Byron Yankey's blog

H1N1...what an experience!!!

I tried really hard to avoid getting H1N1 flu, really I did.  I used hand sanitizer and washed until I lost the feeling in my fingers. I tried not to breath deeply around coughing people.

Let's face it, my work environment is filled with hundreds and hundreds of little  germ carriers.(Remember, I'm an elementary school principal.) I even used a mask when helping sick kids in the health room.  All my precautions were for naught!  I got it, boy did I really get it.

Here are some things I learned from my "swine flu" experience.

• Women must be genetically superior!  As proof of this, I rode 4 hours in a car with two women while I was a sick as a dog "actively shedding virus" (medical term) and to date neither one of these women have become sick.
• You know your temperature is higher than your IQ when you can hear the hair growing on your arms.
• If you are hacking and coughing through a surgical mask and sweating as if you have just finished a marathon, people let you go first in line at the pharmacy.
• At any given time on satellite tv there are at least 4 reruns of Law and Order playing simultaneously
• If the world had a few more reality tv shows, the rest of us would feel much more normal.
• There is no limit to the level of crankiness I can achieve...just ask my wife. Even the cat stayed away from me.
• Saltine crackers are a survival food.
• When the nurse says, "Most people say this shot really hurts", it really does.
• When you think you hear growling and it is really you trying to breathe, it is time to return to the doctor.

The list goes on and on.

When I returned to the living, In certain settings I felt a little status when people found out I had H1N1.  After all anyone can get the seasonal flu...

I'm glad it is over.

The Great Pickle Disaster of 2009

Friday started like most days.  I was up early and headed to work. It was a great sunrise.  Life seemed good.

Earlier in the week,I had taken a crock of home made mustard pickles to school to share. (The recipe is on this blog.) Some bosses have chocolates or mints on their desk to create a warm, welcoming, homey atmosphere.  Not me, I had pickles.  They were a huge hit. Crisp tasty and unique, even the most picky eater was enticed into try the pickles. The entire crock was gone by 2:00.

Now fast forward to that idyllic Friday morning. I had one more crock of pickles and it seemed like a great idea to share again. While cruising down Eagle road, I was suddenly cut off by a white car swerving into my lane and abruptly turning into a parking lot.  I hit the brakes and swerved the opposite direction narrowly avoiding a trip to the auto body repair shop. Then it hit me. A sudden sharp smell of pickle brine.

There on the floor lay my pickle crock gushing brine into the carpet. I quickly made it into a parking lot. I jumped out of the car, grabbing a pile of blankets and sweat shirts from the back seat, and flung open the car door. The previous contents of pickles remained in the crock, but a half gallon of pickle brine was sinking into the carpet.

After soaking up as much as brine as I could, I continued on to school, windows open, sunroof open, laughing like a mad man.

STATUS REPORT: The pickles were enjoyed by many. The blankets and sweat shirts may never be the same. After vacuuming and shampooing the carpet three time, my car only faintly smells like pickles. I'm kind of enjoying the new ambiance...

Grandma's Burnt Sugar Cake

Recently, I was cooking for a family reunion.  I love planning for these events because it gives me the opportunity to drag out my mom's two black binders filled with hand written recipes and also hundreds of recipes clipped from magazines and newspapers. These binders are truly treasures.  They are time capsules from days gone by; childhood memories frozen in time. Leafing through the pages brings back tastes and smells of picnics, family dinners and every day meals.

A favorite recipe is my Grandma Duspiva's Burnt Sugar Cake.  The hand written original is faded and smudged with few exact measurements and only the briefest directions.  It is a difficult recipe to make but, when done correctly the burnt sugar has a distinctive flavor that can not be match. I had my heart set on making that cake.  I had even told by brothers and sister I was making Grandma's Cake. Memories of my Grandma filled my head as I began to bake.  Sadly, no one got to taste Grandma's Cake and here is why...

As the name implies, the first thing you have to do is burn sugar.  Easier said than done.  My first try filled the house with blue acrid smoke that smelled like cotton candy and burning fabric.  The only good thing about this attempt was that the sugar did not get to the blue flame stage.(Something that has happened before.)

All the doors in the house were opened and fans turned on eventually clearing out the smoke.  I decided I would try the recipe again the next morning vowing to learn from my mistakes.

