Blackberry Pickin's

While I was taking my morning walk, I saw these the other day, on a little-used gravely road. I've been taking a little zip-lock bag, and picking just a few every other day or so. My goodness, years ago we'd pick at least 3 gallons of blackberries at a time, and I'd make blackberry syrup and jam.

Our plum tree is ready to pick, so I'll be making syrup and jam this Labor Day weekend. I'm also planning to go through a few recipe books, too: "Trailside Cookbook - a Handbook for Hungry Campers and Hikers", and "Grilling From The Garden - Vegetarian Dishes for the Outdoor Cook". With George being a diabetic, so many of our meals have to be low-carb, low fat, and vegetarian. He also is wanting to loose a few more pounds, so I always try to have plenty of 'rabbit food' at the ready. (I do cheat a lot when we camp.)

George will be out at the Brighton Creek Conference Center at the Arts Festival for the next 3 days, playing music all day. We have no other plans for this busy weekend.

I hope everyone drives safely - have a happy weekend.

Sunset On Lyle Lake - Eastern Washington

Looks serene, doesn't it! But don't let this fool you - it had been a windy, hot day in the scorched, remote scablands of eastern Washington.

When George presented our options for the camping trip, he said, "Do you want 63 degrees with overcast sky, or 84 degrees with clouds?" I'd thought over the past few months, and could barely remember any truly hot days. I could just imagine September coming, regretting not having experienced a truly hot day. Even with clouds, the warmth would be so welcome!

I spent Friday organizing all our gear, packing, and preparing a few recipes to shorten 'cooking time' while in camp. I've learned that since conditions can be unpredictable, best to have a few things ready-to-eat. So, I put hot home-made lentel soup in a thermos, made some Indian fry-bread for our back-packs, and brewed a thermos of strong coffee. While driving, we polished off the soup and some celery sticks, with me hand-feeding George as we headed over Snowqualmie Pass to Ellensburg, then to Vantage, then across the majestic Columbia River.

I'll say right now that desert country is my favorite part of Washington state. I love the barren, dry, expansive vistas, the sagebrush and basalt cliffs that cradle the Columbia River, the absence of the press of humanity. I love to explore the Columbia Wildlife Reserve and the lands nearby that are state-managed and available for hunting, fishing and camping. The last time we were there, we noted a site that would make a good weekend get-away, and so we headed over - to Lyle Lake, a small sequence of open water, wetlands, and an outflow that looked navigable. We were ready to explore!

In the spring, Lyle Lake looked so different - you could actually smell the sage, and the sparse vegetation around the lake was so green. Birds abounded, and everything was bursting with color, sound, and life. But, eastern Washington is completely parched and colorless in late summer. Even the water in the lake seemed old and lifeless, with a mat of old scum floating on top at the edges. A brisk wind was causing the water to ripple in the deeper center of the lake, and we put off canoeing until the wind settled down - which was about 4:30.

In the meantime, we tackled the highlight of the trip - putting up the canopy, which at the time seemed like a good thing to do as it offered some shade. The wind was gusting from a variety of directions, first one way, then getting temperamental and changing course. George was having the darnedest time getting the braces to fit and the fabric positioned. No sooner would it be in place than the wind would blow everything to smithereenes, and he'd have to start over. (My, his vocabulary was 'rich' at this point.) I offered to help, and together we groaned and struggled. I questioned whether or not we should even camp here, because if it was going to be this windy, the tent would rattle and shake all night. He sputtered a few encouraging remarks while bracing the canopy with ropes staked into the ground: "No way will our tent blow over with both of us in it!" But, the canopy required extra ropes and rocks all around the edges, on top of the skirting at the bottom. As I hunted down big ones to lay all around the edges, George set out 6 gallons of water along the south edge. He said they'll hold it down and heat up water for bathing, pot-scrubbing, and cooking. He was right! By night-time, that water was hot enough for our baths. Lyle Lake never did simmer down. Wind was ripping up white caps, and it looked pretty bad - but we canoed it anyway, skirting the edges. Took all of 40 minutes to get around the lake, with a short stop to climb up onto these cliffs overlooking the valley.
We poked the canoe into this little chanel and found the outflow, which had the sweetest aquatic plants swaying in the current. The sun beat down, and the water was quite warm to the touch.
I made a quick meal of basmati rice with kidney beans, stir-fried some garlic, zucchini and red onions, and mixed that in. It took only a few minutes to prepare - the aroma of garlic and onions caught George's attention. He sat down, saying that watching me cook is always the highlight of the trip for him. He sat in the small line of shade inside the canopy and I offered him plain yogurt, with blackberries that I'd picked on my walk on Friday.

