Yesterday I had to send off a package to my friend in Nashville. She broke her ankle in two places while traveling in Italy and had surgery today (she came home for this). Post-surgery she’s staying with her son who lives just a few miles from her.
I, of course, sent off a card immediately but wanted to do a bit more. My friend has a soft spot for the Little Debbie Swiss Rolls and I’m sure her son won’t think to toss them into the shopping cart when he gets groceries. So I got a couple of boxes, boxed them up and headed for the post office.
It was a little busy when I was there and it was surprising that there was a supervisor who kept coming out to say “thanks for your patience, we’ll be with you….” I’ve never experienced that before. Then I heard the postal worker next to mine say that they didn’t have any stamps. I was sure I had heard that wrong, but my postal worker confirmed… no stamps. She said that the manager who “unlocks” the stamps hadn’t come in yet. I couldn’t help laughing, although I did try to suppress my giggles in case anybody else in line needed stamps.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it and it reminded me of the gas shortage in the 1973 with the long lines. And of course, it made me remember the toilet paper “crisis” at the beginning of covid. But for some reason, the post office not having stamps strikes me as the weirdest. Why does only one manager have the key? Why hadn’t that manager come in; if not able, why hasn’t someone driven to his/her place to get the key? I suppose I’ll never know.
What other shortages have you survived? What strategies did you use? Did snack cakes help?
Today is an aviation milestone day. In 1927 Charles Lindbergh landed his Spirit of St. Louis plane in Paris after his 33½ hour solo flight across the Atlantic. Then five years later on this day, Amelia Earhart landed near Londonderry, Northern Ireland after the first trans-Atlantic solo flight by a woman. The combination of a little shorter route and five years of advancing technology, it only took her 17 hours.
My first thought when I saw these two feats on the same day was that it was a concidence, but it was only a fleeting thought. I’d bet money that Amelia planned her flight very carefully to arrive in Europe on May 21.
It does make me think about explorers and adventurers who put their lives on the line because I don’t care how talented Lindbergh and Earhart were, they were absolutely taking their lives in their hands when they took off. Aviation was still a relatively young science, machines broke down at an alarming rate and then there’s the whole “across the ocean” thing.
Personally I’m not a daredevil. The scariest things I’ve ever done were hot-air ballooning in Africa and zip lining in Costa Rica. The balloon experience came available on a Fam trip (which is a trip that hotels/suppliers pay for in the hopes that travel industry folks will then sell their products); I just had a feeling that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime thing and I should get over my fears and do it. It was fabulous. The zipline was another matter. It was done with a client, more or less under duress and I was terrified the whole time. When we got to the part of the course where you didn’t zip, but swung on a rope from one platform to the next, the two guides had to come back for me and basically force me to swing by reminding me that there was no other way to get down than to finish the course. Bungee jumping is not on my list, nor is sky-diving. I simply cannot imagine myself stepping out into nothing. Nope.
So congratulations today to the memories of Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart for heading out across the Atlantic and taking that big step for aeronautics!
What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done? And did you do it on purpose?
In the past Renee has mentioned that she has post-it notes stuck around with ideas for the Trail. This doesn’t work for me because if I’m out and about, by the time I get home to the post-it notes (of which I have many….), I’ve forgotten what I wanted to note. Yep – seriously sad. I remember that I thought of something but for the life of me, I can’t conjure it up when it’s time to write.
To make up for this I use a post-it note app on my phone. I have a bunch of separate notes and one of them is my Trail note. You’d think this would solve my problem but….
Looked at the app three days ago and one of the entries is “first fire”. That’s it. Nothing else. It took me the last three days to figure out it must have to do with YA making the first fire of the season in our fire pit last week. Of course, it doesn’t explain WHY I put this note in the app. There really wasn’t anything different about this fire except that it was the first one this year. YA is still in charge of the fire. She has a stash of newspaper and different piles of wood in the back corners of the yard – one for kindling sticks, one for larger sticks and one for logs. She makes the fire, feeds the fire, pokes the fire with her special fire-poking stick.
I’ve searched my memory and I can’t think of one single reason why you all have to read about our first fire. So maybe it was something else? A metaphor for our current world situation?
