Cold Mountains

I'm on my second book about mid-century hikers of the Himalayas.  Both authors are candid about the physical hardship, indispensability of local guides, and ultimately inscrutable motives for their journeys.  Though I don't think I'll ever push things so far, I find myself of the same ilk.  Setting aside the tedious management of one's variety of affairs in order to devote attention to a particular mission has always resonated with me.  That's not to say there aren't myriad attendant duties and tasks, but that they all serve the over-arching goal is a satisfying grand narrative.  All the assignments and studying and notes are in service of Graduation; correcting and finessing words and typesetting turns manuscripts into Books; buying food and packing gear and walking thousands of steps achieves Through-Hikes.

I don't really know where I wanted to go with that.  I have a bit of a headache, possibly from the first direct sunlight to hit my eyes in two months, or the after-effect of mild hypothermia, or both.  Lesson learned (maybe?): even when it's -10F, you can be lulled into not realizing you're cold.  Oh, I had my down jacket right there in my backpack, but it somehow didn't compute that it might help with my painful, un-warmable fingers.  I'd like to think my chilled brain would've eventually made the connection; luckily, it was only about a half-mile of my own confederacy of dunce-ness.  

Abby leads the way on the frozen Kyokuk River.

glassy overflow on Gold Creek

Damn good brioche, if I do say so myself.

Untitled

Despite a life-long interest in politics and commitment to liberal values and policy, I don't often write about these topics.  I'd like to take a moment to reflect on a couple broad concepts in the interest of bolstering our current shaken sensibilities.  First, consider the preamble of our Constitution: "We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more Perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."  Among the flourish of capitalized nouns, there's some pretty clear language there about how we'd like to -- how we must -- function as a society.  Our Constitution is strongly influenced by England's Magna Carta, the document that established that the rule of law supersedes the supposed "divine right of kings," a.k.a. despotism/dictatorship.  It states unambiguously: "We will appoint as justices, constables, sheriffs, or other officials, only men that know the law of the realm and are minded to keep it well."  

It is essential for all people subject to our government to actively participate in its healthy maintenance.  Free and fair elections, equal opportunity, and proper enforcement of laws and administration of justice don't magically happen on their own: these fundamental elements of our democracy are made manifest by us, our living actions.  When dissatisfied, we must persuade and reform.  Violence is neither persuasion nor reformation, but destruction -- and destruction certainly isn't restoration of some perceived past state.  I'm no optimist, but surely we can do better for our Union by our union.  

--------

Thanks for following along if you made it through that. There's another important topic I want to address.  My former mother-in-law passed away unexpectedly a few days ago.  Marietta was kind, loving, fun, bubbling with warmth and enthusiasm, and always told me I cooked delicious vegetables.  I learned a good deal from her about how to be a partner to a passionately inventive and creative husband.  Despite my occasionally being prickly and taciturn, the tumultuous end of my marriage to her beloved older son, and our withered ties, I always knew she loved me.  And I go on loving her.

Me and a big slice of the Veligdan family with Marietta beaming from the center.

Seasoning

The cafe has really quieted down since Christmas -- our mini-surge of tourists cleared out, and road work has all but stopped truck traffic for a few days.  My already-relaxed-pace cleaning now accommodates the stockpiling of hundreds of cookies and hour-long listening/discussion sessions with coworker Chris about different styles of reggae.  One night we grilled steaks to perfection, along with asparagus, made extra crispy fries, and dined to the exuberant rhythms of the Gypsy Kings.  It was as good as a night out at a fancy bistro, except we stood next to a garbage can under fluorescent lights.

Abby and I skied the next creek to the north, on a narrow path through fairytale snowy spruces up toward a steep-sloped valley.  The pink mountaintops multiply and draw you in as you gain elevation, but we didn't venture far as it becomes avalanche territory.

If the days were threatening to blend together with my pattern of reading, eating, skiing, working, and sleeping, today really spiced things up.  I watched two guys for four hours as they carefully skinned a lynx they trapped.  I don't want to gross you out -- I didn't think it was gross, but it was very, shall we say, transformative -- so I'll just mention that it was removed pretty much in one piece, almost bloodlessly, while suspended from a hook, in the comfort of our boss's living room.  We do get up to some interesting things here.

New Year's Eve pallet fire 

Clara Creek 

I made a bunch of truffles and dipped things in chocolate for Christmas.  The pickles were Abby's idea; they were so horrible she spit them out.