Lookin' sharp!

Dull knives are so maddening.

They LOOK as though they might cut or peel something but really all they do is mash or scrape.

Have you ever smooshed a tomato, instead of slicing it?

Sawed on a raw chicken breast until it finally separated, but not in even strips?

I'd petition every likely male who dared venture near the kitchen to sharpen my knives, because I didn't think it was something I could do without completely wrecking my whole set.  You can imagine how few likely males wandered through my kitchen...I'd worn out the one who lives here on this task and he could no longer be classified as "likely". 

So, a few weeks ago, I took my cheapest, most awful paring knife and practiced.  If I wrecked it, no great loss! At first, I could only really get one side sharp.  It was a start, though.  I didn't test it on the hair of my forearm, like guys do. (That's a cool trick, if you're a guy, and certainly shows everyone how brilliant you are with a steel! But on chicks, it's just....weird.)  I used tomatoes.  If you can cleanly slice through a tomato with no real pressure, your knife is nicely sharp.  My knife needed pressure still, so it wasn't quite right.

Every way I tried to work the other side of the knife felt awkward and dangerous.  You all know I'm a klutz; the fact that I still have the ends of all my fingers and no scarring on my wrists and arms is a near miracle, really.  But I kept working on it, every time I needed to use that crummy little knife.  And one day, something clicked.  I GOT it!  The knife was SHARP, now, and I grabbed another one...one of the good ones.  Zoop, zoop, zoop, zoop....repeat on the other side...and IT was sharp, too! 

Yes, I just stopped and sharpened all the knives I could. 

I would imagine it was the same feeling an ice skater gets when they land a triple lutz!  YES!

Now, every time I grab a knife to use, I check the edge and if I'm slicing delicate things like tomatoes or bread, I'll give it a quick zoop-ing.  You can't believe how this tiny little skill has made such a huge difference in the tools I use daily!  I feel so....competent and independant!

I think it's one of those things that every girl should learn how to do before leaving home. 

The Cowboy Cookbook

My son's last name is Pluhar, but he's a Dutton, too. 
We read and collect cookbooks; at least my Dad, my Aunt and I do.  And we buy each other cookbooks, if we find one that we think is really good or particularly interesting.  I would have to say that at least half of my good cookbooks have been gifts from Aunt Bert, and many of them are regional, church-fundraiser Texas Velveeta-fudge-and-bacon-grease-in-everything-for-good-measure cookbooks....full of good recipes that aren't politically correct or health conscious at all!

A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a Cowboys and Indians magazine outside the library on the "Free! Take one!" pile, thinking it would be a good one to leaf through while I was waiting on the bus in the afternoons.  And it WAS interesting, in a more-money-than-good-sense-Western-style sort of way.  Angus saw me looking at it and wanted to look at the "cowboy" magazine, so I innocently handed it over.  It immediately became HIS cowboy magazine. (You know, because possession is 9/10ths of ownership...) He poured over it, page by page, chattering about all the fascinating things he was looking at.  One article in particular, though, captured his attention: a review of a Texas cookbook, with a full page picture of oysters on the half shell. 

"Can you make this for dessert, Mom?"


"Well...probably not for dessert.  But if we could find oysters, I could make it."
(What are the odds of THAT happening here in Eastern Montana, right?)


"And you could make this one, and this one, and this one....please?!"
(Pointing to all the pictures...)


"Well, baby, I'd need the recipes to know how."
(There are no recipes with this article. Ha HA!)


"Here's my cowboy cookbook.  IT has recipes!"
(Pointing at the photo of the cover of the featured cookbook...)


"Mmmmhmmm..."

I really thought he'd drop it and lose interest after awhile, but he didn't. At least once a day, he'd dig that magazine out and show me the pictures, requesting that I make those "cowboy desserts".  (It's like being pecked to death by a chicken, when he gets an idea in his head and is trying to persuade me...)

Finally, this week I gave in and ordered the dang cookbook Texas Eats: THE NEW LONE STAR HERITAGE COOKBOOK WITH MORE THAN 200 RECIPES by Robb Walsh.  I was praying that it had at least a couple of recipes that I could make to appease the child...

Two days later, the cookbook arrived!
Here's Angus after I handed it to him...

My cowboy cookbook!!!!!!!

Happily, it's a GREAT cookbook!  Recipes like Stacked Enchiladas with Pork and Red Chile, Espresso BBQ Rub, and Pecan Torte with Caramel Topping....

(Did you drool on the keyboard, just reading that? No? Well, I did!)

I haven't had the opportunity to make any of the recipes, yet, because he packs the book around with him everywhere he goes.  I think this weekend, though, we'll try a couple!

Take me out to the ball game...

Last Saturday I took the kids to their first baseball game! Our friend Aaron Carroll (aka Sparky...you may remember him from the Christmas post) coaches baseball at Dawson Community College in Glendive and his team was in Miles City for the weekend, playing in a little round-robin tournament.

We needed to go to Miles anyway, to get Maggie new footwear, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Disappointingly, it was COLD...bonechilling cold...and Sparky's team was playing in the morning at 9 a.m. and 11 a.m.

We did as many errands as possible before heading to the field (we may have been waiting for it to warm up a little) and caught the last couple innings of his first game, which they won!

