Yahoo!

Look what I have!  My laptop, my little Kumquat is home and sorta better.  I have to face the fact that the Kumquat is old, more than 5 years old which is ancient in computer years, so its days are numbered.  Hopefully its latest stint in the fixit shop has extended its life, at least until I get my vacation bills paid off.


I slept until after 7 o'clock this morning.  I opened my eyes to see light seeping around the edge of the shade and was pleased with myself.  Of course as soon as I got up storm clouds rolled in, thunder rumbled, and the rain lashed the earth.  It rained Monday night, it rained yesterday, it rained today, and it's supposed to rain again tomorrow.  I'm so glad that it saved all this rain for after I got home from vacation.  Not.

First thing after I got up, I got the bread dough out of the fridge, divided it in half, made one freeform boule, and put the other half into a foil loaf pan.  As tasty as this bread is I'm disappointed that it didn't rise more.  The only thing I can think of that might have caused that is the butter in the dough.  The semolina bread I make out of the same cookbook doesn't have any fat in it and it rises a bit better.  I'll take the loaf shaped one over to DS's; I just don't eat that much bread but I like making it.  I should probably make a half batch next time.


Since you've been so patient with having no chapters or scenes of Horizon for nearly three weeks, here's a nice long scene to make up for it.

11 September--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

             The Saturday after the blizzard promised to be a perfect winter day.  Sunshine sparkled on the fresh snow making the fir trees look an even darker green.  The wind was minding its manners too, sending playful gusts to swirl the powder but not blowing strong enough to chill to the bone.

Abel had called on Friday night to say he’d pick me up at ten and that I should dress for a day outdoors.  He wouldn’t tell me what he’d planned but I’d gotten over being surprised by his date activity choices.  I pulled out my polypropylene long johns, a silk turtleneck, and some space-age-fiber socks Sam had given me for Christmas.  I had the boots I wore when Clara and I went snowshoeing and I supposed they’d do fine for whatever it was Abel had up his sleeve.

Precisely at 10 a.m. he pulled into my drive.  Lord, that man was prompt.  He got out of his old red pickup, pulled a duffel bag out after him, and came up the walk.  I opened the door and invited him in.  His face was lit with the smile I’d come to recognize as his adventurer’s grin, the one that gave me a little knot in my stomach.  Not because he scared me, exactly, but because I knew he was going to invite me to push the limits of my comfort zone.

“Now what are you planning?” I said.  “You’ve got that Cheshire cat look about you.”

He laughed.  “Nothing too scary or out on a limb.  We’re going skiing.”

Visions of hurtling down a mountain, arms waving, coming to an abrupt stop with a face full of tree flew through my brain.  “Not scary?  Abel, have you gone nuts?  I’m 57 years old and that’s too old to start sliding down mountains on barrel staves.”  I crossed my arms over my chest.  “No thanks.”

“Relax, Gail, we’re not going anywhere near a mountain.  Even I’m not crazy enough to take you downhill skiing.  We’re going cross-country skiing.  It’s easy.  You’ll see.”

           The first thing that popped into my head was to ask him exactly which country he was planning to cross, but bad jokes weren’t the answer.  There had to be another way out of this.  I sidled up to him and ran my hand across his shoulders.  “Are you sure you want to spend the day like that?” I purred.

His arm circled my waist and he pulled me to him.  “I’d love to spend the day the way you’re implying but I don’t think we’re ready for that activity yet.  I know you’re nervous about skiing and are just trying to distract me.  Won’t work, Gail, not on this guy.”  He kissed my cheek and pushed me away.  “Now, show me your outdoor things.”

I shrugged and laughed, secretly glad he hadn’t taken me up on my invitation.  He approved my polypro long johns and my silk turtleneck.  He was impressed with my super socks and said he thought my boots would do for today since they were so well broken in.  But he nixed my jeans and wool sweater.  “Jeans are cotton.  They’ll get wet and you’ll get cold.  Here,” he pulled something out of his duffel, “I got you some ski pants.”  He held out a pair of navy knit pants that looked like they’d fit.

Deciding it was too much trouble to go into my bedroom to change into the ski pants, and figuring my long underwear would preserve my modesty, I slid off my jeans right there in the kitchen.  “How’d you know what size to buy?” I asked as I sat down to pull them on.

There was that smug smile again.  “Asked Clara, of course.”

“You called Clara?”  I was floored.  “You told her what you were planning?”

