Saturday, April 30, 2016

Spring Cleaning

(Spring cleaning creates a huge mess)

I hate to clean.  Most of the year I do what my grandmother called "taking off the top soil."  People think my house is clean, but it's an illusion, based on the fact that I keep clutter at bay. I don't like clutter. The occasional removing of top soil and minimal clutter make my house appear cleaner than it is. Still, one must face the inevitable now-and-then.  I make a good stab at deep house-cleaning once a year.

Some of you have been to my house.  It's a small Cape Cod style, yet I have a devised a list for each of its nine rooms (kitchen, living room, dining room, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, basement family room) with 10 chores to be completed in each room, making a total of 90 tasks. This may sound extreme, but, believe me, checking items off a list is the best part of cleaning.  Besides, I might forget something in my haste to get the job done.

(Do all those books really fit on the bookshelf?)

I wasn't brought up to put cleaning on the back burner.  My mother did a massive spring and fall cleaning, and did a heck of lot more than getting rid of top soil all the weeks in between.  I remember waking up at 6:30 a.m. to the sound of my mother vacuuming on weekdays before she went to her part-time job.  It took her decades to face the fact that neither my sister nor I have followed in her footsteps.

Still, most years, between February and June, I give everything a once-over. I certainly wouldn't want to clean so often that that dust didn't billow in clouds off the tops of curtains when I take them down, or the rag didn't turn gray after washing windowpanes.

(cobwebs no more)

I begin with the radiators, because they harbor more dust and cat hair than anything else, and because I dread dealing with them.  Then I start at the top of the room and work down.  What do you think of this Appalachian Besom Style cobweb broom?  My sister made it at a folk school she attended and gave it to me as a Christmas gift.  It could be a nice decorative item, but I use it for its intended purpose.

Besides cleaning in general, and cleaning radiators in particular, I also don't like the vacuum cleaner, although upgrading to a Miele cleaner improved my perspective considerably.  Nevertheless, I wash most everything when I deep clean, and only vacuum when absolutely necessary.  This allows me to play music. In my lackluster spirit as I begin a room, I might start out with music like Chant recorded by the Cistercian Monks of Stift Heiligenkreuz.  Even though this is literally Gregorian Chant music, with slow all-male harmonies, Bill and I visited the Stift Heiligenkreuz monastery in Austria, so the CD eases me into the tasks at hand with a good vibe.

Once I get going, and really turn the place into a debris field, I need something livelier to push me through. As a classical music lover, I can find rousing symphonies in my CD collection whose rhythms force me to move more quickly.

This year, I read the best seller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo.  Even though sorting and being tidy are things I'm good at, I found this book fun to read and full of interesting perspectives.  The author insists that each area of the house should be gone through full-throttle with a clothing day or a book day to ruthlessly discard huge quantities of possessions.

As I hauled furniture from the walls and books off shelves, I thought about my "things." While I had the books out (and was forced to vacuum each one, ugh, a holdover from my mother's technique), weren't there some that hadn't been cracked in at least 15 years? Did we need all of them? I found that having an increased awareness of "stuff" wasn't a bad idea.

I have had conversations about this book with many of my friends who have read it.  People seem to get hung up on Kondo's premise that you should only own things that give you joy.  Joy?  Hmm.  That's going kind of far.  I like my possessions, but a lot of them sure don't send me into rapture.

This idea alone seems to keep people from recognizing what is really good about the book.  Think of that joy premise in reverse.  Kondo says that your house is your oasis, which is why you should only have joy-inducing items in it.  The reverse of that is keeping out possessions that create negative thought.  If you come home, walk into your house, and something that you have annoys you, makes you sad, or in some way gives off bad vibes, that's the clue that it should go...just my opinion.

(Barkeeper's Friend is great for the kitchen. Otherwise, I'm a Murphy's Soap fan.)

Eventually, I decided that I had done enough house-cleaning.  Spring sunshine beckoned, but I hadn't gotten to the kitchen.  It could wait. Maybe I would even do it piecemeal, checking off one item on my cleaning list every now-and-then, rather than tearing the whole place apart and doing most of it in a day.

Then I had a blender disaster.  Only 1/2 cup of milk, one egg, and 1/2 cup of flour were in the blender when they shot out and spewed all over the room.  It looked like an entire half-gallon of milk and a dozen eggs had been flung against the walls, doors, cupboards, floor, and me.  I stripped, right there in the kitchen, and took my clothes to the basement.

