Family, The Baboon Congress

rich in children part 2

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today’s post comes from tim

daughter emma is a piece of work.

we were talking at thanksgiving and she said her sister asked  her what it was like to be the kid who wasn’t the favorite of either parent.

my sister was over thanksgiving and enjoys some aspects of my dysfunctional  family. she said the way the girls play remind her of cats

emma was the one who when we moved into our house at age 5 , loved the house because it had the dancing stage in the living room. when you came into the house there was an area  10×20 that stepped down 4 steps into the living room and had a full wall of windows in front of it so when it got dark the reflection of the stage in the windows was like a 2 foot tall screen of  selfies as you moved to your favorite tunes.

the first time i saw her dancing i was in awe. she is good and fluid and fun to watch. i would have to be discreet though because she didn’t like to be watched and would stop if she felt the eyes on her. she can do it with friends and cohorts but not and audience until…. she asks for an audience and performs for the correct amount of time and then is done until next time.

olivia her older sister is majoring in musical theater and loves to perform.

her brother devin is the josh groban of the family and sings like a rock/opera/r&b diva in the shower , at his church/in the car/reading his email… so she comes by it naturally.

last year emma started taking voice at macphail and she said she enjoyed it. her sister takes her from school and brings her home except now her sister has theater rehearsal i need to go pick her up.  it has been a total of maybe 3 or 4 times. well i park and go in and go upstairs to the spot where the lessons are.  macphail moved to a new building a couple of years ago and the sound is more or less contained in the studios. you can hear but it is muted and soft. so im sitting in the hall and thinking its too bad i cant hear emma because the rooms are so quiet, all i can hear is a voice coming from down the hall that definitely isn’t her. its nothing like her. so i get up and nonchalantly mosey down the hall and ge to look in the little 8×10 window in the door as i walk by and the voice is coming out of the back of a head that looks just like my daughters. i go down to the end of the hall turn around and come back to see that it is indeed coming out of the head that from the back looks to be like my daughter. i sit and 2 or 3 minutes later i discovered that it was indeed emma singing as she comes ot of the room with her teacher.

i commented that i couldn’t believe the sounds coming out of the room were coming ot of emma and they booth looked at each other and laughed. the teacher said he thought she should do a performance at the student sign up thing on the main stage for one of the 3 or 4 nights in the spring and she said she thought that was a good idea.

i went back 2 or three weeks later and olivia had her lesson going on and she was doing these melodic classical/jazz scales and emma was singing her song in the room next door. there was a chair in the hall that was smack dab in the middle of the  two rooms and i was in it getting stereophonic daughters singing and it made me cry.

she and her teacher came out of the room again and we talked for a minute again about her performance on the macphail stage. the teacher left and emma told me that she had signed up for a talent thing at school. in front of the class? yeah. alone? with a friend who sings and plays piano. have yo sung together before? is she any good? will she play piano? will you play piano or guitar or ukulele?

we dont know, we are figuring it out. its going to be a blues  thing. ella / bonnie raitt?

we will figure it out

so tonight i fall asleep on the couch and am wakened by her playing the uke and singing like a young lady who knows what shes shooting for. not ella, not bonnie not taylor swift but somewhere along the lines of the music my daughters play for me when i get to let them lead the musical choice of the time and place.

i was told that is the song she will be performing next friday at school. . olivia at the childerns theater performing for a  4 day run and emma doing a 5 minute blip in front of a group of peers at high school.

i have a week to look forward to next week

 

what are you looking forward to?

Family, The Baboon Congress

i am rich in children

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today’s post comes from tim

sorry to rub it in but i do have the best kids in the world. devin is in reno tara is in hell spencer is in limbo olivia is in transition and emma is in denial.

each is my favorite at every moment.

fullsizerenderdevin and tara came form my first marriage and instead of beng taught not to lose one glove like the younger three learned they like me often have mismatched gloves hopefully a right and a left but not always. the weather turned cold and i went out to find the matched gloves in the tupperware tub in the garage (i knew where to look) when i went to pt them by the dog walking door i noticed spencers pristine choppers. id kill for a pair of those. i ahve always wanted a paiir but the last couuple of years have been a money challange so instead of buying functional stuff i by dog food and pay for music lessons.

img_6330it was so fun doing a life of globetrotting and high life and i thought i wild be there forever and now that i know its not that easy i am really going to savor it in another olittle while when i am back amongst the action folk instead of the reaction folk. two letters makes all the difference. instead of doing whats right you need to do what you need to do.

my biggest contribution to their upbringing as i have mentioned before is to show them how not to do it. i think they have enough examples and i look forward to filling the other side of the ledger.

