Category Archives: Family

Naughty Dog!

I have a naughty dog.

She’s 12+, moving slowly but three times this week I’ve come home to chaos. Three nights ago she had gotten into Nonny’s room and eaten the last two little bags of kitty treats that I had wrapped as gifts, as well as ripping open the wrapping on another gift.  One box with a Ukrainian egg was downstairs, but luckily not chewed or broken.

Two days ago she managed to get a hold of a bag of spiced almonds that I thought were pushed back far enough on the counter. Guess not. She ate the entire bag (about a cup of almonds).  I also found the box that had had rosettes in it on the floor, but YA says the box was empty when she left.  Tell that to the shredded tissue paper that was in the box!

Tonight Rhiannon had managed to get back into Nonny’s room… she pushed the gate down. There wasn’t anything to eat in there anymore but she did knock down the box with the remaining Ukrainian eggs.  Again no damage (luckily).  That box is now locked on the attic steps.

She can’t even blame it on YA’s dog, as Guinevere is always kenneled when we’re out of the house.   All the other dogs I’ve had over the years have become mellower over the years.  Guess Rhiannon is going against the grain!

Are you getting naughtier with age?

Pajama Enforcement

Today’s post comes to us from Crystal Bay.

Like VS’s friend from last week, when my children were little, I’d search for matching pjs every Christmas. I wanted to photograph them together looking really cute, then use the pictures for holiday cards. Back then, matching pjs of different sizes were hard to come by because clothing sizes only came in age groupings: infants to toddler, toddler to elementary school, junior to adult.  This forced me to go to three different departments in hopes that each one just might have the same pj in the next size up. Now, whole family sets are available, from infants to grown men.

After scoring (when I could), the next challenge was to get my three kids to put them on just for a photo shoot. They wanted nothing to do with fulfilling my desire for matching children.  I cajoled them, bribed them with treats, got angry at them, and sometimes even said that I’d pay them. The age at which they became uncooperative was around six.  I’ll never know whether their obstinacy was due to not wanting to look alike, or due to them knowing how badly I wanted to show them off.

Moving this tradition up another generation, my daughter skipped matching pjs when her five kids were little and started buy them when they were teenagers. For five years running, she’s spent a fortune buying each matching pjs, including a pair for herself. Each Christmas, they not only don them, they spend the whole day in them! This year, they even wore them all day at my son’s house. We always gather there because he has the largest home of all of us.

Maybe her success is because they identify with being a big brood. The older they get, the closer they’ve become to one another and to their mom. In my child-rearing days, my kids were closer to me when they were not yet teenagers. I can no more picture my kids spending all of Christmas day in matching pjs than I can imagine walking a mile in sub-zero weather!

What tradition will you be “enforcing” in 2018?

Hoping

Every morning our grey cat sits expectantly  by the front door, waiting.  She waits for the magic moment when the light appears on the living room wall and ceiling above our media cabinet.   She knows it is somehow associated with my cell phone.  This morning she saw me walk into the living room with my phone, and immediately jumped on top of the media cabinet, waiting for the light. The kitten stays on the floor, as her legs are too short to make the leap to the top.  The light sometimes appears low enough for her to pounce, and she waits for it, too.

When I sit in the love seat  by the bay window, the sun reflects off my cell phone screen and I can flash a light all over the walls and ceiling. The kitten tries to grab it. It always slips between her paws. The grey cat just sits and watches it with fascination and excitement.  It seems to be strangely satisfying for her, as though her day is off to a good start when the light appears.  As the days shortened this fall, the light sometimes didn’t even show up, since the sun wasn’t in the right position until after I left for work.  The grey cat never gave up hope.  She waited each morning.

Today we planned our garden and chose the seed varieties for next summer. I hope the rains come and we don’t have a drought.   I don’t think we are too different from our cats, waiting with hope for the promise of light in this dark season and these even darker times.

The new year has just started. What are you hoping for?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Helmer and Leroy

November 11 was a red letter day in Luverne this year. Helmer and Leroy, the two remaining members of the Last Man Club opened the bottle of Bourbon, took a swig, and named  and honored their deceased friends in a last ceremony.

