Category Archives: The Baboon Congress

What a Bargain!

Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

The first time I saw Crocs clogs, they were priced at about $50. I don’t often pinch pennies, but I thought, “Those are just a bit of plastic. In no time, somebody’s going to rip that design off. I can wait to buy a copy.”

That’s just what happened. A few years later I saw knock-off Croc clogs being sold in the funky general store in Cornucopia, Wisconsin near the cabin I used to own. The Croc copies sold for $10. I bought them.

I was amazed at how comfortable they were. They weigh less than a pair of sox, and they are as comfy as an old bedroom slippers. When I suffered some medical reversals, the old faux Crocs became the only footwear I owned that still fit. I calculate that I have worn those clogs 2,200 days, give or take 300 days. I got my money’s worth!

I’ve made one other buy in my life that might have been a better bargain.

Dog people often talk about “the dog of a lifetime.” The notion is that most dogs are just dogs, but now and then we find a dog so remarkable it becomes the dog of a lifetime.

Actually, I might have had four “dogs of a lifetime.” Wonderful dogs, all.

Danny carried himself with the gentle dignity of the Dalai Llama. Spook was the most honorable dog I’ve met or even heard of. Katie was similarly fastidious in conduct, plus she was the most loving dog I’ve known.

And yet Brandy was special, even when viewed in the context of such amazing dogs.

She and I were soul mates. We brought a foolish, prodigious style to the sport we loved. Some of our hunts took on epic qualities that only another dog hunter could appreciate. I filled two books with lessons she taught me about pheasants, and many good stories remain to be told.

Brandy was a bargain. She lived over fourteen years. Every day of her life she gave me unqualified love, loyalty and passionate partnership. I paid something less than a penny a day for that, which maybe makes her the bargain of a lifetime.

Have you ever bought something that turned out to be both a treasured possession and a great bargain?

Garden Celebrities

Today’s guest post comes from Renee in North Dakota.

Earlier this week my husband asked if I thought Grover needed to be tied up, since he was going to mow the lawn and Grover was flopping around all over the place.

Grover, full name Grover Cleveland, is an unusual, blood-red peony.

Cuthbert Grant 005

He is planted in close proximity to Beverly Sills, the frilly pink German Bearded Iris, and not too far from Sarah Bernhardt, a pale pink peony that hasn’t started blooming yet. Just around the corner is Cuthbert Grant, a red shrub rose from the Morden Experiment Station in southern Manitoba, one of the Canadian Explorer series of roses. Cuthbert Grant was a Scottish Metis who worked for various fur trading companies in Manitoba and who was involved in the bloody Battle of Seven Oaks, in which settlers and Metis battled the Hudson’s Bay Company. Given his warrior history I can see why they named a deep red rose after him.

We often refer to various plants by their given names. I like it when they are named after people. We had a hybrid tea rose named Harry G. Hastings for many years. I guess Harry Hastings was a famous plantsman in Alabama or Georgia. It was a sad day when Harry didn’t bud out in the Spring. Since we called him by his first name for so many years it was sort of like losing a member of the family, or a close friend.

Cuthbert Grant 001

Grover is a very pretty, old fashioned peony that is really red, not raspberry or maroon or magenta, like most red peonies. You can see him and Beverly in one of the photos. Husband tells me that Cleveland was the only president who got married while in office, and also was the only president who was reelected after getting voted out of office. Was he chubby and red faced? Is that why they named this peony after him? I can see why Beverly the Iris got her name, as well as Sarah Bernhardt the peony.

I suppose that naming a new plant variety is a complicated affair and finding the right name is important for business. I think it would be fun to name plants. Think of all the friends, family, and historical figures you could give a nod to by naming a plant after them. Were I plant hybridizer trying to market, say, a new variety of horseradish, I might name it “Tim” describing it as sharp and piquant, and an enthusiastic propagator.

What variety of plant would you like to name, and what would you name it, and why?

À la manger, en Francais (To eat, in French)

Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

The four of us (my sister and her son, Husband and moi) were on our own for five days in Paris. We learned a lot about food and about eating as the French do one evening at Le Petit Baigneur just a short walk from “our flat”.

We discovered that we should not first have a snack at home. We didn’t realize that ordering from the menu would consist of a (fixed price) a three course meal: a starter (which they call the Entrée); a main course with vegetable; a cheese and/or dessert course(s); and café – a small cup of espresso. And wine, of course. And bread – I learned that the French bread brought to the table is so good it does not require, or come with, butter.

