Dirty Shame

    

Where else could you hang out with a bunch of Outlaws in Livingston,Mt, but the Murray? www.themurraybar.com   I headed out last night, for the first time in almost 3 years, to do just that. The band at the Murray was The Dirty Shame. www.thedirtyshame.com/  They're an outlaw, country group. I don't mind saying I grew up listening to that stuff. It's goooood! The band sounded great and sure brought back some fine memories. Nothing like Johnny Cash fighting his way out of that little speaker in the dash of my old mans, '67 Chevy station wagon.. Let's not forget settin up in my favorite fishing hole and poping some brand new everreadies into my am/fm radio with my pal Rick. We actually found that old radio setting on a rock one day, where someone had evidently forgot all about it. In fine fashion, we did the exact same thing the following year. I reckon fishing must have been good that day.             Ah, the memories.

Well, the memories didn't stop there. I said I have not been out to the bar in almost 3 years and it seems like time stood still. On one of the band's breaks, we hoofed it over to The Mint. www.mintbarandtheater.com/our-story
One thing you gotta know about Montana, There's a LOT of "The Mint"'s. I got to see some old friends. If you read one of my very first blogs, you will recall a guy I refer to as Brother Rabbit. He was playing with another friend Shelly. I love the Americana sounds they lay down. It was great to see them and catch up between breaks. Two beautiful voices and two wonderful people.  Ah, the memories.
  The night was fun and the conversations.........priceless. They ranged from international gun trades, to "life being too long to surround yourself with anything but good people" and "eat good food", to working in, on or around water. I even had a chance to play with a pit bull pup. Yes, you can still bring your dog into the bar out here, as long as he's well behaved. All in all it's great hanging out with good friends, making new ones and catching up with old ones. I know Jimmy Buffet sang, Livingston Saturday Night, I reckon we all just showed up a day early! As David Allen Coe said, "the talk turned to Outlaws, like Willie, Waylon and Me."

Cigar 101

   I once uttered the phrase,"I don't care who I have to learn from". Unfortunately I did this to the face of a young guy that worked for me. It cane directly after her shared some valuable information with me. I can't help but think that remark is somewhat responsible for him "no longer" working for me. I have to admit, that in hindsight, it did come off as condescending. What I really meant to say was that I was never too proud to admit I did not previously know that. I recently received a wonderful cigar from a friend,that prompted me to reflect. The cigar is a fine cigar. It's a Montana Sport Cigar www.montanasportcigars.com/. While I love sponsoring local, I love it when it ends up being a great product. Believe me, I know a good cigar. My credentials, you ask? You wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I'm gonna tell you anyhow. I got my cigar education from a bag lady, in Detroit, named Tina. I'm guessing 20 years ago, I first met Tina when she was diving in a dumpster outside of my workplace. I remember being somewhat leery but also inquisitive and we actually struck up a lengthy conversation. Tina was a large, bleach blond gal, wearing a poncho (not a Sears poncho, a knitted one) and a pink hat that had lived through a rough spell with a Be Dazzler. A pleasant woman to sat the least, however when I accused her of not even being able to spell a particular word she used to describe me, she immediately became agitated, and kicked me. (I know what you're think, oh Dash, how did you let her get that close?) To make a long story short, we made amends and became friends. Tina often brought me gifts she found and I must say I always took them humbly, as I knew she really was thinking of me. She gave me the first three issues ever published of Cigar Aficionado www.cigaraficionado.com  I still recall the three covers, they were three iconic figures that require first names only, to know exactly who they are: Groucho,Fidel and Rush. (Say the secret word and the Communist will fly down and give you a Vicodin) I poured into those magazines and before you knew it I was able to hold my own with the best of 'um. George Burns? AAHHH, Bill Cosby? Nonsense! I began to talk of Connecticut wrappers, ring gauges,long filler from Ecuador, claro, claro claro, maduro. Did you know the thickness of cigars is referred to in ring gauges. That's actually 64ths of an inch? Did you know that Lonsdales have a ring gauge of 42 and are named after Hugh Cecil Lowther, the 5th Earl of Lonsdale. Folks, I can't make this stuff up. it wasn't long before I was buying bundles of LaUnica cigars from J.R.Cigars  www.jrcigars.com. Some of the most entertaining reading you will ever come by, can be found in a J.R.Cigars catalog. I urge you to get on line and request one and see for yourself. If it's not top notch writing, I'll give you your money back. If it's everything I said it was, send me a Macanudo Portofino!
     20 years have gone by,  to this very day, I never light up a cigar or begin a discussion about them (and I have been in some pretty stout company discussing the finer points of a great cigar and countless times I have forced people to do a double take) that I do not look back and remember where it all started. I enjoyed every conversation I ever had with Tina. I wonder what ever became of her. She taught me lots about cigars, however, she taught me a great lesson about life. Here is where you expect me to lay out the cliche'. Well. I ain't gonna do it this time. It's too obvious. Why it's as plain as that nose on your face, or that burning stoagie underneath it.  

