Respect, Integrity, and Dignity

This has been a tough week or two for all of us at work. I know I am suffering. I've left my keys and wallet unattended twice this week. I've put my foot in my mouth so often I've becoming used to the taste of shoe leather. Everyone is very sad because one of our coworkers died in a domestic violent tragedy. Media coverage of this event has sharpened the pain and put salt into the wounds. So much is said and written about the victims of domestic abuse. It's true that their loss puts a HUGE hole in the fabric of our society and the ripples from that hole cause us all to flounder. What worries me is that some foolish bully will point to some news article and use it like a scary weapon to further intimidate their partner into staying in an abusive relationship. I wish the media would focus on what the foolish bully has lost. He can't go to work. He can't drive his vehicle. He can't see his daughter - at least for a while. He can't walk around the block or go to his favorite bar. He can't drink alcohol. He can't even breathe fresh air or open a window. I've listed eight things he can't do but the stark fact remains, the victim can't do those things anymore either. The abuser has acted in a foolish, short-sighted and violent manner and has lost much as well. He has lost the respect of the peaceful people in our society. Respect is something we all give each other and it is a huge honor because to loose it you must demonstrate with your behavior that you do not deserve it. The abuser has lost his integrity, another priceless commodity because it is the essence of our souls. He has lost his dignity. Maybe if our society focused more on important things like respect, integrity and dignity, we'd have a more peaceful world in which to live.

Not Giving Up Hope Yet

I'm not giving up hope on my steps yet. I bought a brown sharpie at Michael's Craft store yesterday and tried it on the lowest tread. Things are looking much better. There is still a chance to avoid paint. I'd prefer to avoid paint because paint wears off when you walk on it.

Last week I had two days off. One day was to have fun and the other day was dedicated to household repair (steps, furnace tune up and duct cleaning, etc). One day was bad weather and one day was nice weather. As luck would have it, the nice weather happened on the day dedicated to household repairs. On the fun day I took off on my motorcycle because the weather forecast was for a slight chance of intermittent showers. My goal was for a leisurely ride around Mille Lacs Lake. As soon as I arrived in Ogilvie (50 miles away) the intermittent rain started and did not let up for the next 8 hours. I'd call that steady rain, not intermittent. I turned around in Ogilvie to head home. I looked for a place to wait out the rain but was unable to find anything inviting. I've never driven very far in the rain before. Rain is painful. Rain drops pierce and poke at your skin like little needles until your jeans get soaked, then it doesn't hurt so much. I got very wet. Water funneled down my legs and into my boots. When I tipped my boot down to change gears the water rushed to the toe section of the boot. When I stepped on the brake, the water rushed to the heel section. I've been airing out my boots since Thursday and they are still damp. I had many layers on - a t-shirt, a turtleneck, a fleece sweater, a winter leather jacket and a rain coat over all that and I was freezing! Because of the rain I traveled 10 mph below the speed limit. Driving in soaked clothes at 45 mph is bone chilling cold. My head was dry and my upper body was dry but everything else was soaked. I made it home and was happy to be there. I took off my boots and poured them out. After shutting the garage door, I shook off my socks and jeans and let them drip dry in the garage. I jumped in a hot tub of water and the water turned cold. I must have acted like a human sized ice cube. I was still cold so I cranked my electric mattress pad up to high and jumped into bed. After two hours the feeling returned to my limbs and I was comfortable. Despite all the adversity, I had a great ride. Even miserably wet and cold, riding a motorcycle is lots of fun.