The mess was unbelievable.  Not only that, it looked disgusting, and it would smell pretty bad if I didn't do a really good cleaning job, and soon. I was totally bummed. I had no choice but to ignore the sunshine, put on some loud rip-roaring music, and get rid of the glop. In the end, it probably wasn't such a bad idea to bring the kitchen up to the standard of the rest of the house, and I learned a thing or two about using a blender.

(This view is worth keeping the curtains off)

The only part of cleaning that I really like, and it's the easiest part, is throwing the curtains in the washing machine and then hanging them outside on the clothes line. When I iron and hang them back up, they really look great.

Nevertheless, while they are down, Bill and I debate whether we like the windows better without curtains. Do curtains give me joy??  We don't live as if in a home decor magazine, where views out of windows always show lush scenes of woods and mountains, but it's still nice to be able to look out unimpeded.  We ask ourselves why we have curtains at all.  Our reasons are cold and heat.  I drop the tie-backs when it's cold because the room feels warmer and cozier with the glass covered.  And I drop them on hot days to keep the sun out. Otherwise, they don't serve a lot of purpose.

This year, in contrary fashion, I re-hung the curtains in the living room and kept the curtains off the dining room windows.  All the better to see Spring's beauty, as the flowering crabapple tree comes into bloom.  It's easier to see the birds flit in and out of the bird house in the tree too.  For now, the absence of curtains gives me joy.  And despite my bad attitude, a clean house makes me happy too.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Weekend in Washington, DC

My friend, Rosemary, said, "Everyone will want to come visit us during cherry blossom season."

"We won't," I said.  "We'll come in the winter."

Our friend, Herb, has a two-year appointment to the National Science Foundation in Arlington, Virginia.  Normally, Rosemary and Herb live in Madison, Wisconsin.  With Washington closer to our Albany home, their invitation perked immediate interest.

Just after the holidays, we began to plan our visit.  Bill and I would take the train to DC, and the subway over to Arlington on a Friday in late February, returning on a Monday. We would have two full days to visit and sight-see.

(one residential tower after the next)

Upon arrival, our first view was of Rosemary and Herb's lovely apartment in one of the high-rise complexes of Arlington.  Just 12 minutes by metro into the District, this is a bedroom community populated almost entirely by millennials. The four of us could be taken for parents of any of the people we saw on the street or in the elevators.

Rosemary and Herb are still baffled by their neighborhood.  Shops consist of dry cleaners and nail salons.  A few restaurants are sprinkled throughout, but the nearest supermarket is a mile and a half away.

"There isn't even an ice cream shop here," Rosemary lamented.

Clearly, everyone gets what they need on their way home from work.  On the plus side, Herb has only a three-block walk to his office.

(babbling Rock Creek)

Before the trip, Rosemary sent me lists of possible places to go, asked my opinion, and requested ideas from us.  Making decisions was not easy! In the end, we picked a few destinations for each of the two days.

Our first outing on Saturday morning was to Rock Creek National Park.  "If there's a national park near you, we definitely want to see it!" I had emailed Rosemary.  I hadn't known that any park in the District is a national park, since the District of Columbia is under national jurisdiction.

"Everything we want to do today is fairly close together," Herb said, "so we'll drive."  We retrieved the car from its garage, four stories below their apartment building, and set out.

Walking woodland trails along the creek and over rolling hills gave us the perfect opportunity to visit, enjoy the fresh air, and see a beautiful and historic park

(Boulder Bridge where TR lost his ring)

I was fascinated by Boulder Bridge, with its underlayer of rocks hanging vertically.  This style of bridge construction is called "parkitecture," architecture designed to blend in with the natural landscape.  Theodore Roosevelt loved hiking in this park, and lost a ring here over 100 years ago.  The brochure we picked up encouraged today's hikers to try their luck at finding the ring!

(comfortable paths make nice loops in the park)

Our second activity was to tour the National Cathedral.  Despite all of us having been to DC a few times in the past, only Rosemary had previously visited the Cathedral, and even that was decades ago.  We were glad that some of our choices of activity were places that Herb and Rosemary had not yet thoroughly explored during their residence in the metro area.

