East Wenatchee

[cranefly]

Been visiting Lady Cranefly's sister and her hubby in East Wenatchee for the past week and a half.
One thing I've discovered is that hummingbird feeders have become very popular up here in Washington.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

Ummmmmm . . . . . .

[Drunk Monk]

i have a friend that has a very similar piece. and he's a hardcore chronic, a connoisseur, so he knows good gear.

[thatguy]

Someone (a friend and her boyfriend) foisted upon me a very nice Roor(sp?) like that. They were upset with metal/plastic "bird feeders" that I had and decided to surprise me with an upgrade. They forgot to take take the price tag off the stem (all the parts were wrapped separately. It was something over $50 just for that part. That thing was expensive. I was humbled at how much they spent, but I rarely used it. I'm just not that frequent a bird feeder. I ended up giving it to a friend of a friend who has a bird feeding card (doesn't everyone these days) and actually feeds the birds medicinally.

Very happy to see it go to a good home.

--tg

[Drunk Monk]

Glass, bamboo or ceramic all the way.

That sort of birdfeeder was all the rage a few years back. Now it's all about dabbing rigs. If you think that stem was pricey, check out titanium nails.

[cranefly]

Back on my birthday (11/21/2014), Lady Cranefly and I got up early, jumped in the car, and headed north. Fifteen hours later we reached East Wenatchee, Washington, which is almost exactly dead center in the state. East Wenatchee and Wenatchee are split by the Columbia River. Our destination was J and T’s place, T being Lady Cranefly’s sister, J being the husband.

We of course took Halvah along. She entertained herself watching the local fowl, both domestic and wild. And by terrorizing Felix, the feline resident who is three times bigger.

LC’s sister T grows gourds for artwork. Lots of gourds. So many gourds. There are many recreational pursuits available in the area. I did not partake of this one.

Just when we were settling in and things seemed to be going so well, J took me aside and informed me of “a situation” that seems to crop up without fail anymore when I visit friends. I refer to the “body in the garage” problem. The worst is when the body is in the neighbor’s garage -- but let’s not dredge up that distant memory right now. J took me out to have a look. Then we set to work. I regret that it gets easier each time. There’s an art to dismemberment. The joints are more complicated than you might think; they’re like jigsaw puzzles. One must seek out with the blade the lay of the bone and the placement of the ligaments. Once you’ve solved it, dismemberment happens. We worked at it a couple hours, then washed up and took a break.

LC and I went for a walk along the Columbia River, less than a mile away. We saw ducks and a swan. And ducks and geese. Lots of geese. We crossed a pedestrian bridge from East Wenatchee to Wenatchee. Pedestrians share the bridge with a very large pipe carrying water from parts unknown. Legend has it that the pipe once sprung a leak, and a courageous boy plugged it with his thumb for a couple years. Finally the civil engineers rigged a patch. There’s water everywhere in the region, with frequent proclamations of the benefits of hydro power. We passed by a park dedicated to Upside-Down Pangborn, a famous aviator of the region. On our 7-mile walk we kept coming across articles of clothing. First there were the boots. Then the jacket. Then the gloves. They were all high quality. Days later, after a snowfall, we went for a short walk and noted that the boots were still there. We wondered if maybe they were shooting an episode of Naked and Afraid up here.
The region has a problem with uncaring artists who are always littering in the parks. We came across some of their refuse: an octopus, a bear, a coyote with some salmon, a foot, a face, a whale.

We crossed a bridge over the Wenatchee River at its point of confluence with the Columbia River. All in all, we walked some 7 miles.

Soon after getting back, LC and T discovered our grisly little secret. As it turned out, they were only too willing to help with disposal. Sausage was their idea. It turns out that sausage needs fat for its flavoring, and the problem with venison is that its fat is unsavory. So you need to trim it off and discard it, along with “silver skin” and tendons. To compensate, you buy pork with lots of fat, and mix it all in. While J and I cut and trimmed the meat, the ladies did the grinding. A body has lots of meat. You don’t grind everything up. Some of it you use for meals right away. Oh, here’s a trophy. You mix all sorts of spices into the ground meat. Oh, and to make sausage, you’re going to need a few miles of pig intestine. Next comes the sausage_stuffer. It works like filling a balloon with helium, only here you’re using ground meat. The result looks something like this, prior to putting in the smoker. Yes, of course you’ll want to smoke it.

