You guys are so good! Yep, I visited Jeannie Watt in Big Sky Country The winner of the $10 Amazon gift card is:
Carrie McCauley
Congratulations!
Jeannie Watt
Fun Town Winner!
I had a great time reading all the fun town names! I’m pleased to announce that the winner of the Amazon gift card is Rhonda Pierce, who shared the name Toad Suck, Arkansas. Congratulations, Rhonda!
Here’s a list of the fun town names collected from the comments. Thank you for sharing!
Fun Town Names and a Give Away
It seems like every state has a few towns with truly unusual names. I wonder sometimes what it’s like to write ZZyzx, California as a return address on an envelope (and this is from someone who wrote Winnemucca, Nevada for 30 years.)
Idaho, the state where I grew up, has a lot of interesting names–Slickpoo, for instance, named after a man who gave land for a Jesuit mission. Washington state has many fun names that are impossible to pronounce unless you’re from the area.
Below I’ve listed a few of my favorites from around the country:
Why, Arizona — named after a Y joining State Routes 85 and highway 86. Arizona law requires that a town’s name have three letters, so Y became Why.
Big Sag, Montana — named for a large sag or dip in the landscape
Atomic City, Idaho — named after its proximity to the National Reactor Testing Station
Skookumchuck, Washington – means water in the Chinook language
Truth or Consequences, New Mexico — named after the Ralph Edwards radio show.
Hygiene, Colorado — named in the 19th Century by the National Cleanliness Society for a sanitarium nearby
Rough and Ready, California – named during the Gold Rush
Boring, Oregon – has a sister city in Scotland named Dull
Chicken, Alaska – named because the miners couldn’t spell ptarmigan.
Now it’s your turn. For a chance for a $10 Amazon gift certificate, add a fun city name in the comments. The only caveat is that it has to be or have been populated at some point in time. I’m looking forward to reading the additions!
UPDATE: I’m reading the fun town names in the comments and loving them! I’m amazed at how the names evolve and stick. Thank you for making me smile and adding to the list! WINNER WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON SUNDAY MARCH 29 along with a compilation of the names. I think we need a summary. 🙂
Pot or Kettle?
I was in my forties before I knew that people didn’t call pots and pans “kettles”. Embarrassingly, I was writing a book with a cook as a hero and my editor gently pointed out to me that kettles are used for tea. Sometimes they’re used for things like rendering fat during the butchering process or making soap. They are not used in everyday cooking. That was news to me because I grew up cooking in kettles.
One of my favorites was the mush kettle, which was a one quart aluminum “pot” (as some people call it) with a handle. We cooked oatmeal, cream of wheat and Malto-Meal in the mush kettle. It was all mush. According to my husband, it’s actually hot cereal. Right.
The mush kettle wasn’t the only specialized kettle we had. There was also the rice kettle and the stew kettle, both stainless steal and the perfect size for the stated purposes. Sometimes we used the stew kettle for other things, such as soaking beans, but it was always the stew kettle. Oddly we didn’t have cast iron kettles, even though we had cast iron everything. Cast iron kettles are, of course, called Dutch ovens.
Speaking of cast iron, we had a lot of perfectly seasoned frying pans. (Occasionally called skillets in my house, but not
often.) We had enough of them that I think I took four when I moved out and no one seemed to notice. Yes, we used soap in our frying pans, but only after meat was cooked in them. If there was no meat, it was a wipe-clean situation. If we washed them in water, we put them on the stove to dry, hopefully remembering to stay nearby so as not to wonder about that nasty hot metal odor permeating house a few minutes later. If the pan was not red hot, there’d be a quick application of Crisco on a rag if mom or dad were in charge, and no Crisco if my brother or I were in charge . I still have my pans. They’re still perfectly seasoned and I use soap. I haven’t turned one red hot by forgetting it in the drying process in a long time, and have finally reached the level of maturity where I do wipe them with Crisco after washing.
Long story short, I occasionally use soap in my 100-year old cast iron and I still cook in kettles. Do you?
Churning Butter and a Give Away
When I was eight years-old we started getting our milk directly from the local dairy. After the glass gallon
jars sat in the fridge overnight, there was a good two inches of cream at the top. I’m sorry to say that I thought cream was gross. I’d scoop it off when mom wasn’t looking, instead of shaking it up as directed, so that the “good” milk didn’t get contaminated with butter fats. Silly child. But the one good thing about all that cream was that sometimes my dad would scoop into a quart jar and make butter by simply shaking the jar. He had pretty good stamina because I remember him shaking for a long time. Then with a little salt, you had a very decent glob of butter. I loved butter.