What do you think I should be writing about with the theme of “first fire”? How do you remind yourself of stuff?
Last week YA and I headed off to Bachmans for our veggies and flowers for hanging baskets. This is an annual ritual and this year we needed flowers for 15 baskets and six bales (although I was pretty sure I would need a trip to Gertens for my favorite dragon wing begonias.
YA was ready sooner than I expected so I had to rush to get ready. I grabbed a pair of khaki shorts that were sitting on my dresser and then my Pi Day shirt, which was at the top of the drawer.
I hadn’t thought about this combination until a Bachman’s employee stopped me almost immediately upon entering the store, commenting that I looked like a staff person. For those of you who weren’t there (or more likely just don’t remember), my Pi Day shirt is purple. I laughed it off, but she wasn’t kidding. Person after person tried to ask me a staff question.
It wasn’t a big deal until the end of our trip. As we were checking out, it turned out that my bright white petunias didn’t have a code to scan. Telling the cashier they were bright white petunias didn’t help. She didn’t have a binder full of codes, she didn’t ask anyone else, she certainly didn’t believe YA and I when we said it was the same price as the royal purple petunias. No – she sent me back to the flower barn to find one with a tag and code. This week is NOT a good time to hold u p the line at Bachmans, so I was almost running when I headed back to the barn. Two more people stopped me. One woman realized immediately that it wasn’t a Bachman’s shirt and backed off. The second woman felt the need to talk about my purple shirt and how she had mistaken me for staff. It took me much longer than you would think to extricate myself from her and get back to the cashier. The lines were pretty long and it was clear some folks weren’t happy.
So my lesson for the week? Don’t wear purple to Bachmans!
Any businesses where you could make a credible staff person?
When I packed for the book festival, I went about it like usual. I printed out my packing list (that I keep on the computer), filled it out and started to pack. I was gone two and a half days (six hours of which was driving) and two nights. Since I was wearing jeans and t-shirt to drive down, all I really needed was two t-shirts, two undies, two pairs of socks, pjs, a pair of zorries for relaxing at David’s and assorted personal hygiene stuff.
Obviously I didn’t need a big bag for this so I pulled a small bag from the attic and threw everything in. 15 minutes from beginning to end. Except then the conversation started:
YA: Are you taking that bag?
VS: Yep.
YA: What are you taking (picking up the packing list and perusing it).
YA: No extra socks or underwear?
VS: Nope.
YA: What two t-shirts?
VS: The coral t-shirt with books on it and the black rocket sheep for breakfast with the boys
YA: Nothing else?
VS: Nope.
YA: What if you decide you want a different shirt?
VS: Then I’ll suffer from my poor choices.l
YA: What about shoes?
VS: My blue tennies.
YA: No other shoes?
VS: Not for 48 hours.
YA: (sighs and walks away)
When I was traveling for work, I packed a little more robustly. Having an extra shirt or pair of socks can’t hurt when you’re on a business trip, but I’ve always been a fairly minimal packer. YA is completely opposite. She packs her work uniforms then at least one full non-work outfit for each day. Multiple pairs of shoes. For a couple of years she used that cube system, in which you packed all your stuff into individual cube/cases and then put the cube/cases into your bigger suitcase. Personally I never thought this was a big help to the packing process, but to each their own. She got the cases free from work; they were popular as pre-travel gifts a few years ago and there were always extras laying around. I haven’t seen her using those the last year.
My packing strategy worked out perfectly. When I got home from the festival, all I had to do was dump the contents of the bag straight into the clothes hamper. Hygiene stuff all lives in one zipper pouch together so that’s easy to put away as well. Two minutes to unpack.
I’m pretty sure I packed and unpacked in less time than it took to talk to YA about it!
What about you? Over-pack or under-pack? Do you have a “process”?
Turns out that Renee and I were both out of town last weekend. Any ideas where I was?
This town was established in 1848 and was initially named Bad Axe. (There is still a Bad Axe Music Store in town.)