 

 

 

 

The Baboon Congress, Words

Why Blackhoof?

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Today’s post comes from Cynthia in Mahtowa

In August I decided to respond to a challenge put out by the Blackhoof Estate Winery in Barnum. (Yes, it’s true, there is a winery in Carlton County at latitude 46.5030° N and barely gardening zone 4. They plan to fill 6,000 bottles of wine this winter. Amazing harvest…but I digress.) They invited people to find the origin of the name Blackhoof which is the name of a river, lake, valley and township just east of my farm.

Researching anything is my favorite indoor sport. MPR finally made use, encouraged and developed my skills for their benefit. But now I am retired, I have to find and/or invent ways to indulge in it.

And so I began.

Warren Upham’s Minnesota Geographic Names: Their Origin and Historic Significance, Volume 17, published by the Minnesota Historical Society in 1920, states that “Black hoof” is the English translation of an Ojibwe word.” Since it doesn’t mention what the Ojibwe word is…I googled and found  in an Ojibwa-English dictionary that Makadewaa is “black” and Ninzid (an) is “foot or feet.” Then perhaps Makadenasid might be “black hoof.”

But it doesn’t answer the question “Why” Blackhoof. I traveled to Cloquet to the Carlton County Historical Society for their files on the township and found these:

  • Named after a settler of that name (but who was that settler?)
  • Named for the abundance of black deer that once ranged the area (I could find no species of “black deer” native to North America though woodland caribou, moose and elk — not any deer– were abundant in the area before the settlers arrived.)

I continued googling…and found “Catahecassa (Black Hoof, possibly from ma‛ka-täwikashä), a principal chief of the Shawnee, who was born about 1740. He was one of the greatest captains of this warlike tribe…He was present at Braddock’s great defeat in 1755, and he bore a prominent part in the desperate battle against the Virginian militia under Gen. Andrew Lewis at Point Pleasant in 1774.”

Cool. But the question then is, what connection is there between the Ojibwe and the Shawnee in Ohio? Well, it turns out that the Ojibwe are part of a large language group of Native American and First Nation people known as the Algonquin “family.” As are the Shawnee.

Then the next question arises, how or why would the Ojibwe in northeast Minnesota know about Chief Black Hoof in the Ohio Territory? Turns out, that some of the Ojibwe on their migration west from the east coast and away from the Iroquois, settled in the Northwest Territory – including along the Ohio River and Lake Erie near the Shawnee.

So, getting closer. After reading what I had learned so far to my 93 year-old Minnesota aunt, she said, ”I’ve heard of Chief Black Hoof.” What? How? She had just read a book called The Other Trail of Tears: The Removal of the Ohio Indians. So I immediately ordered a copy. And then I found the author Mary Stockwell’s website and emailed her. And her reply was, “Yes, there was an Ojibwe-Shawnee connection. . .The tribe often joined the Shawnee in wars against the British (French & Indian War; Pontiac’s War) and then against the United States (American Revolution, Indian Wars of the 1790s, and War of 1812). And they also were among the tribes who ended up in Kansas. (Would you believe I learned that watching a Netflix series, “The Pinkertons?”)

But I still couldn’t confirm that would be the source for the name of the river and lake. And then a friend who grew up in Blackhoof Township, said her father told her it was named after an Indian tribe. Could it be a mistranslation of the Ojibwe word and really should be Black Foot or Black Feet? Down another path altogether? Back to Google. The Black Foot tribe in Montana turns out to also be in the Algonquin language family. And they were once in the Great Lakes area before migrating on to Montana.

And what about the Blackfeet Sioux? I tend to count them out as the Chippewa and Sioux were enemies, not likely the Chippewa would honor their enemies by naming a river and lake after them.

screenshot-2016-11-28-at-9-13-21-pmI found that none of the Ojibwe whom I contacted — Anton and David Treuer, brothers from the Leech Lake Reservation who are both authors and professors; Karen Diver, former Fond du Lac tribal chair currently serving as Special Assistant to the President for Native American Affairs; Linda LeGarde Grover, author and UMD Native Studies professor – have any idea.