“Yes, I did.”

I had to laugh.  “That little fink.  She never said a word.  Just wait until I talk to her again.”

“Oh now, Gail, don’t get on her case.  I asked her to keep the secret and she did.  That’s a real friend.”

“I’m not mad.  It’s just that Clara’s been telling me all along that you had a hot reputation and I needed to watch my step around you and now she’s helping you surprise me.  Quite a turnaround.”

“Clara thinks I’m hot, huh?”  He stood a little straighter and preened a bit.  “I hope Hank doesn’t find out.”

“No, Clara doesn’t think you’re hot.  She thinks you’ve got a hot reputation from the rumors that have flown around town since you started chasing widows after Marcella died, that’s all.”

His smug look died.

“So what else have you got in that bag?  I’m getting sweaty.”

Abel pulled out a red, yellow, and navy jacket he said was wind-proof and matching mitts.  The piece de resistance was the hat.  It was unlike any hat I’d ever seen.  The body of it was navy fleece but that’s where the traditional look of it ended.  There were stuffed multi-colored cones of fleece sticking up in a row from the middle of the front right to the back, ending in a tail, a red tail.  He held it up like it was a prize he was proud of winning.

“What is it?” I said.

“It’s a hat.  See?  This is the front.”

“You expect me to wear that.”  I could feel my muscles tightening.

            “You don’t like it,” he said as his smile faded, but then he brightened.  “Wait till you see mine, it’s even crazier.”  And he dipped back into the duffel bag and pulled out a purple fleece hat covered in a riot of corkscrews in day-glow colors  “The guy at the sports store said they’re all the rage.”  His hands dropped to his sides.  “You really don’t like them?”

            “We’re going to look like a couple of lunatics out there.”

            “Yeah, but we’ll be the coolest lunatics.  Come on, be a sport.  Who’s going to see us?”  His adventurer’s smile was back at full wattage.

            “Everyone’s going to see us.  And those who don’t see us will hear about it.”  I started to giggle and picked up my hat.  I walked to the mirror hanging in the hall and tried it on.  “I look silly.”

            He came up behind me wearing his crazy hat and put his hands on my shoulders.

            “I think you’re beautiful.  But you’re right, we look silly.”

            “I kind of like it.  Thanks, Abel.”  I turned and gave him a little kiss.  “If we stay here admiring ourselves, we’ll never get to wherever it is we’re going.”

            When I asked if I needed to bring anything else, Abel said he’d brought everything we would need.  I put on my boots and we left.

            Not familiar with a place to go cross-country skiing in the area, I was surprised when we went west on the highway I took to get to Aaron and Sara’s and turned in at the county golf course.  “Why are we here?”

            Abel grinned at me as he parked, “Believe it or not, golf courses are some of the best places to cross-country ski.  They’re well maintained, not too many hills and trees, and it makes the owners, or in this case the county, a little revenue in winter.”  He tapped a sticker on his windshield.  “I bought a season ski pass.  Another great thing is they keep the snowmobiles out so the fairways don’t get torn up, so it’s quiet and good for every skill level.”

            We got out of the truck and Abel got our skis out of the back.  He had me step into the bindings and checked that they worked with my boots.  They didn’t.  Oddly enough, I was disappointed.  “Guess we can’t go after all”

            But he didn’t seem fazed. “Not to worry.  When I asked Clara your sizes, I also asked your shoe size.  I never really thought your boots would work but I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you to get dressed for being outdoors and not need boots.”  He fished a pair of boots out of that evidently bottomless duffel.

            As I sat on the running board to put them on I asked, “These boots aren’t new, are they?  I’d hate to have my feet hurting in addition to all the bruises I fully expect to acquire learning how to work those skis.”

            “No, I rented the boots with your skis and poles.  I don’t think you have to worry too much about bruises and sore muscles either.”  He knelt at my feet to adjust the bindings.  “You’re in good shape from all the walking and snow shoveling and snowshoeing you do.  I bet you’ll love skiing before we’re through today.”

            I stepped out of the bindings and stood up.  “Well, let’s get started.  I’m ready to make a fool of myself.”  I pulled on my new jacket and put on that crazy hat.

            Abel handed me what looked like a narrow backpack.  He explained that it was a camelback, a new style of canteen with a bladder in a pack and a tube that drapes over your shoulder to drink from.  He put one on too and put a normal looking backpack over it.