While George read maps inside the tent at night, I wandered along the edge of the lake to observe the meager 'wildlife' that inhabited the marsh and the cliffs. Permanent water sources like Lyle Lake are critical for the survival of desert wildlife. They provide breeding areas for frogs and toads, offer insects for birds, and provide drinking water for mammals and birds - of which we saw only one, a solitary white egret who chanced by our camp early the next morning. Other than a cricket in the outhouse, and a little mouse nest in the corner, we saw no evidence of snakes, bugs, raccoons, coyotes, or deer. It was like everything had run off, to seek some shade, some comfort elsewhere. Only a muskrat, swimming along the reeds provided my night-time entertainment. It made little murmuring sounds, which I recognized when I awakened in the middle of the night. The crickets sang all night to a full moon.

I made buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, and put the remainder of the blackberries on top. Then I fried up some sausage and eggs and some left-over vegetables. Made some hot coffee, and we were all set. It is cool in the desert in the morning, but as we ate breakfast the sun started warming everything up in a hurry.

We took an afternoon hike along the Crab Creek Trail, which leads up to the bluffs overlooking Frog Lake. This trail is quite easy, but with temps in the mid 80's we took it slow, climbing the cliffs that overlooked the remote scablands. Raptors, like the red-tailed hawk and kestrels use the ledges as nesting sites. We startled an owl, who slowly flapped away as we ascended the narrow trail. This is also habitat for rock wrens and cliff swallows in the springtime, when they are nesting.

Before we started out on the hike, I asked George if he was going to take along a water bottle, and he said "No, I don't want to carry one." He saw that it was just a little over a 2 hour hike, and regardless of the heat and clear sky he went ahead. I packed a full thermos of strong coffee with milk and sugar, and a full bottle of water, keeping the coffee in my backpack and holding the water-bottle as I walked. I usually save my water until we are 2/3 of the way done with a hike, to insure that I've got enough. Well, wouldn't you know, Mr. George got 15 minutes into the hike and polished off half of my water! Didn't even ask! (When I handed him the bottle so I could use my camera, he quietly unscrewed the lid and drank my water!) When he handed it back, half of it was gone - boy did I scold him. What was he going to do for the rest of a two hour hike? I put the bottle into my backpack, took out the heavy thermos, and insisted that he carry the pack the rest of the way! When we got to the top of the bluff, I shared a little of the coffee with him, but also insisted that he pack water on our next trip. He apologized, and I vowed I'd never step another foot on a trail with him, unless he's prepared. He looked a little sheepish, but agreed - everyone is responsible for their own safety (and hydration is a safety issue). When we got within a fourth of a mile of the car, I offered him more of my water, and he said "I'll wait until we get to the car. There's cold water in the cooler." So, I drank the rest. It was so hot I could have added a tea bag and brewed a cup of tea, right there.

Tacoma's Little Bungalows

When George and I bought our home near the University of Puget Sound, we favored the look of the bungalow, a cozy little house, with enough yard for a summer garden and within walking distance of my work. The location was perfect - a mile from work, three blocks from the bank, a grocery store and drug store, and two blocks from a garden center. We wanted something very small, for a retirement home. With our kids ready to head off on their own, we settled on a remodled bungalow, new on the inside yet keeping many of the features of the bungalow. (photo above is not our home...when I'm walking, it is 45 minutes away.)

Promotional literature in the early 20th century almost always noted the chief purpose of the bungalow was to place most of the living spaces on one floor. This simplified the building process. If bedrooms were upstairs, they were often very small, and could be used as small offices or guest rooms. Safety was at a premium because, in the event of fire, windows as well as doors offer easy escape.

Between 1890 and the mid-1900's, the bungalow became so popular that companies like Sears, Roebuck & Company and Montgomery Ward offered mail-order houses that were pre-cut in factories then shipped out for fabrication on site by local carpenters. These houses, some costing as little as $900.00, allowed families to own a portion of the American dream, their own little home.

