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A Sense of Achievement

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Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all the water surface area in the State of Minnesota.

beechly-speech

Greetings Constituents!

As your elected Representative, I wanted to take a moment before my Summer Break begins to thank each one of you for the calls you’ve made and the mail you’ve ee’d about the work of our 113th Congress! I agree with all of you on everything you said, and every single concern you expressed is my number one priority! And I know that many of my colleagues in the House feel exactly the same way about all their constituents too.

In the end, politics is pretty simple. We just want to be loved. And how do you show someone you love them? You listen, and do what you’re told, of course!

I’m not using that as an excuse, but it does help explain why we in Congress are currently having a hard time getting things done. Face it – you’re confusing!

I’m not saying it’s your fault, because that would get me in even more trouble. But maybe you should look at this in a different way. Right now, with multi-tasking being All The Rage, we have to ask ourselves if we in Congress are setting a good example for the busy people of this great nation.

So many Americans are trying to squeeze more productivity out of each and every minute, you can’t blame them for feeling overwhelmed and under appreciated! There is simply too much to do, and no one is speaking against the urge to do even more. Why? Because no one has that kind of time! And as long as productivity stays high, there’s no reason for employers to even consider hiring the laid-off millions who are exhausting themselves daily in a fruitless search for work.

That’s where we, your elected Representatives, come to the rescue.

As leaders, our task right now is to lead the American workforce towards acceptance of a bigger and better standard of idleness. We are aggressively doing nothing in excellent style while eating great food and wearing nice clothes. And we’re doing it for an unselfish reason – to show you what real recreational non-productivity looks like. When I’m home in my district, I model this by fishing all day. Here in Washington, I have to show it by talking endlessly about nothing in particular and reaching no compromises of any kind. It’s like fishing, but without the catch. I just release, constantly.

Only by doing this can I make it safe for you to begin to relax and to stop multi-tasking. Because no matter how lazy and worthless you become, you can be certain that your existence is still not as pointless as that of your Congressman.

So the next time some sourpuss points out that the House has accomplished practically nothing this session, I hope you’ll do what I would do – respond with a smile, a nod, a word of gratitude, and a nap.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

How productive are you?

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Lousy Little Leaker

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Although I never quite made it to the Bradley Manning level, I’ve been a leaker most of my life for all the wrong reasons. It’s not that I believe in truth or justice or transparency – I just want a little attention. That’s why, one night at the dinner table when I was eleven years old, I cagily revealed to my older brother that he was going to find a Matchbox Car in his birthday haul the next day, but I was not going to tell him which one in the set he was going to receive.

Jaguar

This, I thought, would give me supreme power over him.

Naturally, my mother was outraged that I had betrayed her confidence. I was sent to my room immediately, forced to skip desert.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand the outrage. We each had accumulated a ton of the tiny metal cars, so getting another one was not that big a deal. Which model though? That was the key (as any collector would understand), and I was keeping that significant detail to myself. He would be tormented to have to spend the night knowing there was a new vehicle in his stable and wondering which one it was, praying and hoping it would be the Jaguar XKE when I knew full well it was the Ford Galaxie Police Cruiser. Not only would he spend the night in agony, his morning would be poisoned by disappointment.

Police_cruiser

No actual harm done. What’s the problem?

But in my mother’s mind, I had spoiled her surprise, and I played Edward Snowden to her Lindsey Graham. If she’d had access to the worst gateway lounge in a Russian airport, she would have marooned me there forever, or at least until I apologized to everyone in our family minus the dog.

Which was odd, considering that a few months later the dog was the one who would eventually wind up with that Matchbox Car firmly in his mouth – an unsatisfying substitute for a bone on a dreary, nothing-happening day.

When have you spilled a big secret?

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Needy Pet

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Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, still of Wendell Wilkie High School.

Hey Mr. C,

My summer has been really awful because I still don’t have a real job and all the rain we had in the spring led to a huge crop of mosquitoes AND weeds, and since I’m not doing anything during the day anyway my mom told me I have to go clean out the garden while she’s at work.

Bummer. I’m getting chewed to bits!

