I Got Him!

         Mike and I have found the best...

         No.

         Wait a minute. Let me start again...

         Mike and I have found the BEST brisket EVER!

         Old School Barbecue opened last November and last week we went down to Homet's Ferry for the special, which was ribs.

        The man who owns it is Jim MacDonald and he proudly showed off his smoker, which was custom made for him. Jim told us how he smokes his meat for a long time, something like 15 hours for ribs, how he got into business, and all the jobs he's had before this. He was very personable.

         Jim bought the old school a few years ago. "It was built in the late 1800's and my buddies helped me remodel it."

         "And you live there now?" I asked.

         "Yep."

         "And you have chickens and bees," I stated. I saw the hives inside a fenced garden-type area and the chickens were running around in the yard.

         "Yes I do," was all he said, not elaborating.

         Jim started his business in a food truck and ran it out of parking lots until he moved it into its present location.

         "But I'm known best for my brisket," Jim said as he got our ribs, free pulled pork sandwich, and two sides around. "I'll give you a sample."

         As Mike and I watched, Jim pulled an aluminum wrapped brisket from the warming oven, put it on the cutting board, sliced it, and continued talking the whole time. "With brisket you can't go by time, you have to test it to see if it's done just right." He held a piece of freshly sliced brisket in the air over the cutting board. "It should hold together when you pick it up, but," Jim reached up with his other hand, grasped the bottom of the brisket and barely pulled, "it should pull apart easily." And you could tell it did.

         Although there were a couple of picnic tables outside, Jim had no indoor seating. We paid for the rib special, took it and our brisket sample, thanked Jim, and headed for home. We were barely on the road when I opened the container with the brisket, gave Mike a piece, and picked up another for myself.

         And that's where this story began.

         It was the best brisket we've ever had!

         All week long Mike dreamed of going back to Old School BBQ just for the brisket. All week long, brisket was the only thing Mike talked about.

         "Why didn't you just go and buy that poor man more brisket?" you ask.

         Old School BBQ is only open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and we did go back — on Thursday. Since this is just the third time I've been on this road, I took more pictures for you.

         An old pumpkin stand. I have no idea if they still sell pumpkins or not. Maybe this fall I'll find out since I'll be on this road more often from now on. Mike is talking about buying a whole brisket!

         These orange poppies blooming beside the road were an eye-catcher. Mike stopped and let me take some pictures. These are called Prince Of Orange Poppies. Funny, though. I thought they might be California Poppies since they are the same color as the walls of my girlhood bedroom and that color was called California Poppy.

         Another bathtub turned water trough.

         I walked all the time when we lived in Missouri but I haven't done much of that since we've been here. Mostly because I haven't taken the time to, and because the cats follow.

        So this past week I had Mike take me out on the golf cart until we were just past our place then he turned around and went home while I went on down the road. I took a bunch of pictures for you. This is Sweet Purple Clover.

         Look how beautiful the little flowers are!

         The hunters cabin at the bottom of the hill allow walk-ins to the creek for fishing, so I thought that meant it would be okay for picture taking too.

         A still pool in our creek.

         A fungus on a tree. I know you can't tell by the picture but it was huge, which is why I saw it!

         This, my dears, is a fern before it unfurls.

         Someone threw an old box spring out on our road.

         I know what you're going to say and I agree with you. Shame on them!

         "No, Peg. I was going to say that you take pictures of weird stuff!"

         I know, right! I agree with you there too.

         Pennsylvania has many of the same wildflowers and trees as Missouri so I already knew the name of this one. It's Black Medic.

         I don't know this one, but it's interesting. It looks to me like the lower flowers have a huge seed coming out the middle of them.

         I don't know this one either. It's a tree here on our property that develops a dark blue berry on it in the fall.  

         Speaking of trees, the maple we had cut down has been bleeding.

         Sigh.

         Okay, that's all the pictures from that walk-about. I have others from another time I'll show you later.

         Mike has been working hard on rebedding the yard we dug up a week ago. His tractor was a big help in getting the new soil down to that area but getting it spread around is a tedious, backbreaking job.

         "I wish I had an old steel bed spring," Mike said to the Kipp's during one of their morning visits. "That's what my father used to smooth out the ground."

         "I have one," Lamar said.

         "Really?" I asked.

         "Yep. You can have it if you want it."

