All posts by verily sherrilee

Directionally challenged, crafty, reading mother of young adult

Toes `til it Snows

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

Last week I decided to go to the gym on my way to work. To save time I threw on shorts and a t-shirt and packed my work clothes into my gym bag, slipped on my Birkenstock sandals and headed out. I needed to do a quick stop at the library to return a book before it went overdue; luckily the library is right on my way.

As I walked from the car to the library drop box, another woman pulled up behind me and got out to return her book. She had on a hat, jacket, gloves, long pants, shoes and socks. And there I was in my shorts, t-shirt and sandals. That’s when I realized that I have Minnesota’s weather in my blood.

I did chose Minneapolis based partly on the weather here. As a child, my family spent some of each summer and winter vacation in northern Wisconsin. Winter up here compared to winter in my home town is like those proverbial apples and oranges; I knew even as a 10-year old that I preferred cold and snow to mostly cold and mostly rainy. At the end of high school, I only looked at colleges in Wisconsin and Minnesota and after my wasband finished graduate school, we headed straight for Minneapolis without looking back.

I’ve been here ever since.

This year we’ve had such a nice protracted autumn that I still haven’t put away my summer clothing or brought out any of my long-sleeved items. I’m still wearing my Birkenstocks every day. A couple of days ago a friend of mind looked at my feet and said “Toes `til it snows?” My official new motto.

How to YOU prepare for the winter?

Fall Gardening – A Love/Hate Relationship

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

As most of you already know, I love my yard and my gardens. My long-range plan (no grass, all flowers) is coming to fruition in the front and in the back I’m enjoying planting in my bales and along edges until I’m out of dogs.

fallgarden1But as much as I love gardening in the spring and throughout the summer, I just run out of gardening steam in the fall. Right about the time the grass stops growing is when I quit wanting to garden. I always say I’m going to plant some more bulbs or move this patch of lilies to another spot or some other fall garden activity, but it never happens.  I only go out and finally bring in the hoses and do some yard clean up when the weather gets below freezing at night on a regular basis.  I even outsource the leaf raking to the Young Adult (for dog-sitting time).

fallgarden3Occasionally I’ll be forced into action. Last year before tim moved I ended up with about 18 big hostas from his yard. When I got home from his place, I took my gloves and shovel out immediately without even going in the house.  Got everything transplanted within a half hour because I was worried that if I went in the house and sat down I might not go back out. Same with items I got from Edith a couple of weeks ago.  But that’s the limit of my fall gardening energy.

So my autumn yard looks like a brown and rust version of my summer garden and my bales are breaking down. Every year I try to lengthen my “caring season” but so far I haven’t found a motivation that keeps me really engaged past the middle of September!

What makes you drag your feet?

State Fair!

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

I love the Fair.

I’m unapologetic about my love of the State Fair. I know that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but from the first time I walked through the arches on Snelling, I was hooked.  I love the animals, I love all the educational buildings, I love the butter heads, I love the art, I love the parade.  But most of all I love the people-watching.

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This year I went to the Fair three times: once all by myself, once with Young Adult and once with friends for Garrison Keillor’s show. I have a fun memory from each day.

On opening day, as I was sitting on the curb, waiting for the parade to start, a father and son came to sit in the space next to me. As they sat, the son (probably 11 or 12) let out a huge groan.  I couldn’t help but laugh and so did the dad.  I said to him “I expect to hear that kind of groan from myself or from your dad, but not from someone your age.”  Without missing a beat, the kid leaned over and said “I’m a catcher.  I have old knees.”  I almost snorted by water up my nose.