I complained to my dad but he said I should take the energy I put into whining and use it to do something productive, even if I don’t get paid for it. When I said “Like What?” he surprised me by saying “Like starting a blog!”

I didn’t even know he knew what a blog was! But since he said I should do it I’m starting to think maybe he’s got a point. I mean, how hard could it be? All you do is sit down and write down the thoughts that come into your head, right? I mean, it doesn’t have to be good or planned out in any way – it’s just a blog. But if you’re an undiscovered genius (like me) then maybe a gazillion people will start to read it and comment on it, and then you’ll become a superstar and a millionaire and you’ve got it made because as a blogger you don’t have to learn anything at all, ever! You just have to spend a little time in front of a screen every day being you … which is really the only thing I’m good at, anyway.

So the more I thought about it, the more excited I got about my own blog. In fact, I got so excited I actually went to look at YOUR blog, and wow, was I surprised!

Even though it takes no effort at all to write a blog, you’ve set it up so you do less than nothing! And Mr. Boozenporn said that less than nothing is an impossible value that one day he subbed for Ms. Pye in math class. He stuck to that story until Destiny Carmichael pointed out that there are negative numbers, which is something he forgot about.

Anyway, it’s so cool that you have other people writing it for you! And based on what I picked up from reading what Anna, Jim, tim, Renee, Jacque, Steve, Joanne, Sherrilee, Barbara, Edith and Donna were saying, you didn’t pay them a thing. Which is really too bad, because they’re good writers!

How do you get away with that? Isn’t it illegal? And isn’t it wrong to have your name up there on the masthead saying “… by Dale Connelly” when it really isn’t by you at all and you don’t even tell people who the real author is until the very first line after they open the post and look at it? I’d be kind of ashamed, and you know I’m hard to embarrass! I’m thinking that makes you kind of lazy, and unethical, which is really exciting because that’s just what my dad called me when I got caught cheating on homework last year, which just proves that blogging is perfect for me! I can’t wait to get started!

Just one question. Is there a limit on the number of exclamation points you get to use? I hope not!

Your pal,
Bubby

goldfish

I told Bubby there is nothing unethical about letting other people contribute posts for a blog, and there is also nothing to the popular myth that anybody can get rich and famous by writing one. Less than nothing, actually. I’m convinced the blog millionaires you read about are invented characters. Truth telling is not a very strong online value. In reality, having a blog is an obligation – like having a dog or a cat. You can get other people to take care of it every now and then, but regardless of who is doing the chores it needs attention every day. Or every other day, if it’s more like a hamster or a rat. And maybe every third day if it’s a goldfish. But if you’re less attentive than that, don’t be surprised if one day you go to write something for your blog and you find it floating upside down.

Write an apology to a pet you neglected.

The Baboon Congress

Christmas Newsletter

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Today’s guest post comes from Donna.

belated-cat-humor-christmas-ecard-lg

July 17, 2103

Greetings Family and Friends,

School starts up again in less than a month so I decided now would be a good time to send out my (not a typo) Christmas cards. And because it’s been over ten years since I’ve sent cards, I’ve committed to a newsletter. And feeling like a fish out of water – which in my experience feels just as slippery as when it’s in the water – I’m following the advice from an online site called, Ten Tips For Writing a Holiday Newsletter, written by somebody named Richard, whose last name I can’t remember. So let’s get started!

1. Prepare your audience to be bored. No matter how hard I try, this letter will likely be a bit tedious and tiresome. However, the nap you take while reading it will improve your brain function, disposition and personality. Science says so.

2. Consider your readers. The conversation should include things you’d talk about if they were right there with you at your kitchen table. Since I don’t have a kitchen table, we’d be sitting on the floor amid the dust bunnies, chatting about whatever comes to mind, picking the occasional cat hair off our tongues.

3. Invite your children to contribute to the writing. I did, and they declined. All three of them.

4. Enjoy the process; don’t act like writing the letter is a duty or a chore. I’m here to tell you I’m having a ball! Anything to put off running the vacuum!

