Husband and I read aloud to our children countess hours when they were little. We were both really good at expressive character voices.
I was a little disappointed realizing that our new church here in Luverne had a much reduced music ministry compared to our ND church. The choir sings only perhaps once every couple of months instead of every Sunday. We have found a new and fun niche, however, in being readers of the scriptures, Psalms, and prayers during services. The pastor reads the Gospel passages.
Our fellow church members really like the way we read. Husband says I speak very clearly and read expressively as though there are children listening (which there are). Some people who had my mother as a Grade 3 teacher or knew her well tell me my voice is just like hers. They seem to find it comforting. When Husband reads you can tell he understands everything he is reading and imparts that meaning. Last Sunday I had to read a selection from Isaiah in which the writer had God speak in a really pissed off voice. I used that sort of voice as I read. People were very appreciative and complimentary.
We have choir rehearsal twice in the next two weeks for the Reformation Day service later in October. We only read in church about once a month. Now if we can only figure out how to get more reading time in with our grandchildren.
How would describe your reading voice? What might you like to read aloud in public if you got the chance? Who read to you when you were a child and what were your favorite things to hear?
i don’t know what got into me this weekend, but I fulfilled one of my priorities and did all the ordering for my Christmas baking. It involved ordering:
Glaceed orange peel, glaceed lemon peel, glaceed cherries, and glaceed citron, 4 lbs of pecans from an orchard in Georgia, my yearly purchase of 10 lbs of a really nice chunk of parmesan from Italy (it is cut from a wheel and lasts for a year), eight 2-cup containers of leaf lard from a Pennsylvania butcher shop for pie crusts and lefse, Swedish pearl sugar, sliced almonds, black currants, golden raisins, Danish marzipan, and a gallon tin of Turkish olive oil.
Now I will be set for any baking needs for Christmas and for the year. Then I started to think about other winter preparations. I filled the water softener with salt and changed out the furnace filters. We have two furnaces in our home due to an addition to the house a few years ago. Did you know you can get furnace filters with small batteries that will alert you when the filters need changing? Husband did some yard and flowerbed clean up yesterday. I heard from a foster parent I know from western ND who told me she had to scrape frost off her truck windows Sunday morning. The bison at the park here are getting furry. Winter is coming and I couldn’t be happier.
What winter preparations do you need to complete? How good are you at changing furnacefilters?Watch Game Of Thrones?
I got a massage the other day and the salt wall in the header photo is the wall of their waiting room. It has a nice amber light that is very calming, and they say it supports relaxation to help reduce stress. I just like the look of it. Daughter has a salt lamp that is the same color. It sweats due to the higher humidity in our house, and kinda makes a mess, but it is a very nice warm light.
It’s been kind of a busy week.
There was no farming this week, unless you call cutting the grass and picking up sticks and feeding the chickens and collecting eggs farming. And that was done by Kelly and daughter respectively. I got diddly squat done at home between Work work, tech rehearsals for Sweeny Todd, several meetings, homework, and yes, the massage. That’s how I spent the week. Well, at least until I got to Friday. I got a few things done Friday.
Filling the drill with the seed tender
I must say, I am acing the humanities class. 100%. And this comment from the teacher: “You know you’re going above and beyond, right? I mean that you’re writing 2-3x as much as your classmates… but you’re probably also having 2-3x as much fun!” I wrote to her and said I knew I was writing too much and I felt sorry every time I submitted a paper to her. She responded, ” No, it’s fine. Write away! At least I can hear YOUR voice in your writing and it’s both personal and wise. Plus, you really enjoy doing it.”
That made my whole day…
Music class… eh. 8/10 on a workbook and that’s the only grade posted so far. I go see the teacher weekly and we have a good time talking. It always makes so much sense when she tells me. It doesn’t sink in from the book. Course it would help if I actually read the book first and didn’t just jump into the middle. I can “wing” a lot of things, but evidently not this so much. Geez, sounds like high school all over again.
At college one day I made an electric cable. You know, lighting fixtures used to come with a cord, and you just put on the end you needed. It might be either of a couple specific theater kinds of ends like, ‘Stage Pin’ or ‘Twist Loc’ (new or old style) or regular old Edison like at your house.
