For the first time ever we have an insulated three stall garage with copius built-in cupboards and cabinets. It has yet to get below freezing out there.
There is some trouble in paradise, however, since the cupboards take up so much space that Husband’s pickup is too long to fit in the garage. He is happy to park it outside, but he is concerned how to make sure it can start on the coldest days.
When he worked on the Fort Berthold Reservation he had an electromagnetic thingy that attached to the engine block and kept everything nice and warm. The only problem with one of those now is that he has to crawl under the truck to attach it, and he isn’t that limber anymore. It also needs to be removed before you drive the vehicle. I phoned a local car repair place and asked if the still installed block heaters, something that he could easily just plug in. They hemmed and hawed and told me that block heaters are a thing of the past but they could install one. I declined, as they sounded so hesitant. We went to NAPA and got another electromagnetic thingy and he will deal with it. It is on the oilpan now. If he has trouble crawling out and standing up I will help him.
For some reason, this put in my mind a conversation I had with a directory assistance operator I had in the early 1980’s when we lived in Winnipeg. This was before computer search engines. I needed the phone number for the Curtis Hotel in Minneapolis. We had stayed there on our honeymoon a year or so before and were planning a trip to the Cities. The operator told me there was no such number. I argued with her that there must be, and she finally got exasperated with me and said “Ma’am, they blew it up!” I had missed that news.
What have you discovered to be obsolete? Any memories of the Curtis Hotel? Do you have an engine block heater?
(Header photo by Word Press’ Artificial Intelligence, version 3 !)
My summer Padawan is always telling me “I asked Chat GPT about…”
I just can’t get over that. He’s asking a computer for relationship advice. I guess it’s faster than asking Ann Landers… And then he tells me he likes it because it’s giving him the answers he wants to hear. Well of course it is! I am just so astounded that he’s taking relationship advice from this thing…and because he’s asking it ‘why doesn’t she love me’ questions, of course it gives him reasons she’ll come back. I told him to ask it ‘Why won’t this girl leave me alone’ and see what it says? I get the typical teenage “Yeah, but!” answers from him.
Man, am I glad I’m not 19 anymore! Mostly.
So I asked Chat GPT to write a blog and I gave it some pretty general guidelines; farming, theater, and teenage love.
It did pretty good! I had to laugh, it wasn’t at all like I write, because why would it be, but it was a very nice short story of “…slipping into a classroom still smelling faintly of hay and diesel that makes you feel both out of place and perfectly rooted at the same time.”
Then boy meets girl, they go to a show, and, “ We slipped into seats near the front, shoulders brushing, her laughter lighting up the dim room like a sparkler. I couldn’t tell you much about the plot of the play—something about family, love, mistakes—but I remember how she leaned in during the quiet moments and how the stage lights reflected in her eyes.”
Oh my gosh. I’m gonna start asking this for sweet nothings to whisper in Kelly’s ears!
So I refined the request a few more times. I asked for more humor and less metaphors. I hate metaphors like a hole in my head.
It gave me this:
Being nineteen and in a relationship during winter in Southeast Minnesota is a test that should earn college credit. The farm turns into a frozen obstacle course, the wind rearranges your face, and every chore takes twice as long because everything metal turns into a hand-freezing punishment device. Romance does not thrive in these conditions.
My girlfriend says we need to “communicate more,” which is hard to do when the chickens start yelling at dawn and demand full attention. She thinks the chickens respond better to her voice, which is true only because she gives them treats and I hand them feed like a government-issued ration. She insists this is evidence of my lack of warmth. I insist it is evidence that chickens are extortionists.
The grain farm does not help our relationship. Every time we plan a date, something breaks. This week it was the old tractor. The tractor has the personality of a stubborn old man who refuses to stand up without complaining first. I spent three hours crawling under it, dropping tools, and discovering new ways to swear. She sat nearby on a bale of straw, scrolling through her phone, occasionally offering advice that made sense only if the tractor responded to positive energy.