5. Be real. Mention setbacks as well as achievements. Well, let’s see …

Achievement: I joined a gym to qualify for reduced insurance premiums. Setback: I have to exercise to get the reduction. Achievement: I became a deacon at my church, which involves serving communion. Setback: Sometimes I have to go to church.

Achievement: After 35 years, next year I will retire from teaching. Setback: Yeah – I’m that old.

6. Avoid boasting. Indeed it can get irksome when people exaggerate about how talented, smart, successful, well traveled, and well groomed their cats are.

7. Don’t embarrass anybody. I remember our last family newsletter said something about middle child’s (then teenager) ever-changing hair color, and she did NOT see the humor. These days she sticks with her own lovely natural dark blonde. Granted, the upper body tattoos she acquired during college detract from the loveliness but that’s neither here nor there.

8. & 9. Read the newsletter aloud and proofread. I was as surprised as you are, dear Family and Friends, for the homework assignment. Please complete and turn it in by Monday. Apparently Richard So & So believes in graduation requirements.

10. Keep it short – one page or less. Leave enough space at the bottom for a brief handwritten personal note and/or a handwritten personal signature. I craftily included both elements in my closing. See below.

Until 2023,
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What do you do that is out of sync with the season?

The Baboon Congress

First Fruits

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Today’s guest post comes from Edith.

On July 8, 2013, I tasted my first raspberry.

Well, not my first raspberry ever. Not even my first raspberry this year – that is, if you count frozen raspberries that you buy in a bag at the grocery store. It was the first raspberry I picked and ate in my backyard this year.

Fresh_raspberries

Last year, 2012, was very hot and very dry. I seemed to spend hours every week moving sprinklers around, trying to get enough moisture to my poor raspberry plants, as well as the herbs, currant and gooseberry bushes, and flowers. It didn’t work. Normally I get a nice summer crop of raspberries and a seemingly unending and unlimited supply of fall raspberries starting in late August or early September and continuing until November, unless there is a severe frost earlier. Last year, not only was I cruelly disappointed by my “crop” of black currants (a couple handfuls at most) and gooseberries (three. yes, three gooseberries), but the always-dependable raspberries did not do what they’ve always done. The summer crop was sort of okay, but the fall crop was small and pitiful. Normally what I put in the freezer lasts quite a few months, but the small amount I had last year was gone before Thanksgiving.

So today when I spied a few red berries, I picked them and popped them in my mouth.

Man! The sweetness! The flavor! Such a sweet and tangy, lush, juicy explosion of everything that makes a raspberry perfect.

There is nothing like a raspberry that you pick and eat while still warm from the sun (although the ones I pick on a nippy morning in late October might be even better). And looking at the amount of raspberries that are still green and hard, I should be enjoying them for a few weeks to come, until they take some time off, and then come back with even more abundance in the fall.

I look forward to the first taste of raspberries all winter and spring and today it was everything I had hoped for.

What’s your favorite fresh-picked food?

The Baboon Congress

Whaddaya Know?

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Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

During most of my life, I have been trying to acquire the knowledge that would permit me to function as effectively as I want to. I learned years ago how to cook perfectly done hard-boiled eggs, for example. But that knowledge wasn’t original. I learned from others.

My search for knowledge took a strange turn when the internet became so central to how we live. Now it is usually not important to know much at all, if only you know how to tease answers from the internet with cleverly written Google search strings. It is still nice to know things, for you might not even know enough to do a search if you are totally clueless. And yet if you know just a little, you can get the rest from a computer.

It is obvious that we now live in a brave new world where knowing things isn’t all that important if you just know how to acquire knowledge. Are you a rotten speler? Well, all you really need to know is how to spell words well enough that your spell-checker can figure out what you meant to say. As I remember grade school, a lot of precious time was spent memorizing multiplication tables. Now I use my computer’s calculator to handle the most basic math, such as how old am I? Or how about the arcane calculations needed to divide up a luncheon check, with tips? It used to be that only a few people had that skill, and they might get invited to lunch a lot, but most folks can divide a check and figure the tips with apps on their telephones.