 A glass of wine, and chocolate

That was a lot of food. There is, to my knowledge, no such thing as taking food home with you in a “to go” container. The idea is to order something marvelous (no problem), and then take two or three hours to eat, drink, talk, and ENJOY it. You have to shift gears, especially if you’re an American usually in a rush.

No wonder breakfast is usually a light “continental” affair – i.e. croissants and jam, a beverage, and that’s about it. We could walk around the corner from our flat and find pastries from a patisserie (dessert bakery), baguettes from a boulangerie (bread bakery), or crepes and quiches from a crèperie.

Luckily, our Paris eateries often had someone who spoke some English, so we pretty much knew what we were getting. Our waiter at Petit Baigneur brought us an English version of the menu, and my tiny bit of French helped at times. But there are other differences to negotiate – there are more manners in France – “merci” and “s’il vous plait” are expected. We heard about a brasserie (bistro) where the following was part of the price list, aimed no doubt at unthinking tourists:

  • Une bière ou vin – €2
    (One beer or wine – 2 Euros)
  •  Une bière ou vin avec “s’il vous plait”  – €1.5
    (One beer or wine with “if you please” – 1.5 Euros)

When have you mis-communicated with your server in a restaurant?

Chicken or Egg?

Header Image by Nisargam

I have decided to look at the world a bit more through the eyes of a blog writer.

I was at the Edina art fair a week ago Sunday for a glorious day and while looking at the booths of numerous photographers made the comment that it must be interesting looking at the world with the filter of how would this be for a photograph

It occurred to me today that for the last 5 years and likely 30 more before that our blogmeister has undoubtedly been influenced by the filter of the trail and the docks to flavor spice pervert and steer his brain and perception of the world

I have a new appreciation for the portrait of a wordsmith photoshop artist as a middle aged and getting older every year man.

I hope many of us get the chance to take a swing at posting guest blogs (are they that any more) and discover the fulfillment dale discovered in his 1200 good blogs (and the others too)

Topic before the question or the other way around?

File of topics that are not time related and  Where the heck did he always find the top news tidbit before it hit the morning lead story status on the places that know when to put a 72 point font on a headline.

Top stories for my sons would be sports leads, for my daughters something else again, for Fox News, public television, cbs and the New York Times all different again

So to hit it right once is understandable but over and over is a legacy left for us to ponder.

My first guest blog year and years ago was on Friday the 13th and dale suggested I use that as a topic but that being my first I had other stuff on the tip of my fingers so I told him no. I don’t think it’s come up again but I will craft one for the next Friday 13 unless one of you want to.

Timely is now or forget it. Other ( this one for example) can be used a filler from the blog of the day file I hope we offer to dale to make the summer go by without too many discussions that drone on for multiple days.

We all have different filters and I have enjoyed participating in the interaction to dales blogs with you all over the last 5 plus years

Now I hope I get to enjoy some additional filter results from one and all.  Music , food , art , seeds, recollections, views of life…we can do this baboons with our eyes closed. And as you can see from my typical typos that’s usually how I type.

Which comes first the question or the story?

Spring Went Sproing in 1965, Part 2

Take a couple seconds to study the photograph in the header. What do you think it shows, besides a depot and railroad tracks?

This is downtown Mankato’s view of the Minnesota River. You don’t see the river, you say. No you do not, thanks to 1965.

If you drive the roads near the Minnesota River between Minneapolis and Mankato, you will come to signs sitting higher than your car that tell you how high the water was in the 1965 flood. It was a corker. It devastated Mankato and North Mankato, or so I am told or read. I did not move here until 1997. The result of that flood was an ingenious system to prevent any additional floods using a three-mile long seawall on both sides.  

Seawalls 2

The water has reached the seawall only twice since I have lived here. It has prevented much damage, but in the process it has hidden the river from the two towns. You can get to the river in two parks at the ends of the seawalls, but even there the river is not a significant presence. Decorah, Iowa in a similar way ignores its river. Here we ignore it so successfully that even when it does reach flood stage, we just drive over the three bridges without much of a thought, not that we get much of a view.

This is the the Minnesota River, the first significant tributary of the Mississippi, the site of Glacial River Warren, which was once a monstrous flood.

Seawalls 4

The Army Corps of Engineers did provide a gap in the seawall into which they can insert a water-tight piece. On the inside of the seawall is a bicycle and walking trail. I used to it ride to work, but I only seldom met anyone on it.

