Dispatch 52
Rose Cottage, Idaho
December 26, 2021
Greetings, Fellow Adventurers!
My latest mistake was thinking that with only a week or so before we left for the annual trek to Palm Desert, there was no need to get the snowblower out of storage. This is the sort of unfortunate thinking that led to Sir E. S. Shackleton, as well as his ship and crew, being locked in Antarctic ice for months in 1914.
I was excited to see the first falling flakes, and was eager to get out and shovel the fluffy white stuff, knowing full well that it would be my only chance before I found myself in California sunbathing, surrounded by palm trees and swimming pools. Little did I know that those flakes were just the beginning of a three-day snow storm that has not stopped yet. I have shoveled snow into piles as high as the proverbial elephant’s eye, and the novelty has quickly waned.
The happier news is that Santa arrived right on time, and I received more presents under the tree than my behavior this year merited. Santa is a good guy and understands my limitations when it comes to good, or even civilized, behavior. The only requested gift missing under the tree was a genuine Amazonian blow gun, complete with a dozen poison darts. It appears that the worldwide supply chain issues have made Amazonian blow guns hard to get. Go figure.
The reason I needed the silent shooter is that about every squirrel in Power County has moved into our backyard to feast at our bird feeders. Obviously, a war has ensued. But of course, the police, on the behest of the neighbors, have strongly suggested I put away my grandfather’s shotgun or risk a holiday incarceration. I suspect none of these law enforcement fellows are Audubon members.
On a happier note, my whiskey business is barreling along. My latest blend of “Old Trout Whiskey,” which I call “Cutthroat,” after the Idaho trout and what this drink feels like going down, has met with great success. I do computer work for the Power County Highway district and those old boys, especially the snowplow drivers, sing its praises. I wonder if that is why so few locals are out driving while the streets and highways are being plowed. That just occurred to me!
My home-built whiskey still, located in the basement, has just about reached production capacity, and I am looking for commercial property to expand. Now, should you have a few of the old denaro to invest, I could, because you are my pals, let you in on the ground floor of a business with a bright future. Well, that is, if the U. S. Alcohol and Tobacco Tax & Trade Bureau don’t come snooping around. Darn neighbors, again!
When I get back to Idaho in the spring, I am seriously thinking about making a bootlegger run into Utah once a month. Many of the boys down there consider my elixir a real blessing, and they need a steady supply. Now, if you are looking for a part-time job, and know the less traveled back-roads of Idaho and Utah, and can lift wooden crates of whiskey in and out of a car trunk, please contact me. Oh, being familiar with a shotgun would be handy. I can supply the shotgun.
Well, that is about it for now. While writing this, the snow has started again. I am certain Scout is wondering when I will continue the dangerous work of shoveling the driveway. Fortunately, I have plenty of firewater to keep me warm.
Scout and I hope this note finds you perky, and that you have plenty of hooch, and someone to smooch!
