Early last week in the grocery store, Husband and I ran into a couple we have know for years who are famer/ranchers and live in a small town near ours. They are truly salts of the earth, having been foster parents for decades, raising their own large family and adopting a couple of their foster kids, working as school bus drivers, and maintaining their ranch. They are near retirement now, as are we. Frank, the rancher, asked me what I was going to do after I was done working. Frank is a really funny fellow, and said that he heard that Trump was considering me for a cabinet post. I told him that my criminal record would prevent any such appointment, and Frank said that probably made me a shoo-in.
The cabinet picks continued all week, becoming increasingly and astoundingly weird, even that of our own Governor as Secretary of Energy. It seems like anyone, no matter how inappropriate, could be a contender. This got me to thinking who the Baboons would nominate for cabinet posts.
Make some interesting cabinet picks. What posts do you think fellow Baboons would do a good job at? Know any foster parents?
I was on my way to work the other day, driving behind a small, blue, rather dented up vehicle that was driving way too fast and was tail gaiting the slower vehicle in front of it. The blue car and I both turned into my work parking lot, and I saw that the driver was one of our Peer Support specialists.
Peer Support specialists have two qualifications to be hired at my agency-they need to be high school graduates, and they need to have successfully overcome their own addictions and mental health issues. They work directly with our clients, providing support, sobriety tips, and rides to appointments. They visit clients in jail, accompany them to court, and give them sage advice. The Peer support specialists are very proud of themselves, and it is kind of funny to hear them announce at staff meetings the good news that their felonies have been expunged from their records.
I was thinking the other day that Baboons could provide quite wonderful peer support in helping others with a myriad of skills. Gardening, cooking, writing, home repair, art projects, pet care-we could help novices and those struggling with learning how to do new and unfamiliar things. We are a talented and kind bunch.
Who are some of the natural helpers you have encountered? What would you like to help people with? Who have been your biggest supports?
As you can see from the header photo, we felt the need to add a flag to our flagpole recently. We’re liking it.
Hope you all had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat.
Our son and daughter-in-law were here and I ordered a 15 lb ham, and had it on the grill for 4 hours, topping with honey bourbon glaze and it was very good. And there are many leftovers. And we sure had a good time.
Near the end of the day I received word my cousin Marcie had died. In May of 2021, she fell down some steps at her home, hit her head, and suffered bleeding in her skull. She never fully recovered from that, and after having a stroke in October, died on Thursday morning.
Marcie, Grandma Lillie, and myself in 1972 as Ring Bearer and Flower Girl at my sister’s wedding.
She was the youngest of three siblings adopted by my Uncle Stanley and Aunt Judy. Her older brother Mark died a few years ago, and the oldest sister Marie is still with us. It seemed like a pretty tough childhood for them. Judy seemed awfully stern to me. My perception was that she was pretty strict. My siblings say she was fun. I was scared of her.
Marcie married a good guy, and she had some really good years in the middle.
I basically have a functional heated shop now. It’s not done, but I hooked up the thermostat complete with conduit and not just ‘temporary’ and I can monitor it from my phone app.
I need to finish the interior wall and get the electricians back so they can do their thing, and figure out where to put the tool boxes and shelving, and, well… I could keep myself busy in here all winter.
About 2 more weeks of classes left. I’ve still got an ‘A’ going for ‘Interpersonal Communication’. We have to write an online discussion post each week and respond to a classmate’s post. We can see how many views our posts get. Mine never get many. It could be they read a few at the start, never got my Seinfeld references and old jokes and they quit reading them. Or it could just be they only read their friends. Or maybe they pick the short ones, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter to me, It’s just interesting.
Hey, how do you know if your computer is musical?
If it’s a Dell.
“Adele”.
She’s a singer.
Found this photo when looking for the above wedding photo. That’s about 1965. Dad is working on the blade of the road grader. I’m helping. It’s pretty clear I liked being out there and helping at an early age. The patches on the knees make me laugh. Was I that busy? Or hand-me-downs? Probably both.
