Déjà vu All Over Again

Our sixth and final chemo trip was all too familiar. The only difference from earlier trips was the limited time we had with Jana – 24 hours to be exact. We considered forgoing this trip as it conflicted with Kool April Nights, a car show in Redding Verne attends each year with his brothers. However, we remembered a 1-day trip we took a few years ago to pick up Ernie, our male short hair Persian cat, from Jana. On that trip, we left the house around 5 a.m. and arrived in LA in time to have a relaxing lunch with Jana, pick up the cat, and were back on the road by 2 p.m. and home by 9 p.m. We did it once for a cat and decided we could do it again for Jana!

The familiar drive down the 99 held no surprises. We always begin the trip with a Starbucks from the Jackson store and then take Highway 88 out of town towards Lockeford, where we pick up Jack Tone Road. Years ago when we first started making the drive from Amador County south towards LA, Verne discovered the Jack Tone Road shortcut. It did cut a few miles from our initial trips that took us through Stockton to the 99, but shortcut? All too often Verne’s shortcuts are actually “longcuts” and I’m not so sure that this doesn’t qualify as one. There must be a couple dozen stops through the rural farming settlements along the 30 miles of Jack Tone Road. But, we do avoid Stockton and, on a positive note, Jack Tone Road intersects CA 99 where, conveniently, there’s another Starbucks.

Once we’re on the 99, we travel through several small towns, including Turlock (where the Turlock Swap Meet is held every year – another car event that Verne has attended with his brothers for the past 20+ years), Modesto (where there is a Macy’s we’ve stopped and shopped a couple of times), and Merced (where the newest and tenth University of California is located). Somewhere along this stretch we begin to see farms, dairies, vineyards and orchards and they literally don’t stop until we leave Bakersfield and approach the Grapevine. I never tire of seeing the orderly fields, which are in sharp contrast to the nearby small settlements and communities that are often in a complete state of disarray.  We pass through Selma, the Raisin Capitol of the World, and I’m reminded of a trip we took with Lauren a few years ago. I was outnumbered and outvoted and we must have made a dozen stops between LA and home, one of them being Selma. Lauren makes a very pretty Sun Maiden!

A little further south of Fresno, we always stop at Bravo Farms where we use the bathrooms, sample cheese, and then, of course, buy several of our favorite cheeses, a couple of bags of the best corn nuts in the world, and milk-chocolate covered dried cherries for Jana. We lucked out this time and they were making cheese – always fun to watch. 

To us Bravo Farms is not just a convenient stop along Highway 99, but it’s a destination. For years it’s been the reason I willingly agree to travel the 99 both to and from SoCal. My preference has always been the 5, which was completed in the late 1970’s and has the same beautiful farmland, but without all of the unsightly towns and small homesteads. It’s just a straight shot from the Bay Area to the Grapevine, where the 99 and 5 join --70 mph the entire way. Well, this past summer a second Bravo Farms opened along the 5, which has resulted in our compromise to travel the 99 to SoCal and return on the 5.

Back to our travels on the 99…somewhere between Fresno and Bakersfield, we pass an old plane sitting in a field off the highway. It’s been there as long as we’ve been making these trips and for all intents and purposes appears to have been abandoned. According to Verne, it’s a B28 bomber, which was used in World War II, and there was one just like it near his hometown of Clarkston, WA that sat in a similar field. For years, kids played in and on the plane until one day someone bought it, fixed it up, and flew it away. Could this B28 bomber sitting in a field near the Tulare Airport be the same one? Hmm…we’ll never know, but it makes a good story (and one I’d not heard before).

Have I mentioned that Verne is a great storyteller? I’ve heard some of them a gazillion times – okay, more accurately, a hundred times. One of them is the story of Route 46, where James Dean was killed in 1955. It’s a tragic story and one that must have made its mark on Verne (I’m a bit too young to remember it). James Dean was an actor (and a heartthrob) in the 50’s. He met his death on Route 46 on his way to a racing competition (his hobby) in Salinas. To make a long story short (you can Google it if you’re interested – I have Verne, my own personal Google), he died at the intersection of Routes 46 and 41 when he slammed into another car and sustained fatal injuries. The other driver, who escaped with minor injuries, lived in the shadow of Dean’s death, although he was not completely to blame for the accident, and later committed suicide. Sad!

