Stopped by the library Saturday morning to return one item and pick up another. At the return slot, I waited between two little blond girls, excitedly putting books onto the conveyer belt that takes them into the library.
As I entered the library, a little blond girl was leaving with her mom and a massive pile of books. Inside, there was another little blond toddler; she was helping her dad swipe books at the check-out station.
After I grabbed my book and was heading out, two families came toward the library, each from opposite directions. Each family had two little blond girls who seemed excited to be going to the library.
It was clearly a little blond party. I was going to feel out of place until I remembered that when I was that age, I was blond as well – a little towhead in fact.
What kind of party would you like to attend at your local library?
It was a busy week in the theater again. Shows the last two Saturday’s, but Spring Break next week, that will be a quiet week.
Not much happening on the farm. We survived the “blizzard” on Wednesday. Maybe two inches of snow, and I got a snow day meaning I had time to work in the shop and organize bolts. I did pull some wagons out last week. See the header photo. The seed wagon has a good flatbed top that I built 25 or 30 years ago. But the wheels and frame under it, technically, that’s the “running gear” are pretty wore out. I have a much newer running gear, with better tires that I reclaimed after disposing of an old chopper box that was junk when dad bought it new in 1980. So here’s a long boring story about that!
When he first bought the chopper, blower, and wagons, in order to fill the silo’s by ourselves, it was probably the mid 1970’s. My brother helped Dad at first. When I got older, the best job for me, at 15 years old, was to run the chopper, leaving it to Dad to run the smaller tractor and pull the wagons home to unload. You’ll just have to trust me on that. It was actually safer in the big tractor just going around and around the fields, than it was pulling them home, hooking up the power take off (the PTO), unloading by the blower (the machine that blows the crop up the pipe into the silo) and running back out to the field. So, I did that. Dad had two chopper boxes: one being filled in the field, and one home being unloaded. Or on the path somewhere in between.
One box was 14’ long and was a used ‘Kasten’ brand box. The other was 16’ long, and old John Deere box. But it sat taller, and it wobbled more. And I guess I was afraid it was going to tip over, so I’d slow down in the chopper, and then the shear pins would snap off because the machine plugged up. Shear pins are a safety thing to prevent overloading the chopper, but evidently you can break them by driving too slow. I’m sure dad yelled at me to speed up, but I was nervous. Finally, in the interest of his sanity, he traded off the 16’ JD box for a 14’ Papec box. Doing a little internet research, the Papec company started in 1900 and looks like it had a pretty good product at first. But the chopper box they made in 1975 was cheaply made crap. I feel like it was always broken. I bought another used Kasten box in the mid 90’s. And eventually junked the Papec box, and now I have this running gear that was under it.
Chopping was a tough time. Chopping hay needed to be done in a timely manner and the the pipe going up the silo would sometimes plug up (on the hottest, most humid day of summer) and I remember being very angry while trying to get it unplugged. I remember telling Kelly one day there was 18 tires that could go flat while trying to chop. Kelly suggested that might be the wrong attitude. But it was true.
Which brings us back to the seed wagon top, which should be moved to the better running gear, and it will all be a much better ‘wagon’.
I remember dad swapping boxes and running gear. You jack up the box, put a 55-gallon barrel under the corners, pull out one set of wheels, and slip the other set underneath. Nothing too it.
I’m thinking I can lift the back end with the loader and chains, some blocks under the front corners, and Bob’s your uncle! There are two brackets on the front axle, and two on the back that secure the top from sliding around. Typically, we don’t bolt it tight, because it needs to be able to flex a bit, so we wrap a chain around it leaving it a little slack. That way it can flex a bit but not fall off.
I’ve been working on a show, opened this past Friday, called ‘She Kills Monsters’ by Qui Nguyen. It’s a show about the relationship between two sisters. One sister played ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ and the other sister is learning about the game as a way to get closer to her sister. It’s been a lot of fun to work on. It’s a great director, a great cast, an amazing stage manager who can figure out my light cues, and I have lots of smoke and haze and wiggling lights. I think I ended up with 155 light cues. That’s a pretty good number of cues for a 2-hour show. This isn’t even a musical. Many straight shows end up with 40 – 60 cues.
