THROWBACK THURSDAY

I told you on Tuesday there was a clue in the photo to today's post. My buddy Tom from California was the only one who correctly picked up on it.  No, it wasn't the 64 or 65 Chevrolet Impala.  It was the license plate.

That's an Amateur Radio Call license plate and those were my call letters back in the day.  I predicted my lifelong broadcasting career a bit early when I became a "ham" radio operator.

Here's a picture taken in one my many ham shacks over the years. I got my first license in 1955, as a 15 year old boy and held a series of licenses over the years.  I think this particular scene was in the basement of our family home in North Dakota though I can't be sure.  I've always been amused by the photo because it has all the air of a spy in his den in World War Two, getting some bombing coordinates to his confederates in the Allies.

'Course, I've always had a vivid imagination, too.

FOG OR LOW CLOUDS

I don't know which it is - fog or a low cloud.  It rained here all night long and the car's windshield was taking a light mist when I was out about midday.

Whichever it is, it's hanging on the peaks and in the lower passes in StoneRidge today.

Kind of a nice break from all that damned sunshine and warm weather we get here.

(heh-heh-heh)

I'M A WINNER!

For maybe the first time in my life I have won a contest.  You can read the details here.

SNOWED IN

I have gently made fun of my friends in colder, snowier climes in recent days.  So I thought I'd give them a chance to get even.  This is a photo of my car parked next to my house in Bismarck, North Dakota in 1966.

When I left the house preparing to drive to work, I found that an overnight massive blizzard had left a snowdrift that completely covered the car.  I walked the mile or two through the continuing snow storm to get to work, where I remained for three days.

When the snow finally stopped and I was able to get home again I wielded a snow shovel and a broom for some time in order to dig out the rear of the car and access to the interior through a passenger door.  Then I started it and just backed it out of the drift.  A large portion of the snow clung to the top of the car as I drove slowly down the streets.  It must have been quite a sight.

You can read more about the blizzard here.  This is why I now live in Arizona!

By the way, there's a clue in the photo to my upcoming Throwback Thursday picture.

WINTER GROWTH

I decided a few days ago to grow out my beard.  I've had a goatee and moustache for a long time and I've had a full beard in the past but it's been awhile.  Since my goatee has turned nearly fully white I thought I'd seen if I have a white beard, as well.  It seems to be taking its own sweet time.

I trim the goatee down to make it more resemble the rest of the growth so I don't just look like a homeless person.

Back in my younger days it was all reddish-brown.

But over the years it has gotten more Hemingway-esque.

This time around I'm hoping for the Santa Claus look.

By the way, here's where it all began, back around 1970.

My first selfie!

I remember in 1991 when we were about to move from Mexico back to the United States and I decided my face would get us back across the border easier without a beard.  So I shaved it all off.  I was stunned to find my father staring back at me in the mirror!  I think I've had facial hair of some type or another ever since.

I'll keep you posted on the current crop.

LEFSEPALOOZA!

If you come from a Scandinavian family* you've probably heard about lefse.  You've probably heard about lutefisk too but that's all I will say about that.

Lefse is kind of like a flour tortilla only thinner.  Wafer thin.  It is made from mashed potatoes and other ingredients but the potatoes are the main thing.  Balls of the dough are made, then rolled out and grilled on a griddle.  There are various ways to eat them but I always liked the ones I ate with butter and sugar, then rolled up into a tube and munched.

In Minot, North Dakota, where my brother and a couple of his kids and their kids still live there's a lefse-making tradition nearly a decade in the making.  They and other members of the extended family who gather there for a Thanksgiving feast call it Lefsepalooza.  It occurs on Black Friday and takes the place of shopping.  Here are some photos of this year's activity, courtesy of my nephew Barry's wife, Amy Fredregill.

Barry shows off one of the finished products.  Next to him is Amy, rolling out another and behind her is the host, Larry and his sister, Loretta.  The event features personalized aprons for everyone.

You may also notice what appears to be a bottle of some adult beverage on the counter in front of Larry.  The event is held in his garage and one must have sustenance to keep one's bodily warmth up to par.

And here is the outcome of the day: 194 lefses!  Amy says that's LESS than usual because they increased the rounds to 14 inches.

A job well done by these descendants of Norwegian immigrants. 

*The maternal side of my family came from Norway many years ago to farm in the rich soil of North Dakota.  

I grew up eating lefse. 

And avoiding lutefisk.

LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT . . .

I know some of you folks have been fighting snow and ice and cold temperatures for days now, way ahead of the traditional first day of winter.

I just thought you'd like to know why I live in Arizona.

This is the street in front of our house on Thanksgiving Day.  We sat outside on the patio in shirtsleeves enjoying a 70+ degree sunny day before having our feast. And, no, it doesn't get too hot in the summer where we live.

But for the rest of you folks . . . here's Deano!