The real villain of December is Christmas music. The month starts, and suddenly every speaker in existence blasts nonstop jingles. She says it “puts her in the spirit.” It puts me in a state of irritation that could power the whole farm. The worst part is that she sings along. She sings loudly. She sings off-key. She claims my dislike of holiday music is a sign of emotional instability. I claim her playlist is a threat to public safety. This topic has caused more arguments than the chickens, the tractor, and the weather combined.
But we’re nineteen, so we keep trying. Some evenings we sit in the shop, surrounded by tools, feathers drifting around, both of us exhausted. She talks about her day. I talk about which piece of machinery betrayed me. Sometimes she laughs at my tractor stories. Sometimes I almost tolerate her humming.
Our relationship may not be smooth, but we are still standing, even in January temperatures, even with demanding chickens, even with that cursed playlist. And honestly, surviving December together might be proof we’re tougher than we thought.
Not bad. But I want to know why there are feathers in the shop?? Are the chickens living in the shop or did I drag that many feathers in there on my clothing?? Sometimes walking around the college and I’ll find a dry chunk of “dirt” in the hallway with a chicken feather sticking out of it. Yeah, that’s probably mine. But how did the computer know that?
THINK ABOUT AUTOMATION IN YOUR LIFE. WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE NEVER EXPECTED?
I know that November and December are very busy seasons for musicians, but I have been astounded by the number of musical performances by local musicians since we moved here. When I grew up here, all the music was in the school and the churches.
In the last two weeks there have been musical performances by a variety of groups downtown in stores, in outdoor public performance spaces, and in the Palace, the old Vaudeville theatre. They performed in the snow storms. The music ranged from classical, folk, and rock. Children and adults have been playing and singing all around town. The school is having concerts.
Next Sunday, there is a big concert of a variety of musicians at the Senior Center. We bought tickets to attend. I signed Husband up for guitar lessons at the local music school. Is this typical for small town Minnesota? Our ND town was extremely musical, but not like this.
What is your favorite holiday music? What would you like to perform or hear?
Husband and our 7 year old grandson spent most of Thanksgiving Day in the basement messing around with various string instruments. Grandson brought the three-quarter size guitar we got him in the summer. He and his Opa (Husband’s German name. I am Oma.) practiced tuning the guitar and his cello to eachother, and Opa taught him the difference between bass and treble clef, and that you could play the same tune in both clefs. Grandson also noodled around on the piano upstsirs using the sustain pedal until it got too annoying and we had to have him stop. He actually asked Opa if they could “jam” next time.
During the afternoon, grandson came upstairs and excitedly announced “Opa is teaching me finger picking”. He is to start piano and guitar lessons in the spring. At home he likes to just strum his guitar once a day and practice trying to play chords. He also thought Opa’s cello was pretty cool.
I learned cooking, gardening, and that History was a most interesting subject from my grandparents. Grandson wants me to make tirimisu with him one of these days, and loves to cook with his parents. I am so glad we can help foster these interests, as they really make for a satisfying life.
What skills did your older relatives and grandparents teach you?What names did you use to address your grandparents?
Except for thirty banker’s boxes full of books, we have unpacked everything else from the move. We are awaiting the arrival of seven bookcases sometime next week.
There are a few things that we can’t find, and I doubt they are in with the books. I am missing the widemouth graniteware funnel I use to fill canning jars. The cornstarch container has gone missing. Snow scrapers for the truck are nowhere to be found. All of those are easily replaced.
Husband was distressed earlier this week, however, when he couldn’t find his cello endpin anchor. It prevents the cello from sliding out from underneath him when he plays it on a wood or laminate floor. I found some on Amazon, but they would take several days to arrive, and he really wanted to try out the cello . We searched all over with no luck, and then I got what I thought was a brilliant idea for a temporary solution. The plug for the kitchen sink broke shortly after we moved in, and we went to Ace Hardware in town to get a replacement. Since we weren’t exactly sure what one would work the best so we bought a couple of different kinds. I remembered that one we had stored under the sink would work great for an endpin. It was rubber and perfectly shaped if put upside down:
He was so happy to play his cello. I will order some real endpins, as he always seems to misplace them, but this will work well for now.
