I’ve lived here since 1996. Those of you who know me well, know I think that’s way too long. I’m a mid-west girl, born where you can plant and grow a big garden or jump on the train and see the Cubs that afternoon. When Alyce thinks about fall, she thinks of cold nights, cool mornings, red maples, soup and cookies. Not 80 degree days and so little water that the herb garden wants to croak. Hmph. In all these years, not being a mountain person, I’ve never made it up to the mountains to see the aspens in the fall. Let’s just say it was one of the mistakes I’ve made lately.
I don’t like heights. I literally cannot go on the big escalators in the Dallas airport.
Just picture me on the drop-offs in the mountains. No, it’s not pretty. Glacier? Going to the Sun Road? That’s me, glued to the floorboards. Does that mean I can’t cook a mean steak over an open fire in a decent campground? No; I can do that. I can do it well. Especially if there’s a bottle of Cab waiting to go with it. A little grilled shrimp for an appetizer. But look over the edge? Right. That’s you, not me. Still. I took the pictures. The Chicago girl.
Bill Kalbus’ rolls made new… taught to many and eaten by many more. Including a couple of really cute little guys about 5 or so. With Colorado honey. Hmph.
And I’m not scared any more. Why else did God teach me to cook? Or put me near the mountains temporarily?
Sing a new song;