Seawalls3

The railroad tracks along the outside of Mankato seawall says that the two towns never have much respected the riverfront. Oh, how we all wish we could go back to the pioneers and say, “Don’t settle right by the rivers; move up to higher ground. It WILL flood.” I would like to say many things to the pioneers, but first thanks, and then ask many questions about their experience. 

What would you ask or say to the pioneers of Minnesota?

Krakatoa 2

Today’s guest post comes from Sherrilee

You’ve all heard me say I don’t want more dogs after my current dogs are gone. So when Young Adult called me from the Humane Society, I fought valiantly but after an hour of arguing on the phone, I just couldn’t envision any win/win. Although she did cave to my request that she wait 24 hours, when the time was up she came home with Guinevere, otherwise known as Krakatoa 2. Or The Little Terrorist. Or Troublemaker. Or – well, you get the gist. So now, despite my protests, there are three dogs and two cats in the household.

K2

Zorro, my elder cat has somehow managed to maintain his “alpha dog” status, although I’m not sure how. He’s the smallest and with no front claws, the most vulnerable in the household. I have seen the puppy put her mouth on Zorro, but then stop. Maybe Zorro has a special muscle twitch that makes K2 back off.

The baby kitty Nimue (although she’s not really a baby anymore at 3) gets a good deal of tumbling. She refuses to get out of the way, so is a natural target for the galumphing puppy. She bats out, makes a great deal of hissing noises, but apparently isn’t using her claws or her teeth in defense. I can only guess that she is either A) absolutely convinced that she can’t cede her space one inch, even if being tortured by a puppy or B) she kinda likes it!

Rhiannon ignores the puppy most of the time, however if K2 gets in her face (or near her food), there is a great deal of snarling and growling and barking on both sides. As with the baby kitty, it doesn’t appear that anybody is using teeth in these pitched battles. No scrapes, no crying, no blood.

Thorin is my hero. He loves K2 and they play and play and play. K2 is really rough, but all that white fur of Thorin’s seems to protect him well enough. Eventually Thorin wears out and he’s had a few nights on which it’s clear that he’s a little stiff and sore, but it never stops him from chasing after the puppy the next morning.

Of course, I am the main one who still wishes we didn’t have a puppy. When she’s quiet and calm, she’s pretty cute and I don’t mind her, but she’s not quiet and calm very much. I did make Young Adult sign a puppy contract with a lot of points but the one I’m already looking forward to is the “You can’t move out unless you move to a place that takes dogs”!

How does everybody get along at your house?

Border Conflict

Today’s guest post comes from Crystalbay

Fifteen years ago, I had the great blessing of moving into the cottage in which my parents lived for over half of a century.  We’d lived in the same story and a half home in Minnetonka for thirty years and been the social hub of our cul de sac. I’d just walk out of the front or backdoor and there were very friendly neighbors happy to see me. Our children grew up together, our parents died, graduations and marriages seeded this small community, bonding us together as only sharing a neighborhood could.

All of that pretty much ceased the day we moved to the lake and I’ve been isolated out here ever since.

The people on one side hadn’t worked in three generations as grandpa bequeathed them a fortune from grain.  She bought a huge boat and named it “Migrain”.  I haven’t set foot on their four-acre property in six years after taking an aerial photo of our properties to show them, being offered a glass of wine, then told, “When you’ve finished this, go home”.  They’ve always had at least four big dogs.  One time, a friend was visiting here with a like-sized dog and the romping dogs next door compelled him to join and have dog fun.  My neighbor took out a garden hose and sprayed him, all the while yelling, “Get this damn dog off my property!”

It’s really the neighbors on my other side, however, with whom there’ve been years of blatant conflict. They adored my sweet, quiet, old parents and were very kind to them throughout the years.  Then came us with home renovations, gatherings of friends and old neighbors, audible sounds of grandchildren, AND five indoor/outdoor fur persons.  They were cat-haters and were given to screaming at any cat who sauntered into their yard as though their lives were threatened.

The first summer after my divorce, I agreed to let a friend use my dock for his 16’ fishing boat in return for mowing.  In my divorce, wasband got the boat with no dock and I got the dock with no boat.  The two sets of neighbors got together and wrote a memo that this was a violation of city ordinances and they didn’t want “To have our property turned into a public marina”.  I had to tell my friend to dock elsewhere.

I’ve already shared the hidden fence disaster.  To show their disdain for us, the first fall we lived here, they had their huge boat house structure hydraulically deposited right on our property line.  This obstructed our view of the lake significantly.  I called the city and was told they were violating the city code of a 75’ setback for anything obstructing a neighbor’s view.  They were incensed that I’d done this.