What have been some of your memorable misplacements? What have been some of your more brilliant ideas?
We have owned various terriers since 1989. One thing we have learned with them is that everything in life is a series of games, dead serious games that must be played to their fullest.
Our current Cesky Terrier is no exception. If he isn’t tugging viciously with his Wubba and dashing its brains out, he is chewing vigorously on his squeaky ball and tossing it around the room at our feet. You can see it in the header photo. We used to get him squeaky yellow tennis balls, but he can eviscerate those in 10 minutes, so we got him the rubber Kong ones. Those last a couple of weeks.
The dog would tell you that our frustration with his current obsession of tossing the balls at our feet while we sit in the livingroom is entirely our fault. We should have taken him and his squeaky ball to the furniture store in Sioux Falls when we bought the new sofa. arm chair, and matching ottoman. Then we could have made sure there was enough clearance under the furniture for his ball to roll under and for it to hit the wall and roll back out, or for us or him to retrieve it easily. As it is, he tosses the ball, he tries to grab it before it rolls under the sofa, and if he misses, it is stuck and he sits and cries until we retrieve it for him. This means we can use the Swiffer floor sweeper to sweep it out, get down on our hands and knees and reach under and grab it, or move the furniture. This happens multiple times a day. It is exhausting.
I tried to solve the problem by stuffing thin throw pillows under the sofa and chair to block the ball. We haven’t enough of them for all the fronts and sides of the furniture, so I plan to buy swimming pool noodles and cut them to size and see how that works. The games must go on. The only thing worse than a gaming terrier is a bored terrier.
What are your favorite games to play? How about your pets?
We had about 8 inches of snow last week. Husband was prepared, and had even gone so far as to buy a pair of Carhartt overalls to have ready when he had to clear the snow. He decided he would only wear the overalls with his biggest snow boots and thickest socks while he operated the snowblower. For all the other outdoor tasks like filling the bird feeders, shoveling the deck, and walking the dog he would wear warm pants and his hiking boots with thinner but warm socks. The Carhartt’s are rather voluminous and don’t allow for as much freedom of movement required for the non-snowblower tasks. It was clear in his mind he would do the latter tasks first, and finish up with the snowblower and his change of outerwear. The Carhartt’s were too long to wear with anything but his snow boots. The thick socks were too thick for the hiking boots, so they required thinner socks.
Husband got somewhat disorganized, and thought he had finished all the pre-snowblowing tasks and had changed into the warm clothes only to find that the batteries for the snowblower weren’t fully charged, so he methodically changed back into the less warm clothes, boots, and socks. The socks are a big issue, as Husband really struggles to put on his socks due to carpal tunnel and arthritis in both his hands. Once the tasks were done and the batteries charged he again changed into his snowblower uniform. He did a really nice job outside, but it sure took him a long time.
Perhaps it is because we are now in Minnesota, or that we live just south of Pipestone (home of the now defunct Song of Hiawatha pageant), as I watched Husband change in and out of his outdoor work costumes and get ready for the tasks at hand, I was reminded of Lewis Carroll’s parody on The Song of Hiawatha, called Hiawatha’s Photographing. The poem uses the same laborious cadence as the original poem. It describes a 19th century man trying to take family photos. It is really funny. It is readily available on-line. As you read it, imagine a similar parody about getting ready to clear snow.
What are some of your favorite parodies? How do you clear your snow?Any thoughts about Longfellow?
The former owner of our home runs a satellite communication company that provides TV and entertainment systems to health care/senior living facilities and hotels nationwide. His office is right on Main Street. He and his wife insisted that the three televisions in the home had to stay when we bought the house. They are hard-wired into a myriad of cables that run through the walls and from upstairs to downstairs and out of doors. They also left us several DVD players and stereo receivers.
There are six speakers upstairs in the ceilings of the kitchen, dining room, and living room, along with three speakers in the garage, and two attached to the house in the backyard. The ceilings in the basement bedrooms and family room also have speakers, and another huge room in the basement has several speakers in the ceiling and walls.
