Starting Sunday, it will be a wild ride at our house. Our son and his wife are flying to Savannah, GA so our son can attend the American Counseling Association conference and they can both have a much deserved vacation. Our grandson, who will be 5 in April, was going to spend the week with his maternal grandparents in Mankato. They are a lovely retired couple, both educators, some years older than me and Husband. We are Oma and Opa. They are Grandma and Papa.
Last weekend Papa fell and broke his upper arm bone. It is painful. He and Grandma are disappointed that their combined health issues make it impossible for them to look after our grandson, so we agreed to take him for the week. Son will drive him to Fargo from Brookings, SD on Sunday, I will pick him up in Fargo on Sunday and drive back here with him.
Opa and I plan to tag team child care next week in terms of work. I will work mornings. Opa will watch Grandson, and then we will switch, and Opa will work afternoons and I will watch Grandson. Opa loves to swim and will take him to the swimming pools at our local recreation center. We also have story time at the local library, lots of books in our home, and Oma’s play therapy room at work where any 4 year old would think he was in heaven. We will have to integrate Grandson and our spoiled dog. I expect to be exhausted, but happy, by the end of the week.
Imagine an almost 5 year old boy was coming to stay with you for a week. What would you do with him? What are you favorite grandparent memories?
I got the idea for this on Sunday as I talked with our daughter. (It is sort of a continuation of VS’s post from yesterday, although I didn’t plan it that way.)
I drove our daughter to Bismarck for violin lessons one day a week from the time she was in Grade 6 until she graduated from high school. That was a 190 mile round trip each week for seven years, but it was worth it. It was a really wonderful experience for our daughter. It gave us time to bond. She made a particular, same-age friend named Michelle who is now an environmental engineer based in Virginia. Friend’s job is to monitor and lessen environmental impacts for a coal mining company. She and Daughter decided to visit their Suzuki teacher this past weekend who moved to New Mexico to care for her aging parents. They had a great time.
They flew into El Paso, had a rather harrowing, late-night drive to Roswell, NM to see what was there, and then drove to Las Cruces to visit their teacher and her husband, and see the sights. They were surprised by the high elevations and all the snow. They drove into the mountains and visited the grave of the real Smokey The Bear, where they both inexplicably burst into tears. They loved the food. They had such fun connecting with their teacher, and pledged to visit her again.
One of their most memorable eating experiences was at a hole in the wall place in Las Cruces called Perk and Jerk, a breakfast place with award winning jerky and great coffee. Its interior was less than welcoming.
Daughter said it was the best jerky she ever had. I guess appearances can be deceiving.
Daughter and her friend decided that they want to have more travel adventures together. Daughter said that being together seems to cancel out their respective anxieties, and that they are extremely compatible. Their next trip is to West Virginia to visit a coal mine museum in September. I reminded Daughter that her ancestors are Scots coal miners, and that her great great great grandfather died in a coal mining accident near Glasgow. The family immigrated to Ohio and West Virginia and continued to mine until they found other work. Her friend has an adopted grandparent couple in Bismarck who are from Norway, so in the spring of 2024 they want to travel to Oslo and the Faroe Islands and honor those folks’ relatives. I think it is wonderful.
Who are your best and worst travel companions?What makes for a great traveling companion? Ever been to the Faroe islands?
On Saturday I went to the Celebration of Life for my oldest friend, Deana. She wasn’t my oldest friend in terms of age but in terms of longevity; there are folks that I have known longer but they fall into the acquaintance category. I met Deana in 1977 and we were fast friends from the beginning.
When she met my then-boyfriend, she used to refer to him as “the Greg Person” which eventually became “the GP”. Once we got married, if Greg picked up the phone receiver and then after a few seconds of silence, he would hand the phone to me saying “it’s Deana”. She always said she was so surprised when a man answered the phone that she was temporarily speechless.