Anything Goes

     We have a great little theatre in town. Tonight I was accompanied by my beautiful bride, as we enjoyed Cole Porter's, "Anything Goes".  I love the cozy feeling of plays at small venues. It brings back fond memories of all the Broadway and off Broadway my folks took us to as youngsters. I could list them all, however, the list would go on forever. You name it, we saw it. I remember how controversial Godspell Godspell on Broadway | Official Site  was when it first hit the stage. I remember all those hippies coming into the seats with bread and wine for communion. I remember it all spilling out through the doors and into the streets! You couldn't tell the players from the fans.   I remember being awed by Zero Mostel as Tevye in "Fiddler On The Roof".Fiddler on the Roof : FIDDLER ON TOUR I can still hear Richard Kiley belting out "Man of LaMancha".The Broadway Musical Home - Man of La Mancha I take quite a beating for "knowing my show tunes"! I can't help it. Mom and Pop just wanted to make sure we were exposed to as much culture as we could be. Heck, I remember going out to dinner with the cast of "Jaques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris"

Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living In Paris Trailer - YouTube

, and closing the place down.

     Much like I love the 4th of July Rodeo and parade, because this is my town; I love going to our small town plays. With the passion and energy the cast puts into it, it's hard to refer to it as small. After all............
As You Like It, All the world's a stage. ( you do know who wrote that don't you?)

Cheeseburger in Paradise

     As if cued by the first pitch on baseball's spring training, Mark's In and Out opened yesterday. It seems like the line never ends! Locals are afforded the opportunity to get out all of their pent up winterized frustrations out in one felled gulp. Not since the methadone clinics of Detroit have I seen people loitering outside an establishment like this. As I passed the place, last night, on my way to the gym, cars and trucks were gridlocked in the tiny parking lot.Vehicular tetras at it's best.
     It has been rumored that Jimmy Buffet wrote his hit "Cheeseburger in Paradise" about this here burger joint. While Jimmy has spent more than his share of time here in Paradise Valley; heck, he did write "Livingston Saturday Night", sorry to say, his hamburger hit was not inspired here on Park street.
     Aside from the small burgers, (small in stature, not small in taste), there are other appealing features about this Beefburger Bunker. The roller skate service on Friday nights is cool. (Cool as Fonzie) The peanut butter shakes are every bit as tasty as the marshmallow shakes. The annual car show, hosted by Mark's is loads of fun. I get a chuckle out of the quirky sayings up on their message sign. The only thing that make me laugh harder than the quips are the kids trying to put the letters up when the wind is blowing at 40 m.p.h.. The saddest message is always their last.  CLOSED FOR THE SEASON. REASON? FREEZIN'