When Home Improvement Goes Awry

Have you ever experienced the frustration of home improvement projects that have gone awry? Welcome to my world. Once upon a time I had a leaky bathtub faucet. I thought I could fix it myself. It's a simple matter of replacing a washer, right? I went in fully prepared. I took a community education plumbing class first. I spend 3 hours learning about faucets and connections. I took a 2 handled faucet apart and put it together again. I took a ball headed faucet apart and put it together again. I even soldered a copper pipe together with a propane torch. I took my new plumbing skills home and set to work. I already had the plumbing wrench. I stood in the tub, removed the faucet cover, and cranked on that baby to loosen it. To increase my leverage, I leaned my formidable backside against the tiled wall. It caved. No, not the faucet, the tile wall. Suddenly the leaky faucet was an insignificant problem. My main problem was a rear end sized hole in the bathroom wall. True, the wall had problems before I leaned against it and in the long run, it was better to get that fixed right away. That brings me to today. Several months ago I had some floors replaced with laminate. I like the laminate. The set of 8 stairs between the laminated sections remained undone. Putting laminate on stairs is difficult, expensive, and ends up looking different because quarter round is needed around every single step. I found out that the tread on the steps was a nice oak wood. My plan was to stain and varnish those steps to match the laminate - a golden oak color. Sounds simple? I removed all the nails and carpet tacks. I sanded those steps to a polish. I counter sunk the nails holding the stairs in place. On Friday, I filled in the nail holes and other slight imperfections with plastic wood filler. Plastic wood filler comes in colors. I chose golden oak to match the stain. I put that plastic wood filler on ever so carefully. Yesterday I stained that stairs. I thought it seemed a little dark and as I left the house, I hoped the stain would lighten up. If not, that would be okay too because the kick board around the stairs is darker. When I got home last night I was appalled at my stairs. The stain color was okay and it went on smoothly but every molecule of plastic wood filler showed in brilliant contrast to the stain. Every nail hole I covered and every imperfection I tried to conceal stood out like stars in a black sky. My stairs looked terrible! Why did I use so much plastic wood filler? Why was I so generous with the stuff? Who cares if there is a slight depression in the wood? Those slight depressions wouldn't even be visible to the eye or the bare toe except now they were because I had filled them with the dreaded plastic wood filler!!! This morning I tried scraping the evil plastic wood filler off with my fingernail, scraper, a screw driver and my sander. I worked on the bottom tread for about an hour. Then I restained it to see how it turned out. Although the stair looks better, the remnants of the plastic wood filler remain plainly visible. I'm off to the home disimprovement store to buy some paint to cover those stairs. It's only stairs, right? How important are they? I think I'll buy a nice dark walnut brown and paint over the wood and the plastic wood filler and the stairs will look good as new.

Eagle

I've seen the eagle nest at the Sherburne Wildlife Refuge a couple times. And I used to watch the nest at the northwest corner of Hanson Blvd. and Hwy. 10 before the trees were taken down, but today I (thanks to the help of a observant sibling) spotted another eagle nest. This one is in the southwest corner of the Hwy. 36 and Hwy. 61 intersection. Keep your eyes open for it but pay attention to your driving too.

Sleep Positions

Mosaic

Here is a small picture of the glass mosaic patio table I made in community education class. We finished them last night. Mine is a sun face in case you can't tell. It was really simple to make. To complete the project I had to break glass into pieces which is lots more fun when you do it on purpose than when you have done it by accident. Has anyone else here accidentally sat on a storm window carelessly laid on a bed? Anyway, after drawing the design on the plywood, I glued yellow and orange little squares and triangles to make the sun and the rays. I glued a border of yellow squares. Then I took a big square of turquoise plate glass (14"x14"), covered it with a towel, put a pair of scissors underneath the glass and the towel, and hit it. Wow, what fun. I love being constructively destructive. I glued the shards of glass into the remaining background space starting with the larger pieces and ending up with tiny slivers. Last night we took black grout and smeared it all over the table. I really ground it into the crevices and empty spots. Then we took terry towels and wiped the excess off. Voila! The table looked so much better with the black grout. We set our tables together to admire them. Five other students made dragon fly designs. The only man in the class made a geometric border with black and white tiles and a small sun face in the middle. His wife drew a loon free hand and surrounded it with this milky blue glass that really looked like clouds reflected on a lake surface. She cut a tiny piece of red glass for the eye. She is giving hers to her father for his birthday. That is one lucky Dad. I'm keeping mine.

