Sint Maarten 10-10-10

Here we are on Oyster Bay in Sint Maarten on their first Independence Day!
I just made a modified version of Spanish Bean soup for the doughty PJ7 DX-pedition ham radio operators housed in the condo - Charlie and our friend John Miller K6MM from California.
The guys are waiting for a ship to arrive with all of their equipment. However, true to the ingenuity this hobby requires, they have cobbled together a couple of stations and are on the air and making contacts.
We can see the French side of the island across the bay from our bedroom and living room windows. The water is that sweet blue the Caribbean offers that is a blend between the shade of a true turqoise and blueberries mashed in champagne.
Sint Maarten Soup
1 stick smoked sausage, sliced
1 bag dried garbanzo beans, cooked and drained
4 large diced potatoes
2 large yellow onions
2 cloves garlic (sliced in half)
64 ounces chicken stock
EVOO
1 liter bottled water
Paprika, sea salt, Cavender's Greek Seasoning to taste

Sautee the onion, garlic and sausage in 2 tbl Extra Virgin olive oil until onions are translucent. Add potatoes and stock, season with 2 teaspoons sea salt and half tsp Cavender's. Bring to a boil and add garbanzo beans. Bring all to a boil, add a tsp of paprika, reduce heat to a simmer. Taste for seasoning after about 30 minutes. If broth is too strong, add water. Adjust seasonings every 15-30 minutes. Simmer for about 2-2/12 hours until beans and potatoes are soft.

Serve with a warm baguette and real butter:)

I soaked so many garbanzos I had extras which I have frozen to cook as a side dish. Re-hydrated garbanzo beans taste amazingly like field peas.

asses, elbows and longing

It is common for me to lose and/or forget passwords. It is also common for the retrieval process to frustrate my patience-deprived soul something fierce. I am always grateful that I have enough sense not to have to go around my ass to get to my elbow (as the saying goes) which does shorten the process a little.
My patience is especially short now because my Sweet Darling is several time zones and thousands of miles away.
I miss him not because of the big things, not for sex or the afternoon kiss hello and morning kiss goodbye; but the tiny things I can still see out of the corner of my eye.

I was setting a new frequency on my car radio and my mind unreeled an old movie of him setting all of the buttons on my '86 Fiero, those deft fingers dancing across the face of the tuner. He is so talented with those hands and fingers and agile mind that his engineering skills are in demand in places and circumstances far from our small town.
Back then watching him set those stations was like watching a concert pianist favor a child with a rendition of "Alley Cat" on a tiny spinette.

Carrot, our littlest kitten, likes to sit on Charlie and sharpen his claws on Charlie's jeans.
I was washing my face before bed the other night and heard the sound of claws on denim and my heart jumped for a moment - but no, Carrot had found a pair of mine to scratch. Another little thing, a vision of him stroking that tiny orange head and blue eyes meeting blue for a conversation on what a big boy Carrot is becoming.

I miss the sound of him breathing.

I was feeling very bereft yesterday since I had not heard from him in 24 hours. He'd been calling a few times a day until then but had left Honolulu for Midway and patchy communication opportunities. He called late today, almost 48 hours since the last time I'd heard his voice.
He was slightly out of breath; he'd had to ride a bike from the side of the island he was working on to the side that had communication capability. He was nearly giddy with exhaustion and happiness in the hobby that took him so far from me, that was the recreation to his vocation.

My happiness at his joy makes things bearable.