Maggie and Angus, all decked out in Boston Red Sox gear.

Maggie sat down, watched a little of the game and started saying very loudly, "Youk! Youk! Youk!"

We really were wishing Youkilis would appear out of nowhere, wearing a DCC Buccaneers jersey, but no such luck.

It was a lousy place to try to take pictures without an uber-telephoto lens.  I was quite a ways away, standing on a little concrete stump and balanced precariously over the chain link fence to get these pics. 

Here's the team...Bucs in a box, sort of! I think Sparky said he had 22 or 23 kids on the team.

Love the swing!

Safe!

Trying to steal, but headed back to 1st and safety....

 This picture cracks me up! I have no idea what the boy was doing, but you'll see that both feet are off the ground.  Taking off? I don't know, but it's an interesting shot.  (When I went through the photos, I got all distracted by the people in the background.  THAT'S an interesting story unto itself, really.)

We didn't sit in the stands, but beyond the fence in the outfield. Maggie and her two friends from school gave up the game pretty quickly and played hard.  They found this huge patch of ground that had been plowed up and happily dug, rolled around, and ran through it.

Angus had had enough baseball by the end of the first game, so he went to stay with Grandma Banana (my mom) while Maggie and I went to the second one.  It sort of warmed up...but only when the sun was out, five minutes at a time. We had a great time and plan on attending more games this spring and summer!

Up all night

Saturday night was my night to watch heifers, this week.  We were down to 17 and supposedly between the big cycles, so the Boss (my FIL) decided I could handle it. But he would be in the Big House, on call, should I need any assistance.

When we night calve we get up every two or three hours to walk through the heifers and look to see if any are starting.  (More on that later...)

Some of my friends and family know that I have a hard time shutting my brain off at night and am a terrible sleeper; if I'm awakened some time in the night, it's nearly impossible to go back to sleep.  So, when I'm the one to watch the heifers, I'm generally up for most of the 9 hours I'm there.

Here's the bed I don't really sleep in....

When I do try, the common method is to take off the coveralls outside and slip into the sleeping bag in full wardrobe.  It's faster, warmer and more efficient all around.

This is the camper that houses the bed, inside a shop in the country. Nice because it doesn't rock in the wind, it's warmer and there's electricity.  It looks kind of funny, but it works!

The coffee pot is my friend, not surprisingly.  I only drink it from 3 o'clock on, so that really has nothing to do with the insomnia.  I think I'm pretty much the only one who ever makes coffee, since the guys seem to be able to get up, slog around the corrals in the brisk night air, lay back down and sleep like rocks until the next alarm goes off. 

The coffee I make in the camper is hot, strong, stale and sour.  I need to get new grounds out there, but what I'm looking for is hot and strong...that's what I get alright!

Snacks! And a little microwave on top of a dorm refrigerator!

They're not very nutritionally sound, but they give quick energy and ALSO entice children who come to visit during the day.  We've noticed a spike in shop visits since the camper moved in.  Coincidence? I think not.

Houdini Marie, my partner for the checks.  She didn't show up until about 3 a.m. because she has her own perimeter to patrol: "stray" cats to be discouraged, mice to catch, garbage can inspections.  It's really an honor that she makes time for me at all, really.

The office....the shop bench where the heifer book is, notes from previous nights, tags, flashlights, drill bits, TP (essential), bucket of assorted shop "things", tape measures...everything!  The heifer book contains all the eartag numbers, ultrasound information on days bred, sex of calf, notes about the calving experience for that cow, date she actually calved.  The yellow pad has notes to the next person about what happened that night. (All the writing on it in this picture is the beginning of a letter, not my calving notes!)  And, of course, my coffee cup. The beverage is now cold, strong, stale and sour...

This is the view just before I go into the corral to wander through the heifers.  The barn has great lights that the Boss lets me keep on all night.

I'll go in and shuffle the girls around, looking to see if anyone has started calving.  If I see a heifer that's getting ready, I try to put her in the barn or a pen by herself. It was beautiful weather on Saturday, cold and clear, but when it's snowy and sloppy, getting the heifer where she needs to go becomes a lot trickier.  Fortunately, we have such nice tempered cows that they don't fight me too badly. 

The heifers grew weary of me checking that night.  I ended up having two that calved and I'm a worry wart, so I was down there a lot.  Like, every thirty minutes from 3 a.m. on.  You could practically see them roll their eyes....

Here's 088 and her heifer calf in the barn.  I didn't have to put her in a pen, just in the barn, and she had the calf with no problems.  The odd thing was that when I was trying to get HER in the barn, she had a friend that didn't really want to leave her side.  I looked at 017 really carefully, because she was talking a lot, but she sure didn't have any signs of imminant calving so I left her alone.  When I went back out at 4:00, she was talking away and I saw that she'd calved.  From zero to calf, in 45 minutes!  No problems there, either, but she was still cleaning the little bull calf off, so I checked 088....baby cleaned off, up and sucking...perfect!

I did my last run through around 5:30 a.m. and left my notes before heading home for real coffee. 
When the weather is good, night calving is almost enjoyable for me.  But when it's bad, it feels like punishment!  We have a great set up, easy to move cows from pen to pen, and the bunkhouse is nice and close.  Anyone want to come and join me for a shift?