Both YA and I love to spend time at the Pet Pavilion and Dog Meet/Greet booths at the Fair. The other place we always hit is the Stunt Dog Show that features dog dock diving as well as some trick dog demonstrations. It’s amazing to me what they have taught these dogs to do.
I’ve had dogs my entire life but for most of that time, I didn’t think much about tricks. All my dogs went to basic obedience but the basics for me have always been sit, down, come and off. Growing up my folks never even did basic obedience. YA’s dog, Guinevere (who has issues) has been to a LOT of obedience, mostly just to have her around other dogs and people. Because of this we’ve managed to teach her some tricks (roll over, double dance, shake, high five, bark) along with the basics.
Growing up my folks never even did basic obedience with any of our dogs so “tricks” is outside of my experience, although one of my dogs as a kid was really smart. Princess (named by me when I was 5) was a shepherd collie mix who came to us as a small puppy. My mom and sisters and I started to call her Princess the Wonder Dog after she was gone because my father’s stories about her just got wilder and more inventive. He used to tell folks that she was so intelligent that when he told her to go get his slippers, she would run upstairs and come down with them. Of course the only problem with that story was that my dad never wore slippers in his life!
Princess did actually know one trick. If you had her sit and stay, you could put a treat on her nose; she would sit patiently until you said “OK” and then she would deftly toss the treat up a bit and then catch it. We didn’t ask her to do this much, but she could do it – no exaggeration from my dad needed. So when the elementary school that my middle sister and I were attending had a family fair with a pet contest, Sally (said sister) really wanted to enter Princess and have her do her one trick.
Sally, who was in the 3rd grade, practiced with Princess for several days before the fair. She packed up bologna, a really high value treat; she was convinced that Princess would win hands down. When the time came for Princess to strut her stuff, there were a lot of people, a lot of other dogs and she was nervous. Sally dutifully had her sit, stay and then put the bologna on her nose. Sally stepped back and it didn’t take long for Princess to jump back, drop the bologna on the ground and then promptly scoop it up and chow it down. Sally was absolutely mortified. I can still hear her say in her trembling angry voice “bad dog, bad dog”. Princess hung her head in shame. Sally never volunteered her to do that trick every again.
I know we talked about joy the other day, but… I want to talk about it again.
At the State Fair yesterday, a woman with two kids sat down next to me on the curb, waiting for the parade to begin. The son was about 8 or so, the daughter was maybe 3. She was adorable with bright blonde hair that curled around her face and the back of her neck. She also had quite a dirty face – a combination of what looked like chocolate and something berry-ish. The berry stain had found a home on the front of her shirt as well.
The most interesting thing about this little girl was the fact that she was completely suffused with joy. Everything about the parade was fascinating to her. She couldn’t sit down, swaying and dancing as each band went by. She ooh’ed and aaah’ed over the stilt walkers, the art cars, the waving princesses and especially the big bovines. As each attraction reached us, she would turn to her mother, her face alight with pleasure, pointing out this newest discovery.
No matter how you measure it, nobody enjoyed the fair more yesterday than this toddler.
When was the last time you got dirty (and enjoyed the process)?
Last week I was the recipient of the fabulous Baboon support that others in our little community have experienced over the years. After hearing me talk (whine?) about my front porch project, tim sent me a message. If I rented the sandblaster that he linked me to, would I like it if he came over to help? I didn’t have to think about that very hard. After two+ years of scraping layers of paint off by hand, making some real headway seemed like a good choice.
The first hiccup was when I went to pick up the equipment. While the sandblaster and the hoses fit into my little car, the air compressor that makes the sandblaster go did not. I called tim from the rental lot and he volunteered to pick it up before coming to my house that day. And, of course, this meant that at the end of the project, he got to return all the equipment as well.
The second hiccup was finding out that we couldn’t just scrape up the sand on the floor and re-use it. Paint chips clogged the nozzle. We ended up straining the sand through my metal sieve into a big bucket, then re-using it. I’m sure the manufacturer didn’t want to hear that.
We pretty quickly settled into a routine. I swept and sieved while tim blasted. We had to improvise a few times; we used the kitty tower to get the sandblaster high enough to reach to top parts of the walls and we used my Mickey Mouse cake tester to unclog the nozzle a few times. The cake tester and the sieve survived the ordeal, the kitty tower did not. (The new one arrives next week).
