Simply the best blueberry griddle cakes ever!

1 ½ cups whole grain baking mix

¾ cup wheat germ

¾ cup miller’s bran

¾ cup ground flax seed

¾ cup chopped pecans/walnuts

1 ½ cups frozen blueberries

½ cup eggbeaters

½ cup non-fat half & half & enough

water for desired consistency/ soy or rice milk

Heat pan or griddle on a low heat. Spray with Pam or spray olive oil.

These are griddle cakes; you need to cook them low and slow to bake them through. A lid helps. So does patience; but they are well worth the wait!

Serve with butter and sugar-free Vermont syrup.

Makes five-two pancakes servings. (Really dense nutritionally, so doesn’t take much to fill one up.)

Enjoy!

Driving North in December

 

It’s the last week in December and

I decide to drive north to Olympia

And deliver a Christmas present to

My longtime friend, Val

The plan is to leave around 10 am

And arrive around noon

Then we will go to lunch

Less than an hour on the road

I stop in Kelso to top off my gas tank

And get a mocha (skinny) for

The road

Within minutes back on the road

A light rain turns to fat flakes of snow

And visibility becomes strained

Realizing I don’t have adequate footwear

For a snow storm I begin contemplating

Where I can pick up some boots

Along the way

I pull off at a Chehalis exit and

See a familiar (chain) shoe store

Within 15 minutes I am

On the road again

Cheap 50 buck Doc Marten knockoffs

In the back seat, a few more miles north

And the snow has turned to rain

I pull off at Scatter Creek Rest Stop

And call ahead-I’ll be a little late

Because of snow

I do not mention time lost

Buying the boots

Arriving a half hour late, my friend

Says: I am starving!

We waste no time, she opens her

Presents-oohs & aahs and

We are out the door

We have more than a 30 year history

So we talk about everything; she’s happily

Married second time around, so she gives

Hunt & capture advice

I am happily single, however, of late

 Lonesomeness has been dogging me, so

I ply her with inquiries despite already

Concluding that getting the right mate is

90% luck and

I am praying mine will change this year

It’s Sunday, so we decide to have Brunch

The mimosas arrive and Val claims hers is

Sour-she tears open a raw sugar and

 doctors it-when the waitstaff comes back

I tell her: the mimosa is sour

She thinks for a moment and offers

Cranberry juice to sweeten it-now our mimosas

Look like a sunrise!

We enjoy a tasty meal and

Then cross the street to Val’s favorite antique

Emporium-it’s always fun to poke about among

Treasures from days gone by, both history buffs,

It’s one of our commonalities

When we get back, it’s almost my

 Departure time or I will face driving in the dark

Val’s husband Terry wanders in and joins

Our conversation-when I finally get out the door

It is later than I planned

Only a few miles down the I-5, it is quite suddenly

Dark-as if somebody flipped a light switch off!

Then the rain is so heavy, I wonder if I have a

Bad windshield wiper

I begin to pray out loud: Just want to get home, Lord

Please make these miles fly by

Hyper-focused on the highway, I drive

Intently, passing when I can

Then it happens: the snow zone!

Big flakes again, but it is clearer

So I know my windshield is okay

I have a brake job scheduled for day

After tomorrow, so I tell God: We all just

Want to be home by a fire

Keep all drivers safe, circle my car

With light, please…

I am acutely aware that only one

Miscalculation on anyone’s part

Could be disastrous for all

We are clearly in this together!

Traffic moves with quiet desperation

Each soul intent on the task at hand

I imagine, they too are seeing their home fires

And just as desirous of simply being there

When I do arrive, it is velvet dark, still stormy

I am so relieved, it is palpable

As I unlock the front door, Oliver & Winston (my cats)

Rush to greet me and I say: Thank you, as I exhale

My next thought is: I have new boots! 

Posing for Norman Rockwell

 

Sitting across from a couple of campy teens (about 15),

He in a news boy cap, red scarf & brown leather jacket,

 She is a red jacket with short cropped auburn hair.

They look at a Smart phone, laughing & commenting

On what they are sharing and I wish I were

Norman Rockwell- I would politely ask if I

Could photograph them and they would joyfully assent

Because I am Norman Rockwell after all and

They would instantly know that they were about to be

Illustrated by a famous hand and would be featured

On the cover of the Saturday Evening Post

If I shared this daydream would they even know

Who Norman Rockwell was?

Not germaine, I remind myself- all I have to say is:

Look it up!

And by magic the Google God on their Smart phone

 will deliver images that Rockwell painted, Saturday

Evening Post covers and a photo or three of

Norman Rockwell with his bio.

As I am contemplating broaching a conversation

With these youngsters, they have flit off

Like lighter than air butterflies, searching the field

For other adventures- and this old poet sits in

Starbuck’s finishing my Americano, remembering

When I was so young I could barely sit still

Let alone pose for Norman Rockwell!

Raintreepoet, reporting.

Critter, the Hunt of the Century is still for sale!