When Dad was still coming to the farm and helping, “helping”, I’d usually have ‘Dad stories’ by the time he went home. I wish I had written them down. I sure can’t remember any these days. It seems like there’s a long tradition of the dads coming to the farm and ‘helping’ until they break something, and then they go home. Once retired, it’s not their problem anymore. And dad knew that too. He said the same thing about his dad. And my dad had picked up some part time jobs, so often, it was conveniently time for him to go to his other job when he broke something here. He’d laugh, I’d roll my eyes and grumble, and off he’d go.
But… perspective. Time and perspective. I don’t blame him.
A lot of situations improve with time and perspective.
At the theater we often end up talking about ‘Perception’. Sometimes It’s still enough to make me roll my eyes. I did a little searching and there’s a lot of talk about perception and perspective.
Mom and dad at their 65th Wedding anniversary. Dad died in November the next year.
One thing I am very thankful for is that we don’t have very many food allergies in our family. Our daughter-in-law was diagnosed with both lactose and gluten intolerance earlier this year, but those diagnoses were determined to be false, so she can eat what ever she wishes. Our daughter is allergic to capers, but that doesn’t impede her eating at all.
I was fascinated to read about a Minnesota dairy farm that has specially bred cows that produce milk that many people with lactose intolerance can drink. I was also glad to read that area schools are starting to use the milk for their students. Here is the Fargo Forum article.
I guess this is one way genetic engineering can be quite helpful. I can’t imagine not being able to consume dairy. I also wonder why we hear so much more about food allergies now than we did years ago. Are people just more sensitive, or weren’t food allergies in the news back in the day?
Any food allergies in your family? When was the last time you ate capers? Make up some goofy conspiracy theories for the upswing in food allergies?
It’s been three years since we lost our Steve. This is one of his posts from back in the day. Feel free to answer Steve’s original question, share a Steve memory or just ruminate on whatever you want.
A friend and I used to discuss troublesome issues in our lives. We called them our “dragons.” Dragons are problems can only be dispatched with exceptional effort and resolve.
Few problems qualify as dragons, which is good. Most of us handle routine problems with routine efficiency. Alas, some problems are a lot nastier or complicated than others. Some of us have anxieties that prevent us from addressing certain issues forthrightly. Sometimes problems become entangled with side issues. Throw some procrastination into the mix, and what could have been a baby problem might grow up and begin belching enough fire to qualify as a dragon.
Examples? You don’t gain street cred as a dragon killer for beating a head cold, but beating cancer will earn you respect with anyone. Overcoming any addiction would surely count. The friend referenced in my opening paragraph slew a dangerous dragon when she escaped a marriage that was destroying her soul. From what I’ve read, the nastiest dragon Barack Obama faced down in his two terms as president might have been nicotine.
My most recent dragon should have been no big deal. Last September my computer emitted an electronic scream, seized and died. I had expected that. Computers typically remain healthy and functional for five to ten years. My fifteen-year-old computer was clearly living on borrowed time. I had prepared by backing my data files, although I could not back my applications.
I bought a replacement computer loaded with Microsoft’s Office, a choice forced on me because that is the only way I could get Word, the word processing app I’ve used for thirty-four years. Office costs $70. That is probably reasonable, although it irked me to pay for a suite of ten programs just to get the one program I use. But Microsoft enjoys something like a total monopoly on basic Windows business software.
Microsoft inserts a feature in the Office software that causes it to shut down unless users can prove that they have paid for it. To validate my purchase, I peeled back a piece of tape that covered the confirmation code. The tape ripped the cardboard beneath it, destroying the middle six numbers of a code of about twenty numbers. As it was designed to do, my software soon froze rock solid. I could not create new documents nor could I edit the many files already on my hard drive. Every time I turned on my computer, a niggling message from Microsoft reminded me I had not validated the purchase. As if I could forget!
