On an average day I drink one can of pop. Every now and then two. But caffeine makes me crazy and my stomach doesn’t like most of the white pops and, of course, I’m so used to the taste of diet pop that I don’t want the sugared ones. That cuts down the field of possibilities quite a bit.
Unfortunately a pop that I really like is Cherry Diet Pepsi. A couple of years ago, I tried to wean myself off because of the caffeine and it was really hard. Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi is OK but without that cherry, I just wasn’t won over. Then I realized I could make my own CCFDP with just a little splash of grenadine. Little bottle of grenadine in the cabinet, pop in boxes under the microwave and I’m set.
Then pandemic hit and those dreaded words “supply chain issues”. Within a year, I was having to hunt around for my beloved CFDP. Then I couldn’t find it at all, unless I wanted to pay five times the usual price online. No thanks. I even emailed PepsiCo to get their take and, as I should have expected, they gave me a non-answer and a link that didn’t work. SIGH. I saw stories online about aluminum shortages and figured that CFDP was probably at the bottom of the pop totem pole when it came to handing out the aluminum.
I kept one box of CFDP in the back corner (for emergencies?) and then I resorted to Caffeine Free Diet Coke. It’s OK, but not quite what I like best. For awhile every time I was in a grocery store (not as often as you would think, thanks to drive up delivery), I would wander down the pop aisle… nothing. So imagine my surprise last week when I was actually in the Cub near my house and VOILA…. a little stock of CFDP. I bought 4! I don’t know if this will be the end of my pop woes, but this will keep me going for at least a month!
I have been reading up on Cesky Terriers, the breed of puppy we are getting in May. They are considered temperamentally different than the majority of terriers due to their comfort in being part of a pack. Your basic terrier is an independent thinker, bred to work alone and make its own decisions on how to deal with vermin and prey. Cesky’s are more reserved and standoffish, but very dedicated to their people.
The Cesky was developed by a guy in the Czech Republic who wanted smaller terriers he could take in a group to hunt prey on river banks. He started out with Scotties, but they fought with one another more than they hunted. He decided to come up with a new breed, and interbred Scotties with Sealyhams, a Welsh breed known for its calmness and lack of territoriality . The new breed he came up with was very good at working with other dogs, yet really good at flushing vermin and working as part of a team. I hear from Cesky breeders that they are not door darters like our Welsh Terriers were, dogs who wanted nothing more than to rush out any open door so they could explore the countryside and make their own fun. Cesky’s want to stay with their people at all costs.
It is important at my work to be able to work as part of a team. I guess I am more like a Cesky than I am a Scottie or a Welshie. It doesn’t pay to be a lone wolf in my line of work. I know that isn’t the case for everyone, though.
Are you a Scottie or a Sealyham? How well do you work as part of a team. What is your favorite breed of dog, and why?
My company is still on “work from home” protocol. For another week and a half. You can work in the office if you want or you can work from home. Most of us have been given an additional big monitor so that we can have one at the office and one at home so working at home is a pretty sweet deal.
There are people going in but not many. I had to check on a mailing yesterday in Building 5 and it was quite deserted. Echo-y even. In cutting through the back hallway to get to the mailing center, I turned a corner and found a little nook with a printer on a table, a rug and five chairs. There are no offices nearby. And with hardly anyone in the building, the nook had an eerie, otherworldly feel. Kinda like a surreal set in a Man Ray movie.
I thought about this funny little scene all afternoon. Why a printer there? Why a rug? And for heaven sake, why all the chairs? Does someone really think there will be enough paper shooting out of this printer that there needs to be a waiting area?
Do you have a favorite chair? To snuggle up in to read? Or to watch tv?
I wrote this story 18 years ago when I sold the milk cows. Been a lot of changes since then. I don’t regret any of them. I notice I wrote my knees and shoulders hurt back then. Can’t imagine what they’d be like today if I was still milking. I just couldn’t; I’d have never physically been able to do it this long.
Nevermore
Today I’m not a dairy farmer anymore. Sold the milk cows. The cows were my friends and I was sad to see them loaded into the truck and leave… but it was just time. And I have to say that now that it’s over and done, I feel a million pounds lighter; a giant weight off my shoulders.