At one point I took a cake decorating class from a visiting artist and one of the things we made were pink elephants sitting in champagne glasses. Deana adored these elephants and when her youngest got married, she had me make a groom’s cake covered with pink elephants and tipped over champagne glasses. It was hysterical.
Deana loved to travel – all her traveling involved throwing her bags and various children/grandchildren/great grandchildren into her big van and heading off down the road. She even included YA once when YA was about 10. That trip went to South Carolina and Florida.
She never wanted to retire – she always said she would work until the last minute. After leaving the food industry, she ended up at a support and housing organization for the intellectually disabled, a place where she worked for close to 40 years. She also worked at the local grocery store, managing the floral station.
Once when I visited I discovered all my Ukrainian eggs along with some shiny holiday ornaments hanging from the ceiling in the front room. She said it was too dangerous to have a tree up that year with her youngest having just learned to stand and walk but she didn’t want to entirely forego her ornaments.
I wouldn’t call her a hippy but she did love bright colors, especially tie-dye. She actually told folks before her death that she wanted people to come to her service in vibrant colors – no black or gray or, heaven forbid, navy blue.
Deana was a collector of people. If you wandered into her orbit, her gravity would grab you and never let go. She was very close to all of her family as well as those she considered family. The house was always full of kids and grandkids. If you needed a hand, Deana would be there to offer help.
At the service we sang one of her favorite songs, Puff the Magic Dragon. Normally a tear jerker for me but considering that Deana is gone, it was particularly poignant. And as always, I did not come prepared with enough tissues.
Ever since we defrosted our freezers several weeks ago and were able to see what frozen leftovers we had, Husband and I have been making a point of eating those leftovers and trying not to put any leftovers from new dishes in the freezers. Every night during the week we say to each other “we’re not cooking or baking this weekend, are we.”
Then Saturday rolls around, and our resolve crumbles. This weekend, “not cooking” resulted in an Italian Pie of Greens and two loaves of Leinsamen Mischbrot, a German sourdough bread made of several kinds of flours and flaxseed. The previous weekend, “not cooking” resulted in a cod and mussel stew with harissa, chicken tortellini soup, and four loaves of French bread. We tell ourselves that since the Swiss chard for the pie and the makings for the stew and the soup were already in the freezers, that it is good to have homemade bread on hand, and that none of the newly prepared main dishes went in the freezer as leftovers, we are kind of, sort of, sticking to our plan. There are noticeably fewer containers now in the Lutheran freezer where all the leftovers go.
Husband informs me that we are now eating the last loaf of rye bread from the freezer. Beatrice Ojakangas, the Duluth cookbook author, said that her father would complain to her mother that “there isn’t anything to eat in this house” if he couldn’t find any rye bread in the kitchen. Husband loves rye bread, but insists that he isn’t going to bake for a while. I notice, though, that there is rye sourdough starter in the fridge, and we just got some rye chops we had ordered, so I can guess what we are “not baking” next weekend.
When is your resolve the weakest? What is your favorite bread to make or eat? How do you deal with leftovers?
Wednesday night Husband and I were talking about a recent complaint that my regulatory board received about a licensee, as Husband is the new Board Investigator. It is an unpaid position that I volunteered him for because he is semi-retired and very fastidious in his work and there wasn’t anyone else to do it and he is my spouse.
He said we would need to finesse the written response to the complaint. I thought he said defenestrate the response. I was confused. Once we got that cleared up, we had a good laugh and both did some research on The Defenestration of Prague. What a strange word and even stranger concept!
What have you been “volunteered” for something by virtue of being related to someone? Have you ever wanted to be an investigator? Who or what have you wanted to throw out of a window?
The regulatory board of which I am a member has had the same attorney for the past 11 years. The Board attorney is provided to us by the State Attorney General’s Office. He has been very helpful. We were sad to learn at our most recent meeting that he is leaving to be the executive director of a medical practitioner regulatory group. We will miss him.