That last photo was me trying to get the smoke machine level adjusted right. This is clearly too much smoke. But isn’t it fun to see all the light beams!!
The bathroom is finally finished!
Almost!
It’s working, just waiting on shower glass yet, but the rest is done. It looks really nice.
Next week I’ll post the pre and post photos.
REMEMBER ROLLING DOWN HILLS AS A KID? WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU ROLLED ANYWHERE?
Writers, I mean. One of the perks of living in a smaller, more isolated community is that we get to know about the lives of people we wouldn’t necessarily get to know about in a big city. It goes both ways, though, and people get to know about us, too.
Husband and I usually purchase wine at the liquor store attached to our biggest grocery store. The liquor establishments have to be separate entities in ND, and grocery stores can’t sell liquor in the grocery store proper. We have come to know one of the liqour store clerks fairly well, and he always tells us about his day and recent life events, and he asks us about ours. He is a military veteran in his late 40’s. He knows we are both psychologists.
Yesterday while he was checking us out he stopped and grabbed a notebook and hurriedly wrote something down. He told us it was a for a scene in a novel he was writing about PTSD in military veterans and if he didn’t write it down he would forget it. He then shyly asked us if we had ever worked with veterans, and I was able to relate some of my experiences working in a VA hospital with Vietnam and Gulf War veterans some 30 years ago. He made it clear he didn’t have combat related PTSD, but he felt a need to write about it for those who did. At that point another customer came into the store and we had to end our conversation.
I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised that he is writing a book, and it was just delightful to hear about his ideas. It made me wonder how many other aspiring writers are lurking behind cash registers and counters in town.
What would you write about if you were to write a book? How many published authors do you know? Have any favorite store clerks?
The first car that I owned was a 1968 Datsun 510. I bought it used when I lived in Northfield – in 1977 – for a whooping $400. It had some rust but ran pretty well. The owner wouldn’t sell it to me until we test drove it; I don’t think he believed I could drive a stick.
Back then inexpensive cars didn’t do anything special for you. No pings to tell you that you haven’t turned off the lights, no messages that your oil life is down to 15%, no back-up cameras, no seat warmers, and certainly no notifications that your tire air pressure is getting low.
Even though my current car is 11 years old, I bought it new from a dealership so I can still take it in when the air pressure light goes on, usually after the first cold snap of each fall/winter. They check the tires and fill any that are low. No charge for this. A couple of years ago, a new warning blinked at me, on a cold cold morning in January – a TPMS warning. I looked it up in the manual and online – Tire Pressure Monitoring System. Didn’t I already have that?
When I had the car’s check-up in April (right before I drove to Indy for the eclipse), I asked the mechanics to look at it – they said they took care of it. Unfortunately, when the got cold in December, the light came back on. I ignored it for a couple of weeks, it warmed up and the light turned off. When I had the oil changed in January, I asked them to look at it again. Turns out there are FOUR of these sensors and they not only go wonky fairly often but they run on batteries, so eventually the batteries run down. They had fixed one of these sensors in April, but now there were two more sensors acting up. The reality is that they are actually a built-in redundancy, a back-up to the main system, which works just fine. If the light was bothering me, I could cough up $120 each to have them adjusted and get new batteries for them. If I wait until the next time I need new tires, it will be a lot less. So, since the warning isn’t even accurate, I decided to ignore it. Then when it warmed up… the light went off again. Sigh.
Hopefully it won’t come on again until it gets really cold again.
It was bound to happen. The postal tide has turned.
As a working young adult, YA now gets a chunk of mail. Lots of credit card offers, lots of requests from charities. Stuff from her healthcare folks, catalogs for trendy clothes. Very little useful stuff at all and almost all of it ends up in the trash. But it occurred to me today when I was sorting our letters, all of which went into one pile for her, that she gets more mail than I do these days.
Unfortunately the mail I do get is mostly the bills.
You get anything interesting in the mail these days?
These days I rarely stop at coffee shops. Mostly I’m just too cheap when I can make my own coffee or tea at home for a fraction of the cost. But every couple of months, YA and I will make a stop at a Caribou if we are out and about.