Stage Pin
Twist loc, new style, tab in
Then they, “They”, stopped putting cables on the light. You get a ‘receptacle’ on the back of the light fixture, and you hook up a power cable. They were ‘powercon’. So, I made powercon cables and adapters and couplers, because you couldn’t simply hook one end to the other. And from powercon, now they created ‘True 1’ connectors. “New and Improved!” Here I am making MORE cables. But at least this connector can hook end to end without a special coupler.
Power-con
New and improved! True 1
A few years ago I learned if you read the printing on the cable, the female connector will go on the right hand side, because the woman is always right, and that way you don’t need to twist the wires to connect to the proper terminal. HUH!
Sweeny Todd opened last night, Friday, at the Rep in Rochester. I’d seen the show once before, never saw the movie. I know the plot, but I didn’t know the show that well. This version, this director, Philip, really brings out the humor in the show. There’s a lot of sarcasm. Sweeny goes off on this big song of bringing vengeance on all those that have ruined his life, and Mrs. Lovett sits for a moment and finally says, “Well yes, that’s all well and good…”
Lighting it has been fun. We ended up with 206 lighting cues. A handful of those are before the house opens; turning on house lights, checking all the fixtures are working, etcetera, but the bulk are during the show, when Emilie, our stage manager, is also triggering 200 sound cues. It’s OK, she has 2 fingers; one for sound, one for lights. We don’t have an orchestra for this show, we have recorded music. (Musicians are busy, and it’s often hard to find enough to cover the run of a show. If they’re in a band, they’re usually playing weekends as well). Emilie is busy! And she does a fantastic job.
Here’s some looks from the show.
I love these colors on Mr. Todd
There was an auction again. See how this newer tractor sold for so much less? It has a lot more hours, and it needs tires. Looks like its been ‘rode hard and put away wet’. Tires will be about $20,000 for all 8 of them.
The top tractor only has 5000 hours. The bottom one has 11,000 hours.
I didn’t buy anything. I watched a few things, didn’t buy any.
Last January I started going to an exercise class for old people (SAIL-Stay Active In Life). It is a well researched exercise program and is sponsored by a very nice county agency that organizes services for seniors. It meets twice a week and involves strengthening most muscle groups, improving balance and flexibility, and encouraging socialization.
There are many upper body and arm exercises which I heartily participated in. We are encouraged to use the hand weights provided by the class for the arm and upper body exercises. I used the two pound weights.
In May I noticed pains in both my upper arms, particularly when I would stretch to get laundry out of the washing machine or try to reach back to secure my brassiere. I am a side sleeper, and any pressure on my upper arms really hurt when I tried to sleep.
I finally went to my doctor in August. I know I have osteoarthritis in my lumbar spine. My doctor ruled put Rheumatoid Arthritis and Lupus, and sent me to an orthopedic surgeon. He took x-rays of my shoulders. There ought to be a pencil width strip of cartilage between the top of the upper arm and shoulder socket in which it rotates. I have none. It is bone on bone in both shoulders. It is mainly due to osteoarthritis. The surgeon was rather astounded that both my shoulders were so bereft of cartilage simultaneously. We figured I was a good candidate for this, and the arm exercises in my SAIL class sealed the deal. I need both my shoulder joints replaced.
I will have my first surgery in January. I will do the left arm first. It involves securing a titanium cap on the arm bone to replace the cartilage. I said I had to wait until after the Christmas baking was done. I need both arms to for that. Boommate and daughter-in-law have offered to help roll lefse.
Ever had joint replacement? When has something considered good turned out to be bad for you? What are your priorities these days?
We are just back from our family gathering in Colorado. We stayed at a hotel in the Highlands Ranch area of Denver, close to Littleton, where Husband’s stepmother lives. As we were getting out of our taxi when we arrived at the hotel I saw an older man in full Scots regalia in the parking lot, including a kilt and bagpipes.
The Colorado Highland Games were held September 26th -27th here, and our hotel was the center of activity for a meeting of the Clan Hay Society. There was a load of older guys in kilts walking around the hotel lobby and eating in the dining room. The dining room had to be closed early on Saturday as the cook became overwhelmed by all the Clan Hay members dining there. We had to order out. We also saw several women in long dresses, fancy bodices, and animal skins around their shoulders.
