series, around 11:30 at night. I was watching Tug McGraw strike out Willie Wilson to win the world series. No sooner had the umpire called strike 3, I heard the roar coming all the way from the stadium. Wow! The noise of that crowd gave me shivers as if I were there. So far and yet so close.
     The next noise extravaganza happened in 1997. I was living 18 miles from Joe Louis arena in Detroit. I was watching the Stanley Cup on TV, and as the Red Wings beat the Flyers in game 4 to win the cup, here came that wave of cheering again! It seemed to last all night. Yelling and horn honking roared well into the early morning. 
     Now I find myself in a land far far away from the hustle and bustle. Peace and quiet abound. I stepped out into my yard to let my pooch relieve herself and all I could hear was honking; major league horn honking. What a racket! I couldn't even tell where exactly it was coming from. It seemed like miles and miles of traffic jam, and it didn't stop. It went on for almost 2 hours. It seemed to go from one end of town to the other. I called a pal that lives on the other side of town and asked him if he heard it. He did! I bundled up in warm cloths and stood outside in disbelief. I pulled my beautiful bride outside in her robe and slippers and said, "listen to that." I know what your thinking, who in their right mind would stand outside in the cold and snow listening to a traffic jam? Not me.

     Truth be told, I spent, over an hour standing outside marveling at an endless sea of snow geese migrating overhead in the midnight sky. The honking was music to my ears. With the snow keeping the visibility ceiling to near nothing, I was left to only wonder what was going on. There had to be thousands! It sounded as sweet as Billie Holiday singing what is this thing called love.  Sometimes you need to go back to the basics.................................
    

Dealing with Change

     This past saturday was adventureous to say the least. My adventures seemed to change like the weather.
 I knew something was comming, I just wasn't sure what. Beginning friday, late afternoon the wind was howling non stop. As I awoke, bright and early saturday morning, the wind part had not changed. I would have been shocked had any apples still been atached to our apple tree!

    Sunrise found my pal and I up on a ridge in the Absorkee Beartooth mountains. The wind was strong, it was almost impossible to peer over the top, but we did. The reason? We heard wolves on the other side yipping as they moved along. As we looked for a path along the snow covered rocks, we discovered wolf tracks and followed them up through an opening in the high rock wall. That was them alright. As we scanned the trees and brushy landscape for them, we never caught a glimpse. What we did see across the valley was a young bull moose making his way up the other side. So majestic and so beautiful he was an how magically he disappeared as the snow began to fall hard as it headed our way. In a split second, the wind vanished and was replaced by a wall of snow. With our visibility being cut down to nothing, we made our way down the mountain. We stopped halfway down for a rest, as the snow slowed to a trickle. Enjoying the peace and quiet often has it's rewards; we had an unexpected visitor. With the ground looking like as sea of white, he surfaced like a sea duck.
 It was an ermine (the white winter phase of the weasel) making his way up the hill. Perhaps he heard about the moose and wanted a look for himself. Did you hear about the moose and the weasel that got married? They had to.
     Down at the base of the mountain, we came upon a handful of whitetail deer. I can't say how many, as they seemed to be playing a trick on us. The bucks were challenging each other for the affection of the ladies, all the while playing a virtual shell game with us. One buck would go into the creek bottom and another would pop out several yards away. We watched them for about an hour and when we had finished we tried to figure out how many different bucks there were. I'm still baffled! Anyhow, we had to call it quits, we had someplace to be.
     We were expected to help out with 44 suspecting mothers. While my first job at Henry Ford Hospital, in Detroit was in the delivery room, these mothers were a little different, you guessed it, they were cows. We were preg-testing the cows. Dr.Dash, please report to the labor and delivery corral!

44 tested in all and only 6 got the sad news. Better luck next time ladies. well all's well that ends well. Sometimes your daily chores really can change like the weather. One minute your on top of the world, knee deep in snow and the next minute your standing in mud, up to your elbow in ......................................

You get the picture!

Midnight Riders

It all started so innocently, we were just going for a ride. At least that's what we thought when we planned, or failed to plan our weekend ride. It was Friday, sometime around noon when I asked some pals if they wanted to go for an overnight bike ride. I was sure we could just find some forest service cabin to stay in for the night. I was sure we could find one that was not too far off the paved road so we could ride our bikes to it. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy!"  Not so fast. After scrambling around on the web and looking for a cabin that was available, we settled on the Wall Creek Cabin. None of us had been there, but we had directions faxed to us by the gal that took our reservation and credit card over the phone. We knew about where the turn off was just south of Ennis and figured if we got our gear together and got on the road we would be at the cabin before sundown. Had we gone back to the basics (the basics being that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west) we would have realized,"we live in the west".