Let me tell you that sandblasting in a small, enclosed porch (even with the windows and front door open) is like working in h-e-double hockey sticks. We didn’t get finished the first afternoon and on the second afternoon, we both had upgraded our headgear and eyewear. In fact, we both had shiny goggles the second day and I’m sure we looked like large bugs. Both days, we hosed off in the backyard. I can’t speak for tim, but the showers after each day for me were epic. The first day I wasn’t sure I would ever get the sand and grit out of my scalp.
We also re-visited our personality differences. While working, tim, being a big picture person, could not stop thinking of the next steps after the sandblasting was done. Some new plaster/mud, plywood on the floor. I could see his point but I, being a non-big picture person, didn’t want to think about it right then. I just wanted the h-e-double hockey sticks to be finished. And, of course, tim is correct – there is plenty more to do. In fact YA has added to the chore list by doing some wood fill on the window panes. And I broke two windows doing some clean up so now there will be some new glass and glazing. And most of the other windows need re-glazing as well.
But even with all the work left, I feel completely renewed by how much we got done in two afternoons with a sandblaster. And even if you don’t think I need to tell you, I will anyway. There is no way on the planet that I could have accomplished this by myself.
So my hat is off to tim. He is a miracle-worker and a life-saver.
One part of my current job is that of a clinician on our Youth and Family Team. School starts here on Thursday, and it seems like many of our young clients are falling apart at the prospect of a new school year.
I remember being unable to sleep in the days before school started, anxious about the excitement and uncertainty. I never had to worry about getting a potentially deadly disease or wearing masks, or worrying if I would be sent home on quarantine. Things are sure different.
The members of my team can’t wait until school starts and thing presumably settle down for our clients. At least we hope they settle down.
What about school starting gave you the jitters when you were a child? What were your most favorite and least favorite years in elementary and middle school?
Last week, someone at work referred to me as a “glass half-empty” kind of person. I was a little surprised, as I don’t think of myself as a gloomy Gus. I do work hard to keep my expectations low sometimes – especially for events or big occasions. That way, if something tanks, I’m not terribly disappointed. But if it goes well, then I am very happy – probably happier than if I had high expectations. So maybe I am “glass half-empty”.
Next week is the opening of the State Fair. I don’t need to bore you all (again) with my love of the State Fair but I am telling you, it is HARD to keep my expectations in line. YA and I did the mini (pretend) fair experience over Memorial Day and it was a good idea to not go into it with a lot of excitement. But even with that very blah experience under our belts, we’ve spent a lot of time in the last week figuring out which days, how many tickets, what new foods, when will the golden retrievers be there, where parking is this year. We bought our tickets and have even combed through the coupon booklets already. I have taken opening day off of work as well as a few other days. YA has also requested a couple of days off.
Considering the current state of affairs, it seems dangerous to get my hopes up. The Fair could just be a disaster this year.
But with all this activity and still a few days before opening, how do I keep my expectations low? Are you a half-full or half-empty type?
It has been an endless source of pleasure this summer to watch our son and daughter in law and their joy at the purchase of their first home. Son has sent multiple photos of the flowers, trees, and shrubs he wants to add to the landscape in their huge yard. The property is a quarter of an acre (or hectare for European and Canadian Baboons). Their new home is only three years old and they have rather nice, new appliances, all save for a washer and dryer.
Son researched all the best shades and grades of washers and dryers, who in his South Dakota town sold and serviced them, and who would reserve them for him until their closing and move-in dates in early September.
I advised him to go with a local appliance dealer, not the big box home improvement store, since they are neighbors and have to deal with them on a personal basis outside of the store. Son did his research and did as I advised, since the repair person for the big box appliances has to come from over 50 miles away, and the local dealer would set aside the ones they wanted until they closed on the house. The washer and dryer are really fancy-schmancy, and both have steam options for cleaning and dewrinkling. Who knew? We haven’t bought a new washer/dryer for more than 15 years.
There has been appliance excitement here, too, as Husband decided last night that we absolutely needed a grain mill attachment for our Swedish mixer, and that we would get it for our 38th wedding anniversary. This is slightly more romantic than the meat saw he got me for our 35th anniversary. He wants to make his own rye chops and coarse grain so he can make rye bread just like they did at the City Bakery in Winnipeg.
What is the most exciting appliance you ever purchased? What are your memories of you or your parents purchasing a first home
Our daughter was excited to drive us around the Olympic Peninsula when we visited in July. She was equally excited to explore Olympic National Park, not only for the rain forest and the moss, but because of the podcast she chose for us to listen to as we drove.
Daughter thought that a podcast about true stories of people murdered by serial killers in National Parks would be entertaining. It really was, I must admit. There was very little traffic, and we were in pretty remote areas, and it seemed cozy, somehow, like listening to ghost stories in a nice warm room with a fire going and a storm raging outside.