Out of curiosity, I googled the title of the novel I published back in 1991 and up came five sources that are selling it from Amazon to Barnes & Noble and some smaller enterprises. I was pleasantly surprised because I've recently been re-editing it with the intention of putting it out there again. I could soon be competing with myself!
It's is a sweet get- rich- quick scheme hatched by a Montana cowboy who also happens to be a Harvard educated lawyer. He recruits his ranch crew to hunt the Bigfoot, hoping to make a fortune. There are many twists and turns, death, romance, high adventure, clashes in family values; most of the classic angst provoking stuff with wonderful bursts of comic relief.
I am proud of the effort. As an older writer with more life experience, I believe I am making it into a better story with this rewrite. I wouldn't bother if it didn't have great bones in the first place.
Harriet Charles, who was the only woman writer on Gunsmoke for 15 years and the former President of the Olympia Writers' club I belonged to for ten years, gave me the very best review. She said: I't's a cracking good story!
I'll take that!

Raintreepoet, reporting.

In these stormy times...

Daydreaming about sunnier climes and bicycling and hiking and picnicking in the warmth of some tropical paradise-anywhere but here right now.
Yesterday I  herded 30 students from a portable classroom to the high school library to shelter- in- place as a tornado raged outside. I might add that I do not live in Tornado Alley, I reside in the usually mild northwest, where a tornado wreaked havoc on the small town of Battle Ground tearing up houses and trees and crushing everything in its wake.
Two days earlier a woman died in her bed from a fatal tree crash provoked by a storm not too many miles from here. Needless to say, I slept on my couch, downstairs last night because I have some very large trees right behind my house. If we are beginning to have more extreme weather here, I am determined to be a survivor.
What's going on? In biblical times the priests would have blamed the people saying that they angered God.
We of the scientific times know that it is a whole lot more complicated than that. Science has been warning us about global warming for quite some time. I think its time to listen.
I offer some good sense strategies for survival:

1.  to be as alert as possible. 
2. Keep abreast of the weather.
3. put together the Red Cross disaster preparedness kit
4. Keep your gas tank at least half full
5. listen to those around you
6. If you should be in the path of disaster, take the steps necessary to survive,
7.  but most of all, remain calm, panic will kill you.

I urge you to take all of this seriously. When we have a hot harsh summer like the one we just had (in the triple digits)in Washington & Oregon; The Farmer's Almanac usually predicts a cold snowy winter.

For particulars, check the U.S. weather service predictions. The old folks from where I grew up used to say that the winters would match the summers in extremes. My recollection is that was on the money accurate, so I plan to be prepared. 

Soul Desire

I've been working on a personal ad. Would appreciate any comments about how effective-or not, you dear reader, thinks it might be.

When I get to heaven, I hope I can say:

It was a great run, I loved and was loved

And played and worked each day

I had lots of good friends and a faithful

Mate and every second with him was

Like the best ever date!

My career was fulfilling and his was,

Too

We made a life of adventure, service

And being true blue

And in my last moments, the good-byes

Were sweet, we kissed and said farethewell

Until next we meet!

Hello Stranger! Do tell, is it you?

raintreepoet, musing.  

STIGMA 0r You Need a Shrink like a Hole in you Head!

If you talk to a shrink
folks will label you a "nut"
and that is the core truth
of why the nuts are
 invisible among us
Raving lunatics can
put on a benign mask;
rape, maim and even kill
and who's to know
unless they're caught
then folks will wonder
why somebody did not
get them to a shrink
long ago
I've heard only conscientious
thoughty souls seek shrinks
the maniacs would never
consider it!
Ergo, the great mystery
of mass public shootings
continues to thrive;
deep inside, we already
know why, but on the outside
we blame the GUNS!

Who Let Donald Trump in?

Donald Trump thinks he has all the answers. Does he believe money makes up for everything else lacking? Donald Trump lacks good manners; he is a bully and a braggart and the sort of person that usually puts others off, but for some unfathomable reason, he is becoming increasingly popular!
Is Donald Trump saying all the things other people wish they had the courage to say?
Does Donald Trump's open suspicion and paranoia speak best for the worst in the rest of us?
Do we really want this kind of person to be the leader of the western world or are we hoping Donald Trump can save us from ourselves-be the fall guy, the A-hole who said all that awful crap about racism and religious intolerance and got away with it... right up until other racists and bigots decided to stone him. No, not with rocks, silly. They just decided to get him good and high to test his meddle.
For awhile he was the nicest guy...until it wore off.
Would someone give Donald another toke?
There aren't enough tokes to make Donald into a decent caring human being. His arrogance and narcissism are woven into the fabric of his personality. It is obvious that he thinks he is right-every time. There is no fixing a Know-it-all. It's a special kind of crazy.
Am I voting for Donald. Heck no! Will I laugh at anyone who does? Heck yes!
What will I do if he is elected President?
Become an Ex-pat as quick as I can close it down. America won't be the place I know and love if
The Donald wins. My opinion and $1.75 will buy you a coffee at Starbucks. Thank God its an international company.
Amen
Raintreepoet, opining. 12/2015

