Last week was my birthday. I learned a long time ago that I don’t want to wait around to have friends/family bring celebration to me; if I want a particular celebration, then I just make it happen. I came to this revelation after wasband #1 and I split up. It was Valentine’s Day and I was feeling sorry for myself so I went out and bought myself a small bouquet of flowers, some heart-shaped balloons and a couple of pink frosted donuts with sprinkles (one for me, one for the dog). I had also scored a big box from the new tv of the neighbors (Katy Scarlett loved to sit in big boxes and then eventually destroy them) which I decorated with red and pink markers for her. Turned out to be a great day and a great lesson for myself.
This is not to say that I don’t love what friends/family do for me – I think when folks think of me it means MORE to me because I am self-sufficient in the “celebrate me” arena. This year I had an especially nice surprise. While I was out walking the dog that morning, the little girls next door (Margot and Matilda) came over and did chalk decorations all over my sidewalk. I’m sure they had help from their parents, but the rainbows and butterflies were clearly Margot’s inspiration. It was so touching – it’s still there a week later although getting a little faded from folks walking on it and the couple of rain sprinkles. It was the best birthday wish I got this year!
Do you have a favorite neighbor? Or a not-favorite one?
Header photo credit: Peter Isotalo A 1:10 scale model of Vasa’s elaborately decorated stern.
On August 10, 1628, The Vasa, a brand new war ship commissioned by King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, set off on its maiden voyage from Stockholm. It got about a mile into the harbor when a mild gust of wind tipped it over and sank it, killing about 30 sailors. It wasn’t salvaged until 1961. Quite a bit of the remains of the ship and much of its fittings and cargo are on display in a very popular museum in Stockholm.
The Vasa Syndrome is a term used today to describe modern institutional or business failure due to poor communication, unrealistic goal setting, and lack of adaptability by management. Gustavus was off fighting a war in Germany and Poland, but kept making changes to the design of the ship, insisting, for example, that there be 84 bronze cannons when the ship could only hold 36. He wanted it built quickly, with elaborate decorations and carvings that showed off his grandeur and greatness on its multiple decks, the height of which made it unstable in the water. It was tested for stability in the water and failed the test, but was allowed to sail anyway. It ended in disaster. It seems things never change.
What are your experiences with the Vasa Syndrome? Got any good stories about boats?
Husband informed me this week that the reason carrots are orange is a result of selective plant breeding in the 17th century as a tribute by Dutch gardeners to William of Orange. Prior to this they were purple, white, and yellow. This was a real surprise to me, as I assumed such activity was a phenomenon of the 20th century. What a wonderful thing to know!
What new things have you learned lately? What would you change the color of, if you could? Got any good carrot recipes?
The most informative sections of our local newspaper are the District Court record and the obituaries. When you live in a small community it is important to know who died and who got convicted of what.
Yesterday I was hastily scanning an obituary of an 86 year old farm wife from a tiny village south of our town when I ran across this sentence: “Lorraine loved doing the polka with Christ.” That sure stopped me in my reading! What a wonderful image! I never knew Jesus did the polka. I wondered if he did the Fox Trot and the Lindy, too. More careful scrutiny of the obituary reveled that her husband’s name was Christ, as in Christoph, and it was he with whom she loved to polka. I was sort of disappointed, but it sure brightened my day.
When have you misread or misheard something? What are some funny misprints you have read lately. What is your experience with the polka?
I have always loved popsicles. I ate so many as a small child that I got lots of cavities in my teeth. My early favorites were the blue raspberry ones. Ice cream bars were never a favorite, not until I spent a month in the summer after Grade 11 in Saltillo, Mexico studying Spanish. It was hot there in July, and I discovered a world of wonderful frozen confections. My favorite were strawberry ice cream bars with a ripe strawberry at the base. I looked for them in vain in the grocery store back home, but never found them again. I stopped eating popsickles and ice cream bars over the years. My frozen treat consumption had dwindled to mainly bowls of vanilla ice cream.
Just the other day I was wheeling my cart past the frozen treat section at Walmart when I spied some interesting looking frozen treats with a lot of Spanish words on the boxes. I bought some ice cream ones and some fruity ones that had the slightest hint of hot chili. They were all wonderful, and the strawberry ones were very much like the Saltillo strawberry bars. I am in Heaven!
What were your favorite summer treats as a child? What do you like now?
Perhaps I’m odd. Perhaps my early years as an only child enhanced my ability to entertain myself. Perhaps I have forgotten what it was like to be young. I just can’t understand why people are having such a hard time staying at home.