How do you set the mood? What do you like to listen to when you drive or work around the house?
Early in this blog’s history, we had a contributor who wrote exceedingly well and who was excited about life and his role in the world. His name is Aaron. Aaron was a reader and regular commentator in those early years.
This week, Dale Connelly, the founder of this blog, contacted me and Sherrilee about posting some writing by Aaron’s sister, Jessica. Dale commented:
“Aaron has multiple disabilities and gets around primarily in a powered wheelchair. You may have seen him at some of the State Fair shows back in the day. His family is organizing a Zoom event next Saturday, (August 7) to premiere a short (55 minute) documentary about Aaron and the difficult decisions his family faced when he was born. The event is also a fundraiser to gather money to replace Aaron’s accessible van, his primary form of transportation.”
We thought this was a great topic for a post. I have communicated with both Aaron and his sister, and this is how Aaron describes himself:
Aaron Westendorp is a musician, online variety music show host, and a self-advocate in Hopkins, Minnesota, who uses a communication device. Aaron has a brain stem lesion which causes spastic quadriparesis, a partial paralysis from the eyes down. He still has a independent life and a fun personality.
The following is a heartfelt statement from his sister, Jessica Westendorp:
I could have written a different speech every day this year, that’s how many different feelings I have about Aaron and growing up with Aaron. I have humorous, light, jovial speeches, and dark, scary, cynical speeches that underscore Aaron’s evil side. Just kidding. Aaron doesn’t really have an evil side. That Aaron is a bright light, most of you already know. He has always been a calm being, open and waiting for whatever the next step might be. The only time I can remember Aaron loosing his cool was for a brief period in the 5th grade when math and after school studies pushed him to desperation and low lows. He got angry. In that time there was a moment when Aaron looked at me and sighed and it was if he said to me, “so…this is how it is”. And then, he was fine again, calm, collected, open and ready to keep going.
Aaron is disabled. I know this is news to you. It’s hard to see the disability when there is so much AARON to see. But, in case you didn’t get the memo, he is special, differently abled, challenged, a short bus super kid. Other words that were used on him were Duke, Duker, King of Kids, and because there is only so much wonder and excitement I can allow to follow him around, he is also a bratty kid brother.
Aaron’s disability was large. It was another person in the family always taking all of the resources and lightness out of anything. Trips to anywhere were filled with, “but are there curb cutouts? Can he fit through the door? Are there steps inside? Will we need to ask for special help maneuvering or accessing the bathroom?” And then, the weight of carrying all emergency equipment and healthcare needs with him. The backpack needed to be packed and repacked. He needed help with shoes and jacket. He needed to be loaded into the van and tied down. Then Jill and i would translate his finger spelling, “why don’t we go on more family outings?”
I feel heavy and angry re-living that. It was not glamorous. but, the humor helps. One time, when we were all tired and in a long stint of hard times, Mom and Aaron, and Jill went to Burlington Coat Factory. They got out of the van after parking in the handicapped spot. As my mom walked away from the van someone snarked about her use of the handicapped parking spot. Used to public perception often being askew there would usually be a kind reference to my brother or ignoring the problem. On this day my mom said, in her voice we all know as the “mom is not in a great place voice”, “WE ARE HANDICAPPED!”. “we”. “are”. “handicapped”. We are not, and yet, we are and the clashing perceptions combined with the fatigue of it all was the hilarity. And then, there were the helpers. The nurses and PCAs were there ALL THE TIME. Whether they wanted to be or not, they became part of the fabric of our family. They may remember us as a job. I remember them being in my home, sharing a space, and I remember processing my life in front of them. Like any family members some were super duper cool and others, we’ll say, clashed with our brand of special. But, they were there. They helped support the constant needs. Food prep. treatments, mobility, translation. My favorite of these people were those that understood the need to keep the light, the humor, and the irony alive, even and especially when I could not find these.
This all must have been so different for my parents. They had a childhood, a million years before and now they had the weight of this adulthood that they finessed and juggled and braved with faces of intensity and love. But for Jill, Aaron, and I this was our childhood. The pieces of it leave deep impressions. The shiny medical equipment, the smells of medicine, the short quick pace of a nurse who is tasked all become your normal. I will always be a force of quiet, deep love, forever broken by the immensity of daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly struggles that are inexplicable in this speech. I am full of gratitude and am privileged to have learned so much, but due to broken perceptions and realities faced and viewed often, I will also carry a force of anger, always, a deep understanding of disparity and injustice.