There are times we very comfortably travel together without a word and other times, like this recent trip, where we enjoy constant conversation (I mostly listen, eat corn nuts, play Words With Friends, and occasionally nod off). During a 500-mile drive, there is plenty of visual stimuli to trigger memories or even raise new questions. We passed Buck Owens Drive and an exit for Merle Haggard Drive, both conjuring up stories. And then there was a large sign on the side of the highway that read: Don’t Let Ecoli Crash Your Dinner Party! That gave us cause for wonder, especially with my recent education on foodborne illnesses. And there were the rows of fruit trees covered with netting…actually, only every other row was covered. Why? And, why are many of the newer orchards planted with trees at an angle? Curiouser and curiouser! And, what are all of the crops? Why can’t the farmers label the fields so we’d know? And, who picks up all of the gators on the road? Don’t know what gators are? They are pieces of blown-out tires that litter the highway. These are just a few of the questions that pop up during our drive and always seem to lead to a lengthy discussion.

If you’ve ever travelled south to LA, more than likely you are familiar with the Grapevine. It’s a steep grade through the Tehachapi Mountains (they are really more like foothills) that was once a winding road with twists and turns until the highway was straightened out in 1970. Contrary to popular belief (including Verne), that name was given to the original curvy highway due to a six-mile stretch of it that is lined with wild grapes. One more reason I love my smart phone…I’m able to test Verne’s trivia knowledge. Just a few key strokes and I’m rewarded with the full history of the Interstate 5! Our final hour traveling to Jana’s home is through the Sepulveda Pass to West LA. Fortunately, we always seem to be going against traffic when we arrive in the late afternoon and when we leave early morning. That’s the only time we avoid traffic while in LA, but it’s something.

We arrived Wednesday afternoon before Jana’s final chemo and had a relaxing time with her. It was just the three of us as Lauren saved her time off from work for the next big trip – Jana’s surgery. Lauren is the primary caregiver during that time and will be spending two weeks in LA caring for her sissy, waiting on her hand and foot. The following morning we arrived for Jana’s chemo treatment almost an hour late and were scolded by more than one person. Well, it’s the last time, so we took the scolding in stride. 

Raelin assured me she would spend the afternoon with Jana and take good care of her (and she did!) and by 2 p.m. Verne and I were back on the road, this time traveling the 5.

By comparison to our southbound trip, the 5 was unremarkable. We stopped for our first Starbucks in Buttonwillow, so passed on the new Bravo Farms just 50 miles further north. Verne shared a long story about his years working for Price Waterhouse in public accounting and an assignment auditing a large construction company responsible for building part of the I-5, which was located in Coalinga, a small community we passed on our trip. A little further and we passed Harris Ranch, known for its great beef. Unbeknownst to most consumers, however, is the poor conditions in which those wretched animals live while waiting to be slaughtered. I imagine the meat is sold as organic and grass-fed. Well, I’m here to tell you…there is not a blade of grass for miles. Just thousands of cows crowded together living in the stench of their own waste and waiting to be killed. That sight always makes me seriously consider becoming a vegetarian.

Speaking of cattle, on the final stretch home I saw a herd of very different looking cows with a white band around their belly. I tested my own private Google (I’m going to begin calling him “Voogle”) and sure enough, he knew exactly their origin and history and spent the next ten minutes telling me about the Scottish breed, Belted Galloway. They are sometimes called the Oreo-Cookie Cow. Who needs Wikipedia?!

The one and only side-effect of chemotherapy that we all agree will be missed, is our precious time together. Life after cancer is going to be different for the Moser family! I expect Highway 99 and Interstate 5 will become even more familiar to us in the future.

Life as a Master Food Preserver

It’s been a while since I’ve written about my preserving experiences. Life’s been keeping me busy and I haven’t jammed in a few months. Actually, I haven’t jammed since I made that amazing peach marmalade and then the equally delicious strawberry-balsamic black pepper jam, which reminds me of a funny story I’ll share with you.