         After the Kipp's left that day, Mike and I talked about it and we weren't sure if Lamar was serious or not.

         The very next day Mike is like, "I wonder where I can get a cheap drag to pull behind the golf cart."

         I stopped what I was doing and we Googled Craig's List on the internet. That's a classified advertising website with sections on jobs, housing, for sale, etc. Most everything we found on there was for a tractor and the tractor is too heavy for the soft ground Mike wanted to use it on.

         "The Kipp's said you could have theirs," I reminded him.

         "Let's go see the Kipp's," Mike said.

         We got on the golf cart and rode down to the Kipp's house.

         "Lamar, were you serious about that bed spring?" I asked.

         "Yep. It's in the attic. If you help me get it out you can have it."

         I helped Lamar get it out of their attic and he and Mike loaded it on the top of the golf cart.

         "Rosie, what's that pretty purple flower out by the road?" I asked before we left.

         "I believe it's called allium."

         "Is it a wildflower?"

         "No, it's something we planted years ago."

         It is allium and its pretty, isn't it.

         At home Mike could hardly wait to use his new "toy" and get his yard back in order. Driving the golf cart around in circles is the easy part, but every once in a while he had to stop and toss the rocks out. He was almost done when he asked me to come and help him. It looks great now and will be even better when the grass grows back in.

         Wanna see what crafts I've been working on this week?

         I bent a cross out of copper, drilled a small hole in a glass gob and with a dab of glue, stuck them together. I gave it to Miss Rosie and she gave it a home in her shadow-box.

          Our week turned rainy and cool so it was a good couple of days for me to sit in our warm, dry, apartment and paint these things.

         "What are they?" you ask.

         These, my dears, are called Butt Snuffers. You set them in your ashtray and put your cigarette out in them. That way your cigarette doesn't sit in the ashtray and smolder if you don't get it all the way out.

         "I didn't think anyone smoked anymore," Momma said when I told her what they were.

         Plenty of people still smoke. But if you don't smoke these little cuties will hold a pencil or paint brush, as I found out when I was painting them.

        I first made these things 20 years ago and at the time you could buy one, mass-produced, for ninety-nine cents. I worked hard on these and I don't want to sell them for ninety-nine cents. I'm thinking the artwork alone or the cuteness factor oughta be worth at least two bucks. What do you think?
         I even painted some of them the whole way around!

         By the way, that beautiful, feisty, redheaded neighbor of mine collects chickens. Guess which one made it into her shadow-box.

         Ready for a few more pictures from another walk-about with my girls Itsy and Ginger?

         Buttercup.

         Dead Nettle.

         We had these in Missouri too, although I don't know what kind of tree it is. The leaves come out in this almost flower-looking form then open up.

         Speaking of opening up, look what happened to the fungus on the tree in the two or three days between my visits.

          A berry blossom.

         We had a TV.

         We had a big TV.

         We had a seventy-three inch, rear projection, Mitsubishi TV with top of the line electronics in it. This was one of the first TVs with high definition and at the time there was only one station that broadcast in HD and then only for a couple of hours in the evening. This TV could do everything except make your morning coffee. 

         When we decided to go RVing full time and rent out our house in Missouri, we moved everything here, to our Mountain Home in Pennsylvania, including the TV. Now that we are here full time, we dug the TV out, cleaned it up a little, and plugged it in. It came on — and clicked off. It came on — and clicked off. It came on — and clicked off. It came on — and clicked off. It came on — and clicked off. It came on... Well, you get the idea. No matter what we did, all it did was come on — and click off.

         Finding anyone to come and look at it has been a challenge. A TV repair guy in Towanda told Mike he didn't even want to come out and look at it. "Throw it away and get a new one," he said.

         We paid a lot...

         No.

         Wait a minute. Let me start again...

         We paid A LOT of money for this TV. "It's probably something simple," Mike mused.

         Browsing the internet one day, Mike found a business in Dallas, a town down near Scranton/Wilkes-Barre.

         "Sure. I'll come look at it. But if I can't fix it you have to pay me for the service call anyway," he told Mike, making it clear up front.

         "Not a problem," Mike told him.

         Bill showed up when he said he would. He carried his toolbox in, set it down, got down on his knees and he got busy. I felt sorry for him. 