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On the day with Young Adult, we did the Bunny Barn first. I call the Young Adult “The Bunny Whisperer” because she has a way with the rabbits. Most of the rabbits sit near the back of their cages so that they can’t be reached.  Young Adult slips her hand into the cage and then waits.  One after another, the bunnies move to her side of the cage and let her pet them.  She probably has an 80% success rate.  It’s amazing.   Of course this means that we spend A LOT of time in the Bunny Barn and she usually suggests that we go home with a rabbit.  At one point I turned to her and said again “No, we can’t have a bunny.”  She replied, “I know, it would just be fodder for Guinevere.”  I was so excited that she knew the word “fodder” that I almost wept!

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On Friday I got to the fair in time for the parade. As the little kids’ farm train went by, in the last car I noticed a little boy (probably 8 or 9) doing the Vulcan salute.  I quickly flashed the salute in return; his face lit up and he gave me a huge thumb’s up.  Finally my ability to do “live long and prosper” has come in handy!

It was the best fair ever!

 Are you a fair person or not?

How to Behave Like an Animal at the Zoo

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

One of the places that Young Adult and I like to visit together is the Zoo. We like all kinds of zoos and animal parks, but our favorite is what I still refer to as “the new zoo”, meaning the Apple Valley Zoo. Even as a small child, YA loved the zoo and was always well behaved as well as pretty flexible about changing schedules, mealtimes and even nap time.  I wish I could take credit for her great behavior, but I think it was all about her!

Unfortunately many babies and toddlers aren’t up to a long hot day at the zoo. I feel a lot of sympathy for these families that are melting down and I stay out of everybody’s business. Nobody needs a stranger telling their children how to behave.  I even keep my mouth shut when people nearby are spouting nonsense like when we were standing at the moose exhibit and the woman next to me said to her child “Look at the reindeer.”  (I’m not making that up.)

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So it surprised me when an adult started knocking on the glass of the Amur Leopard enclosure and I immediately turned and said “Don’t do that!” in a loud voice. It just flew out of me and when he immediately said “OK” I felt bad that I’d been so quick and loud. Then he turned to the group he was with and groused “There aren’t any signs saying not to do that” in a voice just loud enough that it carried over to where YA and I were standing. My bad feeling evaporated immediately and my behavior started to circle the drain.  As we walked out of the area I said “What kind of ADULT needs a sign to keep him from knocking on the glass and disturbing the animals?”  Of course I raised my voice for all to hear.

As we walked back down the Grizzly Coast, I wondered if Young Adult would give me grief, but as she always does, she took the stranger’s AND my bad behavior in stride!

When do YOU want to correct the behavior of others?

Olympic-Sized Questions

I’m not a sports person. While I know the difference between the teeny white ball (golf), the small white ball (baseball) and the large white ball (volleyball) as well as few of the other kinds but that’s about it. Don’t ask me about drafts or leagues or even what team plays from what city or state. With the exception of the Vikings and the Packers, I’m clueless.

So it surprises me every four years that I love to watch the Olympics. When I was a young married person, we had a little bitty TV in our little bitty apartment and we actually rented a big console job for the 2+ weeks of the Olympics. I usually root for the USA, but if we’re not in a particular heat or contest, then I go for the underdog. Over the weekend, I cheered big time when the Serbian rowers came back after their catastrophic boat sinking the day before and I really want Catalina Ponor (the only Romanian woman gymnast this year) to do well.

But I do have a few questions:

Beach volleyball.  Why do the women’s teams wear what are basically Band-aids as their uniforms but the men’s teams wear big long shorts and tank tops?

Gymnastics.  Why do the women wear leotards that look like they’re painted onto their bodies while the men wear loose baggy shorts or long pants?

Diving.  And reversing the trend, how do men keep on those little tiny speedos when they’re hitting the water at 30 miles per hour?

Grunting. Why do men tense up their arms and shoulders and grunt/yell when they win a point or match like Maori warriors? (I’ve noticed this is a man thing – very little grunting/yelling from women.)

Commentators.  Why don’t they vet the commentators before they go live?  You’d hardly know that Nastia Liukin is there; seems like she doesn’t speak unless asked a question. Why is Ryan Seacrest in Rio? I didn’t realize he had beach volleyball knowledge to impart. And don’t get me started about Al Trautwig and his adoption comment.