In early days, when there was a Caribou two blocks from house, I will admit I was more of a regular. But in keeping with my “like it cheaper” gene, I purchased myself a mug that I could use whenever I stopped by. Saved a bit of money and saved yet another coffee cup in the trash. Even though this mug is close to 25 years old, it’s in pristine shape – it doesn’t get used that often and I wash it by hand instead of throwing it in the dishwasher. When we lost our little Caribou (first the big Lyndale closing and then the Minnehaha Creek bridge re-build), my use of my mug plummeted.
When I dragged it out to the car with me yesterday, it was probably the first time in a year that it had gotten any use. The young man behind the counter was astonished to see it. He picked it up, turned it around, looked at the bottom then called over co-workers to look at it. The big draw turned out to be the logo, which apparently was “updated” back in 2010. If you had asked me, I would not have been able to tell you what the new logo looks like:
Guess I’m just oblivious. But it turned out OK… they were all so enamored of my antique mug that they gave me my decaf for free!
Do you have a favorite cup/mug for your coffee or tea?
I’m reading a memoir right now (Thirty Rooms to Hide In by Luke Sullivan). In the early pages, the author paints a picture of his life growing up with his five brothers in Rochester in the fifties. Here is an interesting passage on bedtime:
“Bedtime was indeed death. Even the rituals were the same: the preparing of the body (the solemn washing of teeth, the funereal donning of pajamas), the readings, the occasional prayer, and finally the inevitable darkness. All that was missing were Hallmark sympathy cards arriving in the mail.”
I never really thought about bedtime in terms of rituals but in my world, it’s probably the most consistent rituals that I have. Teeth, pajamas, highlighting items done from my to-do list, making a list for the next day, med/vitamins, daily entry in my “good things” journal. Once I’m actually settling in, there is the arranging of Nimue’s blanket on my side of the bed; her ritual is to settle in for about ten minutes, knead a few biscuits, purr while getting some scritches and then heading to her favorite bed on top of the radiator.
Almost forgot the “bang” treat for Guinevere and the yummies for Nimue… this usually happens between teeth and jammies.
On Sunday, Kelly and I did our usual gator farm tour. This week we went down in the pasture and down to the creek, which was still frozen over, walked around down there for a bit.
The next day I took the truck to Plainview, which meant I have the dogs with me, and after we picked up daughter, they all walked home.
Dealing with mud again, which is never my favorite. And it’s gonna get cold, and it’s gonna snow, and then it’s gonna get muddy again, so we’ll have to do this cycle a few times. Just something else to get through.
I took the anhydrous applicator up to an auction in Plainview. It’s an implement I use in the spring to apply nitrogen to the corn ground. Nitrogen in the form of anhydrous ammonia. I pull those white tanks behind it. The last year that I used it was 2021, and since 2022 I’ve had the co-op applying nitrogen in the form of urea, which is a granular product.
When I was working with my dad, the story was he had gotten a heavy whiff of the ammonia quite a few years ago and he never liked it and couldn’t stand being around it anymore. So I’ve been applying the anhydrous probably since I was 18 years old. We used to rent a smaller machine to do it, and then as the tractor‘s got bigger I could rent a little bit bigger applicator bar. And when the co-op stopped renting that equipment and they sold them off, I bought this one. I don’t remember the price anymore, it was probably 10 or 15 years ago.
This is also the machine that I had a little incident with back in 2018.
Anhydrous can be really nasty stuff; it can kill you, it can burn you, it’s gotta be treated with respect and handled carefully. And I have always been careful, making sure I’m parking into the wind, working up wind, wearing heavy gloves, and a face shield.
So this one day the hose was dragging on the ground between the wagon and the applicator.
I stopped, I closed the valves, I started to disconnect the hose, and the valve did not seal properly. I remember that it was very difficult to open, it had been really cranked shut. So it made sense that it was leaking a bit now. There was very little breeze that day, next to nothing, so I couldn’t get up wind of it. I debated what to do. I debated just holding my breath and rushing in there to crank it shut. And finally thought, I just need somebody with a respirator, it’s not an emergency, I just need somebody that can get this closed. So I called the nonemergency number for the fire department and explained the situation. Well, when the first of three firetrucks showed up, and I was still sitting in the tractor waiting for them, they parked a half mile up the road and suited up and a guy in full gear walked down to me. I’m sure they were all bent out of shape that I was still hanging out down there. All they were told was that there was an anhydrous leak.