The cows were a big part of my life–and had been since, like, forever; I was always down in the barn growing up. Started helping Dad with milking when I was 10 years old. I was the fourth generation to be milking cows here. My Great Grandfather came to this farm in 1896. Built the old barn we call the granary in 1899. The first part of the dairy barn was built in 1924. Dad added onto it a couple times in the 1940’s and 50’s.
Mom and Dad built a silo in 1968, built another in 1976, built the pole barn, tore off part of the granary, built a couple machine sheds, and knocked down an old smaller silo. Mom and Dad also tore down the old house and built a new one.
You all know I gave my cows some rather… esoteric names… The auctioneer has a list of the cows coming in and sometimes he could read the ear tag and know who’s selling and other times I’m calling out names as they’re coming in: Erica, Louise, Lynnette, Kaylannii (auctioneer shakes his head), Comet, Antigone — which, of course he pronounced ‘Annti – gone’ and I had to say (phonetically here), “An-tig-o-knee; daughter of Oedipus from Greek mythology.”………. silence in the ring………. auctioneer says, “Ohh-kay…” Guy in front of me turns around and says “I don’t think they got that…” And Lynne Cow. The cow I named after Lynne Warfel-Holt, classical music host at Minnesota Public Radio. I told who she was named for and asked whoever bought her to please contact MPR and let Lynne know they were the new owner. They worked pretty hard at selling her. Kept saying she’s the only radio cow in there today. Ya know, I may not have had the best cows, but they sure had personality! And the auction people had more fun selling my cows then they did the rest of the cows!!
It was just time to do it. Kelly and I had been talking about selling, and weighing the pros and cons; definitely more pros to selling them than cons. (But the little voice way in the back of my head keeps saying “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”) Hey, supper at 6:00, vacations, maybe my knees will still function in a few years, doing more things with the kids, maybe my shoulders will feel better, VACATIONS, etc.
Primarily it was a financial decision. Milk prices have been in the toilet the last two years. I was low on cow numbers the last 6 months and the price of replacement heifers is — and has been for the last couple years — just insanely high and getting higher. Supply and demand principles for cattle I guess. I have bought some cows, and got some bargains, but there’s no guarantee that a $1700 heifer will milk any better than an $800 heifer. I bought 3 cows and 1 heifer last spring; paid between $600 and $825 for the cows, $1150 for the heifer. All three cows turned out to be duds and two were gone by fall. I still had one of the cows, but she had to have a C-section and would not be bred back. The fancy heifer I still had but she had been bred back 4 times and I don’t think she was pregnant yet. And in the milking world it all comes down to getting pregnant and producing milk. Last week was a new high price for heifers in Zumbrota; $2260.00 for one pregnant cow. The previous high price was set just the week before. [2004 pricing]
I went to Zumbrota last week to see how cows were selling and to let them know I was interested in selling mine this week. I met with the sales manager and he escorted me into the front office, shut the office door and took my information (how many, herd averages, stanchion cows (as opposed to parlor cows)) and then he made several comments about how this is what they were expecting now and my name wouldn’t be on any of the presale publicity lest we trigger any ‘radio bandits’; people that would try to buy them before the sale to avoid the sales barn commissions. I got the distinct impression that he was trying to emphasis how confidential all this was. I went out and talked with a trucker I know about bringing my cows in and he acted the same way. It was very surreal how he kept scanning the parking lot, talking very quietly; even surreptitiously gave me papers behind his back. … very strange.
I’ll miss that big glass jar in the milkhouse called the receiver jar. It’s what the milk would come into from the pipes in the barn, before being pumped over to the bulk tank. When I was growing up and Dad and I would go to other farms, it was that glass jar that I was just fascinated with; watching the milk rush into that jar, I knew I had to be a dairy farmer so I could have that big glass jar. When we installed a different pipeline system about 12 years ago [1992] the dealer wanted me to put in a stainless steel can. I said no way; I want that glass jar! If you haven’t seen it, it’s a tempered glass globe about 18 inches in diameter. There are four glass inlets molded into it about 6 inches long; one at the bottom that the milk is pumped out through, the one at the top is the vacuum inlet and one on each side connects to the milk pipeline that runs into the barn. The deal is you don’t mess with the connections between the glass jar and the other pipe; don’t want to break that outlet off the glass jar. Dealers were supposed to have an extra jar, but I never wanted to find out. Bad enough when a motor would quite at milking time and you had to call the dealer to make a ‘barn call’. Like a plumber in the middle of the night; it wasn’t cheap.