Nightswimming

► 3:52► 3:52

Coldplay Nightswimming with Michael Stipe - YouTube          This evening, as I soaked outside in the hot tub, I marveled at the night sky. (AGAIN) There was no moon and the stars seemed brighter than ever. Within my first ten minutes, I must have seen 30 satellites. As I soaked it all in I recalled the two night floats I have done on the Yellowstone River. The first float was under a full moon and the second was with no moon at all.      The adventure of both nights ended up being surpassed by the beauty of it all. I vividly remember on the float of the full moon, being struck with how bright the night actually was. I remember looking into the deep pools and being able to see the bottom when it was calm. I recall how bright and foamy the white water appeared as we approached. I marveled at the clarity of my reflection and how it began to distort as we moved from calm to crazy water. It was like floating through a land that time continually ignores.      The float without any moon took on a completely surreal mood. The stars danced on the calm pools, like dainty water bugs motoring about with their running lights on. The appeared and disappeared magically, like white tails moving into an open meadow at dusk.       This evening, two beautiful songs came to mind as I relaxed, fixated on the night sky. The first was Nightswimming by R.E.M.. Michael Stipe sings from his heart on so many songs. This one is eclectic to say the least, but passionate. the second is Ripples by Genesis. Ripples is off  "Trick of the Tail" . Phil sings this about as tender as possible while sporting as Minnesota North Star Jersey. My soak tonight  ended with one stunning shooting star. I decided to call it a night on that note. It gets too easy to keep saying, "just one more".   8:01   Genesis - Ripples (Music Video)

WTF

Winter Thawed Flamingo. I can't make this stuff up.

Spring?

It seems like only yesterday, I was basking in the sun, watching robins.

First Branding of the Year

Moms waiting anxiously to be reunited with their calves.

I thought that firing up both motorcycles, this past Thursday, fired me up for spring. I was wrong. Saturday morning came, complete with sunshine, the return of sandhills, herons and robins. Ah, spring is in the air.

I hustled out to Mission Creek Ranch, just east of town, not wanting to be late. I wasn't worried about getting my pay docked, I just didn't want to miss out on anything. Turns out I got there a bit early and got to hang out with Cody for a bit, waiting for the medicine to show up. Saturday was to be the first of three rounds of branding scheduled to take place at the ranch. What a beautiful day it was.

     Linda and Ray started out working the irons as we pushed through about 100 hundred head. I got to feed the chute from the small holding corral. I managed to pull off an entire day without getting kicked our getting my toes crushed. Quite honestly, it was easier than any of my last ten workouts. We made quick work of the day. When you get a good crew, it becomes quite the assembly line. Lean manufacturing, time tested and proven. We finished up without a hitch and headed into the calving barn to get some chow.

     The barn had about seven sets of newborns that just came into this world and are waiting to feed off mama for the first time. This handsome little nipper is cute as a button and not much bigger than one, at that.
     For lunch, we had pulled pork and all the fixens. Ice cold beer and brownies, but not necessarily in that order. It feels good to be welcomed in. I always enjoy working hard with a great bunch of people. I feel even better when I get invited back. I'd venture to say that everyone involved, slept good that night. There may have been a few that never waited that long.

Little nippers romping through the creek.

Leaving The Land

     I just finished the sequel to The Breaking Of Ezra Riley; it's called Leaving The Land. Once again John L. Moore got me all railed up. As the book started, I thought I got it all wrong. I began to think it was a PRE-quel. It turns out, John just thought you ought to get in on a little history about Ezra. True to form, you end up being caught off guard along with the star of the book. Moores' brilliant use of adjectives and deep seeded knowledge of living in Montana reel you in like a hungry spring brown chomping on a number 4 wooly bugger.  Chapter 15 ought to win an award all by itself. John takes you to church and introduces you to the Reverend of the century who is just getting started opening a can of Holy Whoop Ass and before you know it, your feet start to tappin', your shaking your palms up to the sky (Al Jolson Style) and before you can turn the page you shout AMEN BROTHER!  I got so fevered up I actually finished the chapter and immediately     e-mailed John to say simply, "chapter 15.......WOW".
     The book addresses getting older and realizing your past, good or bad, defines who you are now. What you choose to hold onto, out of hate or love , is up to you. Your past is a matter of geography only; it's simply where you've been. For Ezra, he spends his whole life dealing with his love, hate relationship with the land. He jousts his share of windmills and fights for all he is worth to make sure he never bows to the harsh labels bestowed upon him since childhood. The irony comes to light when we find this tough cowboy parked out on the prairie in his pickup. As the sun begins to set over the prairie, he pulls a giant box of crayons out from under his front seat and searches desperately through the box for the exact crayon that matches the color in the sky, that lasts only moments. He never colors, he just searches for the perfect color. God, I gotta get my own box of crayons.