You can recognize a bungalow by these features: One, or one and a half stories. Modest front porch. Focus on a garden or perennial beds. Exposed roof structure (beams and rafters). Low sloping roof, either gabled (front or side), or hipped, often with wide overhangs. Exterior proportions are balanced, rather than symmetrical in arrangement. Open, informal floor plan, often with a central hearth. Often built-in furniture, predominantly wood.

On many of the homes, I noticed that the front porch affords another room, albeit outdoors. It allows socializing, reading and relaxing. A bungalow's exterior might be brick, board and batten, cedar shingles, clapboard, stucco or stone depending on the owner/builder's preferences and the availability of materials.

There was never a strong vertical profile to the bungalow, no feeling of height. The focus was on a compact, utilitarian home, which was easy to manage.

I will finish this indulgent tour with this charming little front porch - I can just imagine how sweet this entrance looks with the porch light on at night.

Walking Through My Neighborhood

Every day I try to take a walk through the streets in my neighbor- hood. If the weather is nice, I'll take two walks, just to enjoy the solitary pleasure of browsing the area. After awhile, a pattern is established and followed for a few weeks, until I've become acquainted with all the little touches, motifs, that I find delightful.

Sometimes, it is a little porch along the side of the house, with a tender sweet welcome. If you drive by, you'll not notice it as it requires peeking over a small hedge.

Sometimes, it is a front entrance that looks so welcoming and comfy, a place that invites neighbors to stop and sit on the porch.

As I walk, I notice the yards, the gardens, the flowers, the overhanging tree limbs. The Puget Sound Area is in the last stages of 'summer bloom' now, yet I see crocosmia, dahlias, lavender, lilies, and an abundant variety of shrubs. It is still profoundly lush and green here, with temperatures in the low 70's during the day, and in the mid 50's at night - perfect sleeping weather.

It was many, many years ago that I studied American architecture, starting with the homes of the residents living in New England. Some of the architectural motifs of those old historic homes can still be found in homes here - the Palladian windows, quoins, dormer windows, elegant arches and columns, and beautiful moldings.

There is a classic simplicity to some of these homes, with a soft blending of landscape that enhances the integrity of the home.

As I walk in the summertime, usually early morning, I see people out gardening in their yards, hear children playing, and have an opportunity to greet other walkers, many of which are retired like myself, getting their morning exercise. People are walking their dogs, a roofing company is tearing off old roof shingles and putting up new ones. A street is being repaired, with orange cones blocking the entrance. The little bakery on 21st street has new loaves of bread sitting in the window. I'm pleased to see fresh paint, carefully tended yards, beautiful stone-work and bedding plants.

This route of mine winds all along the perimeter of the University of Puget Sound, down to north 30th street, where I have a pleasant view of the water of Puget Sound. On a sunny day, cool breezes seem to blow up from the water, adding a freshness to the trees lining the boulevards along Union Avenue. Dotted here and there along my route are a few little eateries, an interior decorating shop filled with decorating accents, like potted plants, lavender sprays, wall decorations and the like. But, it is always the houses that draw my attention. Someone, many years ago determined how the streets should be platted out, and my favorite street is 25th street, as it winds down around a little forested ravine, then empties into the cobble-stoned edges of Anderson Avenue. There, I notice the old steel rails of the trolley that ran through the old historic district of Tacoma.
This is the typical cedar shingle effect so popular in our part of the city.

My walk takes a little over an hour, and as the sun gets higher in the sky, I'm grateful for shade offered by overhanging tree-limbs. In fact, depending on the heat, I have routes that I take just to avoid getting too hot. I have my water-bottle along, and I make sure that it is freshly filled, whether I'm thirsty or not.

There is an extension on Anderson Avenue that winds around the ravine to show this grand old home. It has the most beautiful yard, within the fence and gate shown above. By peeking through a fence slot, I noticed beautiful flowers and a little fountain. The sound of water was delightful. I thought that it was a shame that most people don't even know about the beauty that is concealed within someone's back yard, as that is often an area that is carefully tended as a private retreat. Sometimes, it is the most beautiful spot on the property.

Houses have such strong presence, yet as I walk by the image is softened by a walkway of pale yellow pansys, a chance reflection in a little pool, or ornate glass in a window.

I listen to the rustle of leaves, breathe deeply the fresh morning air. As I round the corner home, I see the beginnings of crushed, dried leaves hunkered in the grass along the sidewalk. Weeds have all set seed and stand in a solitary stupor. The aphids line the stalks and undersides of nasturtiums. The end of the summer season is approaching.