Sunday and Monday saw the kilted guys again. Many were eating breakfast or just socializing. We even saw Lord Larry Hay, son of the current Scottish chief the Earl of Erroll, in the lobby. He was dressed in a suit. Husband’s sister in law is a Campbell with grandparents who were born in Scotland, and she was quick to introduce herself to Clan Hay members. She acknowledges the Campbells were simply awful people, but none of the Clan Hay members shied away or denounced her as a traitor. (She once had a Scots store clerk in Portland do that. )
The Clan Society members all appeared to be in their 60’s and 70’s. Many had long hair in ponytails. They looked so proud in their kilts and I got the impression they wore those kilts as often as they could. I imagined them going through airport security in their kilts on their way home from the meeting, and wondered what the TSA agents would make of them.
If I were to dress in traditional ethnic costume I suppose it would be Dutch, with Klompen and a pointy lace cap, and full skirt with a close fitting top. I certainly wouldn’t want to walk around all day in the wooden shoes, though.
How did your ancestors dress? What ethnic costume would you wear in public? Ever had to wear a uniform?
I’ve got six different books started right now and between them, I’ve encountered a preface, a foreword, and introduction and a prologue. Two of the books had a preface AND a foreword. The foreword to one of these books was really grinding on me – basically laying out each short story ahead of time. (I was listening on Libby in the car so couldn’t mess with fast forwarding.) It occurred to me that I don’t really know the difference between all these “can we hurry up and get to the book” blockades. So I looked them up:
Preface. An introduction to a book, typically stating its subject, scope, or aims. Written by the author, a preface is about the book: the history of the inspiration, what inspired it and how the writing of the book transpired. Much more common in non-fiction books and usually includes acknowledgements.
Foreword. The foreword, which logically come before the book is normally written by someone other than the author – another author, a friend, mentor or a subject expert. A foreword might contain a short biography of the author, and salient points about the book. Apparently getting a well-known author to write your foreword is a real score.
Introduction. This is the playground of the author and is normally all about the book: a clue to what the author thinks the reader needs to know ahead of time, anything from character introduction to emphasis on themes… you name it.
Prologue. This is part of the book, almost exclusively fiction, that takes place before the main action of the book. A good prologue sets the scene for the rest of the book, I guess since this is actually part of the story, these don’t bug me too much.
Knowing the difference doesn’t really change my mind about their status but it made me feel a bit better knowing.
Do you read all the prefaces/forewords/introductions in a book? What about the acknowledgements at the end?
My fear of heights doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been up in the St. Louis Arch at least 12 times; I can walk through the viewing area with no issues and can actually look out the windows which are 630 feet above the hard hard ground. I’ve been up in a hot air balloon twice. I’ve even flown in an open air bi-plane. None of these experiences bothered me.
But last week I was faced by one of my fear-of-heights nemeses – a glass elevator. Four times I year I drop off cards for one of my charities. All the elevators in the building are glass elevators – I checked the first time I went there. I am only going to the second floor but every time I’m standing in front of those elevator doors, I’m wondering if maybe there are stairs someplace in the building to get me to the next level.
These aren’t the only glass elevators I’ve had trouble with. Once, in Singapore, the hotel had two kinds of elevators. The normal kind that went up to the 25th floor and then glass-enclosed kind that you had to take to get from the 25th to the 60th floor. It was a glorious view of the cityscape but when I discovered that the hotel had put me up on the 50th floor (this was considered an upgrade because most folks LIKE the higher floors), I asked them to move me to a different room, preferably on the 3rd or 4th floor. It did at least make me feel better when the front desk staff told me that this is not an uncommon request. Phew!
When I have no other option than to deal with glass elevators, my usual modus operandi is to stand facing the doors (which are rarely glass)… as close to the doors as I can get. If I’m alone, then basically nose-to-door; if there are other folks, I try to keep at least a foot back so they don’t have me carted away in a pretty wrap-a-round sweater. And I can guarantee that I am ALWAYS the first off that elevator. I’d rather ride the escalators at the Mall of America than do glass elevators (which they also have at MOA).
So I really don’t understand why some heights don’t bother me and some heights REALLY bother me. I’m guessing at my age I’ll probably never figure it out.
Would you rather ride in a glass elevator or hold a big snake?