Waiting around. Why is so much TV coverage spent watching athletes wait around?  I really don’t need to see 15 minutes a night of Michael Phelps wearing his headphones and scowling off into space.

What questions do you have about the Olympics?

Perfect Pitch

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

I’m on vacation this week. I’m not doing anything special – just hanging around the house.  A little gardening, a little cooking, a little studio time, a little reading.  OK – a lot of reading.

I’ve gotten a couple of earworms this week, which is way more than usual.  First I got a Beach Boys song stuck for most of a day (Help Me Rhonda) and then yesterday it was The Girl From Ipanema. I don’t remember what started this and I don’t even know the lyrics to this song, but it stuck around all day.   Finally after several hours I started to hum and then eventually, as I was working in my studio, I began to sing the tune out loud.

I can carry a tune. I’m in a choir.  I’ve even sung at the Guthrie (as part of the choir, not on my own).  But when I started to sing, both dogs, who had been snoozing away on the floor near my feet, got up and left the room.

Both of them.

Do you sing the car or the shower?

The First Tomato

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

My first tomato of the season! It’s small – a variety of grape tomato known as the Santa.  I noticed it starting to turn a couple of days ago and was hoping some critter didn’t get to it before it was perfectly red and ready.  There it was last night when I got home; it didn’t even make it into the house before I had popped it in my mouth. I try not to say “OMG” too much but OMG!

I’ve always loved tomatoes. I love big fat tomato slices on open-faced cheese sandwiches. I love little tiny tomatoes in pasta salad.  Chunks of tomato with orzo and basil.  Salsa with tomatillos.  Spaghetti w/ tomatoes, olive oil and spinach. Bruschetta with diced tomatoes and garlic.  Hardly a way you can make something with tomatoes that I don’t like.

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For many years I tried, unsuccessfully, to grow my own. The garden plot was decimated by dogs; the “hanging” contraption was too heavy and kept falling over.  Plants just never grew in big pots.  It was so demoralizing that for many years, I didn’t even try.  Then, thanks to someone mentioning it on the Trail, I read Tomatoland by Barry Estabrook, an exposé on the tomato industry.  It was horrifying and I came away from the book with a new determination to grow my own tomatoes.  It was this determination that led me to straw bale gardening – finally a way to have my own home-grown tomatoes.

I know I’m probably not saving any money by growing my own (cost of bales, cost of water, cost of seedlings, etc.) but I do love picking a tomato, taking in the house and eating it for dinner. There is nothing like it in my book!

What summer produce can you hardly wait for?

Team of Eight

Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

I’m one of those folks who can’t quite get over the fact that Pluto has been demoted from planet to dwarf planet. I’m not a complete fanatic; I haven’t cried over it and I haven’t written any poison pen letters to Neil deGrasse Tyson whose Hayden Planetarium was the first to build an exhibit with the Pluto demotion for all the world to see. Although to be completely honest, I DO own a t-shirt that says “Pluto. Revolve in Peace. 1930-2006.”

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I was not thinking about Pluto this morning until I went to the post office to replenish my postage stamp stock. They know me pretty well there and know that I’m always looking for new and fun stamps. When I said I needed stamps today, the clerk said, “Oh I have some new ones to show you.” and pulled out some national park stamps and also a sheet of stamps with the eight planets. They’ve very pretty but I couldn’t resist a “poor Pluto” comment.

EightPlanets2The clerk laughed and said “Wait, you’ll appreciate this” as he disappeared into the back. A minute later he returned with a four-stamp sheet with Pluto and the New Horizons spacecraft (the one that did the close flyby of Pluto recently). At this point I was laughing as well, knowing that I am clearly not the only one out there who is still mourning the loss of Pluto from our team of nine. Of course I had to buy a sheet of those as well. I’m not a stamp collector or saver but I might have to make an exception for the Pluto stamp!