(Washington National Cathedral)

We were surprised to learn that the cathedral had suffered a considerable amount of damage from a 5.8 magnitude earthquake in 2011.  We remembered hearing on the news about the Washington monument being closed for repairs and extensive work, but we did not remember hearing about the cathedral.  What an eye opener it was to see how entire turrets had shifted on their bases, turning clockwise so that they no longer lined up, but sat in precarious fashion, ready to drop heavy fragments at any moment.  Expert stone masons are carefully restoring the cathedral inside and out, at a projected cost of over $32 million.

(some victims of the earthquake)

Although an Episcopal church,  the cathedral, begun in 1907 and completed in 1990, is considered "the spiritual home of our nation."  It is an interesting mix of religious and national themes.

(State flags hang high)

Using a brochure, we began our self-guided tour.  The traditional Gothic architecture immediately raises the eye to majestic heights, and the cross shape with its numerous bays along the sides offers artistic fascination.  We started out together, but soon each of us wandered his own way.

(brilliant windows glow above the dark stone)

I was struck by the abstract and brilliantly colored stained-glass windows.  Although parts of the building house traditional religious-themed stained glass, this window, below, of red and orange flames, is on the wall behind a statue of Abraham Lincoln and depicts the Agony of Civil War.

In the opposite bay, George Washington stands statuesque. The window behind him, in lovely swirls of blue, reflects the search for freedom in the founding of our nation.

Besides the glass, there was a series of dove paintings by illustrator N.C.Wyeth, a carving of Martin Luther King, who preached here regularly, and myriad more works of art.

Eventually, we all gathered outdoors where the carillon played high above.  We were hungry after our walk at Rock Creek and our wanderings through the cathedral.  Fortunately, the baptistery is now an Open City cafe, and fit our needs perfectly.

(I had Monk Tea, and how about those camel cookies!)

This February day's temperature reached a comfortable 60 degrees.  With delicious sandwiches on hearty homemade bread, pots of tea, a table in the outdoor seating area, and music from the carillon wafting down, we couldn't ask for more.

(The Baptistery made into an Open City Cafe)

Rejuvenated from a sit-down, and well-fed, we were ready to explore the 57-acre Cathedral Close, which comprises gardens and woods designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, best known for designing Central Park in Manhattan.  Olmstead wrote that the Close would "brush off the dust of the that one is cleansed in mind and in spirit."

(restored 13th century Norman arch)

Both the garden plantings and the permanent structures originated from locations throughout the world.  In addition, close to 40 different flowers would bloom over a three-season period. Sheltered among the stone and greenery, a visitor could feel a timeless quiet.

(the Cathedral Close)

Our final exploration of the cathedral led us back inside, where we found the elevator which would take us up seven stories to an observation area.  From here, we could look out windows from every side, down to the ground, out to the city, and back to the cathedral's roof and architectural detail.

(we followed this hallway past windows to the outside)

What a treat! Whether it's in the mountains or in the city, I always love to get up high. The first windows we came to looked down on where we had just been, the cafe and the gardens. 

(the Baptistery with its cafe, and the Cathedral Close)

I was thrilled to see the flying buttresses with their ornate pinnacles up close.

In the interior space of the observation area, a museum displayed photographs depicting the history of the cathedral, including the recent earthquake damage and repairs.  We found so much to see and learn here.

(a pinnacle just beyond the glass)

We left the calm of the cathedral area and drove into a more hectic section of the city to see Malcolm X Park, our next stop. Bill had found this listed as one of the Top 10 things to see in Washington, according to Time Magazine.

(beautiful stonework stairways and paths)

With the aid of the GPS and his expert driving skills, Herb found the park and a safe spot for the car.  From the street, the park rose in a series of stone stairways up a steep incline, opening into a huge grassy area at the summit.

People played frisbee and lawn games, walked with strollers, rode bikes, jogged, and enjoyed the nice day.  The song, "Saturday in the Park," recorded by Chicago, came to mind.

(a young couple, a sunny day, a classic picnic basket, and a dog)

We saw one statue, Joan of Arc astride a horse, the only statue of a woman equestrian in the entire District.  While this was all wonderful, where was Malcolm X?

It became obvious that the real beauty of this park is its water features, even though they were dry now. In season, fountains, cascading falls, and pools dropped from one intricately designed stone level to another, with gardens alongside. I found it easy to imagine people watching the water, sitting on the stone walls and benches, perhaps with some impromptu music nearby, on a summer day. 