The header photo shows the main controls for this sound system. It resides in a cupboard in the kitchen. One can choose what part of the house you want to have sound from the radio, TV, DVD. CD, computer, or any other media player you can figure out how to hook up to the main system. The former owner graciously came over last week to show me how to operate the system. I gave him a package of lefse. It is complicated. I am a successful trial and error button pusher, so I think I will figure it out. eventually.
When did you get your first sound system? What did it consist of? What music do you think we should play on the outdoor speakers?
Sigh. (In through the nose, out through the mouth)…………….
(There was several sighs)
I hope everyone had another Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat.* We had ham, mashed potatoes simmered in milk rather than boiled in water, cheesy biscuits (Gluten free. From a box. Red Lobster brand and very yummy.) and stuffing. I basted the ham with Dr. Pepper, then used a honey- whiskey-jam-glaze. Later, cleaning up, I almost made it to the garage door with the foil pan of ham juice and Dr. Pepper before I dropped it. The dogs enjoyed it. I threw out the rug.
Corn is out. All of it. They finished the last field on Wednesday. They got most of it out on Monday. Monday night I was able to chisel plow some of it. Tuesday it rained all afternoon. I kinda thought I’d have Wednesday to work up more corn ground, and then the weather people started predicting snow and I revised my work schedule. I was busy all day Tuesday, but decided to skip a rehearsal on Tuesday night and stay home to farm. And then it kept raining. And raining. Not a lot, maybe half an inch? But I knew I had to try. I worked until midnight chisel plowing. And I got everything that was harvested worked up. Yeah, it was a little muddy. But there’s enough corn trash (the stalks and leaves) that traction wasn’t really an issue, I just left a lot of mud on the road. Which is now frozen and kinda lumpy. It would have been nice to get the tractor and chisel plow washed off before winter really set in, but oh well. A good rain shower in April will do that too I guess.
“A bad job of tillage in the fall is better than a good job of tillage in the spring”.
That phrase has a lot of factors involved. In the spring, if it’s a good day for planting and I’m waiting for it to be dry enough to chisel plow, that puts me further behind for planting. It’s all a race against the clock and the weather. The sooner planted, the better. I’m very glad to have gotten done what I did. It was just starting to snow as I was working up the last field.
Yields seem to be pretty good. Test weight was good at 57 or 58 pounds per bushel. Corn price is based on 56 pounds per bushel, so anything over that is a bonus. Takes less corn to make a bushel, so therefore better test weight means more bushels. Moisture of the grain was 17-18%. It needs to be dried to 15% for storage, so there’s a fee for the elevator to dry it. Plus, shrinkage. Those extra points are water in the kernel, meaning a tiny bit of swelling. Meaning the elevator docks the total bushels (gross weight divided by the test weight) by some factor that they have devised, to give me ‘dry bushels’ meaning less bushels for me. (Any margin goes to the elevator.) For example, I had a load of corn with a gross weight of 84,800 pounds, truck and grain, at 17% moisture and 58 test weight. (When the truck pulls up to the elevator, there is a tube that plunges down into the corn, and sucks up a sample into the office, and they test it for moisture and weight. That’s where those figures come from.) Once the tare weight is determined when the truck is empty, the balance is the grain. In this case, 58,980 lbs. Divided by 56 (bushel weight) gives us 1053 bushels gross. Minus the moisture shrinkage gives us dry bushels of 1024. Shrinkage. This is why some farmers store their corn at home. They can dry it cheaper, they’re not paying for the shrinkage, and they can perhaps sell the corn at a better price later. Course there’s the cost of the bins and trucks and the entire operation, and managing the corn to keep it in good shape in the bin. And I simply don’t raise enough corn to make a pay back. I know, too much information again.
December 1, most of my loans will change their interest rates. So I used an operating loan to pay off all the fertilizer and chemical loans from spring and summer, and I’ll use the corn check, once I get it, to pay back the operating loan.
We’re gonna be a little bit short this year. A few thousand dollars. Not the end of the world.