         "Bill, can I get you something to put under your knees? That concrete floor would kill me!"

         We got an old blanket and handed it off to Bill who thanked us kindly and tucked it under his knees.

         We chatted as Bill worked. He took the back from the TV and after poking around for a few minutes he reaches for his pliers and pulls these from the cabinet.

         "What's this?" Bill asks.

         "Kentucky Coffee Tree seeds! I make rosaries from them," I reached for the seed and Bill handed it to me.

         "It's okay, it just dropped down in there," Bill commented.

         "Oh no! It didn't just drop in there! Someone took it in there!" I turned to Mike. "I guess those cats weren't doing their job!" I turned back to Bill, "We gave them one job to do — just one job!"

         Bill laughed. "I gave you one job and you couldn't do it." He reached for his electric screwdriver and started taking out screws; making a nice neat little pile of them off to the side. That's when he found a nest made from cotton balls.

         "That's where all my cotton balls went! I use those to polish the seeds," I explained. The last time I went to polish seeds to make Momma some rosaries, I opened the door of my tumbler and there was not one single cotton ball in there! No! Not one! My tumbler, by the way, is an old clothes dryer that would no longer heat up.

         More screws removed and Bill finds more seeds and more evidence of mice. "Can I see?" I asked and came up behind Bill to get a better look.

         "They're way up in the very front there," Bill said and pointed.

         I squatted down, but I couldn't see up into the dark recesses of the TV. Mike's little scootie chair was behind me so I sat down. "I'll stay out of your way."

         Bill laughed a little.

         "Say, 'Get outta here!" Mike said in a mock stern voice.

         "I can't help it!" I jumped to my own defense. Mike laughed again. "I can't help it! I just gotta know this stuff!"

         "Just boot her out of your way, Bill."

         Bill ignored our light banter and continued working as I watched intently his every move.

         "You want to learn to be a TV repairman?" Mike asked. "Is that what you want?"

         "I betcha it's a dying breed," I answered.

         "Not very many people wanna do it anymore," Mike guessed.

         "It's not worth it when TV's are made to be thrown away," I said.

         At this point Bill jumped in. "Really they're not. It's just the sales industry that are telling you they're made to be thrown away."

         "Yeah, they want you to buy a new one," Mike stated flatly.

         "It's just the salesmen that are saying that. The new sets right now... for the most part there's no reason why they shouldn't be around at least fifteen — twenty years and there's no reason why most of your problems aren't relatively easy to fix and relatively inexpensive." He paused, thinking about it. "Most of them are inexpensive."

         More screws came out and Bill started pulling out circuit boards, checking connections. This is my current desktop picture and thanks to the movie Tron, it reminds me of a miniature city.

         I asked Bill how he got into the TV repair business, and as you can guess, it's what his father did.

         "Do you have any kids interested in taking over the family business?" I asked.

         "Nope!" he was quick to answer. "I wouldn't let them!"

         "Go to college and get a real job?" Sincerely, I meant no disrespect to the TV repair profession when I said that. Bill didn't seem to be offended.

         "That's what they did! All three of them."

         "That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "What do they do now?"

         "One's a financial planner, one's a chemical engineer, one's a uh... insurance adjuster."

         "Oh my gosh, you must be so proud."

         "They all have good jobs, they all married lovely girls..." Bill trailed off and laughed a little.

         Our conversation went on to grandchildren and how wonderful they are. "We just had the little granddaughter for the whole day Saturday and boy she tires you out! She's nonstop...a two and a half year old and she is into everything."

         "But they are so much fun at two and a half," I said.

         "Oh, she's absolutely adorable, and she's a charmer. You take her out and she's the mayor."

         Mike and I laughed catching the implication. "She probably has grandpa wrapped around her finger," I said.

         "Oh yes she does! No question there," Bill said and we both laughed. "No question there," he affirmed. "But you take her out and she's the mayor. She talks to everybody... doesn't matter who you are she's going to stop and talk to ya. She's gonna wave, she's gonna say hello, she's gonna say goodbye.

         In my mind's eye, I could see a cute little blond, curly haired girl with pigtails and a pink frilly dress, white ankle socks and patent leather Mary Jane's (Is my age showing here?) holding the hand of a proud and beaming grandpa as they walked down the street. It melted my heart. "How sweet."

