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Rocky Mountain High

1/17/2023

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So, here I am in Avon, Colorado on the second day of a ski trip. Yes, I did just turn 80 two weeks ago. No, I haven't downhill skied for about 40 years. (I have cross country skied only about 20 years ago.) But I figure people go on football trips and don't play football, so I am on a ski trip.

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My companion Don is a diehard skier and makes several week long trips a year. And originally, I thought I would try a few lessons again. But the more I considered the ramifications of a break, or even a sprain, with my four story house, and how much I did NOT want to rehab for six weeks in the nursing home, the more I realized this would be a excellent time to do some undisturbed writing. So first this blog and then either the new Frannie book I'm working on or the the Mystery sisters. Of course, there are lots of cute shops around I could check out.

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This is actually the third day we've been gone, but we had to do some juggling to finally get in our condo yesterday afternoon. We actually left the Des Moines area Sunday morning about 3:00 am and were treated to a beautiful sunrise as we sped through Nebraska. Our condo was not available until yesterday, so we got other accommodations for Sunday night. Of course we had to check out of there yesterday by 11 am and couldn't get into the week's rental until 4 pm. Maybe they would let us in a little early? Not a chance!

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So we toured the area. First we rode the skiers' bus to the base of Beaver Creek Ski Area. We were the only non-skiers on the bus (Don decided to wait and hit the slopes today once we were settled). Watching the skiers of all ages reminded me of a flock of brightly-plumed birds. First of all, fully equipped skiers walk funny in their boots. The hard-soled boots require them to strut. Add the that, flashily colored and decorated helmets, bug-eyed goggles, ski suits in everything from pastel camouflage to safety yellow to stars and stripes, and coordinated decorated skis and snowboards, it's not hard to to imagine fantasy birds or even invading aliens. And the kids outfits are even more eye-popping. They have helmets topped with Mohawks, Minnie Mouse bows, or animal ears.


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We rode the bus back to town. With the back of the car packed to the gills with clothes, food, and gear (we had already checked to see if we could get in the condo a little early), we took off for Vail, about 7 or 8 miles away. There we found a great lunch and explored the shops--mostly full of ski gear. I began to wonder if some of the families we'd seen in the morning had to float second mortgages to outfit their kids. I bought a patch for one of my camper blankets and a pair of socks. The last of the big spenders. Vail, like Avon, is full of quaint architecture and interesting sights. These structures in a playground reminded me of onions.

At exactly 4:00, we were allowed to unload our stuff. Our condo is on the fourth floor with large windows that overlook the Main Street Mall. It's very lovely and well set-up with only a couple of exceptions. If you are going to include a fully equipped kitchen, why not include hot pads to handle all of those pans? And placing the living room seating about six feet from the large screen TV mounted high on the wall forces the viewer to crane their neck  to see anything. But other than that, very comfortable.

And now I really am going to work on one of my new books.


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Blizzards and Breakdowns

12/21/2022

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My family gets together in large scale every other Christmas. Last year we had cabins at Lake Darling with every family member except one granddaughter and her husband. Since the kids and grandkids are scattered across the country, that alone was an accomplishment. So this year is a "Do your own thing--see the in-laws Year." Some time ago, my daughter Kate invited me to spend the holidays with them in West Virginia and scheduled a flight for me on December 22.

But Monday, Mother Nature threw a typical December curve. A blizzard with multiple inches of snow, 30-50 mph winds, and sub-zero temps forecasted to arrive on--you guessed it--the 22nd.  The weather map showed a red blob from Eastern Iowa to the East Coast. Monday afternoon, Kate, Ron and I started rethinking my departure. I could leave Wednesday afternoon and arrive at Dulles in DC about 9:00. But when we tried to change my reservation, the seats were gone.

Maybe a longer route? I could go from Moline to Chicago to Orlando to Dulles. Or Chicago, Dallas, Dulles. If we looked hard enough, there's probably a flight that goes through Seattle to Dulles. But all of those were 10-12 hours.

How about Tuesday morning at 6 am? (This was Monday night we discussed it.) Couldn't quite get it together that quick and I didn't want to ask anyone to shuttle me to Moline at 4 am. Then Ron found me a seat on a Tuesday afternoon flight. The first leg went smoothly. I was checked in and was through security at Moline in twenty minutes. The flight was on time and we arrived  at Chicago Ohare without incident.

The 50-minute layover was just long enough to get to the next gate about 42 miles away and pick up a $14 turkey sandwich. We boarded the plane about 5:30 and eventually began our taxi. And taxied. And taxied. And sat. Finally the captain came on to say that they were concerned about the way the nose wheel was responding and were returning to the gate. They hoped to have it fixed and have us back in the air by 8. After several updates, we were told they were getting another plane and we needed to move down the hall to another gate. This gate was right across from a bar, which may not have been a coincidence.