(water would cascade into a large fountain pool)

Despite all, we were a little confused. Why was this called Malcolm X Park, or was it?  We had seen no written name, statue, or indication that the advocate for black rights had ever been here.

Bill began to feel a little responsibility for suggesting that we come here.  I didn't mind; it was a fascinating park.  And Herb and Rosemary both said, "we love exploring places we have never been before."

Still, we were relieved when we came upon a plaque describing the park's history.  Built in the 1930s, it was home to concerts, events, and protests.  With the assassination of Martin Luther King, riots broke out and the area was devastated.  Since 1969, the park has been unofficially called Malcolm X Park, in recognition of racial protest, although its real name is Meridian Hill Park.  Since there is a memorial to President Buchanan in the park, the name cannot be changed to honor another person.

Now we had to seek out the statue of our 15th president. We found him, looking important but restful, on a regal marble pedestal under the boughs of a large tree.

(President James Buchanan sits proud)

We had had a full day and had learned a lot.  How relaxing it was to return to Herb and Rosemary's comfortable apartment and to eat a delicious meal, while we planned our next day's adventures.

We began Sunday by taking the metro to Foggy Bottom and walking the Mall, passing through or alongside the famous memorials.  While we had all seen most of them before, they are worth repeating over and over.

(The Museum of Natural History)

The weather wasn't quite as fine, so we had prudently planned some indoor activities for this day.  We debated which of the Smithsonian museums we should go in.  I was attracted to a photo exhibit of Iceland in the Museum of Natural History.  We enjoyed perusing the pictures of barren landscapes, and farms and villages, and of Iceland's hearty residents.  Then we discovered that the museum was showing the new IMAX movie celebrating the 100th anniversary of our National Park Service. We paid the minimal fee and got in line.

I had seen this movie advertised in the Sierra Club literature I receive.  In fact, I had researched how to bring the movie to our area.  Unfortunately, it was prohibitively expensive.  What a find to see it here!  The photography was exquisite, the music a perfect accompaniment, and Robert Redford's narration clear and interesting.  If we had any complaint, it was the "adventure" aspect of the film, which showed three people doing extreme sports throughout the terrain.  Some of their activities appeared unsafe, or detrimental to the landscape. Still, the movie was a wonderful tribute to the beauty and fragility of our National Parks.

We had lunch at Paul's Cafe.  With the sandwiches served on baguettes, and a case of exquisite pastries, this cafe is decidedly French. I couldn't resist a chocolate mini-croissant.  Along with the warm decor of natural woodwork, and large windows facing the Mall, Paul's made a cozy escape from the drizzle that had begun outdoors.  We were well-fortified for our afternoon activity.

(Uh-oh. Entrance to the Spy Museum)

Rosemary thought that Bill, especially, would enjoy the Spy Museum, a place, again, new to all of us.

Upon entering the museum, we were told to choose a personality from the ones offered, and to remember its characteristics.  Then we would see if we could successfully qualify to become a spy with our character.

We pressed buttons and answered questions.  After the second series, the screen told me to go to the Pub.  I was clearly a loser at spying!  Herb, however, went through several levels and got to the screen that said that he was the "most effective security threat."

(Herb and Rosemary see that he could qualify to be a spy!!)

Herb wasn't planning on a new career, so we followed the museum map through the pop culture section where we saw James Bond's car and Agent 99's phone.

(James Bond's Aston Martin)

From there we entered the history wing.  We learned how spying was used by the Greeks with the Trojan Horse, in Shakespeare's writing, by Queen Elizabeth I, and throughout the World Wars and into today.

(A model of the Trojan Horse began the museum's history wing)

Artifacts, writing, and recorded interviews fascinated us. We learned how the spies crafted their trade, what qualities they possessed that made them successful spies, how they influenced or deceived others, and were ultimately caught.  Equally interesting was the elaborate and complex intelligence the detectives used, coupled with their intuition and instincts. This museum has something for everyone.

(World War II intelligence and spy equipment)

We had had a packed weekend, and, yet, we had also had plenty of time to relax and visit, curled up in comfy chairs in the apartment.  It was fun to catch up with one another, and to better understand our friends' temporary home and lifestyle.