A Masonic lodge and theatre was rebuilt in 1922 (after a fire) and was a hub of the community for decades. In 1995, after being shut for several years, it was purchased and the theatre was subsequently remodeled with monies raised by the Historical Society and the surrounding community.
40 years ago, a one-room Waldorf schoolhouse was established in town. It is still operating with 125 students, grades kindergarten to 8th
This is the home of one of the earliest organic dairy companies, cooperatively owned and managed, opened in 1988.
In 2012 a guy named Randy moved to the area, built himself a cabin and then built himself a wood burning stove. Folks started asking him to build stoves for them and within a couple of years he founded a company for wood heating solutions which has been a runaway success.
This is the smallest town in America that hosts a book festival.
Three weeks ago while I was folding up clean laundry I discovered that one of my green fuzzy socks was missing. I’m pretty thorough about shaking out clothing to make sure socks are hiding but even after checking the usual suspects, I didn’t find it. The remaining green sock went to live in the “single sock box”; it was the only inhabitant.
On Saturday as I was getting ready for the day, I noticed the poor lonely green sock – usually if I don’t find a sock within three weeks, I never do and I was lamenting the loss the green sock. I love all my various fuzzy socks.
Five minutes later, as I pulled clean sheets out of the closet, the errant green sock cascaded out of the fitted sheet. I hadn’t found it because I cycle through my flannel sheets and had not pulled this set out since the sock had gone missing. As I was happily re-joining the fuzzy pair I pondered the coincidence that I hadn’t thought about the missing sock for three weeks until just a few minutes before it returned to me. Part of brain says “coincidence”. Another part of my insists (fairly adamantly) that it has to be some weird confluence of the universe. I can’t imagine why the universe would care about my socks.
How long do you keep a solo item that is missing its mate? Where do you keep them?
You know my drill. Find an interesting cookbook out and about. Get that cookbook from the library. Try out a few of the recipes. If they turn out well, consider adding cookbook to the collection. And the hard part, getting rid of a cookbook to make room for the newbie.
So yesterday I’m made a Roasted Tomato, Potato, Dill and Feta Frittata from a cookbook of tomato recipes. I like to follow recipes fairly closely when I’m testing a cookbook; I think of it as giving the author a chance to really show their stuff. After a couple of paragraphs in the recipe, I came upon this phrase – “… heat a generous glug of oil over medium heat”.
To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen “glug” listed as a measurement in a cookbook before. I was pretty sure a glug has to do with the sound of the oil if you tip the bottle all the way up and the oil makes a glugging sound as it pushes its way out. But for fun, I looked it up. Internet says “about two tablespoons”. So is a generous glug three tablespoons? Four tablespoons would be two glugs, wouldn’t it? Not exactly a precision measurement.
What I didn’t say is that when I read that instruction, I laughed out loud. The reason for that is that in an earlier recipe, the author explained in excruciating detail how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Arrange the cheese on one slide of bread, then put the two slices together. Set a skillet that’s the right size for you bread (too large, and you’ll end up with burned butter), add about 1 Tablespoon butter, swirl it around to coat the skillet; as soon as it stops foaming, lay your sandwich in the skillet.”
To be fair, the grilled cheese recipe turned out great but not because I needed step-by-step instruction on how to grill a cheese sandwich but because it called for a Sun-Dried Tomato & Smoky Red Pepper Mayonnaise which was fabulous.
Glug, pinch, dash, handful…. how closely do you follow recipes? Do you even USE recipes?
The robins have been snowed on twice now. Once more and we should be good to go. I see the turkey vultures have returned, we’ve seen and heard sandhill cranes, I’ve heard there’s rhubarb coming up, and we’re starting to see hints of green in the lawn and in the rye that I planted as a cover crop. Spring is coming. Oh, and nettles are growing. Why do the weeds always get the upper hand?
One day last week I found both the lost pen and pencil from two days before, and a water bottle from about three weeks ago. The water bottle was in the office at our Townhall. I remember stopping there to look through some files, would not have remembered that I had a water bottle with me, I just knew that there used to be two in the refrigerator and now there was only one. And I was pretty sure I had put the pen and pencil in my pocket one morning, but that afternoon they were gone. Three days later I found them in a box I had bent over to pick up. There’s always, usually, almost always, a rational explanation for missing things.
