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I’m betting that just reading the word, “fishing”, has conjured up, for many of you, childhood memories involving Dad, nature, and photos of a smiling you holding a stringer-full of trout. In fact, I don’t remember the actual fishing as much as just being with my hero-Dad in a beautiful outdoor setting, and the pride I felt when I could finally cast my line out in the lake by myself. At that time, the art of fishing seemed fairly straight-forward. You stick a worm or lure on the end of your hook, throw the thing into the water, and wait for a tug to tell you a fish has taken the bait.
The most fun I ever had fishing was in a little stream of water called “Deer Creek.” Be sure you pronounce “Creek” as “Crick,” if you don’t want to show your city-boy ignorance. This was about 50 miles north of Howe, and in our dating days, UltraDad took me there a couple of times. Later on, we would take the kids.
This little crick was probably no more than 3-4 feet wide, at its widest, and the banks were lined with scratchy wild rosebushes, willows, grasses and the occasional wild flower. Once, I remember, UltraDad’s mother fell and got wedged in a narrow spot in the crick. She had to be pulled out, much to everyone’s amusement, particularly her own. Now, here’s how to fish a crick. You set out with your pole, container of worms and a forked willow branch. (I remember having a handy little belt-attached worm holder for awhile. When I needed a fresh worm, I reached to the worm box at my hip, popped open the top and got one.) Mainly because of the rosebushes, there are only certain places where you can get in close to the stream. When you spot one of those, as you walk along, you work your way in and look things over. Could you drop a line in there without getting snarled on roots or rocks? Was there a shady little pool where a fish might lurk? Usually you just try it anyway. If you do get a snag, its usually not that hard to reach in and extricate your hook from the mossy log. But chances are good that you catch a fish, or at least get a nibble. The trout aren’t that big, but they sure are fun to catch. If they are too small, and haven’t swallowed the hook, you could let them go, but mostly we kept them. For keeping and transport, just slide one side of your willow creel through the fish’s gill, and don’t forget to pick up your fish when you move to the next spot. You can nearly always catch your limit, 10 in the early days, later dropping to 6.
Fishing now is an iffier proposition, but just a couple of miles from my house is a little pond. I got the fishing bug again the day I watched Amy catch two fish there. Amy and her sister, Rachel, and mom, Debbie were visiting me for a few days, and, as Amy had never been fishing before, that was one thing on her wish-agenda. With patient UltraDad as teacher, Amy quickly perfected her casting technique, but it wasn’t until nearly dark, when the mosquitoes had sent her mom and sister back to my house, that the fish finally started biting. I tried to fish too, but was pretty rusty with my own casting technique, and got my line hopelessly snarled before I could get the worm near the water. I told Amy that, as she only had a one-day license, she needed to do any and all fishing she wanted to do right then and there. “But what happens if I get caught fishing one minute past midnight?” she wanted to know. UltraDad was quick with the comeback, “Let’s just say, you’ll be shopping at Kathy’s store!” Kathy’s store, you will remember, is in a men’s prison! “Well,” shot back Amy, “At least I’d get to see her every day.” Thanks, Amy.
We, UltraDad, Pat and I tried the pond ourselves, just last weekend, but the only bites we were getting were from the numerous mosquitoes. Just between you and me, I don’t think our fishing was helped much by the two young men who showed up with a couple of hunting dogs. They turned the dogs loose to run and play, and then couldn’t get them to come back. The pair raced around the pond, splashing in the water, completely ignoring the frantic humans chasing and calling. One of their names was “Train,” I believe. “Those dogs remind me of “Thing 1 and Thing 2” from “The Cat in the Hat,” I observed humorously. “They are running around wrecking everything, and those guys can’t get them back.” In response, I got blank, confused stares from my fishing partners. Some people have no appreciation for good literature.
