"Curiouser & Curiouser"

I find the human race to be a curious bunch.  We seem to have an irresistible urge to communicate with each other, even to the extent that we reach out to people who we don’t even know, and conversely who will never know who we are.

We carve our initials into the bark of trees so someone we don’t know and will never know, will see them and know we were there even though they will never know who we are, or why we were there.

We write notes, seal them in bottles, and cast them adrift into the ocean with the faint hope that someone we don’t know will find it, but they will more than likely never know who we are.

We paint obnoxious graffiti on walls and bridges in a desperate attempt to let people we have never met know that we were there, even though those same people don’t and may never know us, but will think our message and communication techniques are disgusting.

We place flowers, teddy bears,  ribbons, and all sorts of other mementos at memorial sights so that people, we don’t know, will know that we were there and that we cared.

Today I found another novel way that people are attempting to communicate with others that they don’t know.  It’s called “Letter Boxing”.  I was hiking down a hill off the beaten path when, by chance, I found this small box hidden under a Yucca plant.  In the box I discovered a rubber stamp, a small blank notebook, and a type written instruction sheet.  The idea is to carry your own rubber stamp, ink pad, and note book.  You stamp your stamp into the book in the “Letter Box” and stamp their stamp into your own notebook.  Once this is done you put it all back the way you found it…and move on.  I am not sure what the specific objective behind all this is, but again we seem to want to let someone we don’t know be aware that we were there.  “Curiouser and curiouser”.

Not Sure It'll Start

I've been thinking about a new truck lately.  I think I found the one I want.  

Sweet Vacation Sweets

Another glass of wine and some cheese cake please,

Oh you’d better make it two.

And pour on some chocolate nice and thick,

and add a little whipped cream too.

This vacation was too darn short,

I hardly had time to sit.

When I get home with my pants agape,

and my truck tires squatting a bit.

I’ll convince my friends…and even myself…

that the Devil made me do it.

Oven Roasted What?

The aroma was simply overwhelming and unmistakable, roasting meat of some sort. Perhaps beef, or pork, I wasn't exactly sure but it was remarkable, as if I as true carnivore, had died and gone to heaven.  Mary and I had been invited to an old friend's house to take a lesson on the construction of homemade tamales.  Tamales are a Christmas tradition for many families and we wanted to learn the technique for our own holiday.  After the obligatory greetings and small talk I blurted out, "what in the heck are you cooking?"  Max, our friend, took me to his oven and opened the door.  For a brief moment I was stunned, but I did my best to conceal my shock.  There in the oven, roasted to a nice dark brown color, was a whole cow's head.  Sensing my apprehension, Max said the meat on a cow's head makes the best tamales and I would love it.  He was not wrong.  Ever since that day nearly 30 years ago we have tried to make tamales at least once a year.  It's a very labor intensive process but well worth the effort.  If you ever come to our home and smell what seems to be an amazing pot roast in the oven don't be surprised at what you find if you take a peek.