Last Saturday, Governor Walz held a Townhall meeting in Rochester at the largest high school auditorium we have in town. Three days before, I got an email asking if I would be free on Saturday to work lights and sound for this event. Details were still being ironed out, and on Thursday I found out they were asking about various locations at the college, as well as various high schools in Rochester. Buried in an email someone said they were not expecting a very big crowd. I had to laugh at that. I don’t know why anyone would’ve thought that. A few years ago, yeah, small crowds, not these days.
One of my jobs is doing technical support for community education events, or anything that’s not school related, in the public school auditoriums. So it’s pretty basic lighting and sound. We don’t do anything fancy, I don’t do video, but I can get him a microphone and turn on the stage lights.
I train in college kids to do this job and then ideally they can cover many of these events, most of which are dance recitals or various meetings. I keep the interesting things for myself. Like governors. But I did bring along a college student to train.
The large high school was finally selected and we did a walk-through there Friday afternoon with security and the governor’s staff. Saturday morning we were there at 7:30 AM and I observed this meeting of security personnel out in the hallway:
It sounded like this crew was searching purses and bags. I hope the big guy got to do more than search bags. I know the local police department was around, and I’m sure there was other security person that went unnoticed by me. From my position up in the balcony I really couldn’t see much.
I worked an event for Governor Walz several years ago at the college and it was much more low-key than this one. As we finished up and were leaving, we saw the black SUVs with the tinted windows.
Some of you know Governor Walz would stay and take questions all morning if he could. He was only scheduled to speak for an hour, and they had started to make some indications they needed to wrap up. Shortly after the one hour mark, his wife Gwen, who had been sitting on stage, approached him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Governor Walz finished his thought and quipped, “You can see who holds the real power around here.“ and gave her the microphone. She spoke, she got the crowd up and on their feet and cheering and they both waved and exited. What a perfect way to wrap this up. The governor never had to say he had to go, no one had to cut them off, nobody plays the bad guy. Just smile and wave. Smile and wave. Well done.
I make a show file on the lightboard for these events, and I have a ‘general’ file, which I then created a sub folder, ‘Walz’. Hence, GENERAL WALZ, which sort of made me giggle.
On the farm front, I didn’t get much accomplished this week on the farm. I hope to clear a down tree off the field on Friday, before it rains and gets muddy again. And I’m hoping to get some straw spread where I had the dirt work done last winter so that I don’t get any more erosion from the snow melting and spring rains. Still sorting bolts, but I am just about done with that, they don’t quite fit back where they were so I’m still figuring it out as I go.
Electricians should be there on Monday to get the electrical done in the shop. I picked up the electricians scissor lift and will get the lights mounted on the ceiling prior to their arrival.
I’m looking forward to having a door opener installed, plus some exterior lights and more outlets in the shed.
And then I really need to stop spending money on this place.
The chickens followed me to the barn one day, eager for corn. And they got a drink while they were there. The ones with their head up are swallowing.
During my other book club yesterday, we got to talking about movies = what we like, what we don’t like, the benefit of seeing things on the big screen, etc.
I was mentioning that I had really enjoyed seeing Conclave on the big screen (although to be fair, I have watched it a couple of times since it came to my tv). This led to the first movies we remember seeing “on the big screen”.
My family did drive-in movies when I was a kid; How the West Was Won may have been my first. I barely remember it. I clearly remember seeing Gone With the Wind when I was about 7. For some reason I have a very clear memory of the last scene from the swing set that was on the playground right below that huge screen.
The first couple of movies that I saw in a movie theatre were Disney. Bambi was traumatizing to me. Losing his mother in that fire left me bereft; I’ve never seen it since. The other was Fantasia. I adore Fantasia and have seen it many times. I love all the various bits, although the hippo ballerinas and the Arabian dance/fish from the Nutcracker rank right up there. And I am very fond of Night on Bald Mountain that blends right into Ave Maria. I have watched Fantasia 2000 a couple of times; Firebird is wonderful but I prefer the original Fantasia the best. Even on the small screen!
Trail Baboon 