So this is where my research stands as of today. I did win the challenge and received a bottle of wine and a cap, along with fame on the Winery’s Facebook page. I also received encouragement — or rather, a mandate — to continue the search.

Do you have any suggestions where to look next?

The Baboon Congress

Green Thumb Blues

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Today’s post comes from Crystalbay

I’ve never had a green thumb.  The only plants I’ve ever been able to keep alive are hostas and pathos. In fact, I have one pathos which is 20 years old.  Every summer, I planted a couple hundreds dollars worth of flowers and new shrubs to replace the ones from the year before that died.

Last fall, I had an idea.  I’d bring a flower box annual coleus inside for the winter just to see what might happen. Well, a lot happened!  This supposedly summer-only plant was eight inches high a year ago.  Over the winter, it grew so tall that I had to wire it to a floor lamp to keep it upright.

Early this summer, I wondered if this very large plant would like to spend the warm season back outside, so I transplanted it from the living room into a landscape bed outside.  The damn thing grew even taller and thicker.

I’ve now brought it indoors again.  My grandson, a hulking body builder, could barely lift it.  It’d gone from 8” to 2’ to 3’ in just one year.  I’m thinking about going into the plant-selling business.  Or, maybe just growing several over the winter to give as Xmas gifts.

At this rate, I may have a tree by next summer.  I barely have room for it now, but there’s some kind of silly pride in having accomplished growing a small plant into almost a tree!

What surprising luck have you had with plant life?

The Baboon Congress

`Tis the Season

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Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

I like to think that I’m above marketing and advertising. Whoever invented the Mute button on the remote control should be canonized and when YA was younger I would routinely tell her that if you see it on TV it’s probably a lie.

But I never reckoned on seasonal marketing. When I was a kid, M&Ms were the same color all year round. Oreos were filled with white stuffing no matter the month and Ivory Soap was always in the same wrapper even on holidays. Not now!

So many products jump on the seasonal bandwagon: pasta, paper towels, soap dispenser, beer, pop, candy of all kinds and, of course, Oreos. I never even used to buy Oreos at all (I’m a Hydrox gal) but now I can’t keep away from them when they show up in stores with spring filling or green or the holiday red. Easter M&Ms, pasta in the shape of pumpkins or flags, Ritz crackers in the shapes of snowflakes, red and green tortilla chips, paper towels with bunnies and chicks or ghosts and goblins– I just can’t resist.

So I’ve finally succumbed to the realization that seasonal marketing has me licked and I don’t try to fight it. Yesterday alone I bought Hershey’s kisses in red & green foil, paper towels with snowmen and snowflakes, pasta in holiday shapes and snowflake crackers. Who knows what tomorrow will bring!

Do you have any seasonal favorites?

Food, The Baboon Congress

Duck for Thanksgiving

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Today’s post comes from Barbara in Rivertown

Our good friend Walken (Husband’s BFF from the hippie farm days) lives several blocks from us here in Winona. Since the three of us are having Thanksgiving together, Walken suggested the other day that we look through his chest freezer for the Thanksgiving fowl, as he has a wealth of meat and poultry stashed there: some lamb, couple of chickens, and… a DUCK! So as I write this, sitting on a platter in my fridge is 6 ½  pounds of water fowl, begging the question:  what does one do with a duck?

First I go to the Joy of Cooking – on page 475 I read “About Wild Birds”, although there is no indication that this bird is wild-caught, being encased as it is in shrink wrap. At any rate I don’t need instructions for dry plucking or singeing it, but I did find these useful tidbits:

  • Duckling Rouennaise – “Unless you choke your duck, pluck the down on its breast immediately afterward and cook it within 24 hours, you cannot lay claim to having produced an authentic Rouen duck… If, as is likely, duck-strangling will bring you into local disrepute, you may waive the sturdy peasant preliminaries and serve a modified version, garnished with quotation marks.” (p. 474)   I had no idea Irma Rombauer et al. could be so tongue-in-cheek!
  • Roast Domestic Duck – “Most duck on the American market is not descended from wild native variety, but from a type bred in China where, of course, this bird is held in high esteem.” (p. 473)
  • Besides duck, turkey, and goose; there are recipes for guinea or cornish hen, pigeon, grouse, ptarmigan, prairie chicken, dove or wood pigeon, pheasant, partridge, quail, and snipe or woodcock, just in case you come upon any of these. (Before cooking, you must read “About Small Game Birds”.)