People took it well. Airplane safety isn't an area where you want to take chances. There were quite a few families traveling because of the holidays and the children did amazingly well. I was grateful I didn't have two or three toddlers to wrangle and try and find food for reasonable prices. Finally by 9:30 we were on our way. We landed at Dulles about 12:30 am and made it to Kate's by 2:00 am. I was in bed by 2:06.

This morning a weatherman was broadcasting from Ohare--the third busiest airport in the world at this time. That busyness is increased by many trying to change flights to beat the blizzard. I was glad not to be there. Kate and I will be driving back to Iowa after the holidays so that could be a whole different can of worms. Happy holidays!






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Bullets, Bones, and Poisons

10/29/2022

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Those were the topics of the first three sessions Friday afternoon at Prime Crime, a mystery writers conference held at the Columbia Club in Indianapolis. The Columbia Club is a magnificent old hotel on monument circle. Attendees were greeted with evidence bags containing free books and programs. There are people from both coasts and a lot of 'locals' from Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. My writer friend, Elaine Orr, and I arrived just in time to dump our bags in our room and hit the first session.

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At the end of the afternoon, time to change and refresh for the evening's reception. The guest of honor is C. J. Box, best-selling author of twenty-some western mysteries about a Wyoming game warden. Trace Conger, Reavis Wortham, and John Gilstrap are other thriller writers present. Charles Todd, author of the Ian Rutledge mysteries, is more on the cozy side. Events were held on the top floor of the Columbia with great views. I ask C. J. Box if he had been wanting to have a picture with me, and he said he did!

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 Saturday began with a breakfast buffet, followed by sessions all day. I was on three panels, so didn't have much choice in my schedule. At lunch, Reavis Wortham did a great interview with C. J. Box. After a full afternoon and a short break, we had a banquet and were entertained by the visiting authors playing the Match Game.

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This morning, there will be a couple more sessions and a farewell lunch before we head out for the long drive home. But it's certainly been worth it. I haven't been to a live writer's conference since before Covid and had forgotten how energizing it is. This one is different than others that I have been to in that it is completely focused on mystery, and there are readers here too.

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Old Friends, Good Times

10/20/2022

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Fifty or so years ago, Sew and Blow was born. Six women with common interests, our families spent a lot of time together, our children were in the same age range, and our husbands were good friends as well. We had no dues, no officers, no rules. We just got together for coffee to chat, and some of us actually sewed. We have remained in touch and celebrated each other's joys as well as shared each other's sorrows. Three of us have lost husbands; two and a half years ago, we lost one of our members.

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We don't all live in the same town any more but we manage to get together at least once a year. The last few years, that has been at Lake Darling in a couple of their all year cabins. This year, we apparently chose the three coldest days in October for our gathering. That didn't interfere with two of our favorite activities: eating and jigsaw puzzles. We enjoyed hearty meals and yummy snacks. The puzzle that was agreed on this year was a collage of vintage campers. I didn't do anything to influence that decision, honest.

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But we did get outside in spite of  the temps and brutal winds. Several walks were taken although we didn't have any of our planned campfires. Winter coats and gloves were the dress of the day. The fall color was coming on and the park is beautiful.

And we did talk a little bit. We covered politics, gossip, philosophical questions, and grandchildrens' weddings. We discussed recipes, even though we don't cook as much as we used to, and  things we wished we'd done, even though there's no going back. We enjoyed beautiful sunsets. There is no substitute for long time friends.
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Tricks and Treats

10/7/2022

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I love fall camping. The crisp temperatures make campfires more welcome, soups and stews more tasty, sweatshirts more comfortable, and hiking more appealing. We are at Oakland Mills County Park south of Mt. Pleasant for a few days, where my niece's husband is the county conservation director and my in-laws are hosting at the campground for a couple of weeks.