I'd like to show you a few more of the bungalows on my walk, and present some of their distinguishing features. But, that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Storm Clouds Brewing - Lake Rapjohn

We got a late start on our weekend paddle, concerned about the weather forecast which predicted showers and possibly some wind. The chances were that we'd encounter a little of both. However, we had rain-gear along and decided to give Rapjohn a try.

Lake Rapjohn is a small round lake that has only a couple of homes nesting up on the hills overlooking the lake. I really liked that. We've canoed this lake several times over the years, and I've thought that of all the places I've seen in the Puget Sound area, that this lake was one of my favorites.

A few years back, we were in the habit of doing weekend hikes on Mt. Rainier, and taking afternoon excursions in the car, just to explore. One afternoon, eight years ago, we parked at the little public beach at Rapjohn, and watched some canoers paddling among the reeds and water lilies at the far end of the lake. I said to George, "I'd like to be where they are, doing what they are doing. That looks fun!" As the couple paddled along, it looked so idyllic and peaceful, and I wondered what the view was like over where they were. It was right then and there that I decided to get a canoe.
I cannot believe that it became such a passion in our lives, with almost a paddle every weekend. We've paddled in all kinds of weather - even when it was snowing. But, if there is wind, we find a sheltered cove, to stay out of the wind. Of course, we had to learn that the hard way.

When we first got our canoe, Lake Rapjohn was one of the first places we paddled. We were quite excited to unload it, push away from shore, and head over to the little farm across on the other side of the lake. But, we made the mistake of going straight across it, rather than paddle along shore. All the tree cover generally will shelter water along the beach, and when we got into open water the wind pushed us completely down to the north end of the lake. I thought for sure we were going to swamp the canoe, and find ourselves bogged down in a foot of murky sediment. We leaned into the wind, pushed ourselves along the cattails, and finally got out of the wind.

This is the third time we've paddled Lake Rapjohn, and each time we say we'll never do it again because it is such a small lake, and if the wind is pushing you along, you've got it completed in about 40 minutes. But, we did it on the weekend because it was on the way to Northwest Trek Wildlife Park, our afternoon destination. Northwest Trek Wildlife Park, managed by MetroParks of Tacoma, is a treasure for wildlife enthusiasts. This 723-acre park has a little bit of everything: lakes, trails, meadows and plenty of animals. It is home to more than 200 North American animals.

At Northwest Trek, we planned to take the trolley throughout the hillsides of a natural habitat where North American bison, Roosevelt elk, moose, black-tailed deer, mountain goats, woodland caribou and bighorn sheep can all be viewed safely from inside the trolley. Three cars are joined together, with open air viewing. A naturalist gives an hour-long presentation as we climb hills and drive through the extensive forest habitat for these animals.

The naturalist said that it was an exceptionally good day for viewing the animals, as it was cold and overcast. When it is hot on a sunny day, they hide in the forest, and opportunities are limited for sighting big game. George and I especially enjoyed a herd of Roosevelt elk, especially this one. It reminded us of a canoe paddle where we rounded a bend on a river, suddenly startling six of these huge animals. They bounded away from us, crashing through the brush, and the sound of their hoofs made the ground rumble as if an earthquake was pounding it.

We really enjoyed the open air feeling, the enthusiasm of our fellow travelers as they enjoyed the sightings, and the slow pace the driver took around every bend. It gave us a chance to really settle back and enjoy being part of the forest.

There were viewing platforms outside, and indoor exhibits as well, with an aquarium for beaver and otter. They were playing in the water, chewing on leafy green branches and building nests inside the den. Bear, cougar, bobcat, grizzlies, lynx and other animals walked around in a very natural habitat, on trails through the woods. We saw everything, including an elusive red fox and some snowy owls.

Afterwards, we still had time to walk several trails through the forest - there are 5 miles of them, wonderfully groomed and maintained. As we were walking along, George noticed something matted up on the trail, and said, "What's this?" I told him it was entrails, the intestine of an eviscerated small animal, like a beaver. I'd seen this type of thing before when we were hiking along the water. Only then, the beaver was nearby, gutted out. The coyote took only entrails. As I videotaped the corpse - etc.- George just shook his head. But, I felt that this was part of the fascinating unfoldment of Mother Nature - eat and be eaten. I just wish it weren't so brutal.

