Husband and I received a lovely clock for our wedding almost 35 years ago. It plays Westminster chimes, and has traveled with us from Winnipeg to Indiana to North Dakota.
The clock worked quite well until last year, when it just stopped. We took it to the nearest clock shop in Fargo, where they told us that the innards were all worn out and it needed new ones. We had a choice of digital or traditional. I like to wind it, so we had them install new inner workings from Germany. It keeps time again quite well, but it has some quirks that I find alarming.
Some days, randomly, at 8:00 am and/or 8:00 pm, it chimes continuously for up to three minutes. It plays the Westminster chimes over and over, and then plays variations on the Westminster chimes. When it has got it out of its system, it rings eight times and gets back to its quiet ticking. It only happens at 8:00. Some days it doesn’t happen at all.
I don’t know what to think about this. Ghosts? Odd German clock maker humor? Who knows? I don’t feel like driving it all the way to Fargo for a repair, so we will just put up with the “Crazy 8’s” and see what new Westminster variations we get.
Tell about some infernal machine problems. What do you think it feels like to be in a time warp?
With humble gratitude for Meredith Wilson’s en-chant-ing opening to The Music Man.
PROGRAMMER 1:
Plastic for the orders.
Plastic for the downloads.
PROGRAMMER 2:
Visa for online.
Visa on the phone.
PROGRAMMER 1:
Credit for the software.
Credit for the hardware.
PROGRAMMER 2:
Credit for the needs, and the wants, and the bibelots.
PROGRAMMER 3:
Amazon for the hogs feet, cakes and longjohns.
Amazon for the crackers, and the pickles, and the computer paper.
PROGRAMMER 4:
Look, what do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
PROGRAMMER 5:
Where do you get it?
PROGRAMMER 4:
What do you twitter?
PROGRAMMER 2:
You can script, you can program, you can script,
You can chat. You can twitter, twitter, twitter, you can chat.
You can chat. You can chat, chat, chat, chat, twitter, twitter, twitter.
You can twitter all you wanna, but it’s different than it was.
ANALYST:
No it ain’t, no it ain’t, but you gotta know the database!
PROGRAMMER 3:
Well, it’s Jeff Bezos made the trouble,
Made the people wanna buy, wanna get, wanna get, wanna get it in a box.
7,8,9,10,12,14, 22, 23 orders to the front porch.
PROGRAMMER 1:
Yes, sir, yes, sir!
PROGRAMMER 3:
Who’s gonna patronize a big box store anymore?
PROGRAMMER 4:
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
NEWSPAPER READER 1:
Where do you get it?
ANALYST:
It’s not Amazon alone.
Take a gander at big box stores,
At the postmodern store,
At the out-of-date store
At the passe, postmodern,
Departmentalized big box store.
PROGRAMMER 4:
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
CONSULTANT:
Where do you get it?
PROGRAMMER 4:
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
What do you twitter?
CONSULTANT:
Where do you get it?
PROGRAMMER 1:
You can chat, you can twitter.
You can chat, you can twitter.
You can twitter, twitter, twitter
You can chat, chat, chat.
You can twitter all you wanna,
But it’s different than it was.
ANALYST:
No, it ain’t, but you gotta know the database.
PROGRAMMER 3:
Why, it’s I-need-it-easy thinking
Made the trouble
Need it easy, need it easy.
Put the order in a box, in a box,
What I-need-easy
In a box with a smile
Made the big box store obsolete.
ANALYST:
Obsolete, obsolete, obsolete
SALESMAN 4:
Malls out the window.
The smiling box
Takes the job of the sales clerk.
Closing all the stores.
ANALYST:
Who’s gonna patronize the big box store any more?
PROGRAMMER 3:
Gone, Gone
PROGRAMMER 1:
Gone with the mall and the outlet and the discount store.
Gone with the chain and the retail store with clothes on a rack.
ALL
Who’s gonna patronize a bog box store any more.
Big box store.
What are the long-term implications for America and the world, assuming I dare worry about the world?
I have a cousin who I find astonishing. I think he is my second cousin. His mom and my mom were first cousins. Our grandfathers were brothers. We are the same age and graduated from Luverne High School together. We used to chase each other around the grade school play ground. He always had a fascination with reptiles and amphibians. Baboon Krista knew him from his work with the Minnesota DNR as well as the Rock Bend Music Festival (Free, Free, Free). He used to examine frogs to see if they were missing legs. PJ knows him from their Danish Heritage Society. His dad was Danish.