All this came back to me the other day when I was whipping cream for a frosting and overwhipped it and came up with, you guessed it, whipped butter. I still put it on the cake, but it was a little greasier than it should have been. My husband is not particular, thank goodness.
Butter churning has been around for thousands of years. The earliest butter churns date back around 6,500 years to Israel. They were ceramic vessels that mimicked animal skins. Why? Because that was how nomadic cultures churned butter and made kefir. They put the cream in a vessel made of animal skin and shook it, very much like the way my dad would shake his quart jar, or even easier, simply tie it to a pack animal. The butter would churn as the animal walked. The ceramic churns were made to lay on their sides and rocked back and forth, sometimes with the aid of a rope.
The plunge churn was used in early America and is the churn I think of most often. It consists of a wooden contain into which the cream is poured, a flat lid with a hole and a plunger, which is worked up and down until butter forms. After the butter forms, the buttermilk (yes, that’s where it came from) is poured off and the butter is placed in a shallow trough called a butter worker. A fluted roller was rolled over the butter, water was added, then drained off. This process continued until all the buttermilk was removed from the butter.
The paddle churn is what my dad should have had. It’s a container, sometimes glass, that has a lid and a handle that turns a churn, which creates the butter.
The barrel churn appeared in 18th century Europe and works on the same principle as the paddle churn only on a larger scale.
There were of course many variations on these themes, including one in which the churn was attached to a rocking chair and the churner rocked their way to butter. Someone else came up with a treadmill upon which a sheep or dog would walk to turn the crank and churn the butter. One of the more realistic designs involved a foot treadle like those on old fashioned sewing machines. That would have been my go-to.
Now let’s get silly. For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, what is the most creative way you can think of to churn milk into butter?
Toast the Holidays with Jeannie Watt
Happy Christmas Eve! What follows is a recipe I made with my grandchildren, ages 4 and 2. They loved the final result as did all the adults in the house. It’s super easy and fun to drink.
Fun Jack Frosties
Ingredients:
1 lemon
2 cups blue sports drink such as Gatorade
1 pint lemon sorbet or lemon coconut sorbet (I like lemon coconut)
1 cup+ ice cubes
Sugar for glass rims if desired
Equipment:
Blender
Directions:
- Juice the lemon for 2-3 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice and pour into blender.
- Add the blue sports drink, sorbet and ice cubes.
- Process in the blender as for a smoothie.
- Pour sugar onto a small plate. Pour a small amount of water on another small plate. Dip rim of glass into water then in sugar to make a sugar rim. (This is optional if you don’t want a sweet drink.) Fill glass with frosty mix.
Enjoy!
Merry Christmas!
Cowboys & Mistletoe (Week 2) – Jeannie Watt
I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and the Happiest of New Years! I have a gift for you–my Christmas release (actually re-release) is free until December 16! If you follow the buy link you can add A Montana Christmas Homecoming to your holiday To Be Read pile. Happy Holidays!
A Montana Christmas Homecoming
This Christmas, home might be the best destination of all.
Jason Regan doesn’t do relationships or long-term commitments. His engineering firm keeps him constantly on the move, and that’s the way he likes it. But one quick trip to Holly, Montana, turns into an extended stay when a judge hands him community service at the town’s underfunded animal shelter.
Tess Evans traded courtroom battles for saving strays, pouring everything she has into the Forever Home Animal Shelter. With her make-or-break “Home for the Holidays” adoption event approaching, the last thing she needs is distraction… especially in the form of a broad-shouldered, maddeningly handsome volunteer who makes her pulse race.
Between fixing kennels, brushing shoulders in the supply closet, and chasing one mischievous terrier named Neville, their chemistry sparks hotter than a Christmas fire.
But Jason’s clock is ticking. Can a little holiday magic—and a lot of temptation—convince him that some things are worth staying for?
Previously published as A Home for the Holidays.
The Great Western Christmas Celebration
Next, let’s give our town a name.
Every town needs a name. So let’s hear your ideas, be they quirky, holiday-themed, heartwarming or something traditional – let your imagination run free.
Everyone who leaves a response by Saturday 12/13 will get their name entered in the random drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.
Every entry will also be eligible for our oh-so-beautiful Grand Prize – a gorgeous quilt hand made by our very own Jo-Ann Roberts
NOTE: ALL winners will be announced on Sunday 12/14.
Jeannie Watt has a Free Sweet Romance!
Hey everyone! I’m excited to announce that the first book of my Big Sky, Small Town series A MONTANA CHRISTMAS HOMECOMING is free for a limited time! I wanted to write a series of sweet, Hallmark-like stories and these books are the result. I had so much fun writing my spunky sisters. I hope you’ll check out their stories!
This Christmas, home might be the best destination of all.
