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.