For years, I had the perception that Harriet was a super fast strong hiker, and I avoided going on backpack with her. At some point, Harriet noticed that I’d never backpacked with her, and suggested to Jim Worcester and Steve Messamer that the four of us should go on a backpack trip. I couldn’t say no without admitting I was a wuss and afraid of Harriet, so, with great trepidation, I went along on the trip. My facts are probably a little sketchy, but the story is the same.
We drove to Hoosier National Forest on Friday night, and hiked in for maybe a mile. Steve and I shared a tent, and Jim and Harriet were in a tent about 20 feet away. Saturday morning, we woke up to rain, and I knew it was going to be an awful weekend. Then I heard Harriet say, “I’m not hiking in this! Let’s go into town and look around.”
Saturday afternoon, it cleared up and we once again backpacked into Hoosier. I carried the food … I ALWAYS carried my share of the food when I was with hunks, because they have to wait for me sooner or later if I’ve got the food. Steve and Jim hiked ahead, and Harriet and I hiked together. When we caught up with the guys, I whispered to Steve or Jim that it was so nice of Harriet to stay back with me. He said Harriet wasn’t a fast hiker, and the two of us probably hiked about the same speed.
After that, I loved hiking with Harriet ... and certainly enjoyed the "fruits" of the Backpacker Gourmet.

I was at Harriet’s house for lunch, sitting at her kitchen table. Harriet was, as always, cooking up something wonderful. She was following a recipe and I was talking. Sound familiar? Whenever she’d read the recipe, I’d stop talking. Harriet said, “Keep talking. I can read and listen at the same time.” A few minutes later, Harriet said, “Did I add the eggs?” Apparently <vbg>, she can’t read and listen and REMEMBER at the same time.

I was visiting Chicago after being in rural Sun Valley, Idaho for several years. Harriet and I were dodging traffic at rush hour as we crossed a four-lane street in Old Town Chicago to go to a sushi bar. As we made it to the curb on the other side, Harriet turned to me and asked, “Does this get to you?” I laughed and said, “That’s what I come back to Chicago for!”