In spite of all of that, I think I’m aware of a few—very few—things I know that I learned all on my own and which might not known by anyone else. Unique knowledge. What a strange concept!

Years ago I worked out a technique for keeping celery in my fridge in great eating condition. Celery used to die a revolting death in the fridge before I got around to eating it. No more. (And I’m in such a generous mood, I’ll share this.) You buy a head of celery. It will come in a plastic bag that is shot through with little holes. Chop off some of the messy top material of the head, but then very carefully carve off a small slice at the base of the head (like you would cut the base of a Christmas tree before putting it up in a bucket of water). Tear off two or three paper towels and soak them in water. Wrap the celery head in the wet towels, then pop the whole mess back in that bag full of holes and store it low in the fridge. Within a day your celery will be in better shape than when you bought it, and you might be able to keep it this crisp and tasty for a week or so.

I made several original discoveries when I spent so much time reflecting on pheasants. Depending on how you count, I have written about pheasants in four books. Much of what I said had been written by someone else somewhere else . . . much, but not all of it.

One of the issues I pondered is the difficulty of getting a good closeup photo of a wild rooster. You might think with telephoto lenses this would be easy, but it is quite the opposite. Pheasants are shy. They live in dense cover that obscures them. It is all but impossible to get their portrait.

And yet some photographers do it, and I finally figured out how. In spring the vegetation isn’t as thick in pheasant country as it is in fall. Roosters gather harems of hens, and part of that process is that they strike showy poses to impress their hens. A springtime rooster might sit in the open trying to look magnificent, even with a human photographer nearby snapping photos of this.

And yet there is a problem. A springtime rooster putting himself on display will be so horny that the naked facial tissue around his eyes be engorged and exaggerated. That is, his face looks nothing at all like it will look in fall when people hunt him. I finally realized that every gorgeous closeup portrait of a rooster I had seen was a photo obviously taken in spring. I made the mistake of noting this and then sassing all those photos of springtime roosters.

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I got my just deserts. When I revised my first pheasant book, the publisher was proud to find a great photo of a rooster that could go on the cover. You already know what it looked like. It was a spring rooster with engorged wattles that was on full sexual display. I begged the publisher to not use a photo I had mocked in my last pheasant book, but they were determined to stick with the photo they had picked.

Do you know something that nobody else knows?

History, The Baboon Congress

Story Theater

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Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

It sounds like Husband is mumbling something to me from the front room, but no… as I approach I realize that he is just rehearsing again. Tomorrow his volunteer group will present two stories at our regional library, and he has one of the leads – Little Beaver – in one; he will be Narrator in the other.

Michael is part of a group called Story Theater, a collection of Senior (and I don’t mean high school) volunteers in the Robbinsdale School District, who act out tales from books for elementary school kids. (I’m aware of at least one other district that also has Story Theater.) During the school year S. T. members rehearse every other Monday, and then travel to a different school almost weekly, in their Story Theater t-shirts and headgear, with their props and script stands, and to promote a love of reading for 1st – 5th graders.

Photo courtesy of Gina Purcell, Crystal-Robbinsdale Sun Post
Photo courtesy of Gina Purcell, Crystal-Robbinsdale Sun Post

They’re really pretty good – adopting different characters’ voices and inflection, projecting their voices, and engaging the kids whenever possible. The group used to read the script standing behind their stands, till George Lillquist – a former middle school drama director, among other things – came on board as Director a few years ago. Now there is more memorization of lines, and therefore more eye contact and communication with the other players and the audience.

Costumes are an amazing array of headgear (and have become more elaborate and sophisticated over the years), fashioned by the Props Committee. For instance, Little Beaver’s hat is brown plush with white trim for teeth, and has a beaver’s tail/paddle at the back.

Little Beaver and Otter
Little Beaver and Otter

As I see it, Story Theater serves several purposes. It shows the kids how reading can be fun, and that older folks can have fun volunteering. It keeps alive the art of oral storytelling, and each story has a moral for the kids to take with them.

But the most fun for me is seeing Husband and his colleagues out there, stretching their skills, having a ball as they make a bunch of little kids laugh.