What can’t you just let go of?

Castle Danger

Today’s post is by Verily Sherrilee

When Chris from Owatonna announced on the Trail a couple of months ago that he had published his novel, I was thrilled – as a member of our blog community and as a reader. I couldn’t wait to get a copy and when Chris mentioned he was having a kick-off signing I asked for the afternoon off right away.  tim and I  both went down for the occasion.

It was a perfect day for a drive down to Perfect Day Cakes where Chris’ signing was held. The bakery was all set up, including a delicious-looking array of cupcakes and fancy doughnuts.  Chris signed several books and then spoke a bit about how he got to today.

During fundraising for Big Brothers/Big Sisters, an organization he has volunteered with for many years, Chris used to write long letters describing his own experience and the progress of his Little Brother.

Danger4Many of the recipients of those letters commented on his writing ability and eventually several folks encouraged him to write a book. While he was writing he was also researching the independent publishing industry which has evolved greatly over the past decade. Now that he is published, he hasn’t forgotten how he got his inspiration.  For every book that he sells, $1 goes to Big Brothers/Big Sisters; after he re-coups his hard costs, then he’ll raise that to $2 per book.

Castle Danger is a thriller with mystery, suspense and romance set in northern Minnesota during the height of blizzard season.  Chris is thinking about re-visiting an earlier unpublished book that will be a pre-quel and then maybe a sequel to Castle Danger as well.  Eventually he’d like to spread his wings a bit more and try some tween fiction as well.

I can’t wait to finish this blog piece so I can start reading my personal signed copy!

What author would you like to meet and get an autograph from?

 

Baboon Redux: Zorie Story

Today’s re-post comes from Verily Sherrilee

A 2016 note from the author:  My company is doing its usual “Summer of Love”.  The dress code is relaxed and flip flops will be an acceptable footwear for the next three months.  I don’t really have anything new to say about my massive flip flop collection, but if you’re looking for things to re-run for the holiday weekend, we could re-run my flip flop bit from a  couple of years ago.

My father’s sister, Joan, spent a couple of years in Japan, teaching English. I was four when she came home, bearing exotic gifts. One of these treasures was a small black enamel chest of drawers; since it wasn’t to my parents’ taste, I lucked out. For reasons that I’ll never understand, it was always referred to as “the Chinese chest”. I still have it; it lives in my dining room and now I’ve raised another generation to name it incorrectly.

The most enduring gift, however, were the zories; she brought 2 pairs for me and 2 pairs for my sister. I had never had anything like them and nobody else I knew had them either – not the older, traditional Japanese style with tatami soles on wooden platforms, but plastic zories. White. If my mom had let me, I would have worn them everywhere.

My parents were ecstatic because they discovered a perfect gift for me for any occasion. Zories weren’t popular foot ware when I was growing up, but they did manage to find zories in places like Ben Franklin and Woolworth’s. I didn’t know anyone else who wore zories; in fact, I was in college before I knew that everyone else in America called them flip flops!

The last 15 years have been zorie-heaven for me. These days you can get zories in any color, any design and they are CHEAP. I have an Old Navy account so that every year I am eligible for their $1 flip flop sale. I have white zories, blue zories, purple, yellow, coral. I have fourth of July zories, Halloween zories, Christmas zories, flowers, stripes. Four years ago my company started a super-casual summer program – the dress code is pretty much thrown out. This means I can wear my zories to work every day in the summer.

As the Old Navy sale was approaching this year, I thought I would do an inventory of my zories to see what colors I could add to my collection. I pulled them all out of the closet, paired them all up and laid them all out, beginning with the white and finishing up with the black.

Then I made my fatal error; I counted them. THIRTY-EIGHT!!! I own 38 pairs of zories. 38! I didn’t go to the sale this year.

I may not go next year either.

What do you have too many of?