The next year, they threatened to build a fence along the property line.  I should mention that this line is about three feet away from the cottage.  Again, I called the city and was told that they weren’t allowed to do this.  Again, they were outraged that I’d inquired.  What came next was very creative on their part: they augured holes two feet apart running the length of the property all the way down to the lake so that they could plant arborvitae trees – the ones that grow rapidly up to 40’ tall.  This would’ve created a virtual wind tunnel out of my 75’ wide lot.

A funny thing happened to those baby trees, however.  Late one night, I slipped out there with a toxic solution.

Fightin'tree

I’m leaving out half a dozen similar examples of conflicts, but the big one came last summer when a twin tree (shared rootball) fell across their yard, leaving the huge rootball exposed from the tree still standing. Leaning dangerously over my roof, I might add.  Another one of their trees is leaning toward the cottage has a branch 3’ in diameter which has split 5’ from the trunk.  They refused to do anything about these potentially cottage crushing trees.

I did my homework and learned that my insurance would cover damages AFTER I paid my $5000 deductible.  I wrote them a very civilly- worded letter offering to chip in $500 for the cost of felling the trees.  He called, yelling that I’d broken the law by putting the letter in his mailbox.  I said, “Well then, I should’ve walked it over” to which he replied, “That would be trespassing!” I had four different certified arborists assess the trees.  All of them concurred that they were a clear and present danger to my home and provided estimates of the cost to fell them.  I’d learned my lesson by now that I’d be breaking a federal law unless I mailed the next letter to them.  I included the assessments and estimates in the letter.

He then called saying that my home would collapse before these trees fell because, “Your home is in a swamp!” My home is on the same level ground that his is.  Ultimately, he hired a crew to do the job and told me both trees down would be cut down, but only if I gave them $500 in cash upfront.  The crew came and told me that he’d only hired them to take one tree down.  I told them that he’d lied to me and they left, wanting no part of a neighborhood feud.  He called later that day, yelling all sorts of wild, rageful, and irrational things, ending his diatribe with, “Don’t you EVER call this number again!!!!!”

This is where it stands today.  Two trees about to crash into my cottage and sleepless nights when there’s a storm or a strong wind.  As bad as the potential disaster, though, is the level of contempt I feel towards these people and a fear of unleashing it!  I don’t do anger well and have very rarely even practiced it on anyone in my life.  Let’s just hope against hope that I die before the trees fall.

Question:  What (if any) problems have you had with your neighbors?

Vieux (OLD)

Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

We’ve been back from France for just short of a month, and I’ve been trying to come up with a post that would encompass the entire trip. No small trick, as the journey had three very distinct segments: being tourists in Paris, memorial ceremonies for my uncle in a village in Brittany, and a Viking River Cruise in Provence.

What I fell in love with was how OLD everything was, everywhere we went. In Paris, I loved walking in the Left Bank down mazes of cobblestoned alleys (called streets) that have been around for centuries.

The Sorbonne University has been there since the 12th century.

My favorite Museum was the Cluny, officially known as the Musée national du Moyen Âge (Middle Age) – Thermes et hôtel de Cluny, part of which was built around 3rd century Roman baths.

The building that housed our air.bnb flat on Rue Lecruirot (south Montparnasse area) was built in 1893.

The Paris Metro has been around since summer of 1900.

In the village of St. Pere en Retz, we got to stay in a 150 year old manor house, and our suite was a former kitchen that has become a B&B.

In Provence we spent time in Avignon, the center of which is a walled city.  And the countryside sported farmhouses and wineries.

I can’t wait to go back.

What’s the oldest building you’ve seen or been in?

Feelin’ Groovy in Portland, OR (littlejailbird’s trip, part 2)

Today’s post is from littlejailbird.

Feelin’ Groovy in Portland, Oregon (littlejailbird’s trip, part 20

Dear Steve and Molly,

Thank you both for the wonderful day in Portland (March 26). It was a golden day from start to finish. Near the end of our time together, when the ice cream server asked how my day was going, I realized with a shock that there wasn’t a single thing I would have changed from the time I woke up until that moment in the ice cream shop (and it held true until I went to bed that night).

After three days and three nights on the train, it was blissful to be outdoors and to be able to walk around. I started my day with a walk to a breakfast place, then another walk to Mt. Tabor Park. Then it was time to be chauffeured around by you.