The next day, UltraDad wanted to try something different. I read “Joe’s Fishing Hole” in the local paper to get the fishing report. That was when I realized that fishing was, perhaps, a more complicated, or at least incomprehensible sport than I had realized. The report for one fairly local lake read: “Everything from flashy flies to crankbaits to jiggs and bait are working for the perch. Rubber gear and crankbaits are working for the smallmouths. One wiper 15 inches or longer may be kept.” What kind of wiper? A windshield wiper? The report for Angel Lake sounded promising: “Fishing here has been good one day and fair the next when it is windy. When they are hitting, it doesn’t seem to matter what you throw at them. Spinners, PowerBait, worms, flies, the kitchen sink, it just doesn’t matter. The lake is stocked with rainbow and brook trout. The occasional tiger trout is even caught. The really great thing about Angel Lake is that it is about 10 degrees cooler than the lower elevation lakes making for a very pleasant day. ”
Pat agreed to come along, which we were glad of for several reasons. First, we really enjoy her company. Second, she drove her car which has air conditioning, a convenience currently lacking in all of the Ultra vehicles. We packed a picnic, folding chairs, fishing gear, two poodles, and we were off.
When we arrived, UtraDad was ecstatic to behold two men getting ready to launch pontoon boats onto the lake. One, the FishCat Panther, was just like the one he had been thinking about getting. The friendly fishermen, recreating firefighters from Reno, were more than happy to answer all his questions. Meanwhile, UltraMom and Pat were rooting around in the trunk for coats/jackets. It was a very cold, windy day, though UltraDad stubbornly claimed it was ‘comfortable.’ We had many exciting adventures, which included nearly having a chair or two blow into the lake. Murphy and Rowdy considered it their sworn duty to bark at any dog in the vicinity, of which there were many. UltraMom was extremely hit and miss with her casting. Once for every 5-6 casts, the worm made it into the water, but when the cast was good, it was very good. At the end of the day, we had each caught a fish. UltraMom’s, a tiger trout, was by far the biggest. The other two were cute little baby rainbows. UltraDad got several pictures of the pontoon boats in action.
UltraMom was very glad to finally get a chance to indoctrinate her last-year’s birthday gift of a new fishing pole. Maybe there will be more fishing in her future; maybe even more ‘catching.’ And just maybe, if she uses the right crankbaits and rubber gear, she might even catch a wiper.
UltraMom
I have been learning a lot about myself lately. This search for my perfect career has taken me through some rigorous personality testing, with Placement and Aptitude tests to follow.
I am, as it turns out, an INFP. For those of you unfamiliar with the Myers/Briggs personality types, that is Introverted (vs Extroverted), Intuition (vs Sensing), Feeling (vsThinking) and Perceiving (vs Judging). That, the literature is quick to explain, does not mean that I don’t use the opposing functions; merely that the dominant ones are my preferred or more natural ways of thought and action. For a person who prides herself on usually being on a fairly even emotional keel and being, generally, logical, this was a bit of a surprise. But reading through the literature, I had to admit that much of the description of this personality type hit just a little too close to home.
Here are some of the highlights:
“Sensitive and perceptive about what others are feeling.” That is ME to a tee!
“Driven to meet others’ needs.” Altruistic UltraMom, that’s me.
“Nurturing, supportive and encouraging.” Just ask any one of my kids
.not THAT one
.
“Flexible and diverse.” Go do something fun instead of laundry and housecleaning? Let me get my shoes..
“Strive for win-win situation.” Can’t STAND conflict; makes me feel uneasy and unsettled.
“Able to express themselves well.” For me, usually better in writing.
Uh, oh, now we get to the weaknesses:
“Extreme dislike of conflict.” Hey, isn’t that the same as striving for a win-win situation? Good thing, right?
“Extreme dislike of criticism.” I like to think, as I mature, that I am getting better at this. Don’t feel that you need to test me, however.
“Have difficulty scolding or punishing others.” Again, just ask my kids
not THAT one…
“Strong need to receive praise and positive affirmation.” Now you see why your comments are so important to my emotional well being.
Now, this is the good one: “May have trouble with time management and organization.”
In fact this one may be my upper-middle name.