The deer! East of our buildings is Silver Creek, and acres of woods and pasture. It’s a deer haven. I came over a hill and there had to be 35 deer standing there. Later that night, coming down the driveway, I bet I saw 100 sets of eyes. Deer all over! Stupid deer.
We only got a dusting of snow that night. Perhaps more coming Saturday? Every guess is different so we’ll just wait and see. I did plug in the water tank heater, the chickens heated water bucket, the heat tape on a water pipe in the barn, and turned on the ‘block heater’ in the house. I moved a pile of dirt that was inside the shed, left over from the concrete work. Added dirt to the edges of the new concrete, and added rock to the edge of the front walkway concrete. Got the snow blower in the shed and the rear blade on the tractor. Moved some other stuff from outside inside. And installed driveway markers late Friday. Kelly and I did the snowfence last weekend. Typically we do it the weekend after thanksgiving. We decided last week seemed like better weather. Good choice.
I also mixed up the bags of cement last Saturday and got that done. tim, it’s all the same color.
We’ve been watching ‘The Landman’ on TV, and it’s based on a podcast called ‘Boomtown’. So I listened to that in the tractor while doing fieldwork. It was a very interesting look at the oil boom- and busts- of the Permian oil fields in Texas. Me and Bailey had quality tractor time. She wasn’t interested in the podcast.
In the last month, I finished the college show, a Mantoville show, a Rep show, some outside rentals at the college, and the crops. No wonder I can’t keep track of what day it is. I knew I just had to get through this week. I don’t have ANY EVENING EVENTS this coming week. Next week will be the holiday concerts at the College. A couple afternoon rehearsals, and two evening performances. There is light at the end of the tunnel.
Everytime I go into the shop I think how wonderful this is and how lucky I am.
Remember the chicken that hatched some chicks a month ago? They’re bigger than pigeons now and with the weather changing, decided it was time to let them out of the pen.
The first night momma brought them all into the garage.
There are seven chicks. Two are on the floor or something. It was a whole big thing trying to get them all up on the garbage can. Perching takes practice.
After that, mom ditched them all. She’s still spending the nights in the garage, kids are left where ever she leaves them. I try to get all seven of them together at night, but it just depends.
There’s still some chickens laying eggs out in the pole barn. I would appreciate it if they’d lay them closer to the ground rather than 12′ up.
Does anyone here read the Smithsonian Magazine?
I really enjoy it; it always has such interesting articles. The November issue has an article on the man who created and started the Hardy Boys books. I think I read them? I don’t remember them making a big impact, and I’m not sure if it was those or we had Nancy Drew. As usual, I expect mom picked them up used from someone, so we only had a few.
*Thank you Arlo Guthrie
Finishing corn
A harvested field!
The last field. Done.
Snow in the furrows of a plowed field makes you feel good about your life choices.
We have been in our new home for almost a month, and find the community and people friendly and accommodating. We spent the last almost 40 years living among ranchers, oil workers, and people descended from a Black Sea immigrants. The latter are somewhat short and Roman Catholic. Now we live in an area settled by Germans, Norwegians, and Dutch immigrants. There are lots of Lutherans and Dutch Refomed here. There are lots of tall, blondes here. The Lutheran Church we attend and that I grew up in was founded by Norwegians. It was surprising when we attended last week to hear the loud and intune singing from the whole congregation. The local high school here had to start a new men’s choir this fall since so many of the boys wanted to sing. This is a very musical community.
Husband and I are amazed how often the city puts out street sweepers and machines that suck up piles of leaves that people have raked into the street. We usually just ignore the leaves. Husband felt compelled to rake since everyone else was doing it almost every day. He blames the Dutch influence for this street cleaning obsession.
Husband was excited to find Aquavit in the local liquor store. It was impossible to find out west. He went full Scandanavian by getting lingonberries and pickled herring, both easy to find in the stores here. We also have a local brewery that makes a German type beer that Husband likes. We rolled and fried 75 sheets of lefse last Saturday, so we are ready for a SW Minnesota winter. I draw the line at lutefisk.
How are you influenced by your neighbors? How comfortable are you singing aloud in church or other public settings?
Trail Baboon 