Bright and early in the morning, after much positive self talk, I approached the stove knowing success would soon to be mine. I carefully poured the sugar into a heavy skillet, turned on the burner and began to slowly stir. As the sugar turned from white to golden brown I was hopeful.  Then the sugar turned from golden brown to amber. This would have been fine had the sugar not turned from amber to the same color as crude oil. Smoke again rose from the skillet like a small forest fire. Having experienced this the night before I again opened all the doors and turned on the fans.  The cat fled the kitchen when the visibility began to decrease.  Fearing toxic contamination she ran out the patio door.

I returned to the kitchen with no dignity, condemned to do clean up, hoping I could remove all evidence of failure. From behind me, I heard the cat running through the house meowing. As I turned, I saw not only the cat,but a small bird flying through the family room being chased by a frenzied cat attempting to use the blinding smoke to increase her chances for breakfast.Fortunately the bird flew through the house and exited the front door followed by a disappointed feline.

Needless to say, I was done with Grandma's Burnt Sugar Cake. Maybe I'll try again this weekend.  If I am successful, you will see the recipe on this blog sometime soon. But for now I am stuck with the lingering smell of burnt sugar as I open the door each night.  It should be gone in a week or two I hope...

OUCH!!!

Saturday I made a early morning trip to WINCO.  I enjoy shopping there at 5:30 in the morning. The stockers are scurrying around.  An occasional Hyster scoots down the aisles. Cases of food are waiting to be stacked in neat rows on the shelves.  It's fun.

Driving down the road, my attention was drawn to a parked car. Scrawled on the window was this message:
     TIM iS A LouSy LoVEr

Boy I hope Tim did not sleep late that morning.

Adventures in air travel

If you haven't traveled by air recently, plan to open up you wallet for an array of new charges. Every airline except Southwest now charges a fee for each piece of checked baggage. This has caused air travelers to try to think of ingenious ways to get bigger and bigger pieces of carry-on luggage stuffed in to those overhead bins.

On my trip back from DC, a young woman frantically rushed onto the plane just as the doors were closing. She dragged behind her a hot pink bag that bounced between the seats managing to hit more than one unsuspecting passenger.  As she struggled to find her seat, the bigger dilemma was where would she put her bag.  She hoisted the bag over her head and tried to put it in first one bin, then another.   She tried four different locations before a frustrated flight attendant said, "Miss, they are all the same size."  By now there were three flight attendants trying to help her, all reminding her that the plane could not take off until she was seated and her luggage stowed. 

With that, she stood on her seat pushing and pushing in hopes that the laws of physics would somehow be changed and her bag would slide in. By now the pilot came on the intercom stating, "We had been cleared for take off.  All passengers must be seated."

From the front of the plane, the chief flight attendant stated in a loud voice. "Take some of your things out of the bag so we can get on our way." 

At that point, the frustrated and embarrassed young woman unzips her bag while still trying to push it into the bin and starts throwing clothing to the floor.  Seated in the three rows behind her was a men's college lacrosse team. Their chuckles erupted into cheers as panties and a bra come floating down.  One final push and the bag slides in.  A flight attendant produced a plastic garbage bag and helped to stuff the discarded clothing in to it.  The lacrosse team continued to cheer as the young woman drops into her seat and clicks the seat belt.

I'm sure you can guess who the most popular passenger was for the remainder of the flight.  As a matter of fact, that young woman probably never had to carry her bag again for the rest of her journey.  

Biking the Weiser River Trail

Saturday was a perfect day!  Several of my family members and I biked 15.2 miles along Weiser River Trial. (Unfortunately part of this site is under construction.)  This amazing trail is 84 miles long between Weiser and the Tamarack lumber mill, about 8 miles south of New Meadows. The trail is an abandoned rail line that for years transported lumber. A  nonprofit organization acquired the deed for the rail line in the 90's.  Volunteers maintain the trail throughout the year making it a true recreation assess for bike riders. 

There are many access points to the trail making a map of the route a  near necessity unless you know the area very well.  Smart bike riders begin at the northern most point of the trail section the choose.  That is because it is mostly down hill making for less work and more opportunities to enjoy the wildlife and the scenery.

Preparation is essential because the trail can be rocky at some points.  Choose a section that matches your time and your interests. Mountain bikes are desirable and canned air and extra tubes will prevent you from walking the trail instead of riding.  Some sections of the trail will become covers with "goat heads" later in the summer.  Tubes must be "slimed" to seal the minor punctures.