Steve had told me earlier that the day was going to be all about me and what I wanted to do. I am still in shock from someone telling me that – and then actually doing it. From visiting the world’s largest bookstore (Powell’s) to a buffet lunch at an Indian restaurant to visiting a park and walking around the waterfront to going out for ice cream, there is nothing I would have changed. I know that you thought the food at the restaurant wasn’t as good at it usually is, but you hadn’t been eating train food and snack food like almonds and protein bars for 3 days. It tasted good to me!

Of course, the weather cooperated in giving us such an amazing, sunshiny day, cool at the beginning and end and warm in between; and wherever I looked I saw green, growing things – a far cry from the dead browns I had left in Minnesota. It would have been difficult for me to feel grumpy with a day like that, but I suspect that I would have had a fine time even if it had been cold and drizzly, because you two were very satisfactory companions. I hope you had half as good time as I did. I told the ice cream server, “I’m having a good day!” but I fear that I communicated it better to her than I did to you. So, I’m telling you now: I had a good day – a magical day, a golden day, a day full of simple pleasures from start to finish. Thank you.

Your friend,

littlejailbird
What are your simple pleasures?

life can be easy

In the header photo: oldest son on left youngest daughter on right all the ones in the middle are in the middle except the old ones in the middle that are not in the middle.

Today’s guest post comes from tim

the art of guest blogging is a mission worthy of pursuit.

when i was a younger man ( i guess i have alway been a younger man havnt i?) i used ot ask people for topics to write songs on. like improv acting. i would take an idea and work it sometimes to my and other delight sometimes to death and with the like i do with potatoes. familiar and i like it but others either do or they dont without much variation. if you liked the least one youve got a shot if you didnt youre likely in for a repeat.

life is a little like that. if you did good you are likely to repeat if you didnt you are likely to repeat. its not like tyou are doomed to goundhog day but it kind of is exactly like you are doomed to groundhog day. unless you are able to swap brains midway through the process the ability to reinvent the essence of you is suspect.

the problem is that if you didnt find great enjoymet in the last version of the sojourn it is unlikely that you will adjust this time unless…… unless you figure it out.

my kids are all coming of age. 28 year old is ready to go make a life, 26 year old is working on hers., 22 year old is fresh out of college and the 16 year old is singing acting and deciding on a course that will allow her to appreciate those things rather than be jailed and a starving artist y looking to find career paths in paying professions that will challenge hr sense of daily heroics and allow her to go for it on a continuing basis.

youngest daughter just got her invite to drivers training and you should have seen the smile. priceless. lord knows what she will end up doing but the 26 year old guesses that emma will likely turn out to be a corporate ceo. just that kind of make up. focused and personable with a take no crap kind of personna.

my job today is to teach them that you never give up.

my wife is form a family where the 9-5 routine is the way it worked. nice folks but a different cup of tea from the roll with the punches life i came from. when we met i was a high rolling young pup on my way to fame and fortune and she bit. we had a kid then two then three and decided to get married and all was grand with a city mouse country mouse kind of theme. then the fan entered the picture and holy moly. it is different when you need to adlib plan

it is a stroke of luck that i can always find a worthy pursuit ti keep me occupied and i have a couple now. the 22 year old told me yesterday when i was talking to him about options i am pursuing right now that he thought i ought to focus on one thing and stay with it. and i told him i have heard that one before and while it sage advice it is not for me. i cant do it. while i am in the midst of one pursuit i a plotting another for tomorrow. multitasking is part of the dna
i hope to show them that if you find a vision and pursue it life will be ok.it works good for me.

i used to work with a guy who wanted me to take a title with his company and i couldnt do it. i told him im a good worker but a poor employee. truer words have never been spoken.

i hope my kids can learn how to find their way in this cold cruel world bt taking care of the things that are important to them as the make therir way throgh the maze and try to find the key ot lifes mysteres. one foot in front of the other a stitch in time saves nine. do sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me and dont let anyone give you a wooden nickle. when someone asks if there are any questions? i always ask for the secret to lifes true meaning. . the response is always worthwhile. every now and again i get a predetermined answer or one off the cuff that the person is comfortable or pleased with and tha tis a good time to pause a moment and reflect.

today was one of the 10 perfect days you get a year in this part of the world and when i went outside at 3 and discovered it was perfect out i went into the office and told my colleague that unless he had something very very pressing he needed to get out and enjoy this perfect day and do whatever the next two hours were going to produce another time and another way.

life can be easy. life can be rewarding, dont think too hard. you know how to do it. just do it.

even nike knows that