After a snowstorm, we introduced Halvah to a different state of water, then decided to take a day-trip northward. We passed by the Chief Joseph Dam, which is the last dam with a salmon ladder (the Grand Coulee Dam further north stops them). We noticed leaks in its housing. But that’s not flowing water; it’s stalactites -- water frozen while in motion. We passed through some rugged land with scenic vistas. The fields were littered with huge boulders. Unfortunately, I lost my camera in the car at this time and only much later found it. On an Indian reservation there is a famous balancing rock, but no one can visit it without escort, thus this one long shot (Indians can be so bloody untrusting). We climbed in altitude while approaching the Canadian border and spotted several large mule deer (as opposed to whitetail). The temperature dropped to zero degrees. Soon we were traveling a road edged by a barbed wire fence that was the border. It’s against the law to step over, and patrols go by at regular intervals. Our cell phones went off with sleazy Canadian text messages -- predatory firms ready to hit us with huge roaming charges. We passed by the house of a good friend of T and J’s living maybe a mile from the border. She’s a bit eccentric in a socially conscious sort of way. Another friend in the tiny settlement has a nice truck collection.
Finally we returned to East Wenatchee for a well-deserved rest.

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

Who takes a cat on a vacation?

Yes, I'm bringing the dogs to Saratoga.

[Drunk Monk]

Greg - you driving up? 'Cuz my DOOMXMAS gift won't clear TSA. nakeman:

[Greg_phpbb3_import1]

Yep. The dogs don't fly coach

[cranefly]

LCF and I are in East Wenachee visiting with LCF's sister and hubby.  Took a chance, driving the 2005 Prius.  Check engine light came on just past the midpoint.  Decided to try to drive it onward.  Success.  But now we're in a puzzle as to how to proceed with the Prius.

Just ordered a diag tool off Amazon to get code.  But it's unlikely to find something simple or definitive.  Keep hoping for a defective gas cap or bad tightening (It happened shortly after getting gas in Oregon, where  an attendant did the gas-fill, but unlikely that simple).

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

What happens in West Wenachee? Is there a big rivalry? Dance-offs? knife-fights?

[Drunk Monk]

What happens in West Wenachee? 

Prius lights are triggered.

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

So are Martial Arts writers.

[Drunk Monk]

Fair

That’s a constant nowadays. Everything is triggering, except maybe water.

[cranefly]

We're back.  Spent about a week up there.

A hectic drive up.  I've never enjoyed driving, but appreciate the freedom it affords.   But now it's more stressful.  Unlike many older drivers, I know my skills have not sharpened with age.  I cannot look aside without drifting, and I have to continuously and quickly correct, to compensate for slowed reflexes.   So it's exhausting.  I was hoping LCF would do most of the driving, but her foot started bothering her early going up.  Something about a recent break.  So I did more driving than expected -- with the constant worry that a cop would stop us and have concerns about my unbalance if I had to get out of the car.

Coming down was even more hectic.  I did a 4-hour stint around Oregon, then two hours in the flats of CA.  LCF handled Shasta and other winds and climbs.  What made it more nerve-wracking was the quantum state of the guns in the trunk.  LCF was in email contact with an authority about the rules for entering CA with them, but the weekend hit before it was resolved, and we had to take off.  So if it was legal, we transported them in the trunk.  If not, we didn't.  Fortunately, no cop had us pop the trunk to collapse the wave function.

(Sometime back DM asked if any of us had guns:  http://www.brotherhoodofdoom.com/doomForum/showthread.php?tid=5597&pid=40133&highlight=ruger#pid40133  And I gave a rather cryptic answer.  Hopefully what I've described here has clarified the matter.)

The other concern was the quantum state of the denatured alcohol in the back seat.  Allegedly five 1-gallon cans.  It's not available in CA anymore, because it's a major ingredient for Meth.  But LCF has friends in dire need of it for jewelry work, or casting, something like that.  So she agreed to act as their supplier, maybe, so we might have had that in the back seat awaiting quantum collapse.

More to come.