His recent Facebook posts reveal that he doesn’t work for the DNR now, but for some reason he is travelling around Madelia conducting field surveys trying to find and count Great Plains Toads. I wonder how you count toads? How do you know you haven’t counted them twice? They jump around!
My cousin is also a luthier, and creates the most beautiful mandolins, Hardanger fiddles, nyckelharpas, and Viola D’ Amores. What a range of interests. How on earth does this happen?
Who are some of the most astonishing and fascinating people you know?
I looked through the vendor booths at the hand bell workshop I am attending and noticed a book series about murder mysteries and whodunits that take place in bell choirs. The size of the print (large) and the cover art didn’t suggest a lot of literary merit, but I guess there must be a market for such books. One of Dorothy Sayers best books is about a death involving church bell ringers.
This made me think about expanding the series to include other groups and professions. What about Death at the Elks Lodge or The Venomous Inkblot?
Think of some mysteries that could be written about your job or group. Motives, victim, perpetrator, weapon, method? Be creative!
We have some very noisy black birds in the spruce trees in our front yard. I don’t know if they are Blackbirds, Starlings, or Grackles. I know they aren’t Crows or Ravens. We have Crows in town. They are bigger than the other black birds, and like to harass and chase the local owls. Husband sees Ravens up on the Reservation. They are quite culturally significant for our native friends and are portents of various things.
The black birds in our trees have hatchlings in a nest who make the most terrible harsh noises when they want to be fed. The parents follow us around the yard and scold us and sometimes swoop. I am ready for the black birds to go bye bye!
Tell some bird stories. Talk about Miss Peggy Lee.
My husband is a gentle, scholarly person somewhat lacking in manual dexterity and mechanical know-how. He married into a family of impatient, dexterous, mechanically inclined hot-heads. The Boomgaardens are famous for their tempers. I have a farmer cousin noted for throwing tools. I have great aunts who had hair pulling fights in ditches. I have great uncles who shot at each other with rifles. I manage to keep my temper pretty well, but last weekend was a challenge for me. I am thankful no one got hurt.
It was hot last weekend. We did a lot of outside work in the yard over a four day period. It involved planting seeds and shrubs, spreading mulch, laying out soaker hoses and sprinklers, digging holes, and maneuvering around piles of bagged topsoil, composted manure, and bales of peat moss with tools and wheel barrows. For each task I saw clearly how we had to do it, in what order, and what physical and mechanical actions had to be taken. I was pretty driven to get it done as fast as we could before the heat of the day made it unbearable to work outside. When I get like that, I forget my theory of mind, and assume that everyone around me sees the tasks and the procedures that need to be accomplished exactly the same way I see it. I get impatient when the people I am working with don’t seem to get it the way I get it, when they fumble around and look ineffectual and dithering. As Husband said “You do things and you don’t explain what you are doing until afterwards.” Why should I have to explain what I am doing if it is plain what has to be done?!! Why can’t you think like I think?!!
A very alarming ear worm took hold last Friday as I became increasingly frustrated with Husband and his inability to read my mind. I decided I had better sit down and have glass of water and reel in my temper. I have no idea from what odd recess of my brain I dredged this up:
The chorus from this went through my head all weekend. It made me laugh at myself and my irrational assumptions, and forced me to see how unreasonable I can be. Perhaps all anger management classes should include Broadway musical soundtracks.
How do you manage your temper? What is the angriest you have been? What is your favorite Broadway song at the moment?
Photo Credit: Very Vanilla Baking Book by Sarah Kieffer
I’m a cookbook reader. When I see a cookbook (usually online) that looks interesting, I ask for it from the library and can spend a lazy Saturday afternoon or an evening flipping through the pages, reading through the ingredients, looking at all the photos. Every now and then I see a recipe that I want, then I mark it with a post-it note and make a copy. And rarely I will decide that I really need to have this cookbook in my collection. (This is a hard decision, because my current cookbook shelves are full, so if a new cookbook comes into the house, an old cookbook has to go!)
Yesterday I picked up Vanilla Bean Baking Book by Sarah Kieffer. Some very nice looking recipes and I did have a couple of post-it notes, but wasn’t really thinking this was something I needed to purchase… until I got to the back of the book. There, on page 323 was “Music to Bake to”. She even had two columns, one for Morning Tunes and one for Night Grooves. A lot of jazz as well as some Joni Mitchell and Peggy Lee. Even some Over the Rhine!
Here’s one of her morning tunes – a wonderful song, although I would probably never have come up with it on my own for baking background music!
Now I’m re-thinking whether I need to get myself a copy of this cookbook.
