Vibrations

Vibrations

Is it just me, or do you feel it too? Cities vibrate, on a discernible level. My body parts tend to notice. Vibrations are everywhere, always. People who live in cities seem to be unaware of these wobbles, shimmies and shakes, or they have learned to ignore them. Something that’s always there in your environment, something you do not perceive as a threat, tends to take residence in a comfortable spot in your sub-conscious mind - like continual traffic noise or the smell of a certain industry, or a floor gently swaying. But I am an outlander! I can feel the vibration of highway traffic through the soles of my feet. In an LRT station I can feel the train resonating on its tracks well before I see it. The floor in a mall’s upper level moves almost imperceptibly to the rhythm of hundreds of footfalls. Elevators tingle. Escalators shimmy. Music, especially drumming, resonates in my chest. When I step from a vehicle I continue to feel it’s forward motion. Road construction crews hammer away at the very base I stand on. White noise fills all the spaces. Sounds from the natural world barely penetrate my ears. Everything thrums. Everyone hurries, arriving in time to wait.

I have just journeyed home after 8 days in the heart of the empire, stateside. I jumped out of my motel bed at 4:00am Monday morning, waited a few minutes in the lobby for my air porter, zoomed on a series of fast moving freeways through dense fog, got temporarily lost amidst the air terminal’s construction upgrade, checked in, snaked my way through security, went down 2 levels on an escalator, took a speeding train to the second of three concourses, ascended from the underground on 2 more escalators, rode 3 sets of moving sidewalks to gate 52 of 95, then sat down to wait 4 hours until my plane boarded. The entire airport vibrated.

My plane was a small jet, about 100 passengers. As I waited I couldn’t help but notice my minority status - only 4 women! Weird? Must have been that Monday morning shuttle for the suits to return to their company’s far north connection. The plane’s g-force pushed me back in my seat as we roared down the runway, then a bump and that slight sensation of weightlessness as we lifted off. A two hour flight, then a two and a half hour drive home. I thought I’d sleep on the final leg of this journey, but couldn’t.

Alberta looked bleak to me, the brownish gray Spring arriving with a few patches of dirty snow remaining at roadsides, the sun refusing to penetrate the clouds. It didn’t feel like home until I was surrounded by farms, the bustling industrial areas left behind. 

At home the sun was out. I tucked myself into our willow loveseat in a sheltered corner up by the house and soaked in its healing rays. Two geese were courting on the frozen lake. I heard no sound but the calls of birds and the flap of their wings, a dog barking, overnight the patter of a gentle rain. 

It is quiet. It is still. I am no longer vibrating. Ahhhhh.

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mltipton.blogspot.com, https://www.facebook.com/Northof543/, March 28, 2019

I apologize, my blog app no longer supports photos unless I navigate my way through some google change I haven’t been able to figure out. If you want to see pics with my posts you’ll have to find me on Facebook :(

Devilish Eggs

“She can’t even boil an egg!” was a good description of my cooking abilities when I first married. My husband was more accomplished than I but promptly quit using his culinary skills the moment he taught me to make white sauce. Zoom forward 50 years and he has recently acquired a few new cooking specialties - steaks, roasts and BBQ’d ribs, which gives me an occasional rest from the challenging and never ending reality of meal planning and preparation.

Living a goodly distance from any restaurant with a cuisine more varied than a deluxe burger, this daily chore seldom sees any break in routine. But, being resourceful folk out here in the boonies we solved the lack of worthwhile nearby restaurants by frequently engaging in a marvelous activity known as the “pot-luck supper”. Pot-lucks are always a treat. Each family simply contributes whatever they wish - an entree, a dessert, a salad, a specialty of their house - and somehow the variety of culinary delights always seems to balance perfectly. Pot-lucks provide a huge variety of foods to choose from, a good visit with the neighbors, a shared clean-up and a wonderful meal that someone else cooked!

Some cooks have a tendency to bring the same dish to nearly every pot-luck. One of my friends brings “death by chocolate”, another brings quiche, another perogies. Me - I bring deviled eggs. You would think, after all these years of practice, that making deviled eggs would be a snap, and, with the exception of getting those devilish eggs peeled, it is. But getting a hard boiled egg to release its shell easily can be a frustrating experience. 

Everyone has a favorite never-fail method for doing this and I’ve tried many of them. Trouble is many of the never-fail methods failed. But now, thanks to my old Fanny Farmer cook book which I got as a wedding present in 1967, I have finally mastered the hard boiled egg... usually. Cover eggs with cold water (make a couple extra just in case), bring to a boil then simmer, covered, for 12-15 minutes. Remove from heat and immediately add cold water to the pot. Run cold water on the eggs until you can touch them, dry them off, return them to your egg carton and refrigerate overnight. Next day they peel just fine. I’ve tried this with farm fresh eggs and store bought eggs too. This has been working consistently for me for quite a while.

There’s a lot of room for experiment in the filling department but I usually smash the yolks until fairly fine, then add mayonnaise, a few squeezes of French’s mustard (hey, it’s made in Canada!), about 1/4 cup of diced onion, 1/4 cup of diced sweet pickles (home made), and a shake or two of Montreal Steak spice. I fill the eggs as full as I can then top them off with a sprinkling of paprika.

Note: It’s probably not a good idea to let your husband carry the eggs for you. He may not realize they have to be carried in an upright position. Not following this maxim could cause a devilish amount of havoc for you and your deviled eggs.