Now its not that I don’t wish to be organized and to manage my time well. My bookshelf is full of unread titles to the contrary: “The Office Clutter Cure”, “Stop Clutter From Stealing Your Life,”, “Getting Organized,”, “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People,” “Confessions of an Organized Homemaker,” and this title that I just discovered in a duffle bag only partially unpacked from a fairly recent trip,: “How NOT to be a Messie,” And this is not counting all the self-health-help titles on coping with Diabetes, curing High Cholesterol, eating Low Fat and High Fiber, and getting more and better Exercise. The pattern is always the same. I find myself in a bookstore with a little time and, as I usually feel in need of improvement, start browsing self-help titles. A bold title catches my eye with promises of an easy fix to what is ailing me. After a few seconds of hesitation, I pull the book from the shelf and open to a few random pages. Hey, this is interesting. Its funny and helpful and I might actually read this one. I buy it. At home, I dive in and read the first few chapters with great gusto. Soon, the book is stashed under the bed, where my motto “Out of sight, out of mind” prevails. By the time the tome is rediscovered during a rare rash of under-the-bed cleaning, the mood has passed and the shiny promise of a new me has been put on hold until such time as 1) I learn how to better manage my time, or 2) I become better organized. The endless logic-loop, mobius strip of my life continues.
In retrospect, I am probably not learning new things about myself as much as discovering justification and validation for the things I, honestly, already knew.
But things could be worse. I am, after all, “Always Dreaming of New Possibilities.”
UltraMom, “The Healer”
Good to hear the process you are going through, very interesting. I think I speak for all of us when I note that we are all excited to see what you end up deciding to pursue! Something involving writing would be good obviously, and a lot of professions involve writing in some capacity. I just feel sorry for those poor stupid 18 year old kids who will have to compete with you on the grading curve!
Kiddo, you just made my day.
It sounds like you are having alot of fun discovering your perfect course of study. I never knew that there were so many things you could do when trying to figure out a major. It really is interesting.
The other day, while I was passing some time in Elko, I got a phone call on my cell. It was Johnny. You may remember this guy as a former member of this partnership we call (for some obscure reason) the “Dynamic Duo”. I mean at the present time, we are hardly one, let alone a duo and while UltraMom posts are generally witty and entertaining, I don’t know if I would go so far as to call them “dynamic.” Anyway, Johnny was on a quest: “Mom, can you give me the recipe for your pizza crust? I’m going to try to make pizza today.”
Well, normally I would just go to the cupboard, pull down my Betty Crocker cookbook and squint at the much-used recipe, trying to read measurements through tomato sauce and dough stains, but in this scenario, I tried to go by memory. And one thing to keep in mind throughout the following tortuous conversation: although both Johnny and I have (arguably) quite a way with words, neither of us is
how shall I say it
exactly a math wiz.
UM“I think it’s 2 cups flour, 2 ts baking powder, some salt, 2/3 cup milk, and oil. The oil is either 1/4 cup or 1/2 cup.
“You THINK??!! You think isn’t good enough. Wait, I think I found another likely one online
.. 1 cup water? Yeast? No, that isn’t it, darn it
..”
UM“Well, I’m pretty sure about most of it, and you can always start with 1/4 cup oil and add more if it looks like it needs it.”
“Okay,, so 2 Teeblespoons of Powder
”
UM“No, 2 TEASPOONS of BAKING powder.”
“Okay, okay
. Hey I think I found it!~
Betty Crocker?” Reads ingredients.
UM“Yes, that’s it! So, to make two pizza crusts I usually add half again to the ingredient list to make more.”
“So
you times it by 1 1/2?”
UM“Uh
.. I just take the ingredient amount, divide it in half, and add that much on top of the original amount.”
“So, 1 1/2 times, right?”
UM“Uh,
sure.”
“So, that would be 1 1/3 cups milk
”
UM“No, it’s 1 cup milk. 2/3 plus half of 2/3 = 1”
“Oh, okay. The oil is 1/4 cup plus 2 TB. How much oil do I put in.”
UM:” I just add 1/4 cup oil and then fill the 1/4 measuring cup 1/2 full and add that. Then I add 2 TB oil and then 1 more TB oil.”
“WHAT? Are you just messing with me? Wouldn’t that be about 1/2 cup oil?”
UM (huffily)“I don’t know. I’m really telling you the way I do it. I add 1/4 cup oil and then.”
“NEVER MIND. I’ll figure it out. And what if I don’t have measuring spoons?”
