Category Archives: Travel

The Everclear Inn

We have a small airport in our town that has flights to Denver in rather small planes. It works pretty well as long as your final destination is somewhere in the West or Southwest. If you are flying East, it makes more sense to drive to Bismarck and take a plane to Minneapolis and then to where you need to end up.

Since Bismarck is in the Central Time Zone and we are in Mountain Time, getting to the airport two hours before an 8:00 flight means leaving our town at 3:30 am. We choose to spend the night in Bismarck instead of having such an early flight. The traveler’s choice is usually a hotel in South Bismarck that offers free shuttle service to the airport and lets you leave your vehicle in their parking lot.

This hotel used to be called The Expressway Inn. It recently has been given new management and a new name, and is deteriorating rapidly in terms of service and cleanliness. We stayed there Wednesday night. Husband dubbed it The Everclear Inn in a play on its new name. I noticed in the elevator a sign extolling their modern hygiene practices, such as “electrostatic room cleaning”, whatever that might mean. It is just too bad it is the closest hotel to the airport. It is still probably better than driving to Bismarck in the middle of the night. We flew back into Bismarck late Sunday night. The Weather Service prediction of heavy snow and ice over the weekend made it prudent to spend the night and drive home on Monday morning. Husband insisted on the Hampton Inn, a step up from our usual. I will be glad to be home.

What have been your more interesting lodging experiences? Come up with some interesting scenarios for electrostatic cleaning. How do you manage airports these days?

Losing Track

I am over-calendared.

Handmade on dresser in bedroom.  Daytimer on chest of drawers in bedroom.  Birthday calendar in studio.  Daily holiday calendar in studio.  Calendar on refrigerator.  Lighthouse for the Blind calendar in the breakfast room.  Calendar on my phone.  And two calendars at work (one on Outlook, one on Teams – these two are not by choice).   

Two weeks ago, I took a day off work to get the house picked up and cleaned a bit because my friend from Madison was coming for a weekend visit on April 8.   First houseguest since before pandemic.  On Wednesday I texted her about what kind of milk she likes so I could order the right thing from my milkman.  Then on Thursday, I texted her about what she wanted to do for dinner once she arrived.  This text she answered a little distractedly that we could work that out later.  Then on Friday, knowing that she was coming from Rochester (follow up medical stuff), at 5 p.m. I texted her to see if she had left for the Twin Cities yet.   About 2 minutes later the phone rang.  When I answered, she said “May 13.”   Took me just two seconds to scroll back to the very first text about her visit.  May 13. 

I’m still not sure how my brain translated May 13 into April 8.  All I can think is that I was looking forward to her visit so much that my gray matter shoved it up a month.   For someone who has 9 calendars, it’s a little embarrassing.

If you were stranded on a desert island, how would you keep track of time?  (Or would you?)

Missing Out

I am currently in Fargo, ND at a nice hotel. My home is 300 miles to the west. Since Tuesday, the residents of my town have been having a rip roaring blizzard, and I am missing it! For the first time since we moved to our town in 1988, my office has been closed for three days in a row due to the weather.

I love snow storms. I should preface that with the disclaimer that I love being in a snow storm while in my warm home with a full refrigerator. Friends are sending videos of their yards, their stock pens, their barns full of goats and leghorn chickens, and I am so jealous. We have been in a drought, and this moisture is welcome, but it is hard on the cows and their new calves. The header photo is of a friend’s cow on Wednesday during the storm. As she says, “the price we pay for moisture”. I should add my friend and her husband provide good protection for all their cows in various ways. I don’t know why this one was out in the open and looking so pathetic. Another friend just reported that her snow day was ruined by the discovery of a mouse in her house

My next task is to drive home on not such good roads. If I were at home, I would spend time staring out at the snow blowing by, gauge the depth of snow in the driveway, perhaps bake, and maybe take a nap. As it is, I will just bless the snowplow operators and keep both hands on the wheel.

What don’t you want to miss? What do you like to do during a snow storm? Any good storm stories?

Uncharted Territory

Monday was a busy day for me and my friend. She had a PT appointment in Waconia, and then we had to drive to Hutchinson to do some shopping.