Worse, there was no way I could contact Microsoft. The company recently eliminated its customer service office. Microsoft now directs customers with problems to some internet data banks that supposedly answer all questions. Of course, the data banks say nothing about what to do when the company’s own security tape destroys a validation number. I learned there are many businesses claiming they can help customers struggling with Microsoft apps. Those businesses didn’t want to talk to me until I shared my contact information or subscribed to their services. Then I’d learn again that my particular problem could not be resolved by anyone outside Microsoft. And nobody inside Microsoft would speak to me.
Over a span of seven months I spent many wretched hours dialing numbers and writing email pleas for help. The shop that sold the computer to me clucked sympathetically but told me to take my complaints to Microsoft. Members of a group called “the Microsoft community” kept telling me it would be easy to fix this issue, but none of them could provide a phone number that worked. While I could have purchased the software again for another $70, the rank injustice of that was more than I could bear.
I finally learned about a set of business applications called LibreOffice, the top-rated free alternative to Office. It is open source software, free to everyone. But people who put their faith in free software often get burned, for “free” often just means that the true price is hidden. I worried that this software would not allow me to edit all the documents I’ve created over thirty-four years of writing with Word. And—silly, silly me—I kept hoping I could find one friendly person in Microsoft who would thaw my frozen software. So I dithered for weeks.
Last week I took a deep breath and downloaded LibreOffice. It loaded like a dream. LibreOffice’s word processor, “Writer,” is friendly and intuitive. Ironically, I like it quite a bit better than Word. With it I can edit all my old Word documents, and I used the new software to write this post.
That particular dragon is dead, kaput and forever out of my life. Other dragons await my attention, malodorous tendrils of smoke curling up out their nostrils. I did not triumph over Microsoft, as that smug firm never even knew it had a conflict with me. Still, I celebrate the way this all ended. When we slay a dragon, the most significant accomplishment might be that we, however briefly, have triumphed over our personal limitations.
Any dragons in your past that you wouldn’t mind mentioning?
When Alice’s Restaurant Massacre by Arlo Guthrie was recorded in 1967, I was 11 years old. I remember it clearly and saved up to buy the record album pretty quickly. I couldn’t find any little clips, so this is the whole thing.
I loved folk music – it made me feel quite part of the times. Not quite rebellious – I didn’t have much to be rebellious about. My folks were quite liberal for the times; once when I was in junior high they excused me from school so I could protest against the war with the Webster College kids (college was between our house and the junior high). Although I don’t know if either of them ever listened to Alice’s Restaurant, I’m pretty sure at least my father would have thought it was quite funny.
In looking up the dates I discovered that the song, sometimes referred to as “talking blues” is also known as a “shaggy dog” story. Wikipedia defines it as “an extremely long-winded anecdote characterized by extensive narration of typically irrelevant incidents and terminated by an anticlimax. In other words, it is a long story that is intended to be amusing and that has an intentionally silly or meaningless ending.” Mark Twain, Gogol and Isaac Asimov were all cited as contributors to this “genre”. Who knew?
Arlo was adamant that he used the name Alice’s Restaurant because he liked it, not because the restaurant in the song was anything like the actual restaurant, owned by a friend of his, Alice Brock.
Alice was an artist, a restauranteur and a writer. She thought the song was funny but did not like the movie. She felt that she was wildly misrepresented in the movie and was fairly vocal about it, hence Arlos’ comments that it wasn’t HER restaurant in the song. One of the movie’s producers apparently made it possible for her to publish a cookbook.
As the years went by she came to appreciate how her role in the song and movie had somehow catapulted her into a 60s icon. Brock even recorded a series of custom introductions to Alice’s Restaurant for stations that regularly play the song on Thanksgiving. She and Arlo also combined their talents for a children’s book, Mooses Come Walking, and they remained friends until her death.
Alice passed away last Thursday, just a week from Thanksgiving, the holiday that inadvertently shoved her life into fame and recognition. I will have to play the whole Massacre tomorrow while I’m getting my vegetarian sourdough sage stuffing ready.
I’m having a mental disconnect this week. It’s like my internal clock knows that Thanksgiving is WAY late this year. I’m itching to bring out my holiday movies and ask Alexa to play some of my silly holiday tunes.