Jason Regan doesn’t do relationships or long-term commitments. His engineering firm keeps him constantly on the move, and that’s the way he likes it. But one quick trip to Holly, Montana, turns into an extended stay when a judge hands him community service at the town’s underfunded animal shelter.
Tess Evans traded courtroom battles for saving strays, pouring everything she has into the Forever Home Animal Shelter. With her make-or-break “Home for the Holidays” adoption event approaching, the last thing she needs is distraction… especially in the form of a broad-shouldered, maddeningly handsome volunteer who makes her pulse race.
Between fixing kennels, brushing shoulders in the supply closet, and chasing one mischievous terrier named Neville, their chemistry sparks hotter than a Christmas fire.
But Jason’s clock is ticking. Can a little holiday magic—and a lot of temptation—convince him that some things are worth staying for?
Previously published as A Home for the Holidays.
READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT:
“Hold on!” Tess Evans hung up the phone as her dad attempted to open the door to Forever Home while balancing two cinnamon lattes and carrying his toolbox. Pete Evans had a proclivity for doing things on his own, be it raising three motherless daughters or opening a door with his hands full. He was usually successful, but in this case, he was about to lose a latte.
“Really, Dad?” Tess said as she rescued the top cup of steaming coffee just before it toppled.
“I almost made it.”
Tess took the other cup from him and set it on her desk. Pete set down the other, then jerked his head toward the door leading to the dog kennel area. “Will Lisa be done feeding before her coffee gets cold?”
“Judging from the decibel level, I think she’s almost done.” Morning feeding was always a loud and happy time as the food trolley rolled along the concrete aisle between rows of kennels. But once the dogs had their meals, barking stopped as eating commenced, and the sound level dropped accordingly.
“Why the big smile?” Pete asked as he set down his toolbox.
“I don’t need you today.” Tess was still feeling slightly dazed from the phone call she’d just received from justice court.
“You don’t need me?” Her dad sounded shocked, but Tess read the relief in his gaze. Despite having a very tight schedule on his latest project, he stopped by the shelter every Tuesday morning to spend an hour nailing things back together. The problem with retrofitting an old garage into a new animal shelter was that there were a lot of hidden issues that poked their heads up at the most inopportune times. She and Lisa had painted the place cheerful colors—yellow and aqua—and kept it sparkling clean, but they didn’t have the time or the skillset to deal with loose concrete bolts and flapping siding—the latest ills.
“I have a new warm body.” Which was nothing short of a miracle this time of year when everyone was so busy. There was just one teensy part of that good news that kept Tess from doing a full-on happy dance.
“Cat? Dog? Iguana? No, wait. You said warm body, not cold. Scratch the iguana.”
Tess smiled. “No, Dad. A human. One with building skills. Judge Nelson sentenced a guy to community service and decided that I needed the most help right now. I get him for one hundred hours.”
“One hundred hours?” Pete tipped his chin toward the ceiling as he did a quick mental calculation. “Twelve days? That seems like a healthy sentence.” His eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, did this guy do to earn that much community service?”
“Parking ticket. And it’s twelve and a half days.” Judge Nelson’s assistant had emphasized that the entire sentence was to be served, down to the last hour. No early outs due to holiday bon homie.
Her dad’s eyebrows lifted. “Did he park in the mayor’s reserved space?”
“The ticket is years old. I think Judge Nelson gave him ten hours for each year it wasn’t paid.”
Pete gave a short laugh. “That sounds like something the judge would do. Who is it?”
“Jason Regan.” The instant the name left her mouth, Tess felt her cheeks go warm, and gave herself a mental kick.
You are not the same geeky girl who crushed on the man long ago.
Law school had changed her, given her confidence, leadership abilities…migraines. But if she hadn’t gone, hadn’t buried herself in research and paperwork for eighty hours a week, she wouldn’t have known how happy she was not doing that, or that her true calling was managing the animal shelter her late grandmother had started five years ago to take the pressure off the regional shelter that Holly shared with the nearby town of Everly.
Her dad’s forehead creased. “Must be an out-of-towner.”
“No,” she said in a casual voice. Too casual? “He was a senior during my sophomore year. He left right after high school. Mae Regan is his aunt.” It seemed best to leave out the part about him being her unrequited crush and utterly oblivious to her existence, except for one small incident in the school cafeteria. Oblivious, that is, until gossipy Melissa Braddock had read the signs, guessed the truth, and ratted Tess out to the general school population.
“Just doing you a favor,” Melissa had said when Tess had confronted her in horror after word had gotten back to her. “How else will you get his attention?” The amazing thing was that Melissa really believed she had done Tess a favor.
But Tess would give Jason this—he never treated her differently. Meaning, of course, that he hadn’t given her so much as a side-eye. Her hope was that the news had never reached him, or if it had, he’d brushed it off as so much gossip.