Every rescue dog comes with its own set of baggage to sort through. Freya loves to chew – probably some from anxiety but more likely from being caged most of her life and now finding a whole new world of tactile sensations.
Even though I pick up the toys most nights, by 9 a.m. she has most of them out of the bin and every one is missing something – an ear, a fin, a flipper. Once she finds a way in, then she goes all in looking for the squeaker so the white toy stuffing goes all over. Our living room right now looks like a stuffy toy abattoir. Even the hard rubber toys are no match for her little shark teeth.
Unfortunately, it’s not just toys. We realized right away that pretty much anything is fair game. It took YA a bit longer to come to terms with this – she’s lost a shoe, a slipper and a pair of shorts. We’ve taken to limiting her smorgasbord a bit right now by putting up gates to keep her in a smaller area and by keeping a very close eye on her.
She is however quite stealthy and if your attention is elsewhere, she can get around you quite nicely. On Saturday I spent some time on the phone with one of my BFFs from Madison. I had been upstairs before the call and when I came down, I neglected to put up the gate at the bottom of the stairs. A few minutes into my call, I looked up and saw Freya chewing what looked like a big chunk of yellow foam. At first I figured she had gutted a stuffy but most toys these days are white fiber fill; I also didn’t see any stuffy carcasses nearby. When I took it from her and headed toward the trash, I noticed more yellow foam on the landing. I had reconfigured the dog bed situation upstairs so I thought that maybe Freya didn’t like my renovation.
When I got off the phone, I went to check it out. No trail of yellow foam to the landing. No cover to whatever the item had been. Both upstairs dog beds were intact. In fact, everything upstairs was intact. I even checked rooms with closed doors. I moved the gate to YA’s room and looked around in there. Bupkiss. I even did a slow-pan video of her room and sent it to her (she’s out of town for work) and she says it looks fine. We haven’t replaced bathroom rug yet. All my pillows are fine. Downstairs everything in order. Piano bench fine, dining room chairs fine, breakfast room dog kennel fine (I checked this twice). Not one bit of yellow foam anywhere else.
At this point I have given up looking for whatever it was in its past life. I’m figuring that in three months or so I’ll be looking for something, won’t be able to find it and a lightbulb will go off. Maybe.
Have you lost anything lately that you think you might find… eventually? Any mysteries in your life this week?
There really wasn’t a lot happening on the farm this week.
It rained through Monday and then there was work work, and rehearsal for a show. So I still haven’t gotten rye planted and that seed tender trailer is still parked in the shed right where I left it. And it’s raining again. The new concrete has hardened and other than driving the gator across it, I haven’t gotten the edges back filled either. You’d think I haven’t been doing anything. Except homework.
I’m really enjoying the Humanities class. Lots of writing, which I can do. This week’s chapter was on Film and Television. We had to pick a movie and justify why it should be considered a classic using the themes taken from the chapter we read. (I picked All That Jazz. Honestly, I am still finding tidbits in that movie. Other student choices were Legally Blonde, The Hunger Games, and Sound of Music. Hmmm…) An upcoming project is to watch a classic film from a provided list. We can watch Casablanca or Citizen Kane, or a movie by one of these directors: Kubrick, Hitchcock, Kurosawa, Fellini, Godard, Truffaut, or Resnais. Really? I have to watch Citizen Kane again?? Well, if I must!
The music class has been a little more challenging. My music lessons were a long time ago and it’s taking a long time to get the names of the notes back in my head. And I never did learn bass clef, so that’s all new. And trying to remember what a 1/8 rest looks like. And put bar lines in 6/8 music. And there was some confusion regarding the textbook and if we really needed one or not. Turns out we do. Both classes are online so I do homework late at night.
Back to the farm.
Last Saturday, Padawan and I worked out in the machine shed finishing up some of the little odds and ends that haven’t been finished since I started the shop project. We ran some conduit and reconnected an outlet on the other side of my main shop door. The wires got disconnected during construction. I had other outlets, so didn’t really need that one, but I do sometimes need it. I practiced bending conduit and we added an upper outlet for the security cameras. I had padawan pull wires and install the outlet. I double checked it.
The pipe in the middle with the outlet at the top is what we did.