            “What’s in the pack?”

            His Cheshire cat smile reappeared.  “You’ll see.  It’s a surprise.”  He picked up our skis and started walking toward the trailhead.

            Not sure I was up for more surprises, I concentrated on not poking myself in the eye with the ski poles and followed him. 

            Abel was a good teacher and patient with my awkwardness.  It didn’t take long before I felt pretty confident.  As he showed me what to do, a steady stream of couples, families and singles went by, put on their skis and slid onto the snowy course.  Everyone called a greeting and most commented on our hats.  I was glad to see that many of the other skiers wore crazy hats and some had crazier clothes to go with them.  Just as we were set to give it a try, he reached into a side pocket of his pack and pulled out two pairs of sunglasses.  “Here.”  He slid a pair on me.  “The sun’s pretty bright today and we don’t want to damage those beautiful brown eyes.  Ready?”

            “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

            Abel let me go first so he could keep an eye on me and pick me up when I fell.  The first part of the trail was relatively flat and I didn’t have too much trouble.  At intervals there were places to step off the trail to catch our breath.  It was beautiful, the snow was blinding white and the course was dotted with colorful groups of skiers, like a moving Christmas tree.

            I had a moment of panic when faced with the first little downhill slide but Abel steered us off to the side and spent a few minutes teaching me to bend my knees and draw in my poles to keep my balance.  We waited and watched a few people go down the hill until I felt like I might be able to ski down without falling.  I made Abel go first so he could catch me before I skied off into the trees.  I was glad there weren’t many people behind me because I stopped at the top trying to work up the courage to plunge over the edge.  Finally, I took a breath and slid my skis forward and let gravity take over.  It was exhilarating.  Abel had forgotten to tell me how to stop so I kept my skis in the tracks and whizzed right by him.  The look on his face as I flashed by, laughing and whooping, was priceless.  As I slowed, I glanced over my shoulder to see that Abel had gotten back on the trail and was following me.

The next time we stopped for a breather he spent a few minutes teaching me to snowplow, which means you turn your ski tips inward to slow your descent.  When we had to go uphill we stepped off the trail and sidestepped up so we didn't slow down the family behind us.

During one of our breaks I asked Abel how far he'd planned us to go.  He told me that just around the next bend in the trail there was a bench where he'd thought we could sit and have a little refreshment.  By letting faster skiers pass us along the way, we were alone when we reached the bench, which sat in a patch of sun sheltered by a grove of pines.

I watched amazed as he pulled a bottle of wine, a pair of wineglasses, a container of sliced ham and cheese and a box of fancy crackers out of his pack.  Out of his jacket pocket he pulled a very professional looking corkscrew and proceeded to open the wine and pour us each a glass.  He held up his glass to me.

"Here's to the bravest woman I know." 

"I don't think I'm particularly brave.  Why do you say that?"

He took a sip of wine and opened the food.  "I think you're brave because you're changing your life to suit yourself and no matter how unsure you are, you've been willing to try just about anything with me."

"Well, my mom always said you'd never know if you liked something unless you try, so I guess that’s why I’m at least willing to try things."

"Smart woman, your mom." 

We sat on the bench enjoying our wine and the snacks Abel had brought.  It was like we were the audience at a play.  Skiers came by in straggly lines, multicolored and cheerful.  Nearly everyone commented on our feast.

By the time the last of the food was devoured and we settled back with the last of wine, the sun had dipped toward the horizon on that midwinter Saturday.  I leaned back on the bench and felt Abel's arm pull me close.  It was nice to be snuggled there in the crook of his arm, sheltered from the wintery wind, sipping a nice crisp wine.  Eventually we finished the wine, packed up, and got back on the trail.

The trip back seemed much easier than going out.  I felt like I had more control over myself.  I still looked forward to the little hills to slide down but the day was cooling fast and we kept moving to stay warm.

Skiing back to the trailhead in the rosy sunset I had the idea I had reached a crossroads.  I had spent years sitting on that farmhouse porch watching the sun set and felt like this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.  Maybe today would be the first in a series of brand new sunset adventures, active rather than passive.  I helped Abel load the skis into the truck and we drove back to my place, laughing and planning more skiing.

This afternoon I went to write the ACJ, then to the Y to walk on the treadmill, and after supper went back to the Y to walk in the pool with KW.  I'm kind of pruney and my feet hurt.  I think I'm done for the day.  Good night.
--Barbara