Longing for Boring and Normal

I'm out of my comfort zone lately because too many strange things have happened. Today I was walking through the lobby at work when a friend gave me "the eye." This friend and I have sat through many meetings together where she would communicate, with her blue eyes, things such as, "I dare you to laugh," or "Can you believe what he just said?" or "That was a bald-faced lie!" or "I didn't see that one coming." And I am able to read and interpret all those blue eyed looks. I am fluent in her blue eyed silent communication. Today the lobby was crowded with people milling about. Some were buying candles that were for sale; others waiting for the elevator. My friend gave me the eye that said, "Look at that girl." So I did look. This young, Caucasian woman with dark shoulder length hair, dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, had a freaking squirrel on her. No leash, no harness, this small gray squirrel was running the length of her arm from neck to fingertips to neck to fingertips. She had her arm extended and her fingers flared while the squirrel nervously ran it's course, tail twitching. My eyes bugged out and I stepped back. I would not have noticed this squirrel if my friend had not given me the eye. People were milling behind me and I couldn't get away as quickly as I wanted to. The squirrel woman was telling people that she could never release this squirrel into the wild again. People were standing there and listening to her. I moved to get away as quickly as I could. I rounded the corner and just about plowed into the building security guard who was going into a room - probably trying to escape the squirrel terror just like me only he was faster. Later I wondered if another security guard would not have hurried into a room to escape but would ask the squirrel lady to take her squirrel OUTSIDE! Pets are not allowed in the Blaine Human Services Building so one would assume wild animals are not welcomed as well. I have a problem with squirrels inside buildings. After watching the disaster in Chevy Chase's Christmas movie where a squirrel ruins the holiday, I freak out at squirrels in the house. Once, almost 10 years ago, I came home from work at the end of a long day. One offspring casually mentions there is a squirrel in the house. "What!" I shout, "Where?" They tell me it's downstairs on the brick of the fireplace or at least that is where it was the last time they saw it. "How long has it been here?" I shout. Turns out the squirrel was in the house when they got home from school, several hours ago. "Wouldn't that be a time you would want to call me at work? Don't you consider this an emergency?" They didn't think it was an emergency. I did. I went downstairs and sure enough, a small red squirrel was perched on the fireplace brick. I wasn't sure what to do. I panicked. I called my mother for advice. She said, "I don't know what to do but you'd better get it out before you go to bed." That wasn't helpful. I put the phone down, picked it up again, and dialed 911. I explained my emergency. The central communications operator was extremely helpful. She suggested I take the screen off a window and herd the squirrel out of the house. That made a lot of sense to me and I thanked her kindly. I took a screen off a basement window. I went to the garage and got 2 rakes and 2 shovels. I called the offspring together and a teen aged boy who was visiting at the time, handed out the implements, and we advanced upon the squirrel. When we got close the squirrel got nervous. The closer we got, the more nervous the squirrel became. I am in panic mode and my offspring are amused which only made me panicked and resentful. I think the visiting teen was more freaked out by my panic than the squirrel. The four of us, shoulder to shoulder slowly inch forward with our shovels and rakes. We got within few feet when the squirrel leaps off the brick wall, lands before me, runs between my feet, and scooted into Offspring #1's bedroom. I screamed. I swung my shovel in the air luckily missing everyone. Offspring #1 would not allow this crazy group to go into his sanctuary. He wanted to handle this on his own. We block off the space below his bedroom door with a table. I ran outside to take the screen off his bedroom window. Once I had the screen off, I wanted to watch to make sure the squirrel really did exit. These kids did not know an emergency when it was staring them in the face so I had to see that squirrel exit with my own eyes. So I watch, shifting my weight from leg to leg, wringing my hands, and wait. We hear banging noises. We hear things tumbling around in there. The squirrel is chattering loudly. More banging and tumbling. I see the little red squirrel come flying out that window chattering to beat the band. My panic does not decrease in the least. Now I have the screens off two windows and more squirrels could enter at any moment! I dash around the house returning screens to the window and making sure they are secure. The kids have gone on to their activities in a frustratingly ho-hum manner. I have to lie down on the couch to recover. Forget about making dinner, I got to relax before I have a heart attack. The squirrel, now perched in the black walnut tree, is still chattering and scolding. For the next several weeks, every time I go out the front door, that same squirrel yells at me. I never did figure out how that squirrel got in the house. The fire place doors were shut. The dryer door was shut. It remains a mystery.