We got ready and we got riding and we GOT to the turnoff during day light. What happened after that was actually captured (real time) in the cabins log book. That right there should tell you we made it and we weren't killed.

Almost immediately after turning off the highway and on to a dirt road we familiarised ourselves not only with dust, mud and eventually snow, but also the word ambiguity. The directions seemed to fade from a physicians cursive short hand to braille on newsprint from 1925. We tooled around a wildlife labyrinth of sorts, scratching our helmets at every fork (and every forken fork) in the road. Twice, before the night was over, I would swear to seeing Rod Serling in my mirror. The second time was due to us  getting turned around and I actually just pasted him again in the same spot.(awk-ward). By that time we were riding in the dark. We all had fixed headlights, which means, when you turn your handle bars left or right, the head light shines straight ahead. That would prove to be a good thing. (in hind site only). As we worked our way out of one draw and into another, we came across a large barrel, bear trap. The trap, I figure was set by Montana Fish & Wildlife, in order to catch a nuisance bear in the area. I offered the suggestion that we should park our bikes, get inside, close the door and sleep for the night. Heck, if it was designed to keep bears in, it sure as heck ought to keep them out! No one else was buying it. So we rode on.

   

  By now it was midnight. As we stopped for me to unwind the barbed wire from around my front wheel, my pal,JD, managed to get a signal on his cell. In order to keep the signal, he had to hold the phone above his head and talk on the speaker. He managed to get a hold of his wife and she got on their computer and utilized satellite google to figure out roughly where we were and actually gave us directions that eventually walked us right in. It was almost like calling in an air strike if only one of us had uttered the words, "look for the smoke".

We settled for a "goodnight honey and I love you.  Bloody tired, sore, hungry and thirsty we pulled up to the cabin around 1a.m.. I think we stayed up long enough to eat quickly, have a drink and write in the log book. After that? you guessed it, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

    When morning broke, we packed up and headed our for the rest of our journey. On the way down the mountain.\, we stopped and looked back. I asked the other two guys if they would ever consider riding their bikes up those gravelly, muddy, rocky roads, with no guard rails and sheer drop offs, in the day light? No, was common consensus. I remember more than once on the way up, in the dark, doing some real circus stuff in order to just stay on the road. Yikes!

     We motored on; me on my Cop Cruiser, JD on his Harley softail and P.Ditty on his Crotch Rocket. I know what you're thinking, "what were they thinking?" Not one of those bikes was made for even semi-off road.

     If you ever get a hankering for a treasure hunt of sorts, head up to the Wall Creek Cabin an look for our entry into that journal from that night. It was written with raw emotion and left no stone unturned. It's all about the journey and only sometimes about the destination.

Pittsburgh Book Report

     This past trip to western Pennsylvania afforded me the opportunity to look outside the box for adventure. Normally I want to fly, sail, speed, climb anything out of the norm. Well I did just that, for me anyhow. I read 4 books during my week there. And true to form, four very diverse books. A tour, contained inside the mind if you will. All four of them are actually tied together, however it may take a clever Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. Maybe a clever Charlie Chan or even Inspector Clouseau to stumble across the similarities? Nah, just good old Dash Confab...............all in.

 

The first Book was Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World, by Anthony Bourdain. It's his follow up to, both Kitchen Confidential and A Cooks Tour. After reading both of them and being a big fan of Tony and his t.v. show, No Reservations, I enjoyed the book. He seems to have a brash, "no holds bard" take on food and the people that make it happen. It has been interesting watching him grow over the years on television as well as in his books. I was surprised when he ended his latest book with some updated insight into people and incidents he brought to light in his first book; a reflection if you please.  I'm still not sure if it was justification or verification. I do however like when he writes that he really thought no one outside of the kitchen would ever read his first book. He appeared to become a bit sentimental and somewhat more sensitive in his more mature years. Who was it that said, "Youth is wasted on the young"?  Hey Tony, I think you're GGGGRRRRRRRREAT!