As the afternoon unfolded we were fortunate that, although rain may have threatened, there were sun-breaks with dramatic clouds. To be on the safe side, I brought my fleece vest and a huge Men's XL wind-breaker - these I'd used while canoeing earlier in the day (large size, to accommodate my life-jacket and wool sweater). I've learned to anticipate chilly breezes, so when George said, "Naw, you won't need that wind-breaker," I took it along anyway. Guess who was glad I offered it to him as we trollied through Northwest Trek?

One Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Five

I just happened to notice when I was creating this post, that Blogger says it will be my 1,555th since I started blogging in June of 2005. Can that be, that I've had over 1,555 things to talk about all this time? I can barely remember what I wrote two days ago, let alone think up another topic most of the time!

And, it seems like I pare-down my writing efforts to just several subjects now, rather than explore subjects on the Internet as I did years ago. Back then, the Internet was new to me, as I'd never bothered to learn how it really worked. I think the experience of blogging brought me into the virtual world. It also 'got me out of my shell', as I'm normally quite shy, quiet, and mostly a listener. (But, ask me a question, and I'll offer an answer.)

When I first started reading blogs, it was with the desire to explore and understand people who were very different from myself, as I figured they could teach me a lot about human similarities and differences. This is one of the immediate pleasures of the Internet. As a child I was drawn to personal narratives, finding biographies at the library. I carried the interest into college, when I minored in the Humanities. That gave me the opportunity to study literature from around the world. It seems like the central concerns of humanity have always pretty much remained the same. People want something to do, someone to love, and something to think about.

Speaking about the loving part - my grand-daughter Daisy came over for the afternoon while Rue was running errands. I thought we could fill part of the day with a bike ride, so I told Rue to bring her bike over. We'd peddle around the University of Puget Sound, like we did last summer. Daisy will be entering Middle School in September - 6th grade. So, she had to primp in the mirror for fifteen minutes before we left. It was one hairstyle after the other, with any clips, pins or contrapt- ions she could find in our bathroom drawer. She settled on a French Twist, held in place with my chop-stix. I took one look, and figured that would last to the end of the block, then fall into the street. So, she redid her do, pulled her bangs across her forehead in Swoopy-bangs, and held it all back with a scarf. We were off.

It has been a year since I've been on my bike. I took a wet rag and dusted off the cushion, and peddled it out into the street. My, it sure takes a few blocks to regain everything I've lost when it comes to balance. I wobbled down to the corner, stopped to check, and looked behind me. Daisy was just a few feet away, and we both waited for the signal. Once across the street, we both pedaled along the sidewalk - the only safe place I feel riding a bike with her along.

We thoroughly enjoyed breezing along, until I hit a bump at a curb, and my tire went flat. I found myself wobbling along, so we checked the tire. Yup, it was flat. I should have checked the air in that tire before we started.

Since Daisy brought along a snack in her backpack, we decided to sit in the shade at the University, and visit awhile over lunch. Our best plan for the afternoon was shot, and we had to walk home. Humph.

Head Island - Shine Tidelands State Park

You may wonder why a 'lady' such as myself would post a photo of the most detested, yet necessary, contrivance squatting in the blackberry-patch at the Shine Tidelands. How I loathe these filthy port-a-potties that are placed, and rarely cleaned, around any public boat-launching recreational site here in Washington state! Yet, when nature calls, I'm sure glad they are there.

I just happened to take a photo of this one on Saturday, as it recalls a troubled time in our canoeing history when I was a constant complainer - mainly, the water was too rough, or the wind-chill factor was abysmal, or my feet were cold, or the drive or paddle was too long, or the view was just downright boring. Seems, in those early days, that I could easily find something that wasn't meeting my standards of recreation or comfort. So, one time, as I packed up our gear in a huff, mumbling something to George, shaking my head in exasperation, I dismissed his conciliatory comments with a disregarding wave of my hand. Told him I was going to go sit for awhile in the port-a-potty. Well, I no sooner finished, got my pants zipped up, my hands sanitized, and I tried to open the darn door....it wouldn't budge. I thought, "O God, trapped in a port-a-potty. What next!" I fiddled with the latch and pushed and pushed. Kicked the darn door and yelled for George to help me bust outta there.