There are recipes for Roast Duck Bigarade and Apricot Honey Glazed Duck (involving brandy and Cointreau, both of which we have!).  Or there is, on p. 326, a nice Orange Sauce for Duck or Goose. I have also found a couple of things on line, including Julia Child’s Duck L’Orange, which looks like a lot of bother and will probably lose out to the Roast Duck L’Orange recipe at food.com.

Whatever I decide upon, it will be fun to try something out of the ordinary.

What, if anything, do you eat during the Holidays that veers away from the Traditional?

 

The Baboon Congress

My BFF

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Today’s post comes from Crystalbay

It’s said that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. My friendship with Greg is the most enduring and unusual of any I’ve ever experienced.  It began precipitously in 1974, when a girlfriend and I picked him up at a bar during my too-short window between marriages.  He was strikingly handsome, gregarious, and lonely.  He’d recently moved from Texas and had no friends.

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He also, as it turned out, disco danced better than John Travolta!  It didn’t take long before I had a schoolgirl crush on the guy.  We dated briefly before he told me, “I just want to be friends”.  In other words, he wasn’t attracted to me  “that way”.  This was more than just a little disappointing for me.  A few months later, I met the man who would be my second husband.  He was no where near as attractive to me as Greg was, but he filled a big hole in my life at that time.
Greg and I drifted away from each other, but I wondered for years whatever happened to him. There was no way I could find him because he’d legally changed his name to “Sean”.  Thirty years later, we found each other.  On Match.comno less.  Our faces had changed, but I looked familiar to him.  He messaged, “Are you Nancy with the laughing face?”.  He remembered my fondness for that old Sinatra song!
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We’d both been divorced for two years.  He came to the cottage the next night and we sat in my double rocker in front of a glowing fire, sipping wine. I’d also put on some romantic music.  We talked for many hours about the 30 years apart and all that life had brought us.  I, of course, was flooded with thoughts of “This was meant to be!! Fate brought us back together!!”  As he was about to leave, we shared a kiss.  This nailed it for me. “This was meant to be!!!!”
A few days later on the phone, I alluded to my romantic interest in him – and he said, “I just want to be friends, Nance”.
Once again, I was crushed.  This is where the story gets interesting. If I couldn’t have a full relationship with the guy, I wanted nothing to do with him, but he kept calling and calling and calling.  It took about a year for me to move past my strong desire for him and begin to accept that he really meant what he’d said about being friends.
That was ten years ago, and to this day he phones me almost daily. For ten years.  We’ve engaged in lively conversations over 3,000 times since we reconnected, some of them highly stimulating, some of them just checking in, and some of them boring.  Our primary subject has been relationships and the gaping difference between men and women. At this point, he’s probably gotten half a million dollars worth of free therapy as I stayed by his side through years of gripping depression.  What he’s given to me is one person in my life who’s genuinely interested and caring about the day to day   I refer to this rare kind of friendship as “tracking”.  He’s my only tracker, wanting to know every detail of my life’s unfolding story. Having this consistent dialogue allows for everything to be held in a context.  Most friendships require “catching up” because time passes between contact.  With Greg and me, only one day passes.
Throughout the years, we’ve learned about the struggle between men and women from each other.  I get the male side from him; he’s gets the female side from me. I’ve named him the“King of Match.com” because a good looking guy his age is a very rare commodity.  There were times when he’d meet a new woman five times a week.  I don’t think he’s ever gone more than a few days without some romantic involvement.  He’s had a few long term girlfriends (meaning a year). I inquire about every one of his romantic escapades and give unsolicited feedback.  He’s a master at listening and loving to hear women’s stories even if there’s little attraction. Unfortunately for him, and even though I’ve helped him fully understand the psychology of his wounding, his childhood history continues to manifest by being attracted only to the very women emotionally unavailable for a long term commitment.
Never once in all of these years have we angry or disappointed in one another.  That alone is pretty rare, I think. He’s told me that I know more about him than any other human being in his life.  This goes both ways.  In fact, he’s never wanted me to meet one of his girlfriends out of fear that something will come out of my mouth that could jeopardize his new relationship.  Given that I can be somewhat unfiltered at times, he’s wise to not introduce us.  Over the years, several of his cast-offs have recognized me where I dance and, because every woman he’s dated knows all about me, they approach, asking, “Do you know Sean? Are you Nancy?”.  I have to remind myself that I’m the only person in his life who stubbornly still calls him “Greg”.  If any of these women knew how much he’s told me about them, they’d be more than a little distraught.
He continues his determined search for a woman with whom he can go the full distance, while I’ve discontinued dating five years ago. And, we continue our daily chats. I’ve helped teach him how to feel; he’s helped teach me how to stay rational. In the season, reason, or lifetime frame, this poor man is definitely a lifer.
What is the story of your BFF?
The Baboon Congress