Montana has so much to offer. That could be why they call it the Treasure State. It is, however, like a treasure hunt. You have to look for it. It's always there, but it won't come to you, you have to find it. If you find it in your heart first, it makes it that much easier to see with your eyes. At the end of the day, all I can say is, it ain't for everyone.

Trail Creek Cabin

The view from the front porch of the cabin was beautiful, early Saturday morning. We had all survived the night.It was so peaceful, I decided to get my thermarest pad and finish my morning slumber out on the snow. Snuggled up in my favorite warm red coat, I grabbed a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich and a bottle of milk and waited for the sun to make it's way across the meadow and introduce me to my day.

The cabin is great. It was built in 1927 and just screams of stories untold. It has two bunk beds, three wooden chairs, a fold down table and a wood burning stove.
For breakfast, I baked some biscuits and made some eggs. KJ cooked bacon and The Greek rolled out of bead with a sore neck and a new nick name,"Sparky".

After breakfast, KJ had to take Sparky back to the trail head so he could go to work. Shortly after they left, my pal JD showed up with his dog, Gunner. He told a story of coming across a scene in the snow where it looked like a snowmobile and a skier crashed or got into a fist fight. He followed the blood trail for a short while and then it just stopped. He said it was about 2.5 into the trip. Hmm? I told him the story of my trip in and he just laughed. We spent the rest of the day skiing and taking in all the scenery. We cooked up some antelope bratwurst and chilled out for the evening.

Sunday morning started out with some cheesy brats, another peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, and a quick cleaning of the cabin. We topped off the firewood box for the next folks and we were off. The sun was hot and turned most of the snow to mush but I welcomed that on those otherwise fast down hills.

Gunner gets my tough guy award, he picked up the stick (actually it's a good chunk of a tree) he played with at the cabin, and he carried it out the whole way.

What a great, relaxing, adventurous way to spend a weekend unwinding.



The End



Bright Idea

Was it Robert Burns that wrote, "The best laid plans of both mice and men, often go awry"?
     I don't know what prompted me to decide that a night ski would be a good idea; heck, the last time I skied at night, ended abruptly with a concussion and me almost loosing my eye. It was my idea, but I was coerced by the fact that there would be a full moon.

We arrived at the trail head  right at dusk. We had planned to ski the 6 miles in, under the light of the moon which peaked it's fullness the night before. A last minute change of plans was the addition of "The Greek" to the trip. He begged to bring the snowmobile an KJ couldn't say no. As those two readied the sled I cinched up my pack, all 65 pounds, and headed up towards the cabin.
     It seemed like I was skiing for quite a while before I even heard the sled. Finally. I moved off to my right to allow the sled to pass and for a brief moment, I thought I was at Bush Gardens, watching the glamorous girls water skiing. KJ was driving the sled with The Greek in tow,literally. I chuckled and kept on skiing. I knew the first 2.5 miles was all up hill and as I skied in the darkness, I saw the reflection of the sled coming into view. The guys were waiting for me. As I got closer, I noticed the hood was up on the sled.

Evidently, the brakes had been stuck on for the first part of their cruise. The rotor was cherry red and the brakes were seized. With a small pack of tools, we were able to remove the the caliper. Who needs brakes anyhow? In the process of wrenching on the sled, I jumped in to muscle off a stubborn bolt and when the bolt freed up, it introduced my knuckle to a sharp edge of metal and I bled like a stuck pig. As those two continued to work on the sled, I dug out my first aid kit, which was buried, you guessed it, at the bottom of my pack. Well, I had so much fun cramming my pack full, why not undo it and do it again.
An hour and a half, two new spark plugs and 2 feet of  parachute cord, and we were ready to go. I decided to strap my back pack to the back seat of the sled, figuring someone could ride all our gear to the cabin and two of us would ski the rest of the way in. Evidently, I was the only one thinking that. As KJ fired up the sled, The Greek grabbed the tow rope and they were off.