 

 

 

Book number 2; tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Allbom. A true story written by the sports writer for the Detroit Free Press. I guy whos' column I read regularly and a guy I watched mug it up with the local Detroit sports superstars. It seems through an interesting set of circumstances, he went back to find his favorite college professor who was diagnosed with a debilitating disease. Mitch regularly visits with Morrie throughout his last days. The story is filled with love, respect, longing, reflecting and even hope and humor. You can't help but let a little bit of Morrie inside of you as you read on. I knew how the book ended and still found myself becoming confused on how and if I wanted to start the last chapter. My take away? Without love, you die. Thanks Mitch. Thanks Morrie.

 

 

 

The 3rd book? Who Moved My Cheese? , by Spencer Johnson,M.D.  After you read this book, imagine Hem & Haw watching the movie, A Few Good Men. They would be pie eyed and white knuckled when Jack Nicholson bellows out; "you want the truth? You couldn't handle the truth!"  I liked the forward in the book by Kenneth Blanchard. The dialog that takes place in the book, both before the actual story as well as after does a great job of framing it up and putting it into play. Embrace change! This book is Mad Cheese. After reading this book I actually had a brush with fame. As I walked the high streets of Pittsburgh, I positively ran into one of the characters from the actual book. Her is a picture I was able to snap of Sniff. Any idea how I got him to smile for the camera?

The fourth and final book in my literary voyage was Steve Martins, Born Standing Up. Interesting as it was written by Steve, however, he prefers to call It a biography as opposed to an autobiography because it is a book about a guy he use to know. Being a product of the 80's myself, I began to follow Steve as he appeared of S.N.L. I had no idea of his works prior and by the time you see him in Parenthood, he's all grown up. Aside from having one of the coolest pictures in the book of Steve looking like a gun slinger that could kick Kenny Rodgers, "Gamblers" ass in a heart beat, the book was fun to read. The book shows that patience, persistence and perseverance is not enough. You gotta have talent and you go farther if you're true to yourself. It also shows that you sleep easier at night if you take the high road. Impressive is the way Steve shares his romantic interludes and tender, coming of age moments, with the softest kid gloves imaginable. Steve is, no JERK.

 

 

The last time I read like that, I was in 3rd grade and fell asleep under a desk in the "Bookmobile", I woke up 3 hours (& 117 miles) later and read books until my parents came to get me at the municipal library later that night. Those books? Mr. Pines Purple House, Gilbert the Ghost, Willie Looses His Kite & who could forget, Scotty goes to the Potty.

Sunday Bike Ride

I took a quick 120 mile bike ride this afternoon. This is the view from Jardine, of Deckard Flats.

I also stopped along the Yellowstone River to take a picture of Emigrant Paek. (Elevation 10,921) In 1962 a B47 crashed into the mountain. You can hike up to the top and still see parts of the wreck.

What's your Sunday drive look like?

T.G.I.F.@H.O.H.P. is A-ok

 If you’ve ever gone to a rave or hit the dubstep scene or just gone extreme clubbing, you know the drill. You head down town to an extremely unpretentious part of town, no neon, no flashing lights, no tell tail signs, you just know where to go. It's all prety much word of mouth. Friday night in Pittsburgh, we go out for the night. Down to a dark side of town and casually into a parking space that looks as though it was saved just for us. We walk to an old building that looks as though it is no longer in use. We head right in the front door (cause Teri’s playing tonight), onto the dimly lit elevator and up to the 3rd floor. As you exit the lift, it’s a tight hallway “L”, one more door, and we’re in. We are early so not much going on just yet. A few quick intros, a short stare down from the big fellow seated just inside the door and Teri is off collaborating with the sound and lighting people. I start people watching as the other musicians start rolling in and the audience follows shortly after. Let’s get this party started!   
      The music starts playing and the atmosphere is  more informal than I have ever seen. It’s like 50% standard routine and 50% open mike; lots of instruments up on the stage as well as open mikes. If you feel moved, you can grab a drum or bongo and play along. Step up to the microphone of you feel so moved and sing back up; it’s cool. Talk about hepcats? If you feel like reciting a favorite verse or unleashing your heart, let’er rip tater chip!      Teri does not start off playing, but after about an hour and a half, she eases on stage and right onto the key board as the whole idea is to not let the music stop. Her sister sits on a stool next to her and sings back up. The crowd is definitely into it: everybody is doing their own thing.

      As the night of non-stop music comes to an end, something strange and unexpected happens. Always on guard and constantly frosty when I'm in unfamiliar surroundings, I never saw it coming. As the musicians continue to play softly, the guy running the show wants to publicly thank Teri for coming many miles and setting time aside to come down to H.O.H.P.. It's not exactly C.B.G.B.s, in fact it's nothing like the famous punk scene. In fact, while I have been writing this story, the facts are correct but I have been painting a picture in your mind that lead you to "bob" when you should be "weaving". Allow me to retort.