Thank you for showing up. Thank you for loving the little brother i worked hard to push and challenge. Thank you for loving this guy who I prayed for, who was surrounded by the light of many prayers. Thank you for knowing that there is no clear narrative here, only people with real needs, hopes, and aspirations all in real time.
Here is the hyperlink to the video regarding Aaron.
Who do you know who has overcome adversity? How did they do it? How have you overcome adversity?
On Saturday morning, Husband and I were in the garden preparing to remove our spent peas plants and the wooden frames we had erected for the peas to grow on, when the 5 year old plant scientist from next door asked if he could help us pull weeds. We said of course he could, so over he came, and began pulling pea vines out of the ground and manfully carrying armloads of them to the garbage bag Husband held open. Of course, any time we spied a viable pod we shelled it and gave him the peas to eat.
Our young friend loves to help us in the garden, and wants to know everything about the plants. He has shown an intense interest in gardening since we met him when he was 3. I explained that the white dust accumulating on our clothes was powdery mildew from the pea vines. He alerted me to the presence of flea beetles in the kohlrabi. He took great delight in the small green caterpillars he found where the pea roots had been. We then searched for butterflies in the Cone Flowers, and I reminded him that he and his sister were welcome to come over and pick the red currants from our bushes. We predict he will become a horticulturist at a major university.
Later in the day, his mother decided it was time to clean the small storage shed in their back yard, and his father had him pick up small twigs and branches from the front lawn. He was far less happy doing that than helping us. Husband commented that it is always more fun helping adults who aren’t your parents.
Who were the adults you liked to help when you were a child? What were your most disliked chores at home?
Unlike my mother, whose best friend is someone she has known since kindergarten, I don’t have any friends from childhood. We moved many times before I was in high school, never in one place long enough to make any relationships last. I had friends in high school but going away to college in Minnesota and basically never coming back stretched and broke those ties.
I left college after two years and started my life (as I used to say) in Northfield, so I could be near my boyfriend. My second job in Northfield was at the brand new Ole Piper Inn and that’s where I met Dee (names changed to protect the innocent). Although the job only lasted about 10 months before the Inn closed down, it was long enough to cement our friendship. When Dee moved to the Ole Store, I went with her: she was the manager and short-order cook, I was the baker and occasional waitress.
Dee is originally from the southern part of the country and hates the cold weather. Most mornings I would pick her up on the way to the store (I had a car by then) and even with a short ride, she would come out of her house bundled up as if she was expecting to trek across Antarctica. She always said she was waiting for her youngest two kids (she has five) to graduate so she could flee the frozen tundra. Of course she is still here 45 years later.
We had a great time at the Ole Store. The Ole Store was part of a grocery store/butcher shop and sometimes we’d come in to find various chunks of meat in the restaurant fridge that needed to be used up. Once the owner left moose meat. We were joking around, trying to figure out what to do with it and I said (without thinking), “what about spaghetti and moose balls?” Dee laughed so hard that her side hurt and she had to sit down. Do this day, I can reduce her to a puddle just by saying “moose balls”.
When I married my wasband and moved to Milwaukee, Dee used to be startled into silence whenever he answered the phone, since he had never picked up the phone in my Northfield apartment. Once he answered the phone, said nothing for a minute and then handed me the phone…. “It’s Dee.” It was indeed, although she hadn’t identified herself. He told me later than whenever there was silence, he knew it was her. When we were first friends, she referred to wasband as the Greg-Person. Later she shortened that to GP.
For many years Dee and her youngest son worked at the Renaissance Festival every fall and it was always fun to see them. She did a wonderful costume for Child with lots of petticoats and ribbons. And or course, she knew everybody so we always got good food at a great discount. I made the wedding cake for this son when he got married.
Her family has a timeshare in Florida that they visit every summer and Dee’s favorite way to travel is to fill up the van with kids and grandkids and drive straight through. When YA was younger, she was included a couple of times.
Dee reminds me a lot of my mother. She is extraordinarily caring and she “collects” people. Once you fall into her orbit, her gravity holds you there. For example, one of her daughters was married for a few years and had a step-daughter. When the daughter split up with the husband, the step-daughter came to live with Dee. Now that step-daughter has kids of her own and they all happily refer to Dee as Grandma. Dee’s life is filled with stories like this. I am one of her collect-tees and she has always been there for me.
She’s going through a very rough time right now with a diagnosis that will most likely shorten her life so I’ve been thinking about our long friendship and how much I treasure her.
Trail Baboon 