What children’s story would you include in Story Theater’s repertoire?

The Baboon Congress

Tiramisu & You

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Today’s guest post comes from Sherrilee

I’m lucky enough to have a job with a very nice perk – travel. I’ve been to some fabulous places: Hawaii, New Zealand, South Africa, Paris, the Caribbean, Mexico. The dark side of this perk is that I never get to choose to where I’m traveling; I go where the client program sends me. This means that every now and then I end up traveling to a place that I’ve always wanted to visit but never been assigned to. So when a client chose Rome for their group destination, I was ecstatic.

Rome3

The site was exhaustive; we were on the go from morning until night. All the usual sites were visited, the Forum, the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica…. everywhere! If I had a bucket list, I would have been able to cross out two of the items on the day we went to Florence: Michelangelo’s David and the Uffizi Gallery.

But an outstanding time was the day we spent at Santa Benedetta winery, southeast of Rome. It was just four of us that day but the owners were as gracious as if we had been a group of 50. We walked the vineyard, tasted wine, learned about the wine-making process and then proceeded to lunch. Even with our group’s small size, they rolled out the red carpet, food wise. There were about 30 different vegetable dishes on the buffet tables (asparagus, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant) as well as bruschetta and various cheeses. This was just the appetizer part of the meal. Homemade pasta with pesto and fresh parmesan cheese was the main course. It was mouth-wateringly good – it was amazing.

And then there was the dessert.

Now I’ve had tiramisu many times in my life. Alcohol soaked lady finger cookies, with mascarpone cheese, whipping cream and sometimes chocolate – how can you go wrong? When this tiramisu came out of the kitchen it didn’t even look like tiramisu. It looked a little like cinnamon-sprinkled glop on the plate – not the neat layers that I’m used to seeing. But after experiencing the other phenomenal food, there was no way I wasn’t going to at least try it. Oh my. My oh my. It was like eating good art – sweet, creamy, rich – all at the same time. It was so amazing that I don’t even have enough words to describe how amazing it was. I asked to meet the chef; she was a teeny little Italian woman with no English but a huge smile. I had my guide tell her that I would never be able to eat anyone else’s tiramisu ever again.

Of course, I have had tiramisu since that trip – when it’s been offered, I usually try it. But I was right when I was sitting at the table off the vineyard; I’m sure I’ll never have tiramisu that good again!

Describe an unforgettable meal.

The Baboon Congress

College Then, College Now

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Today’s guest post comes from Joanne in Big Lake

In the summer of 1979, I took a couple days off my factory job in Green Bay and ventured to Minneapolis with a friend of mine to register for classes – on paper – to start college at the University of MN that fall. When Welcome Week rolled around, my parents drove 6 hours with me and my stuff, unloaded the car, promptly turned around and made the lonely voyage home. I’m sure it was very difficult for them to leave me in a strange, big city on my own with nothing but trust and faith in me.

Fast forward a few years – I recently attended Orientation with my middle son, Ben, an extremely bright young man starting at the University of MN-Minneapolis this fall in the rigorous College of Science and Engineering. A full day and half of meetings and presentations all about the U, all the resources available, campus life, online registration, meeting with advisers, connecting with other students, etc. Going to college is now a family affair.

Parents of our generation consider it absolutely necessary to be with their child every step of the journey from choosing a college, registering for the best classes, getting the best professors, the best grades. It’s just the logical next step from being involved parents when we scheduled their play dates, registered for dance classes, attended their sports events, met with their teachers, drove them to all their necessary destinations and generally made sure they had a totally enriching and full childhood.

The U of MN has bent over backwards to help smooth the transition and identify resources for any struggle or challenge that comes up. The parent meetings at Orientation stressed how to cope with the student’s sudden coping with new life skills, handling their own schedule, making their appointments, making their own friends and dealing with triple the homework load without having the comfort of being at home. They even had psychologists on hand with advice for us on how to deal with the range of emotions everybody is feeling as the college student moves out, the homework demands of a Top Ten college, possible break-ups in relationships and being in a self-contained city of 50,000+ students. The U of MN even has it’s own police force – and gave a great presentation on the safety programs in place. From a parents’ perspective, it’s very comforting to know that my son won’t be just thrown in the deep end and expected to instantly swim. Yet there’s also enough slack to empower the students to get a chance to be on their own and make their own decisions.

