As a reminder, directions to the camp site for the Thunder River hike can be found at: http://www.grandmasweb.com/currentletters/alh5-19-17.html Upon reviewing the directions, I think the second turn (from Highway 67 to forest road 461) should be to the right, not left, as stated. At any rate, you should turn from a road headed south to a road headed west. The rest of the directions look OK to me. The coordinates google maps gives for where I think our camp was are:
depending on the system your gps uses. |
There are some things that have to be seen to be believed. I encountered one of those things in the frozen food section at Sam's. Deep fried Twinkies! Who would have thought... They taste pretty good, and are not too bad for you, assuming you eat one on Monday and avoid eating any other fat for the rest of the week. What's next? Deep fried cotton candy?
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 On a more serious note, Jim Smith passed away April 14, 2017. At 94 years of age, it wasn't exactly unexpected, but it was never-the-less a shock. Jim had had a positive affected on a lot of people during his life, and many, many attended his funeral. I learned a lot about him by listening to the speakers. But on the downside, it seems to me that he must have offended his high school classmates, as not a single one of them attended... OK, I admit it. I don't know how to be serious... |
In recognition of his war time service, the Navy (through it's volunteers) provided a flag ceremony, and presented Karren with the US flag that draped Jim's coffin.
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Military ceremonies like that are impressive to me. There wasn't a 21 gun salute like the army provided at Grandpa Pauls' interment, but this one was just as impressive in its own way. At this point, I need to get Karren to write up Jim's life story. She can procrastinate almost as well as I can.
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Funerals are pretty final, but they do have one redeeming virtue. They gather family members from far and near, and you get to visit with people not seen for years (sometimes decades). Jim's son, Steve, attended, but his wife, Barbara, "couldn't find anyone to milk the goats." My Barbara and I talked to Steve, but missed visiting with his Barbara.
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Braxton, Sabrina, et al., moved from Woodruff to Taylor. Nathen and AJ took trucks and trailers up, and with Braxton's trailer, we got most of the move completed in one day. Sadly, I wasn't much help. I don't envy the unpacking job they are looking forward to.
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As far as I could tell, we only lost one box, and were able to salvage much of its contents. I was surprised that a glass salt shaker could jump off a vehicle going 55 mph, bounce along a paved highway for a hundred yards, and remain intact.
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In spite of the fact that Sabrina had little good to say about it, I was impressed with their new house. I had Ethen take some photos, but apparently the auto stabilization system on my camera was not engaged and all but this selfy turned out fuzzy. Oh well...
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I have had an oxygen bottle lying around here since we acquired this domicile in 1982. If my memory serves me correctly, it was included in a lot of surplus stuff we purchased at a sealed bid sale by the U of A. This lot also included two rows of hard wood pallets thirty yards long and higher than I could reach. We heated the house with them for 3½ winters and burnt up 2 cheap circular saws in the process. Not bad for a $5 bid. When I offered to make them a door bell out of this cylinder, Nathen readily agreed. Terras' agreement, on the other hand, was a bit less than enthusiastic. This is the jig I designed to cut the bottle. Me and You Tube all the way. At this point one of the two pieces has a very pleasant bell tone. The other, well, not so much. But it's a work in progress, so stay tuned (no pun intended). |
I attended the ordination of Wyatt Ramsay in Eagar on Mothers' Day. My kids took forever to grow up, but we must have hit a time warp somewhere, as my grandchildren seem to be maturing almost overnight.
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After the meeting we ate at Symantha's house. She made chicken cordon bleu in a crockpot. I have basically given up cooking, so I tend to be surprised when my children haven't. I didn't think it would work well in a slow cooker, but the dish was very good.
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Both Ameilia and Terra are being mean, wicked, vile, and villainous by forcing their defenseless children to learn to play the piano. (If you don't think those adjectives fit, ask any of the kids involved.) I heartily approve. That was one of the goals I failed to achieve with my offspring.
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I drove up and back on the same day. For some unfathomable reason driving is tiring to me now. If you consider the musculature and attention activities involved, driving and sitting in an easy chair reading a book should require about the same of both. Why then, is one tiring and the other not? One of the mysteries of the universe.
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