Like many campgrounds, they are taking advantage of the season and gearing up for  a Halloween decorating contest and a couple of nights of trick or treat this weekend. People began getting their decor out yesterday, but high winds made havoc of some.
Kids will be looking for candy Friday and Saturday nights but the real tricks for our group came Thursday afternoon. Several friends came down to celebrate brother-in-law Ken's birthday, which is actually today, with an apple torte and other goodies. We had had rain earlier but the sun came out and helped temper the effects of the wind. Nine or ten of us were sitting around in lawn chairs anticipating our treats, when suddenly a gust of wind dumped a shower of rainwater off the end of the awning on Harriet and Rhonda who were sitting right underneath. They moved pretty fast but didn't avoid a thorough soaking. They decided as long as they were up, they would serve the torte. They moved over to the picnic table under the front of the awning and just had cut several slices, placing them on festive fall plates when another gust dumped more rainwater off the front of the awning onto the servers again as well as the table. It didn't hurt the torte. I thought maybe they could reenact the incident so I could get some photos for this blog but no one would cooperate.
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Chilly Days on Shady Creek

9/28/2022

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From a 98-degree-day a week ago to possible freeze warnings for tonight meant different wardrobe choices for this camping trip than the rest of the summer. We are at Shady Creek, a Corpse of Engineers campground on the Mississippi. I have been here many times in the past but not for the last several years. The purpose of this trip was twofold: camping with Don's sister-in-law and brother-in-law; and a lot of fishing, including teaching me to fish.

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Shady Creek is a nice campground: cement pads with lots of big trees--a characteristic missing in a lot of Iowa campgrounds the last few years. But I'm sorry to say the shower house is a D+ at best. There are two showers in both the men's and women's sides. One is quite small and the other larger, serving also as the handicap facility. On the women's side, the handicap shower has a push-button control which requires a fair amount of pressure to depress, and the the water only runs as long as long as the button is pushed in. And it doesn't get warm. Not the best set up for a handicapped person. The other shower has a push button control that stays depressed for about a minute and the water does get warm, but the floor of the dressing area is lower than that of the shower. Therefore there is about an inch of standing water in the dressing area all of the time. If you drop your towel on the floor (as I did) you're in big trouble. There are two barely functional hooks in each shower. On second thought, maybe it should be a D- shower house.

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But I know you're dying to know about the fishing lesson. It happened and it was successful! Tuesday, we put the boat in in Muscatine and spent a couple of hours trolling below the dam. It was windy but not unpleasant. And I caught a fish! I made Don hold it for the picture--the wind had really done a number on my hair. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. Shallow water near an island caused us more trouble and we finally hung it up for the day.

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It's been perfect weather for evening campfires. We've enjoyed one every night and it's been great to visit Don's inlaws. We went to Muscatine last night for a little Italian food and lots of leftovers. Lola is a delightful golden doodle who gets very excited when Joan says "Daddy's home!" It all makes me very sad as the end of the season approaches.

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A Mixed Bag

9/17/2022

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Usually if there's a damper on a camping trip, it's a literal one: a rainstorm, a tornado warning or some weather related event involving water. The past week at Black Hawk Campground on the Mississippi, the weather was predominantly lovely. We had a rainy day on Monday--sounds like a song--but it provided the perfect excuse for a road trip to check out the apple establishments for apple donuts, apple pies, apple cider, apple butter. You get the picture.

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Every evening was a perfect campfire night. Showy sunsets ranged from soft pastels to vibrant reds, oranges, and pinks. Mornings were just on the crisp side or softened by fog over the river. Daytime temps were perfect for walking or lunch overlooking  the Mississippi.

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So what was the fly in the ointment? Well, first of all, there were about six thousand of 'em, hanging around the camper door like they were waiting to see the queen lying in state. That's an expected side to camping and the flyswatter was always at hand. However, the purpose of this trip was for Don to fish, and to teach me to fish. I don't want to hear any comments about old dogs. Tuesday noon, after two pleasant hours on the river, during which I had requested I would just watch, I suggested that he drop me at the dock and I would go back to the camper and spend some time writing. We would go out again Wednesday when I would actually try my hand.

Part way back to the camper, I realized I had no keys. I called Don and he said he was coming in anyway; he had just had a run-in with a rock pile and had wrecked the propeller on the motor. I wrote in my last blog how we then spent the afternoon crisscrossing Prairie Du Chien before we found Cabela's boat shop. The young man ordered a new propeller and said, since it was already after 3:00 pm, it might not arrive on Wednesday but would by Thursday, and he would have tracking information by Wednesday. It would be shipped from the factory in Fon du Lac, three hours away.

Long story somewhat shorter, it did not arrive Wednesday nor did any tracking information. It did not arrive Thursday. We spent both days waiting for a call and hanging around Prairie du Chien. By Friday morning, the weather forecast for Friday afternoon and Saturday included a lot of rain. No call from Cabela's, but when Don called "it had just come in!" I bought a cute shirt there a couple of days before, but I would stay away from the bridge department. Anyway, I am still a non-fisherwoman and my brand spanking new license is stashed in my purse.

Other than that, it was a lovely week.