Tasha

"It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth-and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had." Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Happy Equinox

Happy Equinox to you. Fall is my third favorite season and brings a close to the growing season. My flowers have thrived this summer but this is my worst year for vegetable gardening ever. The deer ate all the sunflowers and almost all the broccoli. They chewed down the tomato plants so they couldn't produce. They trampled the pumpkin vines. I've gotten 3 gourds so far and 2 have gone soft already. They even ate the green pepper plants. They left the jalapeno plant alone but without green peppers and tomatoes, I can't use the jalapeno for salsa. I hope to have better luck next year. One gardener I know says her boyfriend and his buddies urinate around the garden to keep the deer away. Yeah, I just can't see myself doing that. Those deer, they can go from cute to pesky in a flash just by jumping over my garden fence.

She Was Chaos To Her

Since Blunder has died, I have not walked around the block or rode my bicycle. What is the point? Plus I didn't want to walk into the other dog owners in my neighborhood and explain why I was walking dogless. Yesterday I was sweeping my sidewalk when a neighbor saw me and practically ran up to the house. This lovely neighbor is in her 80's and she, with her husband, always stopped so Blunder could play with her min-pins, Leo and Petey. They always made a point of stopping so Blunder, in her crazy flirtatious manner, could hop up to them on her hind legs, get petted, and bother the min-pins until they growled at her. Then we would continue to talk for a few minutes. This neighbor always called Blunder Chaos. I corrected her the first half dozen times and then I thought I'd just leave it at Chaos. Chaos seemed an appropriate name considering her behavior. So Blunder was Blunder to everyone but these neighbors, to them she was Chaos. Yesterday this lovely woman who thought Blunder was Chaos, approached me to offer her sympathy and condolences. We sat in the grass for about an hour talking about our dogs and our lives. We both cried a little bit. She said, "I thought her name was Chaos." I said no, it was Blunder. "That turned out to be an ironic name." Sure did. I petted her little dogs. She encouraged me to get another dog. I'm not open to that suggestion right now but she does have a point. There are a lot of dogs out there who will be euthanized unless someone takes them in. How many people would take the time to console a neighbor like she did for me? How many people are willing to allow someone to show their pain and explain their feelings? When we finished talking and got our mutually arthritic bodies off the sod and upright again, I felt so much better. Seems to me this week that there is a whole lot of sadness in the world today. Talking about it seems to lift the burden. I'll try to be a listener for someone else so I can help them like she helped me.

Walnut Throwing Season

I've got this blessing and a curse of a black walnut tree outside my front door. The bark is lovely and the shape is attractive. The foliage and nuts have a smell that I would pay for if it could be bottled into a perfume. What I don't like is the toxic juglone that exudes from the tree, killing all plants that are not juglone resistant. The juglone is most concentrated in the buds, nut hulls and roots. I have a little garden by the front door and all that I can get to grow in there is astilbe, lily of the valley and some coleus. So now, when the walnuts are falling off the tree, I pick them up, put them to my nose for a quick whiff of their beautiful smell, and whip them across the yard as far as I possibly can. Why? I throw these walnuts so the squirrels do not dig large holes burying them and unearthing them in the spring leaving my yard looking like a land mine site. I throw walnuts so the squirrels do not inadvertently kill my plants by leaving walnuts husks on them. In past years, one of Offspring #2's friends, a wiry little guy, took it upon himself to denude the walnut tree of all walnuts when he came over to celebrate her birthday in September. Every year at the birthday party, he spent hours and lots of energy, getting every last walnut off the tree. He'd climb and he'd throw things to knock them off. I don't know how he got them all off but he did. Now they're both away at college so I have to throw my own walnuts. I've thrown about a dozen walnuts so far this week. I threw one this morning on my way to the mailbox to get the newspaper. I held onto it until I got nearly to the road and then I whipped it. As it left my hand I hoped no one was walking down the road behind the bushes as I would have nailed them in the head. I have tried to use them for nuts but I've had no success. All I got for my efforts were stained hands and clothes. The nut meats were filled with a clear yet brown staining liquid.

My Ladder of Risk

According to my Basic Rider Course Rider Handbook, put out by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, there are risks to riding a motorcycle. I quote: "People take a variety of risks every day, but some take more risks than others. For instance, imagine a "ladder of risk." Picture a tall ladder reaching to the top of a building. For an experiment, would you climb up on the first rung and jump off to the ground? How about the second rung? Third? do you know anyone that would climb up to a rung higher than you and jump to the ground? Some people are higher risk takers than others, but the important point is to think about the risks you are willing to take. Only when you think about the risks of riding in traffic and you manage the variety of factors that happen while riding."