I’ve been so proud of both slow-cook jams with their perfect lustrous color, uniform distribution of fruit (no fruit float!), and complex taste, that I knew they were definitely blue-ribbon jams. Not that winning a ribbon has been high on my priority list, but after months of family urging me to enter my jams in the county fair, I finally felt like I had a couple of winners. What better way to test the waters than to have a jam judge take them for a test drive? I’d learned in early February that El Dorado County had a jam judge in their MFP program and sent her an email requesting a meeting. My plan was to interview her and at the end of our conversation bring out my jams for her to evaluate. Well, I set up the meeting and all went as planned. We talked not for my estimated one-hour, but 2-1/2 hours, and during that time learned about each others backgrounds, likes and dislikes as related to jam making, and some of the key considerations of judging. As planned, I whipped out my jars of jam as we were winding down the meeting. I’d carried them in old (clean) socks to protect the jars. Mary (the judge) loved the idea and since it has been shared with several other MFP’s. After getting past my idea (not particularly original as I used to carry my paints in old socks), she admired my labels and wanted more information on how I’d created them. Again, not original as I just went on to the Avery website and downloaded them. But, we were on a roll and all of this was very positive feedback. Mary held up my jam to the light looking closely at the headspace. Yep, it was right on at ¼”. Then she tipped the jar sideways and watched the jam slowly flow in the direction of the lid. She set the jar down and shoved it towards me saying, “I wouldn’t even open this jam!” What???

At first I thought she was teasing me. After all, we’d just spent 2-1/2 hours together and (I thought) we were best buds. No, there was no humor in her voice. She said, “It’s too soft and would never make it to the final round, so there’s no point in opening it.” Looking at my crestfallen face, she then said, “Do you like it this way?” My response: “It’s perfect!” Her response was just what I would have said, “That’s all that’s important.” I still like Mary in spite of her disdain for my jam. In fact, in retrospect I found the entire event hilarious. I was so certain I had a winner (and I do) and contests and ribbons have never been important to me. Not until she told me that I (my jam) was the big loser. Me, the jam expert, can’t even win a blue ribbon at the county fair. Did I mention I’m talking about the very small Amador County Fair? Pathetic! Now here’s the question…do I remake the jam in an effort to please the judges? Am I just another people-pleaser? Or, do I just accept my jam as it is, which prior to my meeting with Mary, was perfect? The jury’s out (pun intended), but I’ll keep you posted. To be continued…

My jamming all came to an abrupt halt a few weeks ago when I began drying. Yes, I’m a dryer. Actually, I’d been calling myself a “dehydrator,” but that’s also the name of the equipment, which can get a bit confusing for some (my sous chef). People who are passionate about dehydrating food are called dryers. And that’s me! You remember my Christmas present…an Excalibur Dehydrator, the Cadillac of dehydrators. Well, I hadn’t used it yet. You also remember that I’m the Public Class Coordinator for the MFP program? My greatest fear when I accepted the position was realized when the person who’d agreed to teach the April class on dehydrating found herself too busy to be the “lead” presenter. Twice I sent out a round of emails looking for a replacement…no response. Well, the buck stops with me and I realized that I’d have to step up and do it. Always having a positive outlook (hmm…is that true? I have a vague recollection of calling myself a big loser not too long ago…), I decided this was not all bad, as it might just be the impetus I needed to use my Excalibur. So, with little to no experience drying, I accepted the position of lead for the class. Now you understand why I’ve not been jamming, found little time to return emails or play Words With Friends, and basically been incommunicado. The Excalibur has been running 24-7 for the past few weeks as the class nears (this Saturday).