Monday morning, Bill and I left to catch the subway for our trip back to the train station and north to Albany. Our hours of travel time were spent going over our brochures and thinking about all of the places we had been, but we always returned to the many conversations we had shared.

(Good friends since 1989)

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Hot Dog Hike

(deviled eggs ready to take to the picnic)

The hikes that John Antonio leads for the Albany Chapter of the Adirondack Mountain Club are legendary, none more so than his annual "hot dog hike."   In recent years, I have gone on one of John's outings each winter.  As I read through this winter's listings, I instantly signed up for his hot dog outing.

(12 people, 4 cars, and lots of supplies)

I knew that everyone brought something, so I offered to make deviled eggs. To carry them safely, I needed a pack with a square-bottomed pocket for two egg cartons, each holding 12 halves of eggs.  Rummaging in my basement, I found my old Kelty pack, perfect with its angular frame. 

As we arrived at the trailhead, picnic supplies were divvied up: wood for a fire, charcoal for the grill, the grill itself, and more. Since I had lots of empty space in my pack, I took two small pieces of wood, and the bag of charcoal.

Then I saw Marie, who had a mystery package in her hand.  "It has to be held flat," she said.  She planned to carry her package for three and a half miles in her hand.  It fit perfectly in my pack on top of the charcoal. 

(See Marie's package on top? Newer packs have cylindrical bags.)

John has chosen a variety of locations for his hike over the years. This one particularly appealed to me -- a hike to two ponds in the Pharaoh Lake Wilderness. With a forecast for temperatures in the 30s, John had written in his email, "Layers, layers, layers is the way to go. Remember it takes a bit of time for the grill to heat up and you want to be warm when we actually start to chow down."

We started hiking at a good clip, our microspikes allowing us to grip the groundcover of light snow and ice with ease. Before long, everyone shed their heaviest layers of clothing. Lighter hats, mittens and jackets came out of packs, while others were rolled up and stashed away inside.

(John read about Ragged Mtn. from Barbara McMartin's guide book)

Rugged rock cliffs came into view on a hillside behind the trees.  John took out his old Barbara McMartin trail guide and read to us about Ragged Mountain.  Our trail would go around the base of the mountain rather than up and over its rock face. "Not to be climbed in winter," advised Barbara.  John's instincts as a retired teacher were put to good use for our benefit, not that any of us planned to climb rocks today.

(Ragged Mtn. through the trees)

Before long we reached Tubmill Marsh, where a mill once stood that made wooden shoe-nails.  It was hard to imagine the activity that once took place here.

(Serene Tubmill Pond)

A leanto at the marsh displayed carved writing from as far back as the 1930s.  Tom, a leader for Lean2Rescue, studied the condition of the structure.  "It needs a new roof," he said.  By summer, he would have a group of volunteers in here with him to repair this leanto for another few decades.

(No cracks for black flies to get through!)

We were interested in the structure that had lasted here for at least 80 years.  "This one was well-built," Tom said.  He put his hand up to the logs and added, "The logs should be so tight that a black fly can't get through."  These certainly looked very tight.  Then he laughed and said, "Of course the entire front of the leanto is open."  For sure! Blacks flies didn't have to worry about squeezing between logs to feast on campers!

If the weather had been bad, we might have stopped here for our picnic, but today was fine, and it was still early in the day so we continued on.

(Seriously, they know where they are going!)

When we came to a trail junction, John took out his map to show us our direction, and to point out the gradual elevation marked by topographical contour lines.  Our destination was Lilypad Pond.

Rock Pond Brook bisected our route. With this winter's warm temperatures, little ice had formed.  We debated whether our microspikes were a help or a hindrance, but we all kept them on and crossed safely, without accidentally slipping into frigid water. 

(Marie decides which rocks to hop)

We passed small Honey Pond, abundant with evidence of wildlife. Moose had left tracks in the snow, and beavers had been very busy working on these large trees.  What striking evidence of chewing! Eventually, these trees would fall, and the beaver would break off all of the smaller and mid-sized branches for their homes and dams.  This part of the forest would open into a sunlit meadow of berry bushes and shrubbery until trees once again filled the space.

(Beavers have worked hard here)

After a couple hours of hiking, we reached Lilypad Pond, its leanto and stone fire circle.  Let the festivities begin!