I grew up in the far southwest corner of the state, and I have to admit I have never been in or even heard of most of the towns I have driven through on this trip. My parents never took trips to the Twin Cities unless it was a dire emergency. They weren’t lake or resort people, unless you count my dad’s fishing trips to Lake of the Woods. Sunday drives with my parents involved looking at the crops in the counties around Luverne. I am not used to driving on curvy roads, in heavy traffic, or around large stands of trees. I have lived in the west of North Dakota so long that I get a little nervous not being able to see 20 miles ahead of me to see where I am going.

My friend decided that we would take a different route to Hutchinson, one that was not the direct route from Waconia, and I tried my best to follow her directions. My friend is absolutely terrible at giving directions. She says in 500 words what could be said in 50. She was equally as frustrated with me for not understanding immediately what she meant. I am happy to say we made it without too much rancor, but I think in the future I shall insist on the voice of reason and calm from Google maps. We may end up in a lake but at least “the voice” speaks concisely.

How are you at giving and taking directions? What did “Sunday” drives entail when you were a child? What is you favorite part of Minnesota to explore?

Losing Your Courage

I read in a family history book recently that my paternal great grandmother was described by her sisters late in her life as having “lost her courage”. The book doesn’t go into detail of what her sisters meant, or what losing her courage looked like. This, after raising twelve children to adulthood and operating a large, successful farm after losing her husband years before. She died in the 1930’s after a long life.

I wrote this Tuesday sitting in the waiting area of the hospital where my best friend was having surgery. We drove here early in the morning from a smaller town about 30 miles away. On the drive to the hospital all the warning and hazard lights on my van dashboard came on, the low battery charge came on, the van lights automatically turned off, and the radio wouldn’t work. We barely had enough power to get to the hospital. I got my friend checked in, and the van and I limped to a nearby car dealership. My courage level was about as low as my battery charge. I got a call about an hour later saying it was the alternator, and they would replace it by the end of the day.

I am strangely anxious about any sort of travel these days. COVID and its isolation, the political climate, war, all seem to have sucked all the courage out of me. I am brave at home, but not so much in unfamiliar territory. I realize I have little to really complain about, and I know I will find the courage to solve what are quite minor problems in the grand scheme of things. Why can’t things just go smoothly?!!

Is courage just a decision we make? How is your courage level these days? Any automotive repair stories to share?

Into the Unknown

In October of 1915, Ernest Shackleton’s ship, The Endurance (oh, the irony), was crushed by pack ice in the Antarctic and then sank.  It had been trapped in the ice for 9 months.  In August of the following year, a rescue ship arrived; all of Shackleton’s crew had survived.

The news from Antarctica this week is that after 100 years, the wreck of The Endurance has been found – nearly 10,000 feet under those frigid waters.  It didn’t move too far in 100 years, it was found just four miles south of the location recorded by the crew when she sank.  According to the search team, it is “in a brilliant state of preservation” and is even sitting upright. 

I’ve read a handful of books about various exploration voyages, some about Shackleton, some about others.  I also see several stories in National Geographic every year about someone heading off into the unknown to do something that no one has ever done before.  None of these stories makes me want to do this kind of thing.  Even today, 100+ years later, I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to be trapped on the ice of Antarctica, listening to the timbers of your ship creaking then finally breaking.  You’d have to be fairly certain at that point that you would never see home/family/friends again.  I don’t even like to set up the tent out of sightline from the car! 

I used to think of myself as adventurous, based on all my travels, but after reading these stories about wandering out into the unknown, I’ve decided my level of adventure tolerance is much lower.  I can live with that.

Have you ever ventured into the unknown?  The partly unknown?

Vermin Of The Sea

Well, I must confess that I am becoming an increasingly fussy eater. I find myself being very picky at potlucks, and I never eat fast food. I wasn’t always like this, but time, experience, and my non-existent gallbladder have changed my preferences. I will no longer eat for the sake of conviviality.

I have to go to New Orleans in April for a regulatory board conference, and I am dreading all the shrimp I imagine that will be available. I despise shrimp. I heartily dislike its texture and flavor, and I equally despise the environmental impact of shrimp harvesting. I imagine there will be other things to eat there, but I am anxious. I may have to survive on beignets. My absent gallbladder may protest, but I can live with that. At least beignets are sweet.