         It was then, after talking about her for fifteen minutes that Bill mentions this... "She's just under two and a half years old.... uh... with Down's Syndrome..."

         "Ohh..." I interjected.

         "But she is an absolute whiz...she is so smart...incredibly smart!"

         "Uh-huh," I was hanging on every word.

         "She has that ability to just wrap you around her finger. She just gives you that little smile, that little, 'Hi! Hello!'" Bill imitated the cadence, the rhythm of her speech. "We had her in church on Saturday and she had everybody around her all wrapped up!"

         You could tell he really loved that little girl, and the first thing he thought of when he thought of her wasn't Down's.

         Every time Bill made an adjustment to the TV or cleaned something he would see if the problem was fixed. It wasn't.

         "Everything points to this part of the circuit board," Bill mused. Out came more screws and he pulled the board. "There's the problem," he said. "It has mouse urine on it." He tried cleaning it but he'd seen enough of this kind of stuff to know it wasn't going to work. "Mouse urine is highly corrosive," he told us."

         "Can you get a new board?" Mike asked.

         "I doubt it, and even if you could, you couldn't afford it."

         "Well then don't even bother putting it back together," Mike told him.

         Bill picked up and packed up his tools, then he wrote up a ticket. Despite spending a little more than an hour with us, he only charged the service call. I got a kick out of what Bill wrote under the REMARKS OR SERVICE PERFORMED section of the ticket.

         It said D-E-A-D dead.

         "Mike, here's the death certificate for your TV."

         Mike was confused, "What?"

         And I showed him the ticket.

         Mike let me keep a big piece of heavy plastic from the front of the TV and the lenses from the projectors, but the rest of it went to live on the burn pile.

         Mike was sad.

         More pictures, you say?

         Boy! You guys are so demanding!

         I saw these broad-leafed things growing. If you look at the fallen log in the background, you'll see there are more of them there. I have no idea what they are or even how to search for them on the internet. I'll be interested to see if they produce a flower.

         I know this one! It's Wild Geranium, sometimes called Crane's Bill.

         This one is another one we have in common with Missouri and I know what it is. It's Blue-eyed Grass.

         This one is tiny, another grass, but I don't know what it is.

         Uh-oh!

         I recognize this one! Do you? If you said, "Poison Ivy!" you'd be right!

         Daisy Fleabane! Did you know: Daisy fleabane, like other fleabane wildflowers, derives its common name from the superstition that dried clusters of these plants could be used to rid a dwelling of fleas?

         "Look at all the phlox!" I cried as Mike and I drive the roads around here.

         "That's a lot of phloxin phlox!" Someone feeling a little punny?

         I got him, you guys! I got him! The internet was right, he couldn't resist cantaloupe!

         I set the trap in the yard and Hansel and Grettled him into the live trap. Yeah. That means I left a trail of cantaloupe crumbs on the outside of the trap leading to a nice big piece on the inside.

         And boy! Was he mad! He hissed at me — do they hiss? He chattered his teeth at me. I didn't pay him no never mind and talked as soothingly to him as I could.

         "What did you do with him?" you ask.

         I can't tell you that we took him across the river and down a country road and turned him loose because that would be illegal. It's better to just shoot them rather than relocate them.

         Crazy laws.

         But they have that law so rabies isn't transferred from one area to another, so I understand it, I just don't like it.

         With rainy days, like we'd been having, it's better not to take pictures of some flowers because the petals get all droopy or plastered together. So you take pictures of raindrops on the grass.

         I wouldn't let Mike mow under my clothesline because I had a whole bunch of Cat's Paw growing there. That is, that's what I thought was growing there. Then they bloomed. What I actually have there is a whole herd of Yellow or Meadow Hawkweed. I don't care. I still think it's pretty. He can mow there again after it's gone.

         The pond lilies are blooming. This particular variety is called Spatterdock.

         Another one we have in common with Missouri! You're going to get tired of hearing me say that, so I'm not going to say it anymore. This is Crimson Clover!

         Well my loves, all good things must end. And I think it's high time we ended this one. And I can't think of a better way to end it than with another beautiful sunset photo.

         This time I watched all alone. I'd been sitting at the table when I saw the colors through the window. I jumped up, grabbed my camera, ran out, and took a few photos— just for you.

         You are all in my heart.

         Let's call this one done!