We emptied our packs of their provisions and treasures.  John pulled out his chair and the grill, took the charcoal I had carried, and started a cooking fire. In minutes he had the coals lit and heating.

(Happy cook, with his grill and camp chair)

A few people had brought wood from home for a warming fire.  This was not their first rodeo!  Although it was my first, John has offered the hot dog hike for eight years. Only one person had been on all of the trips. Most had participated a few times.  They regaled us with previous years' temperatures and adventures.  Last year, when we had lots of snow and cold weather, near zero temps had been only for the stalwart.  I was glad that this day was a comfortable 34 degrees.

(Tom works on the fire)

To tide us over while we waited for the real food, a spread of munchies, including my eggs, lay before us on the leanto floor.  Chips of all kinds, dips, and other snacks took the edge off our hunger.

(Everyone brought something to share)

Oh, and what was that?  beer? and wine?  Sure enough, Dale's Pale Ale made an appearance, as did small personal-sized boxes of chablis.  Shouts of enthusiasm arose!  Clearly, nothing had been forgotten.

(A toast to another year of the Hot Dog Hike!)

While we waited for the grill to reach cooking point, we walked down to Lilypad Pond.  It felt very remote.  A couple of us had considered carrying ice skates to use here.  In the end, we decided that, this year, ice was not trustworthy anywhere, even here, and had left our skates at home.  Water lapped the edge of the pond, and the ice had the murky white color of a softer surface, not hard, clear ... or safe.

(We checked out Lilypad Pond)

Just around noon, the sun came out.  What a treat!  It filtered through the trees, crossed the pond, and felt bright and warm, complementing the heat of the wood fire, as we returned to the leanto. The fire raged, and better yet, the grill was hot.

(What a beautiful place this would be for summer camping)

John laid the dogs on the grill in a circular formation.  These were premium products from Rolf's Pork Store on Lark Street in Albany.  "Don't let Rolf hear you call them hot dogs," John said.  "These are frankfurters."  And they sure appeared to be more than your average dog.

(Just a touch of toasty black!)

The first perfectly roasted hot dogs slipped into rolls in a hurry.  It didn't take long to devour them, while another batch roasted on the grill.  Louie, Karen's golden retriever, had not been tempted by the array of snacks, but he was definitely interested in food now.  "Poor Louie," someone said, as Louie watched each bite consumed by others. He didn't remain "poor" for long; plenty of tidbits came his way.

(Lori, Karen, and Barb enjoying their lunch, while Louie watched)

Louie is a great hiker.  I have a "no dog policy" when I lead a hike, but I make an exception for Louie.  He never leaves Karen's side.  Neither squirrels rustling in the leaves, nor the scent of other wildlife, takes him from his post. "Louie is really enjoying today, being out here with us on his own," Karen said, remembering the 8-month old puppy they had left at home.

Tom stepped away briefly, and Marie unwrapped the mystery package that I had carried for her.  "A birthday cake!" someone exclaimed.  Indeed, Marie had baked a white cake with lemon-butter frosting for Tom's 60th birthday ... and she had brought hats and blowers.  Upon Tom's return, we joined in a raucous rendition of "Happy Birthday," and blew the blowers.

(Marie sets the stage for a party)

It's never easy to light candles outdoors, but these held long enough. With John's hands to block the breeze, Tom had a quick moment to blow them out.

We began to feel a slight chill, and stood in a circle around the fire. The birthday cake, and Karen's chocolate chip cookies, made the perfect ending to our lunch.

(Do Virginia and Karen's husband, Jeff, look like "pixies?")

Karen and I both poised our cameras on a log, to take 10-second timed photos, so that all twelve of us could be pictured.  Marie said that we looked "pixie-ish" in our party hats. Silly might have been a more accurate word, but, so what, we all sported big smiles, evidence of a fun and festive afternoon.

(Hot Dog hikers 2016)

Then we packed up for the return hike.  We had spent an hour and a half here at the leanto on Lilypad Pond, eating, chatting, and enjoying this year's event. 

The food and camaraderie gave us renewed energy for the three-and-a-half-mile hike out.  John said, "I will keep doing hot dog hikes as long as I can.  If everything else goes, we'll still do this."  In fact, John's hikes throughout the rest of the year are pretty special too, and he would appear to have many more years of hiking ahead, but who could argue?  He was host for much more than hot dogs, and we were grateful.

(Energized for the hike out)