It turned into a whole big thing. Ambulance, incident command vehicle, and a sheriff deputy, all out on the highway, and the three firetrucks were on our road.
I had to call a chemical spill hotline who thought I had lost the entire tank of 5000 gallons. No, it’s just a few drips and a very minor vapor leak. But, it was good training for the fire department: they went down with a wet towel, sampled the air, wrapped a towel around the valve and was able to get it turned off tight using a pipe wrench so that I could then disconnect the hose. Always glad to help them out, I said. They even gave me a bottle of Gatorade.
I had to attend a safety workshop, and I had to replace the hoses that are only good for 10 years and of course mine were out of date by a few years because it’s expensive and nobody pays any attention to the replacement date. I think it cost me $1500 for new hoses and a valve.
And now it’s 2025, stamped on the hose it says ‘replace before 2025’, and I took it to the auction and it’s not my problem anymore. When I pulled it out of storage, one of the tires was low. Not flat, just low so I pumped it back up. Pulled it the 20 miles to Plainview, and as I walked into the office I could hear a hiss and air leaking from this tire. Well, not my circus, not my monkey anymore.
The dogs all got pup cups at the Dairy Queen and I had a blizzard.
WHATS YOUR FAVORITE CLEANING PRODUCT? ANY MONKEY STORIES?
Today is my last weekday off before I start back to work next week. I have to go in on Monday, start my work computer that has been returned to my office and reset, and “onboard” in Peoplesoft, which means I set myself up as an hourly employee instead of a salaried employee. That means I have to clock in and out, but I needn’t stay when I have nothing to do, and I can just go home. I haven’t had to clock in and out since I worked at Mr. Steak in Moorhead, MN in 1980.
I didn’t complete as much household organizing and cleaning as I envisioned at the end of January, but illness and travel and a sciatica flare-up got in the way. I expect all sorts of questions from colleagues on Monday about having a “fabulous” month off, and I expect they may be disappointed when I tell them how mundane it was. I look forward to work but more flexibility for being at work, and that will be a really nice transition.
What life transitions have been the easiest and most difficult for you? Have you ever had to clock in and out at work?
Lucy Worsley is a favorite historian of mine. A couple of months ago I watched something about the history of murder mysteries in Britain. It was interesting and, of course, it sent me down a rabbit hole.
In addition to referencing quite a few early murder mysteries, she also mentioned the first few books in which women were featured as detectives. I immediately went online to the library. The very first woman detective was introduced by Andrew Forrester in 1864 in the very unoriginally titled The Female Detective. I have that on hold but I was particularly drawn to Susan Hopely: The Adventures of a Maid-Servant by Catherine Crowe. This was the first female “detective” authored by a woman. The Hennepin County system didn’t have it but I did find it listed on the InterLibrary Loan page. I immediately requested it.
This began a two-month run around, having to do with the ILL system mis-referencing it and involving several emails between me and two different folks in the ILL department. I had actually forgotten about it when with no notice, it showed up at my local library. Later that night, when I opened it up (hoping to remember why I had asked for it in the first place), I discovered that the pages were REALLY old, despite a fairly new cover. I spent some time looking at things on line and was fairly certain that these were pages from one of the original print run from 1842.
It seemed too incredible that I had a 183-year old book in my hands, so I turned to the one person I know who knows about this kind of thing…. Our Bill! He graciously allowed me to bring the book over and upon inspection he agreed that those pages were mostly likely from the first print run in 1842. He then walked me through some of his book collection, showing me quite a few other books which were as old. This made me feel a little bit better about carrying this book around and I didn’t drag it around with me to the gym or appointments. When reading it at home, I was very very careful and when I returned it to the library after I’d finished it, instead of sending it down the automatic chute, I carried it inside and handed it delicately to a librarian to scan!
Trail Baboon 