When I got to work today I walked in on a group of grieving people. Their posture and faces screamed grief. One of our coworkers was killed on her motorcycle this morning in Andover. Her mother works with us as well and just found out about her daughter's tragic accident. My coworkers, angels every one, gathered around her. Some fielded calls to family members. One talked to the coroner. Some supported her physically. Others gave her privacy. We work in human services so we know that sometimes the most help you can be is to leave someone alone and stop gawking. I was so proud of the way everyone pulled together to surround this distraught woman with love, concern, and support. I hurried away to my office to put my helmet away so she wouldn't see it. Because we work in human services, we had only a short amount of time to be emotional. To be professional, we had to hold it together, act like things were under control, and suppress our feelings of horror and grief. Our eyes met and our glances exchanged the thoughts we weren't allowed to speak aloud in front of our clients. Today was a very hard day.

Five people told me they thought of me when they heard the news of the motorcycle accident. Yikes. It is not my intention to scare people. I am well aware that riding a motorcycle is risky. I manage my risks by taking precautions I do not ride at night. I do not ride in the rain. I wear a helmet and leather jacket. I go slow and obey all traffic laws. I pay attention. I heard about the rain clouds in the west this afternoon so I chose to leave work 30 minutes early so I could get home before the rain fell. People are killed in motorcycle accidents and car accidents. Pedestrians are killed in traffic accidents too. I feel like I am jumping off one of the lower rungs of the ladder when I ride my motorcycle. I wonder if she felt the same way.

My heart breaks for Tasha. We worked together for a short time last week. She in a flowing skirt looking very feminine, worked steadily and without chatter, seeing what needed to be done and going from person to person offering encouragement and praise and redirection. She was a natural helper. My heart breaks for her family, her friends, and all the people who loved her. I hope they can focus on her life, her beauty, and her love.

A Naturally Self-Indulgent Day

Today I took the day off work to be self-indulgent. I drove up to Duluth to visit Hawk Ridge. If you like raptors and you like watching birds while several experts point out what raptors you are seeing, this is the place for you to visit. To get there, drive through Duluth and get on Hwy. 61 toward the North Shore. Take a left on 43rd Ave. East. Take a left on Glenwood Street. Take a sharp right onto Skyline Parkway for a mile or two and you are there. Drive slow because there are lots of people on the road and they're all looking up into the sky, not looking where they are walking. I stayed there for a couple hours and I saw 4 kestrels and about 12 sharp shinned hawks. I also saw an immature bald eagle and an immature red tailed hawk. The sharp shinned hawks are very cool (see picture). Some are only 4 months old and journeying from their northern homes to central America for the very first time - alone. The trip to the Mexican border will take a couple weeks. I watched as they flew in upward spirals, riding the thermal updrafts. The naturalist explained that the birds congregate in Duluth because they want to avoid flying over Lake Superior. The air over the lake is damp and has no updrafts. So they fly west to get around the lake before heading south again. I was told the best time to see raptors is in the fall between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. The raptors don't fly at night. You'll see more raptors on sunny days with a west wind, especially if it's the first sunny day after stormy weather. Hawk Ridge is make up of over 100 acres with a large buffer around that. They trap and net raptors there. The raptors are banded and released. If the raptors are in good shape - not too shocked by the banding experience - they allow the public to release them for a fee. Two goshawk were caught, banded and released. For $100 a piece, two Hawk Ridge visitors were able to adopt, hold and release the goshawks. The information about the goshawk along with a picture will be mailed to them. If their adopted goshawk is ever caught again the adoptive parents will be sent word of it. Two female naturalists held the goshawks and gave a little talk. One goshawk in particular was outraged. He looked her straight in the eye and screamed at her so loudly she couldn't be heard. I could just imagine him saying, "Unhand me you scoundrel. Let me go this instant!" She had to lay him flat in her arms and cover his eyes so he would be quiet. She was a hawk whisperer I guess. After a couple hours I was getting hungry and getting a crick in my neck from looking up so much. I continued along Skyline Parkway which led me to Seven Bridges Road. I love Seven Bridges Road. I stopped at the 2nd (or 6th depending on which way you are counting) bridge to admire the waterfall, the rocks, the trees, the entirely beautiful scene. We used to bring the kids and dogs here to swim when they were little. Good times, good times. I drove downtown and splurged on a lunch at Bellisio's (not far from Grandma's Saloon). Years ago Offspring #2 and I went here for dinner and I was served something that looked like a big bowl of lumpy algae but tasted delicious. I wanted that again. Turns out they still have it. The official name of the algae lunch is Gnocchi with ricotta cheese, blended fresh spinach, and roasted pine nuts. It was as good as I remembered. After lunch I relaxed at Park Point watching the waves crash on the shore. There is something about watching white caps pound the sand, predicting how close the water will come to my feet that puts all my problems in their true perspective.