  Friday night we headed to downtown Pittsburgh to minister to the homeless. We went to House of His Presence. (H.O.H.P) for an evening filled with worship in the form of music, song, prayer and love. I imagine for a few it might have been just a warm, dry place to sit. For some it could have been a place to get something to eat; but for all, it was a safe place in an otherwise busy world to rest, reflect and soak in the spirit. I enjoyed people watching the entire evening and was blessed because I could only imagine how some of those people got where they were in their lives. I truly delighted in all that I witnessed that night and was truly humbled before the evening was over. As Teri was called up to the front, to thank her for leading worship with them, I too was called to the front. Not wanting to leave me out, they prayed over us both. Not money, not hand shakes,but  prayers from their hearts. I had people, whom just minutes earlier I had been silently praying for, now praying over me. All very new for me. It was beautiful and humbling, and I felt the love. If you ever have the opportunity to step outside of your comfort zone, listen for the music and take a step through those doors. It's good for the SOUL.

Pirates, Steelers and....... Sushi?

If you've been tuning in and, as I like to say, been following "the Dash" you see I've been A.O.L.: I have been a victim of technology as well as lack, there of. Well, I've been in Pittsburgh. Summoned as if almost by the Bat Phone itself, I found myself sharing the lime lite, once again, with both super heroes and villans. It's true! The Andy Warhol Museum was hosting an exhibit by Alex Ross entitled; Heroes & Villans: The Comic Book Art of Alex Ross. Kind of like cops and firemen, we like to hang out at the same places. I did have the opportunity to extend some professional courtesy in spite of the fact they were all DC comics. With the ever so vigilant eyes of a hawk, I was however, able to catch a glimpse of Captain America.

    Even Super Heroes need to eat, so I hit the food scene a bit more laid back than normal. My first stop was Tokyo, sushibuffet&grill. I know what you're thinking, SUSHI BUFFET? It was great!  40 selections of sushi and sashimi, including hand rolls made to order. A talented staff and an overwhelming selection to choose from. If you have ever wondered just how much sushi it would take you to scream uncle (pronounced uncoe in Japanese), this is the place.

 

For lunch we stopped in at Primanti Bros. (Almost Famous since 1933) It's a sandwich place that is tall on atmosphere and short on taste. Perhaps it was my fault as I chose the cheese stake sandwich due to the fact that it had a disclaimer after it that read: our #2 seller. Maybe it's because I'm from Philly and my expectations are high or I'm so use to fighting for #1, that #2 is and will always be the first loser.   

 

On another day we headed down to the strip district. (Not the stripper district) where I pressed my nose against the glass and ogled..........fresh fish, at Wholey's Fish Market. If it swims in water, they got it!

My most memorable part was not the food but the lady hawking, freshly made lobster bisque. 100% totally addressing the women. It must have been as plain as the nose on my face that no man, EV ER (2 syllables) can cook. "Ladies (complete with strategic, pin point eye contact), put this on your pasta". "Girls, they'll love this on cold days". Me, well looks like I'm stuck with my tin of Hungry Man frozen dinners, ALSO LEFT OVER FROM THE 70'S! That was enough for me, I wasn't going to spend any of my hard earned, Susan B.Anthony's it that establishment.  

  

 

Across the street to the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company we went. Can you say "CHEESE"? You say it, they got it. You want more? They got it. You wanna tchro sumpin togedder f'lunch? G'head. O.k., I did. I got crazy with the olives; Coluccio Calabrese, Sharp Provelone stuffed and my own little baby sourdough and, bada boom, bada bing, lunch.

 

My time to hit the multitude of food stops was insufficient, but I will say this, "It ain't always about the food, sometimes it's about the company, sometimes it's about the journey, occasionally all things click and all you can say is wow." For those times when it just doesn't work out, just have one of the girls heat you up some delicious bisque. Cao

Goat Russlers

A few days ago, I found myself out on the prairie again. This time looking for some missing animals. I went up to a private 43,000 acre ranch to look for some missing goats; several hundred to be exact. I spent the entire day glassing and looking for clues. Miles of roads and nobody, anywhere around. No one to question, no one to talk to, no one, period! The day was not a total bust. There are lots of places on the property that have probably never seen a human foot print. Hard to believe in this day and age. Even I can't help but get distracted when the day gets long. When I was out where my favorite draw empties out off the plateau, I stumbled onto some cool stuff. I found what looks like a small cutting stone that's napped around the edges, like an Indian scraper. I also found some other cool rocks. They appear to be sand stone on the outside and either hollow on the inside or full of a different rock. They range in size from a small marble to a golf ball. Some look like petrified button mushrooms or petrified chestnuts. I'm headed of to a pals house that is into this sort of thing. If he doesn't know what they are, he'll find out. As for the disappearance of the goats, nothing to report, but I'll keep my eye out.  