the circle

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today’s post comes from tim

the colors i get in the walks around the neighborhood have been wonderful. i think it was bir who wished me new smells this spring when i was new to the house and all the surroundings. the walks with the dogs and the wife have been good. the circle of life is out there for all to see. i used to marvel at martha stewart and the calendar she was ruled by with seeds started. swapping sweaters and short boxes doing her christmas list of details and yet when you walk around outdoors the obvious that there is a cyclical nature that i have been standing in the midst of without acknowledging it.

we are starting birthday season at my house with the november birthday followed by a 2 december, 2 januarys , 3 februarys,  3 march than a break until june for the 2 at either end of the kid rollodex,

the dark afternoons and mornings make the hottub sessions a special deal.i enjoyed it so much last year i am reminded of the circle now that 7 pm or 6 am is dark. i need to put speakers out there but then again maybe not.

the paths around my neighborhood are incredible. there are trails in all directions and the dogs are different whichever we go. it is fn to see the response from them and from me.  the leaves came and went as did the flowers the critters the seasons the berries  the seasonal ronds will be something to look forward to.

im waiting for the costco christmas trees to show up. i need to grab one quick. they dont last long.

 

whats a reocurring event you look forward to

The Baboon Congress

Bags of Time

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Today’s post comes from Verily Sherrilee

Right now I’m feeling pressed for time – I’m almost done with holiday prep and Nonny is coming next week. I have two separate lists and there’s not much time for sitting around. I read this Billy Collins poem last night and love the idea of having bags of time.

It seems like so much more than just my regular old time; I could get boatloads more done!

What would you do with bags of time?

The Baboon Congress

The Hand You’re Dealt

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Today’s post comes from Wessew.

I love playing cards. I rarely ever make a wager on card playing, so my love is not based on avariciousness.

I enjoy making the best of what I am dealt. Early on Crazy Eights and Go Fish were my games of choice. Then, several winter nights in 1963, my whole deck was changed. My sisters and I were taught how to play Pinochle. There was a three day blizzard with little to do except watch the white world outside or the black and red world inside at the table. Pinochle is a great card game. The card combination of Queen of Spades and Jack of Diamonds is key to play and from where the game gets it’s name. The worth of those two in one hand depends on the scoring system you use. In our home system, a single Pinochle was melded as 4 points and a double Pinochle as 30 points. Thus were we trained that Spades and Diamonds go together.

Then we learned the game of Hearts. The object is to score the least points. Typically a heart card in your hand at the end of a hand of play counted one point against you. The Queen of Spades counted 13 against you; a very, very bad card unless you also took ALL the other Hearts in which case you have “shot the moon” and now give every other player 26 points. “Shooting The Moon” was always a coup. Being the last player below 100 points meant you were the victor. One summer, my workmates and I engaged in a four player Hearts tournament. The first guy to win ten games was the winner. We played at break and at lunch for days on end until it came to this: We had each won 9 games and each, in what had to be the final hand, had 90 points each. We were so evenly matched that it reminds me of a Vulcan mind meld. Whomever was ahead was to be dealt with harshly. We knew who needed to get the queen and just enough hearts to keep the game alive. Now we were at a final reckoning. No longer allies. I will never forget that moment. We were working laying carpet at a school in Cannonball, North Dakota. (Very near the site of the present civil disobedience action regarding the pipeline.) We declared victory for all of us and never played the last hand. It felt wonderful.

I play Whist, Canasta, Cribbage, Rummy and Oh Heck among many other card games but the one game I have yet to learn is Bridge. I would love to learn for one simple reason: I understand that in trying to score the best hand possible one can declare “NOTRUMP”. Let me learn and may the Gods of Luck deal me hands for which I can bid….NO DAMN TRUMP.

What is your favorite suit? Why are Clubs so neglected in card playing?