I have tried to be an open, accepting person in my life, but there are times you just have to put your foot down and say “Enough “!

When have you uttered the ultimate “No!How hard is it for you to put your foot down? Any suggestions for dining in New Orleans ?

Hotsy Totsy

Last week I made Joanne’s Southwest Salad, a corn, black bean, sweet red pepper, jalapeño, and quinoa mélange that tastes like health and purity. The recipe is in our Kitchen Congress folder.

I usually add the whole jalapeño, seeds and all, but this time I scraped the seeds out of one half of it with my fingers, and added some powdered Chimayo to the mix. It was nicely warm, but not too hot. The Chimayo powder is hot.

I am a life long nail biter, and I was surprised how the jalapeño oils got under most of my fingernails on both hands and made my typical daily nail biting an unpleasant experience the whole rest of the day. I had a choice of being a nervous wreck or having an unpleasantly hot tongue. I opted for the hot tongue.

Our son and Dil love spicy food, and put Sriracha in much of what they eat. Son toyed with Ghost peppers for a while, but decided habaneros are just the right amount of heat for him, and they are easy for him to grow in pots and freeze so that he can throw them into dishes all winter.

We are rather enthusiastic pepper growers and will grow a variety of hot peppers (Chimayo and New Mexico Joe Parker mild red Anaheims), as well as four kinds of sweet red peppers this summer. I am a medium weight for heat. The hottest food I ever ate was my first introduction to East Indian cooking at a Pakistani restaurant in London. I was 21, and the food was so good but so hot I cried all the while I ate it, but I couldn’t stop eating as it tasted so wonderful.

What is the hottest food you can tolerate? What are your favorite curries? Are you a nail chewer?

Looking For The Midwest

Husband and I left Brookings, SD yesterday to get back home to Southwest North Dakota. We typically go north from Brookings through Fargo, and then west on I-94, but there was a pesky snow storm in the James River Valley in Jamestown and Vally City that would have been distressing to drive through, so we chose a southern route on Highway 212 to Gettysburg, SD and then north to the Interstate just east of Bismarck.

Husband grew up in Wisconsin. He misses the Midwest with its small farms and rain. He spent our time through South Dakota gauging where the red barns ended and the terrain got flat. There, he declared, was close enough to the 100th Parrellel to say that is where the Great Plains begin, and his Midwest ended. I don’t know where the last of the red barns comes into this. I was just glad to be back home, no matter what colors the barns were.

For where do you yearn? Where do you think the Midwest is? What snowstorms have you driven through?

The Tortoise and the Hare

Husband and I drove to Brookings. SD yesterday. It is a seven hour drive. I was very anxious to get going as early as possible.

Husband and I operate at two different places. He is slow and deliberate. I am quick and speedy. I have no patience. He is very patient. I wanted to leave this morning by 7:30. I knew in my heart it wasn’t going happen, even though I had the car all packed up by 7:00.

At 7:00, we noticed that the cat was almost out of food, so I ran to the farm store to get some when it opened at 8:00. I was gratified to be able to listen to The 1812 Overture, compete with cannons as I drove to the store. It helped my frustration immensely.

I often forget that I can move more quickly than most people, in terms of packing and loading the car, doing chores, etc. Husband is thorough. While I was getting cat food, he carefully emptied the fridge of leftovers, washed the dishes, and cleaned the counters. He made some nice sandwiches for the trip. He started packing on Monday, so that was done. I was ready to go before he was, so I made myself sit quietly in the living room while he carefully cleaned the lenses of his glasses, put on his socks and shoes, and got his coat. I reminded myself that one reason I am able to get going in the morning is that Husband gets up before I do makes coffee for me every day.

I suppose it is anticipation that makes me so irritable and impatient when we are getting ready to go on a trip. I think watching someone who operates so differently just amplifies my anxiety to get going. Slow and steady may win the race but it makes the hare a nervous wreck.

How do you prepare for a trip? Are you a tortoise or a hare?