The night the cows sold we all went to Olive Garden for supper; that in and of itself no big deal. But we went at 6:00PM; ate like normal people. Got home it was only 7:30 and the kids still had time to shower and do homework. I took the kids to daycare before school this morning. Then went to Barnes and Noble (closed until 9:00) so got license tabs for the car, went to the chiropractor who was very pleased to hear I had sold the cows, filled the car with gas, went to Best Buy (closed until 10:00).
Finishing up here with aphorism’s that seemed appropriate for the time:
—One door never closes without another opening.
From the Tom Petty song ‘Into the Great Wide Open’ these two phrases:
—The future is wide open. —The skies the limit.
3/23/2004
What were you fascinated by as a kid that influenced you in your adult years?
At Cub last week, in the wee hours, I decided to go through the regular check-out instead of the self-serve. I didn’t have a lot of items but I had several non-baggable items and those always make the self-checkout problematic. As I was unloading the last of my stuff onto the conveyor belt, a guy started a line behind me. He only had a couple of things including a big box of assorted donuts. I smiled (although he probably couldn’t see it since I was masked) and said “Oh, you’re the donut guy this morning!” He laughed and said yes. Then he said “You know, I tried that Kato diet (that’s how he pronounced it) and I just can’t take it anymore. I didn’t realize until now how much I love bread.” I laughed too because when I tried keto, I didn’t make it long either for exactly the same reason. I asked him if he wanted to go ahead of me since he just had two items and he answered no, since I already had all my items out of the cart. We both left Cub at the same time and he said “have a great day.” It was such a nice encounter in the pre-dawn hours.
Do you talk to strangers when you’re out and about?
Even though I didn’t celebrate Pi Day the way I would have preferred (lots of pies, lots of party), I did pull some pie dough out of the freezer and picked up some frozen blueberries last weekend. My plan was to make a blueberry pie – YA’s favorite – on Monday over my lunch. Blueberry is about the easiest pie out there – no slicing of anything, no fancy ingredients, nothing that needs to marinate or rise. If you cheat, like I often do w/ pre-made pie dough, it’s about a 10-minute project before you’re slipping the pie plate into the oven.
Unfortunately last week was a little stressful to say the least and my lunch “hour” on Monday ended up being an 8-minute cheese sandwich (that includes the making and eating of said sandwich). So pie didn’t happen. And you all know that when I’m busy at this time of year I don’t have much energy at the end of the day. Daylight savings helps a little but not enough. YA asked about the pie a couple of times the next few days and finally on Friday I told her I’d work on it over the weekend.
Friday night I was wallowing after a 10-hour work day, in my jammies at 7 with a book in hand when I smelled the aroma of baking wafting up from the downstairs. YA likes to do her cooking and baking in the evening and it smelled good but I didn’t wander down to see what she was doing. I was actually a little surprised when she came upstairs later and announced she had made a blueberry pie. I don’t remember her ever making a pie on her own; actually I don’t remember her ever even being involved in pie making. Of course, I can’t trust my memory on this – heck I can’t even remember the Wordle word an hour later!
I asked her if it tasted good and she said she had put it in the fridge to cool down. When I got up on Saturday I was surprised to see a whole pie in the fridge; I assumed she would have a piece before she went to bed (which is always later than me). But it was still whole and gorgeous. Not only did she weave the lattice crust, the lattice pieces were really even; she had clearly used one of my pastry cutters. Sure enough there is was in the sink (waiting to be washed).
She knew I had a pastry cutter for lattice work? I had a quick thought that maybe aliens came down and helped her, but I do actually know better. So may surprises with YA. And among all this fun news – the pie tastes great as well!
If an alien came to help you, what project would you like assistance on?
On Wednesday, I pulled into the parking lot of Cub Foods at 5:50 a.m. I love doing errands early but this was early even by my standards – it was still dark. As I pulled into a parking spot, I noticed that there were shopping carts all over the lot. Not in their nice, neat corrals but stranded in various spots, one here, another couple there. It struck me as funny because you never see this during the day – most folks are pretty reliable about putting the carts where they belong. Are folks who shop in the very late and very early hours (when nobody is out shagging carts) lazier than daytime dwellers or not willing to spend more time in the dark in a parking lot than necessary? Or does somebody come between midnight and 5 a.m. and free the carts from the corrals?