I’ve dried strawberries, pineapple (the best!), peppers, sweet potatoes (not so good), mushrooms, and carrots; I’ve made energy bars and power bars (not sure of the difference); granola and trail mix; fruit leathers (we know them by the name “fruit rollups”, but dryers call them “leathers”); and, I’ve made tomato powder, which can be used for tomato juice, sauce, or soup. The best and most successful product is my One-Pot Spaghetti. I’d made a beautiful example of it to take to class (in the dried form) and then Verne and I decided that I shouldn’t be handing out recipes for something I’d not eaten, so we made it last night for dinner. It was incredibly good. I never expected my jar of dehydrated, powdered tomatoes, dried spices and herbs, and dried mushrooms to reconstitute into anything quite so delicious. I’m a believer! And, Verne is no longer questioning the big price tag on “just another appliance that won’t get used.” He’s even become used to the kitchen counter being covered with dehydrating paraphernalia and the constant purr of the dehydrator’s fan. He’s a good man (and yes, Sally, I’ll be kind to him)!

As for the MFP program, I’m spending a lot of hours on the program. If this were a paying job I’d be into overtime hours at this point.

Fifth Chemo Trip

Our trip to SoCal this past week included a detour by way of the 101. It had been months since we’d seen our Santa Barbara friend and I had a quilt and jam to deliver to her. We spent five delightful hours with Sally catching up and eating, of course. We were greeted with a table set for best friends (very hungry best friends as Sally had told us not to eat) and an antipasto plate that was beyond any first course I’ve ever had. Later we went to the Boathouse, which is located on Hendry’s Beach, and enjoyed a bowl of clam chowder. Our power visit was worth every extra mile added to our drive.

We left Santa Barbara around 7 p.m. and drove to Culver City and spent an hour with the girls before checking into our hotel Wednesday night. Lauren had arrived on Tuesday so as to accompany Jana to her pre-surgery meeting with the cancer and plastic surgeons at 1 p.m. on Wednesday. Originally Verne and I were going to attend the meeting with Jana and Lauren was to fly in Wednesday evening. However, when Lauren told me she had two pages of questions (single spaced) for the doctors and I was to take copious notes, I knew Lauren was the best person for the job and I was more than happy to rebook her flight a day early. Her update will be posted this week on Caring Bridge.

The crux of the meeting is this: Jana will be having a double mastectomy and reconstruction on May 14^th. She will be in the hospital for two to three days. Her initial recovery will be from two to four weeks if all goes well. We’re hopeful that Jana won’t require radiation, but that will be determined at the time of her surgery and would result in a longer recovery period. Lauren has scheduled time off the last two weeks of May and will be taking care of her sister during her recovery, as Jana will need round-the-clock care and assistance.

We spent much of Thursday at Jana’s chemotherapy session. It always sounds strange to say we had a good time. However, we had a good time! It was much the same as Chemo Trip #4 as we lucked out and had the same sweet nurse, we followed the treatment with an ice cream cone, and went back home to do a little work around Jana’s cottage. Dinner won’t sound like much to anyone reading this, but it was Jana’s choice and special in so many ways…Del Taco! When the girls were very, very young we lived in Anaheim Hills and would take them (and often one or two of the older siblings) to Del Taco for Taco Tuesday. This family tradition went on for years and there were a number of stories that came from our Taco Tuesday evenings, none of which would interest an outsider to the family, but all of which bring a smile as we reminisce.

We left for home on Friday with Lauren in tow. According to her, she needed a little “parent time.” Again, her reservation was changed to fly out of Sacramento on Sunday, rather than LA on Saturday. You may question this change all for a day together…I’d do it again in a heartbeat. We made the seven hour drive on Friday, enjoyed dinner together at the Union Hotel in Volcano (a favorite) that evening, spent an intense day quilting and dehydrating on Saturday, had another wonderful dinner on Saturday night, this time at Lauren’s favorite Italian restaurant in Pine Grove, Giannini’s. Easter Sunday we were up early and off to the airport.

I’m reminded of something Verne said to me early in our relationship. He said, “I would drive an hour to spend five minutes with you.” And he often did. While I didn’t completely understand his outlook on life, which was in sharp contrast to my own practical approach, I loved his spontaneity then and over the years I’ve come to better understand it. Having a daughter with cancer has given me a new appreciation of Verne’s outlook. Life is all about love and little else matters.