To escape the smoke, my man and I devised a plan to drive southeast to the charming town of Philipsburg for a walk, dinner, taffy and a dip in the river for the pooch. It isn’t as smoky there.
We grabbed a jar of raspberry jam, sharp cheddar cheese, a baguette, water, dog leash and long-sleeved shirts, piled into our faithful Subaru and took off through the thick smog. We did feel guilty about contributing to the problem by driving but we were desperate for a firemoon.
Just east of Clinton, the speedometer and RPM thingy started freaking out and things were beeping indicating that something was awry. Our “check engine” light has been on for a few thousand miles, but we thought it was a ploy to get us in for a service check to find out about a $300 fuse or something…actually, I don’t know what we thought. It is just a pain in the ass to deal with car stuff and we have mildly been considering a different, newer vehicle and, shit.
I began searching through the manual and discovered that when the “check engine” light is lit up, one should immediately seek service. We pulled off at the relatively smoke-free Drummond and just like that she was done. I commend her efforts in getting us to Drummond and croaking about 1/4 mile from the only towing facility in 40 miles either direction. That was nice.
Just as we approached the garage full of toothless, oil-stained men the nastiest wind storm picked up and blew all of Missoula’s smoke straight at us. A fire truck raced by as a nearby valley was under immediate evacuation.
So we sat in the smoke dust soup and waited for Dan. Dan has two hearing aids and his father doesn’t speak to him because he has poor hearing and therefore couldn’t be in the military. Andy said it wasn’t his fault. His sister works in the cafe down the road and they haven’t seen each other in eight months. He used to fight fires and man, he had an opinion about them and it has nothing to do with climate change and we heard all about it on the drive back to Missoula. Alice had to ride in the car because he was sued for $25K a few years back when a dog lost his vision during a tow. I don’t understand but he wasn’t budging on that rule. She seemed to have an alright time.
So, back in Missoula, we could see the mountains. We decided to walk home from Roemer’s, carrying our unused stash of baguette, cheese, jam, long-sleeved shirts and Alice. The smoke blew back in when we were about a mile from home proving the impossibility of escape.
Cut the limes into half moon shaped chunks and put a bowl with the juice of a few limes. Cut up watermelon and feta into about 1/2″ triangles and add to marinating mixture. Add olives and fresh ground black pepper. Toss with your hands so the feta and watermelon don’t get all mucked up. I accidentally bought a yellow watermelon and I don’t think it is as pretty but tasty none the less.