Wouldn't you know it, he didn't say, "Babe, WHAT HAPPENED!! You poor thing, you must have been terrified!" He said, "Are you going to be good?"

I pushed the door barely a crack, and discovered that he'd run the van clear up to that bathroom door so I couldn't get out! Well, of course, that was just like George. And, when I started to complain about Head Island, he did the same thing .....again.

This is just the most boring island to paddle out to when there are overcast skys, but when the sky is blue and the tide is high, I've done some fantastic filming of schools of fish among the seaweed. The aquatic life here is very rich.The island requires at least an hour to paddle around, and also requires a portage over a sand-spit during low tide.
The beaches here are rugged with oyster shells and rocks with barnacles. Seaweed covers much of the beach at low tide.We did some exploring, getting out at a few places to look around - this is always fun.
This old fishing vessel is beached at high tide, empty and broken.
Sometimes, I get out to explore and film, and George is very patient while I check out the starfish, the oysters, cliff formations and drift-wood that has washed up onto the shore. Head Island is near the Hood Canal bridge, and during low tide people can walk over the sand-spit onto the island, rather than paddle over to it.
This was a shelter someone built out of driftwood...I crawled inside, noticing several little alters featuring favorite brews.
As we rounded the island, this old dragon snarls at passer-bys. It's been there for years, and has a red plastic flashlight globe sticking out of it's mouth. Curved driftwood builds the humps that stick out of the sand.
I thought this oyster shell was so pretty - and regretted not being able to collect a meal's worth along the beach. There are specific times for collecting, and also some of the beaches are privately owned, so we never pick anything up.
I helped George drag the canoe over this sandspit, and by the end of this paddle, I'd found enough little curiosities to make the afternoon paddle a delight. No more complaints...

Building a Foundation of Unity

In an age where the newest military invention is an automated robot that does all the shooting, I've raised three sons who think primarily in peaceful, 'relationship building' terms. They surely did the usual guy-stuff growing up, with rough-house tumbling and competition games on the computer, with lots of hoots and howls. I still recall the intensity and noise of those years - sitting in the quiet of my closet for a few moments, my daughter tells me, when the din inside of my house became too much! Mothers, if they only knew that things will change for the better as our children grow up.

As they got older, my boys - all my children, really - came to understand that the greatest challenges facing people today involve extending respect towards others, and appreciating cultural differences. In other words, building a foundation of love and unity that brings about well-being for the entire fabric of humanity. The Baha'i writings admonish, "Nothing save world unity can release the vast productive energies at the disposal of the modern mind; nothing else can replace the racial idealisms which now, having served their day, become causes of conflict rather than sources of agreement; nothing short of this ultimate will stay the trends toward anarchy eating at the heart of the body politic in every organized nation. The swift, turbulent current of change runs too deep for any dam of compromise to restrain its power and effect some status of stability or repose behind which the human spirit may slumber beyond alarm."

So, it was with real pleasure that our family congratulated Taraz on his new job at the 'One Heart Cafe', an establishment that fosters unity and positive regard for people of all religious persuasions and paths. The owner, Lamont, had his grand opening for the second of his two establishments the other night, and our family supported it with a visit to the newest coffee house, where Taraz will now be working. Taraz loves the people-contact, and Lamont encouraged his barista servers to mingle, sit down and visit with the friends who frequent the cafe. This not only makes for pleasant conversation, but it promotes relationships among people who do business or work in the area.
This newest "One Heart Cafe" is in the old historical district of Tacoma, a rejuvenated section of our city. Many trendy new clubs, businesses, cinemas and art galleries line the streets near the cafe. Antique stores line a nearby street.
This is The Grand Cinema, one of the oldest movie houses in Tacoma. It features foreign films, art films, and controversial films, like "Sicko". "In The Shadow of the Moon" is one of the upcoming films One of my favorite Swedish films, "Under The Sun" was featured here, as was "The Weeping Camel".

We hung around the back lounge area while Taraz waited on customers. Here, Megan, Taraz and George have a moment together. Megan's brother, Tracy, brought several friends. They were in town for the weekend. We all visited with Taraz's boss, with some of his co-workers, and wished Taraz the best as he hunkered down to finish out his evening shift. As we got ready to leave, I noticed that a flyer on "The Secret" by Christian D. Larson was laying on a counter by the front door. I read over many of the criteria that he advocates, one of which is "To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best."