I am happy to say that my experiences with attorneys have been pretty limited over the years. I mainly interact with the local county attorneys in my capacity as an expert witness and when I am the expert examiner for mental health commitments. I get along quite well with all the county attorneys and district judges. We used to have a quite inept local attorney who everyone referred to as “The Dumb Swede” to distinguish him from “The Big Swede”, a very tall district judge. I keep waiting for the retirement of another local attorney who must be in his 70’s and who has had the same really awful toupee for the 35 years I have known him. The toupee looks like it is being devoured by moths.
The other day in the grocery store, Husband and I ran into one of our district judges (not the Big Swede) who also attends our church. The judge made a comment about a rather flamboyant older member of the congregation who had recently died. Husband told His Honor in jest that he really needed to stop judging people like that. The judge thought that was pretty funny.
What have been your experiences with attorneys? Any good lawyer or judge jokes?Any stories about toupees?
Husband and I have an extremely loving relationship, but we have never been able to agree about toothpaste. I find Colgate toothpaste too chalky. He doesn’t like the way my Crest toothpaste tastes like fluoride. Neither of us will change our toothpaste preferences. I guess that is what you might call brand loyalty.
I am the most fussy about food ingredients, so that I try to bake with King Arthur Flour products and cook with this Turkish olive oil we get at the Syrian grocery store in Fargo. We also buy Barilla or De Cecco pasta, organic cream, and Land O Lakes butter.
I wonder if the days of exclusive brand loyalty are over for marketing agencies, or if they still try to make people exclusive Ford purchasers, for example.
What brands are you “loyal” to? What are some “off brands” you would recommend? What kind of toothpaste do you prefer?
Our winter has been quite septic this year, with far more ice accumulation than we have ever had before. There is a 4 inch thick layer of ice on our driveway, with lesser amounts on the front stoep and sidewalks.
Since Husband hurt his wrist we are very wary of walking on the ice, and for the first time we bought a container of Ice Melt to help with ice removal. The temperatures have been in the 30’s and 40’s, and that has led to a gradual melt with refreezing at night when the temperature drops. Although it works well, I hate to use the commercial Ice Melt too much since it is mostly salt and I don’t want the salty ice that I manage to remove with the ice removal blade to get into our garden beds. That means pushing the salty ice chunks to the end of the driveway. That is very tiring.
I am the primary ice remover in the family right now, and I am really stiff and sore from the ice removal process. I think of creative and probably illegal or impractical ways of quickly getting rid of the ice when I am out there in the driveway, but I am afraid we are stuck another month of this nonsense. Bring on the Ibuprofen!
What are some creative ways you would get rid of ice, legal or otherwise? How do you manage sore muscles? What are your remedies for cabin fever?
Husband remarked the other day that in the almost 40 years we have been married, we probably only watched the Super Bowl twice, both times at a friend’s house.
Neither of us follow sports, college or professional. In the last few years I have only been glad there was a Super Bowl because it was a good day to have our church annual meeting right after the last morning service. The annual meeting is a tedious affair, especially if there are contentious issues to discuss. People are far more willing to compromise when they want to get home for the pregame show. Things have simmered down over the last 15 years with the deaths of many of the more iconoclastic church members who would get up in arms about important theological issues like being opposed to installing air conditioning even though it would insure that the service committee ladies didn’t swelter in the kitchen while preparing the funeral lunches, and brides didn’t faint in the heat in the sanctuary during summer weddings.
When I was a girl we would usually go to my paternal grandparents’ home when there were important games to watch on TV. I always enjoyed listening to my dad and his brother, both high school and college sports officials, call penalties before the TV officials would. Our plans for this Sunday are to sing in the church choir and head home to take naps. Salmon and mussel stew with harissa are on the menu. The annual meeting was two weeks ago. Life is good.
How will you spend Super Bowl Sunday? What are your favorite things to eat when you watch the Super Bowl? Any meetings you dread having to attend?
Should be warming up by the time you’re reading this. My mom’s mother’s birthday is February 8, 1899. (She died on February 8, 1990.) and mom always said, by her mom’s birthday you could tell spring was coming and the days are getting longer.