UM:”Okay, you know the spoon you eat your cereal with? That’s about a teaspoon, and the big one that you eat soup with is about a tablespoon. Don’t you want me to tell you how I roll it out and do the toppings?”
“That’s okay. I’m good. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
The report back later was that it was good, but a distant third behind Jessica and Mom’s pizza. Maybe I should write a cookbook
Mom, Jessica and Betty Crocker’s Pizza Dough Recipe
2 cups Flour
2 ts baking powder
1 ts salt
2/3 cups milk
1/4 cup plus 2 TB oil
Add ingredients. Roll out on floured counter with rolling pin until thin and approx size and shape of your baking pan. Works better if you let it rest about 10 minutes before rolling out. Sometimes I prebake the crust a little before adding ingredients and sometimes I don’t.
Oh, and for 2 large, rectangular pans, you might want to add half again the amount of ingredients, or, I guess, 1 1/2 times the recipe.
Your Gourmet Chef,
UltraMom
For my pizza, I only increase all of the ingredients by 1/3. Here is the list of toppings that I use so that all of you adoring fans know how to make the pizza the way I do.
1 lb sausage
1/2 lb bacon (cut up into little peices)
cover the whole thing with pepperoni (about 1 whole package)
mushrooms
1 small can of sliced olives
And don’t forget the cheese. I sometimes use half cheddar and half mozzerella, but you can use all cheddar.
Okay, Jessica, for those of us who are...uh...fraction challenged, what is your final pizza crust ingredients measurements? Also, I think you forgot the tomato sauce and Italian seasoning!
I also sometimes add sliced green olives cause UltraDad loves them so. And I use Turkey Pepperoni to cut calories and fat, and noone ever knows the difference. I have even been known to add red sweet peppers and onion, but now, of course, if Jimbo is going to be eating it.
Adding 1/2:
3 cups flour
3 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 cup milk
3/8 cup plus 3tbsp oil
Adding 1/3
2 2/3 cups flour
2 2/3 tsp baking powder
1 1/3 tsp salt
8/9 cups milk (call it 1 cup)
1/3 cup plus 2 2/3 tbsp oil
Disclaimer: All calculations done in my head, feel free to correct as needed.
Incidentally 2 tbsp is 1/8 US cup so the basic oil measurement is actually 3/8 cups
plus 1/2:
9/16 cups
plus 1/3:
1/2 cup
Hey!! Who said nerd?
Thanks, Poindexter. Your fraction multiplying skills are breathtaking, though a bit, I must say it, nerdy. I gotta admit, 9/16 still sounds a little intimidating to me, though I know its 1/2 plus 1/16. See, I’m not TOTALLY hopeless!
Today is UltraDad’s birthday. It is a momentous one because it numbers an even decade. I’ll leave you to figure out which one, but lets just say it rhymes with “chixty.”
Fortunately, UltraDad is on a 3-day break from work, because the weekend had a few surprises in store for our birthday hero. It turns out a few people think quite a lot of UltraDad and drove a good distance to help him celebrate. The whole thing was to have been a surprise, but UltraMom ended up partially spilling the beans to give the guy something to look forward to at the end of a grueling stint of work at the mine. “The boys (ie Johnny and Jim) are coming up next weekend for your birthday,” I informed him last weekend as he was preparing for night shifts, never his favorite. “Cool!” he brightened. “We’ll have to think of some fun things to do.”
What he didn’t know was that his favorite daughter Heather and Jim’s girlfriend Jessica were also going to be there, as well as his brother Bill and sister Kathy. (We were sorry that Heather’s boyfriend Heath, not able to get the time off work, couldn’t make it. We missed you, Heath.) Also showing up were sister Pat (not such a surprise, as she lives in the same town we do, but always a pleasure), and niece-in-law Çortney with 5 month old baby Wynn. UDad walked in the door Friday morning just after 8:00 to find several of his children and siblings involved in a pinochle game. I wish I had captured on film the look on his face.
Of course, he had to go to bed for a while, so we went into town to scope out some possible Birthday gifts befitting this milestone in UltraDad’s life. Thanks to UltraJimbo and UltraUncleBill who understand these things, everyone pitched in to get some accessories for his workshop saws. I did not think the huge boxes would fit into my car, but Jimbo got them wedged in the backseat. This made the ride back a little more squishy, and Jessica had to ride back on Jim’s lap. Tall, pretty Jessica has not an ounce of extra weight, so I found it hard to believe Jim’s assertions that he was being crushed.