I see in my Facebook feed challenges to live for a couple of months off the grid in a remote cabin, and winning a bunch of money. Heck, we have all sorts of entertainment in our living spaces, yet people continue to crowd into bars and large parties.
My question for the Baboons today is:
Why is it so hard to stay home? What would you include in a tutorial that would help people stay put? How would you manage in a remote cabin off the grid for a couple of months?
Daughter told me that when she was at a farmers market in Tacoma last Saturday, she ran into another graduate of Concordia College. (I and both our children graduated from there). I asked her if she knew the person. Daughter said no, but the woman recognized her Concordia ring and identified her as a Cobber. As you can see from the header photo, it is a pretty plain ring and not all that easy to spot on someone else’s hand.
The College magazine is full of stories of Cobbers encountering other Cobbers in odd places, always identifying each other by their rings. “Marlys Swensrud (’64) was surprized to meet up with Lars Lindstrom (’88) on a bird watching trip in Cyprus last August”. You would think all we alums do is stare at people’s hands hoping to find a fellow graduate. It isn’t even that the ring tells much about what sort of people we are, only that we have a shared experience of a certain place. I think that if I wanted to let people know about me by wearing something symbolic, it would be small ceramic pins in the shape of a pie or a garden hoe, or perhaps a Welsh Terrier.
What symbol would you wear to let people know about you? What do you think are some symbols that could identify us as Baboons?
Today’s post comes from Wessew.
That is line from a 1963 Bayer Children’s aspirin commercial. The little boy makes an inquiry of his playmate’s health and receives reassurance from her mother that things will be fine. His delightful response? “Mothers are like that. Yeah, they are.”
With the C-19 pandemic, many of us have heard similar screening questions. “Pain? Temperature?”
My construction work at medical facilities requires a negative response to gain entrance into the building. I’m quite sure that over these past months that I’ve had my temperature taken a hundred times and it has consistently been 97.5. This is a surprise, as I recollect normal body temperature being 98.6 or did Keith mis-inform me with the lyric in his 1967 song:
“Hey, 98.6, it’s good to have you back again! Oh, hey, 98.6, her lovin’ is the medicine that saved me! Oh, I love my baby!”
Somehow “Hey 97.5” doesn’t work as a lyric.
Do you have a favorite fever song?
I thought about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz on our recent trip to Brookings, SD, as we drove through Edgely, ND and Aberdeen, SD on our way. Frank Baum lived in Aberdeen around the time he wrote the book, and the girl he used as a model for Dorothy was his niece who lived on a god forsaken farm near Edgely. (That girl’s daughter became the first woman senator from ND). The area is pretty swampy and remote, in the James River Valley, close to the Red River Valley, but without the good soil. I confess I never read Baum’s book, but I really liked Wicked, which was the story told from the point of view of the Wicked Witch of the West.
I liked Jane Eyre as a teen, but I really liked Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, which is the story told from the point of view of the first Mrs. Rochester.
I suppose one could argue that writing a story from the point of view of another character from an established novel or story is an easy way to make a buck, but I think it is so interesting to consider. I also don’t know how they figure out copyright and royalty issues, but it must be doable.
What novel or story would you like to see written from another character’s point of view? What novel or story would you like to see written from the point of view of a character from a completely different novel or story?
I can get really dirty when I’m working in the yard and putting in a new fence post this week made for TWO seriously dirty days.
The fence was initially installed in the end of April 1991, right after I moved in, so I didn’t have to take the dogs out on leashes six or seven times a day so they could do their business. One of the fence posts was replaced years ago and the others have slowly deteriorated over time. I have a huge black steel fence post “holder” keeping one up and my handy man did a serious MacGyver on another one last November when the ground was already frozen. YA and I decided to replace the saggiest one and see what lessons we learned before attempting the MacGyvered one.
All the online advice talks about how hard it is to get the previous concrete out and they weren’t kidding. The hole was humungous because we couldn’t get any leverage in a smaller hole. We finally got down to where we needed to be and we measured the post and I sawed it off to the right height. Then on Day 2 we got an ugly surprise; the very corner where there post needed to go had an old remnant of the initial fence post. Believe me when I tell you it doesn’t take thousands of years for old wood to calcify. It took an hour, a saw, a drill with 2 different bits, one dandelion digger that didn’t survive the ordeal and a hammer to finally clear that corner.
So the post is in, I’ve taken another super serious shower and some ibuprofen for my sore shoulders. YA and I had lunch after we had finished and we both agreed that we learned a lesson that we could apply to the gate post – that we were hiring someone else to do it!
Any projects that you’ve gotten dirty doing?