My Heroe's Have Always Been Cowboys

I had a chance to meet one of my hero's a few days back. If I had to capture the experience and draw it in the form of a graph, it would look an awful lot like a giant check mark. I say giant because heroes are always larger than they seem. Growing up I was drawn to cowboys and super heroes. I new all the super heroes lived in New York and therefor all the cowboys lived out west. There I was, trapped in the Mid West, a virtual no mans land. I don't want to get into name calling, but as Bob Dylan sang it, I was stuck in the middle with you. I made quite a few contacts with more cowboys than I did super heroes. I established a friendship with western writer and artist, Bob Boze Bell, Mark McPherson and the wife of the Fastest Gun alive Becky Munden. (Bob and Becky by mail) Years later I had a chance to meet Bob Munden in person. I was headed out to his house in Butte,Montana. I was with a friend that was going to have some work done to a six shooter and for what he wanted, Bob was the man.

 

Bob had a house in town that served as an office. When we pulled up outside the address, it didn't look like a cowboy lived there. A quick nock on the door and there he was, in the flesh,Bob Munden. I had watched Bob on many of Saturdays on TV doing quick draws and trick shooting and I couldn't wait to see what would happen. After the initial introduction and 15 minutes into the conversation I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Bob was all business, PERIOD! What a gip! Bob talked softly, took my pals six shooter, worked on it while we both looked on in silence and that was it. I was heart broken, my hero was not so super after all. He finished the gun, handed it to my pal for inspection and brief small talk, cash exchanged hands and that was that.

 

Just as soon as the work was done, a switch got flipped. Bob came alive, as though he stepped into a phone booth or something. Before you know it we were laughing and listening to stories. Great stories! A few minutes later, Bob was dragging out pictures of famous celebs, sharing stories and then..................out came the hardware. Bob had two, matching gold colts with ivory handles. He drew them out of their leather holster, even as the rig rested inside a duffel bag. He gave them a quick twirl, flipped them around and handed them to me but first. "Check these out", he said. How cool was that? The big iron just kept coming out, from coach guns to lever actions. It just went on and on. Eventually some friends of Bob's came over, (all dressed as though they walked of the set of an old western). The outcome? More holes in the breeze. Bob turned out to be a great guy and still remained my hero. If you get a chance to see Bob on TV or in person I have one simple piece of advice,Don't Blink!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkViQc1KC-g       

 

I'll have a Grasshopper, on the rocks.

With summer seemingly coming to an end, it's time to get your last hikes in. When it's "Bloody Hot" out, you head up to the mountains to cool off. I know what you're think, "but Dash, arn't you closer to the sun?" Yes and no. The air is thinner but you are not and going up isn't always harder than going down.  Another thing to think about is; what ever someone brings to eat, always looks better than what you brought. Stop asking so many questions and start packing.  Hiking gets you away from day to day doldrums. (unless you work at a ranger station) Finding cool places to hike doesn't always pertain to temperature, but sometimes it does. I love having snowball fights in July just as much as the next guy.

 

  On of my favorite hikes is up to Hopper Glacier in the Crazy Mountains in Montana. Out of 150 original glaciers in the lower 48, only 2 dozen remain today and they are shrinking and thus great destinations! I believe there are a handful of glaciers in Montana and Wyoming named either Grasshopper or just Hopper Glacier. This one in the Crazies came under scrutiny in the early 90's (1990's) when it was discovered to contain hundreds of recently deposited grasshoppers representing 18 specific species. Kind of like how often they still keep finding dinosaurs around here. Big dinosaurs!

 

     Few things in life are certain, when it comes to hiking, here are a few: #1 Like the bear that went over the mountain, we just want to see what we can see, #2 If it gonna be easy, it's gonna be crowded, #3 If you pack warm, it's gonna be cold and vice verse, and most important, #4 You can't beat the view. Take time to enjoy it when you get there cause you never know if you're gonna get back and if you do, there's no guarantee it will still look the same if you do.