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Fish, Cheese, and Apples

9/14/2022

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We are spending the week at Black Hawk Campground near De Soto, Wisconsin. A first time experience for me, Black Hawk is a beautiful park perched on low islands and peninsulas in the Mississippi, and surrounded by the river bluffs of Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa. Our site backs up the this peaceful view of a backwater, home to a wide variety of birds including a lone blue heron.

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My friend Don planned this trip because it's one of his favorite fishing spots. So far, nature and mechanics have mostly foiled that activity. The Ottaways are here too and yesterday morning, Don, Vince, and I went out for a little fishing excursion. For the most part, it was unproductive but a pleasant morning until a run-in with a rockpile damaged the prop on Don's boat.  We spent the afternoon crisscrossing Prairie du Chien several times to locate a repair shop that could order a new prop. It will be here today or tomorrow. Those hiccups did not ruin a pleasant day on the Mississippi and a great supper and campfire with Ottaways.

 Because of rain off and on all day Monday, we decided to do a little road tripping, particularly to the apple places at Gay's Mills and a personal favorite, Valley Fish and Cheese in Prairie du Chien. Plans for the rest of the week depend both on the weather and the arrival of the new prop.  I am supposed to be getting a fishing lesson the next time out so stay tuned.
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Cuz We're Cuzzins

8/28/2022

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Until I was eleven or twelve I lived in the same small Minnesota town as all of my cousins and grandparents on both sides. And there were a lot of them; twenty grandchildren on my dad's side and seventeen on my mother's side. Our cousins were our first friends. Ever holiday was split with time at each side of the family. But about the time I was in fourth or fifth grade, the fracturing began. One by one, families moved to Iowa, California, and other Minnesota towns. We had fewer and fewer gatherings. Eventually, some of us managed to gather for weddings, and later, funerals. Covid put a halt to even some of these.

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Every few years, someone takes the initiative to organize a reunion. This year, cousin Jeff volunteered to have a gathering at his beautiful country home near St. Peter, Minnesota. Sister Gretchen started an email campaign. Of the thirteen surviving cousins, seven were able to make the gathering, plus four of our children and two great grandchildren--a fraction of the whole group but a nice size to reminisce and share family stories.

Two family members have been doing a little genealogy research and have raised a few questions. Our grandfather, Andy Jensen, came to the US in 1914 as a blacksmith. He had lived in Argentina for two years after leaving his native Denmark. He married Grandma, a Norwegian (considered a mixed marriage in those days). But one of the researchers discovered that Grandpa's parents may have come from Sweden! Does this mean we should have been having Swedish cookies along with all of the Danish and Norwegian ones every Christmas? Enquiring minds want to know!

We also enjoyed sharing stories and images of the people in our childhoods. Some remembered Grandma as stern; others as a softy. (I maintain that perhaps those images reflected our own behavior.) Regardless, a fun weekend!

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Best Campground by a Dam Site

8/17/2022

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One of the best, anyway. For several years, Howell Station, below the dam at Lake Red Rock near Pella, has hosted our extended camping group the third week in August. We like it because of the spacious, level sites, large trees, and lots of paths for bike-riding. The group was smaller than usual this year, due to silly events like weddings in Spain and vacations in Colorado.
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Other popular pastimes are eagle watching, fishing, and sunsets. Because the campground looks northwest across the Des Moines River, there often some pretty spectacular sunsets. This week, heavy clouds a couple of nights precluded those displays, but Tuesday night was good.

Of course, there's always trips to Pella to the quilt shop, the bakeries, and the other shops. Much-needed rain Monday afternoon and evening chased us into town for supper. My friends Ginge and Clare came out Tuesday and we made a quick tour of the shops and the flower gardens.


As indicated by the photo of the fence at the top, birdwatching is popular.  Bald eagles like to get 'take-out' for breakfast in the area of the Des Moines River below the dam. Once we spotted seven on the sand bars at one time. When we walked across the footbridge one morning, a magnificent specimen swooped toward us, but I was too slow to get a photo. The same thing happened Friday morning when I spotted a pileated woodpecker--every time I snapped a picture, he moved in the last second.

Wednesday, Don came down with his boat and we took a tour of Lake Red Rock while he checked out fishing spots. It was a beautiful day and the scenery was wonderful.

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Victuals weren't lacking, even though the group was small. Breakfasts included sausage gravy on biscuits, wheat germ pancakes and sausage, and French toast made from cinnamon swirl bread from the bakery. Suppers featured pork sandwiches, BLTs, and burgers plus a variety of sides.

So, although I did quite a bit of walking, a return to my regular exercise routine this week is especially necessary, especially after the Triple Berry Dutch pie ala mode, on Thursday night from, of all places, the meat market. Hopefully, we will all be back there next year for another go.


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