UDad got up just after noon, and we had a great afternoon. The focal point was a cooperative barbecue with grilled hamburgers, chorizos and bratwursts accompanied by chips, macaroni salad, baked beans, watermelon, and, of course, the birthday cake. This was a delicious carrot cake with lemon frosting, made by Pat, and decorated by Jessica. M & M’s formed a large “60” on the cake top with candles around the perimeter. Some candles were left over, so those Jessica put in the cake center in the shape of a wigwam. When lit, those babies really put forth a flame, let me tell you.
A Birthday Pyre
Baby Wynn was a great source of entertainment. He is adorable with lots of wavy hair and an infectious, happy grin. He laughed with pleasure when his cute mother, Cortney blew raspberries on his tummy, underarms and chubby little cheeks, and he tolerated being held by cousins, friends and aunts, as long as mom wasn’t too far away. Another great source of fun was watching UltraDad, Bill and Jimbo try to assemble the 5-drawer tool chest. I think they finally, grudgingly, resorted to reading the instructions.
Some of us also played a little pinochle and a little Bocce Ball, at which the team combo of Jim and Jessica (dubbed “Jimica” or Jessikim” by Johnny) pretty much dominated. All in all, it was a perfect day. UltraDad avers if it can be duplicated he will turn “60” again next year.
The next day, Saturday, we were down to Jim, Johnny, Jessica and Heather. It was a beautiful day, so we decided to have a picnic in Lamoille Canyon, about an hour drive away. Jim also wanted to show Jessica the wildlife museum in Elko, so that was our first stop. They got some fun museum photos of “Jessica being eaten by the crocodile”, “Jessica being frightened by the bear,” and “Jessica with antlers.” We had brought the little boys along (you know, Murphy and Rowdy), so Johnny and I opted to take them to the nearby city park since we had already seen the museum. Noting the time, well past the noon hour, it seemed a better idea to us to picnic in the city park and then drive to the scenic canyon, so Umom left the boys in charge of Johnny and went to the nearest grocery store in search of provender to round out the already packed ham sandwiches, drinks and potato chips. It all worked out according to plan, except that UltraMom had just a tiny bit of trouble relocating the area of the park where she had left the three boys (I know, I know, hard to believe). The hungry museum goers, as it turns out, were quite happy to eat now rather than later.
The drive up Lamoille canyon is scenic, though a bit windy, but the road is good.
Lamille Canyon
At the top, there is a turnaround, but we left the car in the provided parking lot and let out to explore a little. Right now there is still a lot of snow at this high elevation, and a lot of boggy mud, created by the streams and melting snow. I think it was Johnny who threw the snowball heard round the world, and so “it was on.” UltraMom did her best to stay neutral in the Snowball Wars. Heather did for awhile, but in the end could not resist the allure of sisterly revenge. I think poor Jessica got plastered more than her fair share of times, but she was definitely fighting back. Meanwhile, Murphy and Rowdy were thoroughly happy and muddy exploring the nearby trails with the help of Heather and UltraMom. We finally loaded back into the car, a little wetter, a little dirtier and a little wearier than when we’d arrived and headed back home. On the way, Jim and Jessica read us some Trivial Pursuit questions we had brought along. We were kind of playing “boys against girls’, and if memory serves, and it generally does, the girls ended up with the most wins. As we drove, we anticipated the homemade pizza we would be having for dinner.
Johnny, UltraDad, UltraMom, UltraJimbo and Jessica
Now, UltraMom has long been famous for her homemade pizza, and sometime last year, Jim had persuaded her to share her ultrasecret-Betty-Crocker-cookbook recipe with Jessica. I’ve got to admit, the pupil has surpassed the teacher, and it now Jessica’s pizza that is legendary. We were planning to collaborate on the pizza making, but as soon as we arrived home, Heather discovered she had left her purse at the City Park. She had been walking the dogs while the rest of us loaded up the car, and I guess each thought the other had picked it up. Not good. She and UltraMom immediately headed back to the scene, while Johnny called the Police Dept to see if a good Samaritan had found the purse and turned it in. As we drove, we brainstormed and silently prayed. When I pulled into the lot near the site of our picnic, we were amazed to behold the purse, 5-6 hours later, still sitting on the picnic table, next to Heather’s drink, also left. She checked the contents, and announced $30 missing, but everything else intact. Amazing. Thank you, God.