SIX MONTH ONE NIGHT STAND

A lot happened that year-it was during Vietnam

I was Thurston County Dairy Princess

attending Centralia College by day and

working the 3-11 shift at the

Oregon Trail Restaurant, nights

He came to my counter

just before closing, a broad dimpled

smile on his face and said,

I need coffee…

I had just cleaned the coffee machine

but I smiled and said, it’s brewing,

As I set it up to make a new mess

for the cute guy with the dazzling smile

And what is your name? he asked

Cinderella, I said and he laughed,

a resonant belly laugh that made me

flush crimson

He plopped himself down on a stool

and smiled at me as though I were

a treasure; a girl cannot ever forget a look

like that!

He drank coffee and we talked, while

I bustled about cleaning up

You’re ending your shift, he noted

How would you like to listen to

some really great music?

I was tired, but he was oh so cute,

so, I said, yes, even though I almost

fell asleep on the ride to his house

even though I knew I had Finals

beginning Monday and had planned

to study all weekend

I stayed up, necking till three,

listening to Waylon Jennings and

Ferlin Huskey singing about

broken hearts and love gone wrong

It was my first foray into country music

and what I did not realize at the time

it was the beginning of my own country song!

He was going through his second divorce and

he was only 26

A more experienced woman would have

seen it coming, but I was fresh off the farm

and only nineteen

Over the next few months, we had

lots of hot sex

I broke up with him when his attention

waned and he married some divorced bottle blonde

with a three year old ,the next spring

Let’s see, he was 27, it was his third marriage

when I met him, he was living with his mother

He had a Samoyed named “Alki” (short for alcoholic,

he laughingly said)

He had fathered a child at 18 with his older

sister’s friend, married her to give the boy a name

then divorced her as quick as the baby came

One night a call rang in from a girl he’d lived with

when he was in the army stationed in Alaska, when

he was 19- after he hung up he explained that she’d

been 17 at the time and he bragged about doing

her and her mama, too…eww!

Did I miss anything?

Red flags waving all over the place-

right in my face!

But I fell in love anyway

I mourned such a long time

then woke one morning and

I was fine…

 RMK, from the chapbook Love Roulette.

December

 

Drinking rum and coke and

Remembering that Christmas Eve

Over twenty years ago

When we drank rum and cokes

While I baked the chocolate

Pecan pies for the next day

We were laughing so hard

When I smelled burning-

Forgetting I had pies

In the oven

I said something dumb

Like ‘Do you smell smoke?’ (Thinking

My cottage might be on fire)

You looked momentarily perplexed

‘Weren’t you baking something?’

Oh my God! The Pies!  The Pies!

I jerked open the oven and

Smoke roiled out nearly knocking me down

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You looked at me serenely

And said, ‘Potty mouth’

In your droll way

Then we laughed our asses off

I poured you another drink

And proceeded to recreate

The pies all over again

You stayed and visited

Because that’s the kinda

Guy you were- a friend

I miss you, brother

And that’s why I’m having this

Rum and coke and

Remembering the good old days when

We were neighbors and

You dropped by and

Watched me incinerate Christmas Dessert!

A remembrance of my brother Doug, who died in a logging accident,December 5, 2000.

December 2011.

Purple Octopus for Sale Portland, Oregon

  Searching old poetry files, found this. Does anybody else out there miss the Greek Cuisina?                                   

 
 
 

           

         Portland, Oregon landmark 

         Housed a favorite Greek Restaurant

         Declared by the city “condemned”

         For a couple years the owner fought the edict,

         but was finally overcome

         Upon vacating the vintage building, there

         Was concern about the huge purple octopus

         Who had greeted the public for many years

         Where would he go, this gigantic sea creature

         Who lived on 4^th Avenue, impervious to

         The elements for so long?

          My friends and I referred to him as Oscar

          Just because we felt the need to name things

          We weren’t really that intimate with the

           Purple octopus, it was simply our way of

          Showing off to our out-of-town friends

          Who we loved to take to Oscar’s

          Especially on Sunday nights when

          The Greek music played and we danced

          And helped break the white china plates

          Also, there was that fateful night when we

           Drank Ouzo for the first time and the rest

          Is truly a blur…I vaguely remember close

          Dancing with a stranger who took liberties

          With me and I was laughing too hard to

          Block his Roman hands!

         And the pastries, Oh the pastries! Rich and tasty

          Little works of art partnered perfectly with the

          Thick, sweet Greek coffee

          We friends capped many an evening with that

         Sweet good-bye before we crossed the river

         The last I heard on the nightly news, of course,

          Oscar was to be auctioned on E-Bay

          Kind of lost track of him after that, but occasionally

          On a blowsy, rainy night I reflect on us running

           Into that building, looking up at his big purple

          Arms & legs flapping in the wind…wherever he is, I am

          Sure Oscar is still making people smile…

          RMK, Spring 2012