Helmer Haakenson is 98,  and Leroy Luitjens was 93, I believe. Helmer is the thinner man. Leroy died a couple of weeks later in November.  The club was started in 2010, comprised of Second World War veterans who met every day at the grocery store for coffee and mutual support.  My dad was a member. Every guy had a coffee cup with his name on it. Glen, the grocery store owner, provided free doughnuts. When you died, they turned your cup upside down and placed it in the cup rack on the wall.  The rack also contained a huge bottle of expensive bourbon. The bottle was to be opened by the last man, who then was to name his fallen comrades and drink a toast to their memory.

After the founder of the club died earlier this year, Helmer and Leroy decided to open the bottle at the town Veteran’s Day Ceremony. Former Governor Pawlenty’s wife was a special friend to the group, and she participated in the ceremony. Ken Burns, who featured Luverne in his documentary The War, wrote a congratulatory letter, which was read aloud.  Then they opened the bottle, drank a toast, and the name of every member was read and a passing bell was rung.

Helmer insisted that the remaining members in 2014 be honorary pall bearers at my dad’s funeral. He is a hero to me, along with Leroy. I have known them both since my childhood.  I need to write to Helmer.

Who are your heroes?

 

The Pajama Proliferation

YA and I spent Christmas Eve at my friends’ home (Alan and Julie). They have 11 grandkids, age 8 and under.  It’s chaos.  As if having that many kids hopped up on holiday sweets and anticipating gifts together in an enclosed space isn’t enough, Alan is just a big kid himself and eggs them on.

Just before we opened gifts (one at a time starting with the youngest), the pajamas were brought out. This has been a tradition for many years, complete with paparazzi-style photo session once all the kids are jammied up.  As much fun as it is, I do think about the cost of this tradition.  Everybody gets new pajamas for the occasion.  Then the next year everybody gets a new pair.  None of these pajamas gets handed down or worn the next year.  Of course, considering how fast all these kids are growing, they probably need new pajamas every year anyway!

What’s your favorite tradition?

Second Chances

Today’s post comes from Crystalbay.

I can’t recall if I shared that my new Ragdoll kitten tragically died of cardiac arrest during a routine neutering a month ago. I read that one out of every 1100 kittens have a fatal reaction to anesthetic. “Trouble” drew the unlucky number. My vet was so devastated that he said he wanted to pay for half of the $850 cost for another Ragdoll. I searched everywhere for a kitten my remaining kitten’s age (they were littermates) and found one just two weeks older. This poor, young vet was so distraught by losing an adorable healthy young kitten that he’s called several times to see how I was doing. It’s been pretty clear that he’s the one who most needs consoling.  The breeder drove the replacement kitten here, and when she let him emerge from the carrier, I was stunned by the large size of him.  He weighs three times what my female Ragdoll does. She then said that his mom is 20 pounds and his dad 26 pounds. My expectations of replacing Trouble with another small kitten were immediately dashed!

I wrestled for two weeks deciding whether or not to keep him, and ultimately decided I would make the 15-year commitment. I landed on the perfect name for my giant kitten: Buddha. He sits around like Buddha on his throne. 

Today, I had to take him in for his pre-op exam. Tomorrow he’s being neutered and laser declawed (he’s already torn up some upholstery). First, I tried putting him in the carrier. He splayed his back legs and I couldn’t get him in. He’s so large that he can only be put in a carrier head first. A couple of tries and I gave up. My next ploy was to put him in a pillowcase – something that’s worked with 18 previous cats. He squirmed and he rolled and he fought to escape in the car, so I ended up literally trying to hold the opening shut with one hand while driving with the other. He succeeded in pushing his head up through my grip anyway, and commenced to yowl and crawl around.

Here I thought getting him to the vet would only be a problem when he’s full grown, but it appears that there may be no way to corral him for future vet visits in the future! I ended up leaving him at the clinic instead of bringing him back in the morning for his surgery. The staff said they’ll help me shove him into the carrier to come home.

This photo was taken the first time he laid on my lap a week ago. All two feet of him. I’ll also post a picture of my little girl, Sweetie.

Tell about some of your second chances.

Child-proofing

Today’s post comes from Barbara in Rivertown

It’s time to child-proof the house. We have a 22-month-old child visiting between Christmas and New Years, with her grandma (my sis) and her dad (my nephew). Although they will be sleeping at an air.bnb nearby (bless their hearts), they will still spend much time here in our little house. I’ve been trying to look around the place with “toddler eyes” and have discovered several problematic spots where Lela Ann might have a field day (and/or be in danger).