Husband was highly gratified yesterday to get an email from a local soil scientist who works for the FPAC-NRCS office in town. That is the soil conservation branch of the US Department of Agriculture, and they work with local ranchers and farmers to promote soil and water conservation. The sender of the email had heard through the local grapevine that Husband was a passionate proponent of urban agriculture, and she needed his advice putting together some soil health teaching/demonstrations to help local urban gardeners improve their garden soil and increase their production. She explained she was new to the area and was more familiar with the soil issues of area ranchers than she was with those of urban gardeners and the peculiarities of our local urban soil. Husband replied he would be happy to help.
We are usually asked for our expert opinions by the Court regarding rather sad and troubling situations. This was a delightful change. Also delightful was figuring out how on earth she got our email. It involved a tangled pathway from former clients, the Food Pantry, a pastor of a Lutheran church we don’t attend, and the pastor’s mother in law who is one our our fellow parishioners. Living in a small town can be quite interesting.
What could you provide expert advice on? What are the informal pathways that news and information travel in your family and community?
I like to think of myself as a decent person – not a saint, just a person who likes to do what she thinks is the best thing to do in the moment.
A few years ago Dunkin’ Donuts opened a shop on the corner of 66th & Penn. This is smack in my stomping grounds – the area that encompasses my hardware store, the library, the post office, the gym, the drugstore, and on the rim of the perimeter, Target. This means I have way too many excuses to be driving by that intersection; I stop at DD at least once a week, sometimes two. Did I mention they have a drive-thru? Once this past winter, I still had my pajamas on when I picked up my two long johns and coffee.
Yesterday morning, just after I had placed my order through the speaker, I looked up to see the driver of the black SUV at the pick-up window drop their box of donuts onto the ground. The box flipped upside down but didn’t open. The driver’s door opened and I expected to see someone bend over to pick up the box. Nope. The door just stayed open and eventually the Dunkin’ Donuts employee passed out another box. The black SUV drove off, leaving the box of donuts on the ground.
When I pulled up, I said to the employee “Are those donuts in the box? Shall I pick it up?” The employee rushed to say I didn’t need to do that. But the idea of some employee having to put on a coat, walk out and around to pick up the box that the SUV driver have dropped really bugged me, so I opened my door, picked up the box and handed it through the window. Two employees thanked me profusely.
As I drove home I had several thoughts. Why didn’t the SUV driver pick up the box after it was dropped? Why didn’t they take THOSE donuts? (I know my donuts – I can’t envision any of the donuts were damaged in that short fall. Was it really such a big deal that I picked up the box – to have TWO employees thank me? Why didn’t I KEEP the box myself?
Who would have thought one quick trip to get two long johns (I had other stops, this wasn’t the only reason I left the house – I swear) could generate so many questions and considerations?
If you were going to get something free today, what would it be?
You’re giving a announcement to the press about a small asteroid that has managed to get through our atmosphere without completely burning up. The small space rock is named 2022 EB5 and hit above Iceland last Friday causing a boom and a flash of light as it whizzed across the sky.
You haven’t found any evidence of the asteroid actually making it all the way to the ground, but you want to make folks feel secure about how little damage it would have caused. So you describe the size of the asteroid as small, 10 feet/3 meters across, “half the size of a giraffe”.
What? I think a lot of people have probably seen a giraffe in a zoo and have a fairly good idea of how big a giraffe is but it’s certainly not the first thing I would think of when trying to tell someone the size of something. Especially when 10 feet or 3 meters isn’t that hard to imagine. But a giraffe…. actually HALF a giraffe?
Isn’t half a giraffe the same as a baby elephant? Or six dolphins? Are we picking on animals? Should we say the asteroid is the size of a Volkswagen Beetle? And even if we stay with giraffes are we talking half a male giraffe, a female giraffe, a dwarf giraffe? Are we talking head to halfway through the torso or halfway through the torso to the feet?
Possibilities are endless.
What do you think is a measure of size that the world is missing out on?
Trail Baboon 