Great! I did a quick assessment of my gear, on me, as my backpack was not, and I had my knife. No water, no extra light, no matches and my lever gun was strapped to my backpack. Just me and three and a half miles to go. My good friend, The full moon was late to the party, he had not shown up yet. Oh well, ski on.
For the most part, the trail was ice, and if you remember, I mentioned the first 2.5 miles was up hill, well the last mile is down. When I finally arrived at the cabin, my GPS unite told me I made the trip in 1 hour 40 minutes. It also told me my maximum speed was 34.5 miles per hour. I was sure I achieved that mark during the last mile of the trip. The snowmobile wasn't the only one with no brakes. Did I mention I was not wearing a helmet?

I made it to the cabin just as the moon was popping up over the mountains and clouds. It was so dark, my two buddies, drove past the cabin and we actually showed up at the same time. We went in, started a fire, drank a cold beer and cooked some antelope tenderloins I packed in. Life is good!

As if we needed just one more adventure before turning in, we set out for a few turns in the snow. We skied across the small meadow and up to the knoll, not far from the cabin. As we made our way up the knoll, I mentioned to KJ there was a strand of barbed wire sticking out of the snow only an inch or two. There was about a four foot base of snow and that wire was the top strand across a fence line that was peeking out into the free world. As the two began climbing higher and higher, I heard a small voice remind me of my last wreck, and I chose to turn around and head back to the cabin. I had already pressed my luck getting in. I skied back to the cabin and sat on the porch, delighting in my day and waiting for the boys to get back.

As I sat watching the meadow, I could hear the swooshing of someone making turns in the icy snow and watched the guys come into view. KJ slid into the meadow first and turned to wait for The Greek. As he roared down the hill, unbeknown to him he clipped the wire with his right ski, an all I could see were sparks as the wire must have sawed across the metal edges of his skis like a bow across fiddle strings. When the sparks stopped, so did The Greek. He sailed through the air and crashed hard. He was shaken up a bit but not seriously hurt. After all was said and done, we were able to joke about it.

     I got up early the following morning and skied out to look at the crash site.

The picture tells it all. Direction of travel, right to left.

What a day!

Do You Fondue?

Saturday night was a bit like "That 70's Show". What else would you call it when you Fondue, burn incense and listen to "The Girl from Ipanema"? What started out as a cozy fondue dinner for four, stayed true to form and became a fun dinner for seven. Did I mention that is was delicious? Oh yeah, delicious.
     For meat we had beef, elk, venison and shrimp, and plenty of it. Cooked to taste in peanut oil, I didn't want it to end. In fact, when the over stocked, wood burning stove set off the smoke alarm and everyone hurried off to get it back under control, I seized the opportunity for extra forks and unattended oil to beef up my protein so to speak. Shy about it? No way; in fact I enjoyed the newly present smokey flavoring to justify my actions.
     The dips for all the meats were perfect. The first was green onions, freshly ground ginger softened up in some butter and added to crushed tomatoes with some Momma Africa's hot sauce. Hot! The second was a red pepper, lightly cooked in chicken fat and pureed with orange marmalade.POW! That one is a killer on just about anything. In fact, it has a date with my cheese burger tonight. The third one was fun and yummy. It was cherry preserves whipped with horseradish sauce. Like a party on your toung.
      We had two cheese pots going at the same time. My favorite was the Blue cheese and Brie. It had shiitake mushrooms and green onions in it and kicked up a bit with some white wine.  A close second was the one with dark ale, Emmenthal, Gruyere and Appenzeller cheese. Sopping that up with sourdough bread sounded like a cross between people watching fireworks and seeing a cute puppy. OOOOHH, AAAHHH, MMMM.
     Add good wine, great beer and fun friends; what else could you ask for?

How about a fast paced game of dominos, Mexican Train style. I guess the only thing stopping us from winning the 70's award was that we didn't play twister.