Normally I do a lot of my holiday stuff early but the Friday after Thanksgiving is my official “get going” day. That’s when cookies start, that’s when I assemble the cards for mailing and wrap anything that has to get shipped. This year, because Thanksgiving is so late, I’m doing some of my tasks ahead of time. Cards are all done and got assembled for mailing last night. Eggs are all packed into their cartons. All gifts that have to shipped are wrapped. Today I will sort out boxes for each address I have to ship to.
Although I know what cookies I’m making this year and have a list of ingredients I need, I haven’t started baking yet. That just seems sacrosanct before Thanksgiving. But I will be doing the shopping run for those ingredients today so I’m ready to go early on Friday morning. My goal this year is to get all the cookies done in 7 days. Fingers crossed.
But all this normally-after-Thanksgiving frenzy is messing with me. I’m dreaming about my spreadsheets and what order I should do the cookies. And I’m spending a lot of time going through things in my head. The dreams aren’t bad by any means, but it is a little weird. Assuming by next weekend, my disconnect will be re-connected!
Thanksgiving doesn’t engender any of this for me. We go elsewhere and I only have to do two things which can be done that morning. YA has one dish to make as well. So no spreadsheets, no lists and no dreams. Guess I can be grateful that I only have big prep for one holiday at this time of year!
What holiday prep needs to be done at your place but you’d prefer if brownies came in at night and did it for you?
Two COMPLETELY different people live in this house.
Me.
Cashier at a store: Are you a member of our loyalty program.
Me: No, is it free?
Cashier: No, it’s ____ per year but you get ___ % of every purchase.
Me: No thanks.
YA.
YA: I need one more flight this calendar year to keep my Silver status.
Me: And this is important?
YA: Of course.
YA: I think I’m going to book a flight to Dallas for the Jingle Bell concert in two weeks. If I fly down on the day of the concert, I can stay overnight and come home the next day.
Me: You can get the days off?
YA: I can work on the plane and in the hotel.
Me: And this is worth the expense to you?
YA: Oh yeah.
I am enrolled in quite a few loyalty programs; all but one is free. I can’t bear the idea of having to keep track whether I’m making my money back. The one that I do pay for is Prime and I actually only pay half; YA pays the other half. I did keep track for the first two years and with the movies, it was a landslide so I quit my spreadsheet after that. Most of my programs only come up once a year on my birthday. I get the birthday freebie and that’s all. The program at my hardware store is probably my favorite – I get discounts and coupons for stuff that I’m purchasing anyway. Couple of my bakery programs pay off occasionally as well. But the idea that YA would fly to Dallas to keep her status is mind-blowing to me. It’s like there’s an alien living in the house with me.
So the Townhall burn. We don’t know much early history of the townhall. We assume it was built in the late 1800’s.
It was basically a room school. About that size. And if you look at old plat maps it will show that this was always the townhall and there used to be a school across the road. Some people might tell you this building WAS the school across the road, and it was moved here by the great tornado of 1883. Believe what you wish.
A stage was added onto one end at some point in time. A gentleman who’s 80 told me last week his dad had talked about the stage being moved here, which is the first time I’ve actually heard that. We always suspected it, but I had never heard it was moved and not part of the original structure. I got my theater start doing one act plays on that stage.
It’s the building where my parents met as infants when their parents would leave them behind the furnace in their bassinets during the Ringe Mothers and Daughters Club. Both my folks went to 4H there, my siblings and I went to 4H there, it’s been a voting place, if you grew up in the township you had a wedding shower there, oyster stews, ice cream socials, your typical rural gathering place. It had no running water or bathrooms. (When I first got on the townboard, we tried to get the residents approval to install a composting toilet, but they denied it.) The outhouse did have Boys AND girls sides. Two holes in each!