Husband and I are very used to our adult, somewhat “open and cluttered” lifestyle. I like “see through” furniture that appears to take up less space than closed cabinets, and many of the open shelves are at toddler level. Here are some potential hazards…

So I’m trying to replace breakable things on lower shelves with soft and plastic toddler-friendly things. I’ll get out my toy box, my kids’ books (at least the stiff-paged board books), and the musical instrument basket. I hope to clear one corner so she can have one place to create and leave a “mess”. I’ll try camouflaging some problematic spaces with fabric, like this on the electronics shelf:

 

When have you had to kid proof your place?

Are you having any Christmas visitors (whether you have to child-proof or not) this year?

Christmas Fun

Today’s post comes from  Crystalbay.

I always look for inexpensive gifts for all my grand kids, then buy 12 of them. Last year, I found little attachments for iPhones to enhance the quality of pix. Only $10 each. This year, I found something called, “Flashing Disco Ball”. This amazed me on video tape. It’s a golf ball sized ball with LED lights inside it and has two sets of helicopter-like rotor blades. It senses any object within six inches, so just putting your hand or your foot within this distance, the ball rises over and over and over.

I thought I’d try using it to make sure that it even worked as advertised, then turned it on. Boy, did it ever work. The damn thing flew all over the room every time my palm approached it!! YEAH!! A great gift!! Then, things turned ugly as I decided to bring it in for a landing. I moved all over the room trying to retrieve it but each effort just sent it off in a different direction. It’d gone up and wouldn’t come down. I tried sneaking up on it with the intention of grabbing it. I did this with reservations, thinking either I’d break the rotors, or the rotors would slice my fingers. Again, it darted away.

By this time, I was desperate to bring it home, so I grabbed a broom to just whack it. It sensed the broom and made a beeline to the other corner of the room. Eventually, it just disappeared on the floor. I’ve yet to find it. It later occurred to me that if I’d just refrained from trying to catch it and it had no more resistance to something 6″ away from it, it would’ve come down on its own!

Now then, I plan to charge up all 12 (minus the one I can’t find) so that all of them can fill Steve’s living room at one time. Just try to imagine that!

What are some of your more memorable holiday gifts?

A Good Soak

I was just thinking the other day how sad it is that our ancestors went thousands and thousands of years without the joy of a long hot shower.

If you went back in time, what wouldn’t you want to do without?

A Simple Misunderstanding

I have a dear friend at work who has the most delightfully quirky elderly relatives.  They are, by and large, aunts and uncles in their 80’s and 90’s, all who speak in thick, German-Hungarian accents with very local idioms.  My friend, I will call her Donna, can relate their conversations with great accuracy, even down to the accent. She recently had two priceless conversations.

The first was with an uncle who told her “Sweetie, I have to tell you, I’m not doing so good”.  He apparently had some sort of “spell” and totaled his car after running into three others after going into reverse when he meant to go forward.  He didn’t go to the doctor since he had just been there two weeks before.  He then told Donna “Don’t be surprised if you get a call one of these days to tell you that I woke up dead”.  ” Waking up dead” happens a lot out here.  It is a one of my favorite phrases.

The other conversation was equally serious. Donna sent out a short, humorous Christmas letter this year letting people know that her oldest son and his wife had another child. Donna put photos of the two grandchildren on the page, and ended her letter with “I never thought I would be sleeping with a grandpa!” referring, of course to her husband.

Donna got a phone call from a very elderly aunt and uncle, both in their 90’s, after she sent out the letter.

Her aunt told her “We got that Christmas letter, then. That was pretty dirty. You shouldn’t talk like that. We prayed for you.”

Donna realized that her aunt and uncle missed entirely the news that she and her husband were grandparents, and thought she was bragging about sexual exploits. She patiently told them about the new grandchildren and that she was referring to her husband in the last sentence.  She told them, “You know,  I’m not one of them runaround girls “,  another lovely local phrase.  Her uncle then said:

“That is pretty funny!  Oh!! You!!” accompanied by a quick, sharp, wave of the hand to emphasize the silliness and loving exasperation he felt.   As Donna always says, you can’t make this stuff up.

When have you been misunderstood?