But boy, the wind on Thursday. Blowing out of the North and it’s COLD, yet the sunshine is so nice.
15° but there’s mud on the south side of the shed, and that’s what’s so cool about the weather. The sun sure is getting powerful as we move toward spring and April showers and it will be here before you know it.
We were at supper with friends the other night and comfort food came up. I hadn’t thought of an actual food to call comfort food and I was kinda stumped. Popcorn was a big one though. Lately I’ve been making coleslaw at home. Met a friend at the grocery store one day and he had a bag of cabbage mix in his cart, and I thought that sounded good. A little vinegar, sour cream, mayo, pinch of sugar, some salt and pepper, garlic and onion, and Kelly and I are really enjoying it. I can’t figure out why. I think it’s such a good mix of crunchy, creamy, with just a little ‘zing’ too it. Some of you that know your way around the kitchen better than us; should we replace the bay leave that’s been in our flour container since 1997??
Egg production is down a bit with these temps, but everyone is surviving. I’ve got my new hooded jacket, zak-traks for my new insulated boots, and wearing nitrile gloves under my regular gloves and were doing fine.
This cold weather has me thinking of watering calves when I was growing up. Baby calves were kept in the barn with the cows. (Which is frowned upon but now; too many germs spread from cows to the calves that the calves are not old enough to handle yet.) They were warm and I had a simple float on a bucket for their water. When they were about 3 months old, I moved them up to the other barn. They’d be about 300 pounds and boy, that was a rodeo. It’s only 50 feet from here to there, but they didn’t know where they were going, and after burning the horn buds off they were all riled up and it was all I could do to get them up there. It was uphill. Both ways. I just hung on for the ride and tried to head them in that direction. Course once in that barn, I still had to get the rope halter off them. I was younger then thank goodness.
And in this barn was an old metal water tank. 400 gallons or something. One of those galvanized oval metal tanks you’ve all seen. In the summer it was outside with a hose and a float to keep it full of water. In the winter, it was inside. Dad didn’t believe in electric waterers nor was there an outlet in the barn and the calves would have gotten into it and that would be a whole big thing.
Sometimes I would use a hose to fill the tank. And then drain the hose and it hang inside the feed room door, so it was on the warm barn side. But if I didn’t want to use the hose, I used 5 gallon buckets. Carrying those buckets of water built muscle and character. Carrying 2 did it even faster. Remember it was uphill. Depending on the weather, it might take 4 or 6 buckets to fill it. When it was this cold it all froze solid except maybe a depression in the middle so it would only hold 5 gallons. Eventually I’d have to knock out the ice to make more room. The calves, like any outdoor animal, is fine in the cold as long as they can get out of the wind, and they have enough food and water to keep their energy up. When it got to the point they couldn’t drink I could bang on the outside using the backside of an old axe, then chop out a bunch inside, then pound some more on the outside. Mind you, eventually I’d cut a hole in the metal. Sooner if I forgot to turn the axe around. Then it held less water…
As the weather got warmer, eventually Id be able to get the water tank out of the frozen manure, and flipped over all ALL the ice knocked out of it and those ice chunks would last a long time.
So now in winter I haul water in 8 quart buckets to the chickens. It’s downhill all the way to their pen. And a longer walk of 150 feet. (summer we use a hose and multiple buckets) I can carry two buckets in one hand, and corn and water in the other. I have strong fingers. Maybe from all those 5 gallon buckets?
Chickens don’t like bread crust either. But they didn’t eat the cantaloupe, which is weird. We’ve always said we have fussy chickens.
I’ve mentioned we have electric heat. When its below zero, it might cost us $12 / day and I have to think, how much is heat worth to me? Do I want to be cold or do I want to pay the $12.
Good thing this cold spell didn’t last too long.
What Is your favorite cabbage recipe? What is the longest cold spell you remember?What is your ice removal strategy? What do you do with old spices?
Trail Baboon 