The township had been putting money aside for ten years for a new hall. We knew the front of the building was settling, and with the money the federal government provided to local governments during Covid, we were able to use that money to build a new building about a mile and a half away. It has heat, and air conditioning, and most importantly, running water and BATHROOMS. no more trips to the outhouse. However, you’ll be glad to know we saved the outhouse seats and have put them in the new bathrooms.
A lot of people wanted us to save the old building but there was a catch. The ground it sat on is county road right of way property, so the building needed to be moved. A few people got estimates, and it was ball parked at $20,000 not counting your site preparation and moving utility lines. Plus, we were not sure it would hold together for a move, and that stage end would probably separate. And in the end, we agreed to let the Rochester fire department use it for a practice burn as training for 8 new recruits. In order to do that, the fire department had to show that it had “interior firefighting value “, and thankfully, it tested negative for asbestos, before the DNR would issue a permit. One man, a training officer with the fire department, built eight individual rooms inside, complete with sheetrock, in order to have eight practice fires before burning the entire structure.
Saturday morning, November 9th, I was there for the whole event. More interesting than the fire itself was watching and observing the fireman and how they went about their duties.
Everything from the “shuffle” they must do when the motion sensor on their uniform goes off, to the trailer used to refill their oxygen tanks onsite. (The sensor is known as a PASS system – Personal Alert Safety System, and it’s activated by a lack of motion. As they stood outside talking, the alarm would go off and they’d “shuffle” or rock back and forth a bit or jump or something just to stop it. It was fun to observe that, but obviously, if someone goes down in a fire, it would be invaluable.)
They practiced cutting holes in the roof and walls, learning how not to cut through the actual roof supports. We discovered there was no insulation in the walls! No wonder it was always so cold in there!
Not really sure that many people should be on the roof… My gratitude and appreciation go out to these men and women even more. I commented to one, there’s so much smoke, you can’t see anything. Nope, it’s all by feel, or the one man with a thermal camera near the front.
They simulated a Mayday call where one officer called over the radio that he was low on oxygen and lost in the building. Everything stopped while the rescue crew found him.
It’s sad to see a structure like that burned down, but that is tempered by the fact it went out serving a purpose.
A few day later we found out the telephone box next to the building was a major junction point and not simply the Townhall line. Oops. Melted that into one big pile of solid wire.
What did you want to grow up to be? Ever tipped over an outhouse? Or been tipped in one?
Husband really came through on Saturday and got all the garden hoses rolled up and into the garage before the snow came on Tuesday. There were quite a few hoses.
Sunday he carried them downstairs and piled them in large plastic bins in the room where the freezers and canned goods are. They take up a lot of space. I suppose we could rig up a more space efficient method, but just getting them rolled up and out of the yard was a work enough.
I am the packer in the family. I am efficient, and I can get lots more things into boxes, freezers, and suitcases than Husband can. This also extends to the dishwasher. I am glad Husband isn’t offended when I tweak the placement of things in the dishwasher after he has gone to the trouble to load it in the first place. Packing is not the same thing as organization for daily use, and I must admit I am not the best at putting things away after I use them. I am grateful that Husband spent an entire day a couple of weeks ago vacuuming and reorganizing things in the garage for winter. We have too many tools, garden implements, fencing, stakes, and miscellaneous things. When my father lived with us he took great care in organizing all the tools and things that we brought with him from Luverne. I am afraid neither I nor Husband have kept Dad’s things as organized as he would have. Now we will be hauling most of it back to Luverne when we move.
I leave storage of Husband’s grilling/smoking equipment and supplies entirely to him. His usual solution to storage issues it to just buy another plastic storage bin for all his wood, smoking chips, and briquets whether or not the ones he has are full. The bins annoy me, but at least they are stackable. I hope that we can have a better organization and storage strategy for all our things after we move. Maybe it will be easier starting from scratch rather than obtaining things and storing them as they are acquired. People keep asking me what I am going to do with my free time after I retire. I tell them I am going to spend my time cleaning the house. It will be nice to have time to organize and not have things stored haphazardly as we do now.
What storage/organization strategies do you use? What sort of dishwasher loader are you? Ever rented a storage unit?
Trail Baboon 