And we talked a lot. He sure makes life hard on himself. He’s not a self-starter, and I don’t know how many more times I can tell him, GET A FRICKEN JOB! Honestly, he’s a little afraid of having to become a responsible adult. He’s trying to coast through life without becoming “an adult”. It’s not working very well. He sure is a nice young man. Just dense.
Thursday morning, I drove my big tractor 20 miles to the John Deere dealer in Plainview. A few weeks ago, I had the water pump and thermostats replaced. And it still overheated. I drove it to them so they can work on it up there. They’ll hook it to a ‘dyno’; a gizmo that connects to the power take off and puts a ‘load’ on the tractor to work it. The tractor goes about 24 MPH. It took about 50 minutes. I try to take some secondary roads as much as possible to avoid the traffic. I like the wider roads better than the narrow roads.
A nice wide shoulder
A narrow stretch
I was lucky not to have too much traffic, and none of the drivers passing me did anything stupid. Tractors with cabs or ROPS, Roll Over Protective Structures, have seat belts. We don’t often wear the seatbelt, but I do if I’m on the highway, or I get into a sketchy situation. I went to put the seatbelt on, and the buckle wouldn’t latch. I futzed with it until I broke the latch. I was glad no one drove stupid.
And then, just before I got to Plainview, there was a dead skunk on the side of the road. You know what that means:
Listening to the 1940’s station the other day, I saw a song title, “Life Gits Tee-jus Don’t it” and that caught my attention. Sung by Carson Robison. He was a country singer from the mid 1920’s until his death in 1957. Wiki says he was a composer of ‘event’ songs that usually included a moral. Such as Remember Pearl Harbor, or The Wreck of Number Nine. The aforementioned Life Gets Tee-jus.., was a 1948 “worldwide hit” for MGM records. How about that?
The song starts off with these lyrics, spoken in a slow drawl:
The sun comes up and the sun goes down The hands on the clock go round and round I just wake up and it’s time to lay down, Life gets tee-jus, don’t it
And then goes on with these verses:
Hound dog’s howlin’ so forlorn Laziest dawg that ever was born He’s howlin’ ’cause he’s sittin’ on a thorn Just too tired to move over
And ends with this:
Well, the cow’s gone dry and the hens won’t lay And my well dried up last Saturday My troubles keep pilin’ up day by day And now I’m gettin’ dandruff
Sheez. Talk about a downer.
I will skip songs by Bing Crosby or Vaughn Monroe. I just can’t take their voices.
WHICH CLASSIC MOVIE WOULD YOU WATCH FROM THE LIST?
The other night I had a glasses mishap. In getting out of the car at PetSmart, I was completely unorganized, trying to grab the vet records (Freya had to have vaccine proof for her class), dog treats, leash, purse, keys. During this mess I managed to knocked my night driving glasses out of the car without realizing it.
When we got back to the car over an hour later, I noticed something a little shiny on the ground and when I reached down, saw that it was indeed my glasses. They were a little wonky with one arm stuck and not opening. I’m not sure what happened. I’m pretty sure that if I had stepped on them in my kerfuffle getting out of the car, I would have noticed that. On the other hand, if some other car had parked in the spot next to me while we were in class, it would have had to park REALLY close. If I had to bet my own money, I somehow crunched them.
Luckily the lens seemed fine. I was afraid to force the arm myself, so I took myself off to Warby Parker when they opened yesterday morning. I knew they wouldn’t charge me to look at the glasses, but wasn’t sure if they would charge me for fixing them (if they could). I was perfectly prepared to take them back home, force the arm and use duct tape until next summer, when I can get a new pair.
The technician started looking at them and twisting them without quoting me any pricing so I quit worrying. Then he set them down and went to “ask somebody something”… my worry-o-meter clicked on again. But he came back and went back to work. They looked good to me; he still wasn’t satisfied. At that point he went into the backroom and came out with a new frame, just the same as my old frame; I didn’t even know my frame was still being made – it’s been three years. He quickly popped my lens out of my injured frames and squeezed them into the new frame. Heated the bridge to make it fit me, cleaned up both lens and handed them over. No charge. I told him to be sure to send me a survey.
I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about Warby Parker before but their books of haiku are still for sale in the store and still too pricey for me but I thought I’d do quick haiku to great customer service:
Night glasses broken.
Warby Parker hits a run –
Night vision restored!
Any good customer service lately? Or absolutely rotten customer service?