You can bike through forests along side the Weiser Rivers or through meadows of tall grass or through farm land.  What ever section you choose, you will find great enjoyment.  The section we rode on Saturday has a number of trestles. They added to the excitement by providing a visual challenge for this rider.  Each time I crossed one about in the middle I found myself headed to the edge of the railing.  Too much peripheral vision...

This is the second year I have ridden part of this trail. Hopefully, I can ride another section later this summer.    

  

Boise's first Flash Mob!!!

Sounds like fun! Don't miss the pictures of Boise's first ever group pillow fight.  While events like this occur in more "sophisticate cities", this is Idaho's premier event.  It makes me chuckle. I think that is because of the clandestine pillow fights my brothers and I had while we were growing up.  Let me share a lesson learned from one memorable battle... if the hem of a feather pillow bursts, there is no way your mom is not going to find out...

Be back soon...

This is my busiest time of the year...

This year it is even busier as schools and districts deal with cut backs and staffing changes resulting from the aftermath of the legislative session. That is what fills my day in addition to the end of school testing, events, meetings, and planning and planning...

I'll be back writing nearly every day next week. 

One quick story.... 

Tonight I stopped on the way home to get Chinese take out. It was nearly 7 pm and I had left for school at 5:30 this morning.  As I waited for my food to arrive, I looked around the restaurant and noticed a "seventy-something" couple sitting at a nearby table.  They both had on unusually nice clothes for a week night in Canyon County.  There was polite laughter,warm smiles and the aroma of Old Spice.  As I was leaving I heard the man say, "I always put new batteries in my hearing aids when I go out with a new girl...."  Love springs eternal!

Not my Mom...

Driving to work this morning along 12th Ave in Nampa, I noticed a reader board outside a local business. It prominently announced a Mother's Day Special. This business must be experiencing the same economic slow down as others.  Not long ago the same reader board announced a two for one special.

As I continued my commute to school I thought about buying Mother's Day presents as a small child. I remember a couple of shopping trips to the local Rexall Drug Store with my younger brother.  Of course we were looking for that perfect gift for Mom.

The drug store had a little bit of everything; home remedies, hair products for that perfect crew cut, greeting cards, Whitman Samplers, hand creams, talcum powders, and assorted bric-a-brac.  A time or two we would combine the money we had saved from the tooth fairy or from sweeping the garage floor where my Dad worked.

More than once I remember spending a lot of time trying to select the perfect women's handkerchief. (Something you don't see anymore.)They were kept in a glass case in fancy boxes. Time and time again we would ask the clerk to take a handkerchief out of the case so we could see it up close.  Of course we could never touch it, just look.

When the selection was finally made we would pile our coins on the counter and carefully count out the money.  Each of us was hoping there would be money left for penny candy or a pack of Juicy Fruit Gum or maybe even a pack of Lifesavers;five flavors of course.

I abruptly returned to thinking about the sign I had seen and the Mother's Day Special it advertised. Boy times have changed...I imagine a conversation going something like this.  "Gee Mom, I had a hard time deciding what to buy you this year until I saw this sign on 12th Ave.   They had the greatest Mother's Day Special.  I hope you will like your new tattoo..."      

Okay, somene DID tell my Mom...I guess it was me.

Not long ago I wrote a post called Please Don't Tell My Mom. It was about picking asparagus from ditch banks, cutting my finger, and how my mom cooked asparagus into this mushy green mass. My mom was a very good cook, resourceful, inventive at times but always frugal. 

One night this week on my drive home I called to talk to her.  After hearing about her day and the new jigsaw puzzle she was working on, she abruptly announced, "I hear you didn't like the food I fed you when you were growing up..."   Silence. 

I panicked and said, "um..um". More silence. "Um, um," I repeated.

Fearing my strategy was not working, I said, "Oh Mom, it's just that I never really liked the asparagus you cooked...and about  cutting my finger, you know I was never that coordinated. You always said I tripped over my own two feet more that any child you had ever seen.  And after all, everyone cooked asparagus that way back then."

I though I had done okay with damage control until she said, "Some one told me you didn't like the canned mackerel I fed you.  They said you wrote a recipe for salmon loaf. Now, I find out you didn't like the asparagus either." At that point she chuckled, "I didn't like that mackerel that much either, but I still like my asparagus cooked that way."  Fortunately for me it was time for her to head to dinner.

I guess I can be my own worst enemy.