Back in 1979, I was the quiet, shy, homebody least likely to leave. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the terror and the exhilaration of being on my own. I remember the pangs of sadness when I was homesick. My older outgoing sisters went out of state to college and were back in Green Bay within a year. But I finished and stayed. I look back and am still amazed that I did OK on my own here in Minneapolis.

When taking a risk, how much of a safety net do you need?

The Baboon Congress

Choosing Toilet Paper With Old Grudges

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Today’s guest blog comes from Steve.

I look silly, actually. Every time I go to buy paper towels or toilet paper I stand in the supermarket aisle in confusion, staring at the brands.

“Okay, so who makes ‘Viva’? Kimberley Clark, it says here. But do I hate Kimberley Clark? Or is it Scott Paper I hate?”

Toiletpapier

Sooner or later I remember that I hate Scott Paper. In the early 1980s, Scott took a belligerent stand in defiance of federal pollution controls on paper plants. Scott went on my “corporate bad guys” list, and I stopped buying Scott Paper products. There is no reason for me to bury that old grudge now, for I have alternatives. I’m sure Scott Paper has fretted about their curiously lame sales in the Mac-Groveland area. Ha! I hope they understand that putting profits ahead of the environment caused me to boycott them.

The first time I boycotted a product because of higher values it was mighty easy. That first boycott happened was when progressives all over the country learned we should not buy grapes. In the late 1960s, migrant workers toiled in appalling conditions to harvest agricultural products. Cesar Chavez, a farm labor leader, eventually organized a nationwide boycott of grapes. My participation in the boycott didn’t bring the grape farm industry to its knees because I never bought grapes before the strike. Still, I felt virtuous as I bypassed grapes in my grocery store. And the good guys won that one.

Buying gas is more challenging. I used to buy all my gas with an Amoco credit card. Standard Oil was famous for placing gas stations on choice intersections with high traffic, so if you had a Standard Oil credit card you were never far from a gas station when your fuel meter was close to “Empty.” Because I traveled widely in unknown country when I was a freelance writer, it meant a lot to me that I could easily find gas when I needed it.

Then in March of 1989, the Exxon Valdez clobbered Bligh Reef in Prince William Sound. Legend has it that Captain Joe Hazelwood was sleeping off a bender at the time, but the truth is that the ship’s radar was broken and had not functioned for over a year. Crude oil flooded the Sound. The deadly toll on salmon, otters, water birds and seals was a ghastly spectacle on the evening news for months afterward.

I haven’t bought a drop of Amoco gas since that day. After drifting from brand to brand, I determined to buy my gas from a new company with a clean record. This company even featured a green corporate logo. My new gas supplier became BP. And you all know how that turned out.

I was anguished in 2010 when Target betrayed me. I had respected Target because it reinvests corporate profits in the local community. As someone who has worked for wolves, I appreciate Target’s contributions to the International Wolf Center. Everybody has to fill grocery carts with cheap stuff now and then, so we might as well buy it from a corporation that gives back to its local community.

Then we all learned, during the gubernatorial election of 2010, that Target’s corporate office donated money to a group that passed it on to Tom Emmer, a hard-right conservative and staunch opponent of gay rights. That was a dagger to my heart. Where was I supposed to buy cheap crap? K-Mart, the destroyer of small town America? K-Mart, the corporate abuser of employee rights? I just couldn’t!

Ultimately, I fear my values-based boycotts are foolish and self-indulgent. It is hard to find large corporations that behave well enough that they actually deserve our support. If we think a mega corporation is a good citizen, we probably haven’t done our homework. How many of us do our banking with companies that didn’t betray normal banking values a decade ago? Still, I cannot escape the compulsion to drag social ethics into my consumerism.

What do you boycott or support with your purchases?