When we arrived back home, Jessica’s Masterpiece Pizza was nearly ready and UltraMom just had time to make one of her amazing green salad creations. Pat joined us for the meal, and between the 7 of us, two large pans of pizza entirely disappeared.
Sunday morning found Jessica and UltraMom mixing up another of Jim’s favorites: Biscuits and sausage gravy. Jesssica really has that son of mine spoiled! Then a little viewing of Jim’s baby pictures, a little transporting of UDad’s birthday presents to his shop at Pat’s, a little lunch and a little packing up and the UltraKids were gone, leaving UltraMom and UltraDad to smugly reflect on their outstanding parenting skills that created such wonderful kids. The only thing that would have made the weekend more perfect still is having UltraBob and UltraGirl there too.
Oh, and also, we are exhausted. In fact, I think its time for UltraMom to get a little nap.
UltraMom
PS Just had the perfect ending and the only thing lacking from a spectacular birthday weekend: a call from our favorite son in Japan. No, I’m talking about UltraBob, Silly. Anyway, was heaven to hear his voice.
Happy Birthday, UltraDad. Sounds like you had a terrific weekend of family, food and festivities.
I had alot of fun this past weekend. I’m really glad I came down. You left out the part when Johnny started a water fight and you and I fired right back and made him run while screaming like a little girl.
Oh Jessica, you still have so much to learn about this family. Johnny pretty much always screams like a little girl. Totally not noteworthy for us.
Ah, I had forgotten about the Water Wars.
That is almost a post in itself. UltraDad purchased 4 sort of space-agey looking water pistols to station around the house. Theoretically, these would be handy and available when a) Rowdy barked frenetically and obsessively at Polly the cat or b) Murphy barked loudly and obsessively at Rowdy in an attempt to acquire the tasty, gummed up rawhide strip that Rowdy was chewing on. Receiving a gentle stream of water in the face is a proven deterrent to continued barking. In actuality, of course, the water pistols were never in the right place at right time, or if they were, the squirting would require the would be squirter getting up from a comfortable chair, by which time the barking may have resolved itself on its own. (Or at least that was the rationale behind staying ensconced in said comfortable chair, and simply yelling, which, I must admit, does no good at all).
Of course when the children arrived, the squirt guns proved irresistible, especially to Johnny. As Jessica mentioned, he started a water fight, and then hid behind doors when the going got tough. At one point he emerged to find both me and Jessica wielding guns full of ammunition. I believe that is when he ran off, drenched and shrieking like said “little girl.” When UltraMom was not personally involved in a water battle, she could be heard urging the participants to “take it outside.”
Hardy-har-har everyone. It’s callled a tactical retreat, when you are out-numbered and out-armed only a fool stays in there to face certain defeat (well a fool or a SPPAAAAARRRRRTTTTAAAAAANNNNNNN) and I am neither. As for my “girlish screams” have you ever heard of a war-cry? Designed to put fear and confusion into the hearts of my enemies, and I’d say it worked. I clearly won that battle, against Momicca.
If by “clearly won”, you mean ran away screaming and drenched and then cowardly bided time to attack when we were unaware and unarmed, then yes, by all means, claim the victory! Ah, the Spartans. You wouldn’t have seen a Spartan tactically retreating. No sir, they would have stayed, getting soaked in stoic silence until the last drop.
Johnny, your mother and I kicked your fanny. You need to come to terms with that fact even if it involves extensive counseling.
I once pronounced “creek” as “creek” and Jim called me a city slicker. I don’t think that I have to pronounce it “crick” in order to not be a city slicker so I think that I shall just pronounce it “creek” purely out of protest.
Nice story! You didn’t happen to buy some rechargeable batteries and plant seeds and leave them in my trunk did you?