“Jason Regan…” Her dad’s eyebrows drew together. “Oh, yeah. He was the kid with the mean three-pointer.”
“That’s the one.” Tess shooed away her embarrassed teenage self as she confronted her new reality. “He’s mine for one hundred hours, and I intend to get every bit of work out of him that I possibly can.”
Mr. Regan was going to be a terribly busy man, and she was close to betting money that he wasn’t as amazing as she remembered him. Backyards got smaller and all that stuff. She’d probably take one look at him and wonder what the big deal had been.
10 Facts About Stage Coach Travel or Why I’m OK With the Middle Seat
Read on for a Give Away!
I’m traveling today and as usual I have the middle seat on the plane. Because I do not claim both armrests, I spend most of the flight feeling like my elbows have been glued to my ribs. It’s not particularly comfortable, but after researching stage coach travel, I’ve decided that I’m in no position to complain.
Here are 10 facts about travel in a Concord Stage Coach, the most common coach used in the west during the late 1800s:
1. The interior of a stage coach was very small, measuring about 4 feet wide, with a ceiling height of about 4 ½ feet. Each passenger had about 15 inches of leg room.
2. A stage coach held up to nine passengers but their knees and legs had to be entwined between one another.
3. Additional passengers could ride on the roof with the luggage. Some luggage was stored in the boot at the back of the stage coach.
4. The interior had three benches. The center bench had no backrest and the people riding there had leather straps to hold for support.
5. The passengers were protected from the elements by leather curtains, that may or may not do their job.
6. The seats were padded but could still be very hard.
7. The average pace of a stage coach was 5 miles per hour. An average person can walk 3-4 miles an hour.
8. A stage coach could travel up to 70 miles a day, depending on road conditions and terrain.
9. If a stage had to go up a steep hill, the passengers might have to walk.
10. If the stage got stuck, the passengers would push and help dig it out.
Doesn’t that put the middle seat into perspective?
To qualify for the giveaway, a $10 Amazon gift card, tell me your favorite way to travel and one reason it can be inconvenient.
Please Note: I may not be able to answer comments today due to travel…but at least I’m not pushing a stage coach up a hill. 🙂 Winner announced on Saturday.
Miner Jeannie
Once upon a time I was a miner. Not for long, but long enough. I worked pretty deep, on the 6700 and 6900 levels of the Star Mine in Burke, Idaho. The level numbers indicate how far below the surface we were, so 6700 means that we were 6700 feet under the surface.
I drove a muck train with my partner Billy. We would drive the train back into the drift (commonly called a tunnel, but a tunnel has an entry and exit point while a drift just “drifts” back into the rock with no exit), stop under a chute containing rock that the miners working far above us had mined, open the chute, load the cars and then drive back to the station, which is the main area of each underground level. There we would dump the cars, each of which contain about a ton of ore, into a bigger chute, which collected ore during the day that would be carried to the surface in muck skips on the graveyard shift.
When we hauled ore (trammed muck) one of us drove the motor or engine, and the other rode on the back of the last car. A train usually had four. Each day we got a list of which chutes to pull and how many loads to haul from each by the shift boss and that was our work for the day. If we got done early, we were supposed to “maintain” the ditches next to the tracks, as in shovel them out. We usually tried not to get done too quickly. On the other hand, sometimes we didn’t get done at all because the train would jump the tracks and we would spend a lot of time jacking that darn thing back on, which was no easy feat when the motor weighed 5 tons and Billy and I combined weighed close to 250 lbs. We learned a lot of on-the-job physics.
So how did we communicate in the dark? With lights and clangs. The lights were most important. When you wear a light on your head all day, there are etiquette rules, such as never look directly at someone and blind them. You always directed the light to the side of the person’s face. The light was used for signals. To have someone move away from you, you nodded your head up and down, meaning go back. When you wanted someone to come your way, you circled your light. When you wanted someone to stop you shook your head back and forth. If you wanted them to stop fast, you shook your head really fast. Many was the time when I was helping my dad hook up the horse trailer and forgetting I was not in the mine, I would shake my head when I wanted him to stop. Head shaking never worked the same as it did underground.
And then there is the clangs, which were handier when positioning the cars under the chutes. When the guy riding the back car had the position they wanted, they would hit the edge of the car one time. If the motorman didn’t manage to stop in the right place, more signals would follow. Three clangs meant move forward. Two clangs meant move back. One meant stop. Clangs were quicker than lights for signals.
I enjoyed my time underground, but I was raised in mining. To answer the question that I get a lot, no I never minded being that deep in the earth. I much prefer it to being high in the air. Oh, but I hate heights.