I am washing up a couple cooking utensils as I am making dinner. The potatoes are boiling away. The hamburger for the shepherds pie is simmering with the onions and garlic. I was going to rinse out the cans of beans and corn before I put them into the recycle bin.
And lo, it's a flood. the water was rising in the sink where I had rinse water running. I thought it was just a local thing because I had rinsed down the potato peels. But no, it was coming up in the other half of the double sink. I still thought it was local to this sink. I went down stairs to check. Wrong again. It was rising in the shower.
I guess I need to have the line from the house to the sewer cleaned again. I had it done about four years ago. The technician told me that with my concrete sewer line that I would likely need to do it every couple years. So, I guess I am about on track for the inevitable.
I'll call Action Drain tomorrow. There is no problem choosing them because of all the companies that clean sewer lines here in Spokane, they are the best. They are not the most expensive or the cheapest. But they truly are the best. And beside that the owners of the company are nice people.
By this time tomorrow I will be able to use my water to my heart's delight.
KB
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Camping at McDonald Lake
My dad loved to fish. He would often spend the day working in the fields until just before sunset and head to the river to catch a walleye or northern. I never did enjoy the fishing as much as my dad. I suppose no one could. The mold was broken when he was born.
I said I did not enjoy fishing as much as my dad. That does not mean I had less fun on a fishing trip. Some of my antics probably disappointed my dad. I know he loved to tell the stories of his conquests to family and friends. I rarely stayed at my fishing post and caught as many as expected. Dad would flail the water until there was total darkness. Not me.
Nonetheless, I was often part of his fishing adventures. I would eagerly help load the car with our supplies. I would help get the boat into the water. One trip did not include the rest of our family. And, it was overnight. My dad and I were joined in our fishing camping trip by a family friend of my dad's. I think it was Leonard White.
This trip was really fun. Dad had made arrangements to camp next to McDonald Lake in a pasture. We were within walking distance of a regular campground about a quarter mile away. But, the campground probably cost more than we could afford. So, here we were, camped where you had to be careful where you stepped or your shoe would smell for a long time. The place had what I wanted. I could go for a stroll up into the trees and return with an armful of firewood. The lush green grass was a guarantee that a fire would not spread.
Dad went out fishing many times and left me at the campsite. Perfect with me be cause I could move about. Sitting in a boat was way to restrictive for me. I remember the pots and pans from moms kitchen. I remember the jars of produce from our pantry. This is the likely place that I learned to appreciate a personal fire. If you built a large fire, it was of little use for anything except warming one side of your body at a time. But, if you controlled your fire, you could move the fire aside enough to expose the coals. Then you could rest a pan on these coals.
I am sure dad caught many fish on this trip. I started figuring out some of life's important truths. The chief lesson was "More is not necessarily better".
KB
I said I did not enjoy fishing as much as my dad. That does not mean I had less fun on a fishing trip. Some of my antics probably disappointed my dad. I know he loved to tell the stories of his conquests to family and friends. I rarely stayed at my fishing post and caught as many as expected. Dad would flail the water until there was total darkness. Not me.
Nonetheless, I was often part of his fishing adventures. I would eagerly help load the car with our supplies. I would help get the boat into the water. One trip did not include the rest of our family. And, it was overnight. My dad and I were joined in our fishing camping trip by a family friend of my dad's. I think it was Leonard White.
This trip was really fun. Dad had made arrangements to camp next to McDonald Lake in a pasture. We were within walking distance of a regular campground about a quarter mile away. But, the campground probably cost more than we could afford. So, here we were, camped where you had to be careful where you stepped or your shoe would smell for a long time. The place had what I wanted. I could go for a stroll up into the trees and return with an armful of firewood. The lush green grass was a guarantee that a fire would not spread.
Dad went out fishing many times and left me at the campsite. Perfect with me be cause I could move about. Sitting in a boat was way to restrictive for me. I remember the pots and pans from moms kitchen. I remember the jars of produce from our pantry. This is the likely place that I learned to appreciate a personal fire. If you built a large fire, it was of little use for anything except warming one side of your body at a time. But, if you controlled your fire, you could move the fire aside enough to expose the coals. Then you could rest a pan on these coals.
I am sure dad caught many fish on this trip. I started figuring out some of life's important truths. The chief lesson was "More is not necessarily better".
KB
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