Glass Mosaic Patio Table Class

Last night I got home too late to fire up the computer and leave a post. I took a community education class to make a glass mosaic patio table. We got most of our designs on the table. No one finished entirely. We have homework to do before we come back next week and lay down black grout between the pieces of glass. I chose a sun face. The instructor was able to get the group talking while we worked. She asked us to say our names, where we worked and our favorite sound. Lots of people had bird calls for their favorite sounds - loons, cardinals, and chickadees. Some people liked the sound of a baby cry. The instructor herself liked the sound of her husband's or daughter's car coming home at night. I like all those sounds too. Lately though, my favorite sound is the engine of my bike as I accelerate after shifting into fifth gear. That gives me a very satisfying rumble. I believe this is the last week I'll be driving it to work in the morning. The sun isn't rising until about 7 a.m. and I leave at 6:30 or 6:45. I had a scare on Wednesday. I was riding east on Bunker just past Seventh Avenue at the front of a line of traffic when a buck with antlers jumped onto the road and leaped across Bunker. Even though the buck was quite a distance away, I screamed and I swore. No one can hear you when you scream into your helmet.

More Photos of Blunder

Thanks to Offspring #2 for these photos.

Even After She Has Gone

Even after she has gone, Blunder continues to teach me lessons. I've learned how lucky I am to have the support of family and friends. Thank you all.

The Dog Says How

I read this entire book yesterday. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a rainy day mourning Blunder. The author Kevin Kling is a dog lover so this book had many dog references and that made me sad. But he is also funny as all get out so it was a pleasant mix. He writes about being a reckless kid growing up in Minnesota, a typical rough and tumble boy much like the cousins I grew up with. He compares riding a motorcycle to flying - and I agree. His funniest story is about a group of guys at a Twins game. Action on the field is slow so this large group of men make a bet whether this adolescent boy, 10 rows down, will lick the cheese container of his nachos. People in the rows above him also get in on the action. They watch in anticipation as this unknowing kid eats the last nacho. I won't tell you whether the kid licks the cheese compartment of not but what he does creates such an uproar in this section of the crowd that they almost get kicked out of the game. He's a great story teller.

Kipling said . . .

"Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware, of giving your heart to a dog to tear."

I pray to be the woman my dog thought I was.

Early Sunset Tonight

Tonight I went to a nephew's 13th birthday party. Because I was on the motorcycle I knew I wanted to get home before dark. I thought if I left at 7 and took the most direct route without going on the highway, I would make it home before sunset. Shoot, the sun must be going down earlier than I thought because it set while I was still in Moundsview. I rode home in the dusk. I got home before it was completely dark. I made it home safe and sound.

Book Review - Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson

My book club reviewed "Out Stealing Horses" this week. I get so much more enjoyment from a book when I can discuss it with such a lively group that is my book club. I listened to the book on CD on my trip back from Connecticut and then I reread it in the past couple weeks so I would be well prepared. I still missed things that other people found. Despite the title, this book is not about horses. Horses are in a couple chapters but they play a minor role. The book is about a man, an older man who is living in solitude trying to make sense of his younger years spent in the same area he lives now. This man was abandoned by his father when he was 15 and abandonment is a big theme throughout the story. He and his father were close right before the abandonment. I think it is especially cruel of the father to get that close when he knew he was going to leave him. In one memorable scene, the father and son (living for the summer in a cabin in the woods) come in from a hard day of work just as a hard rainstorm strikes. They decide to cool off and clean up by taking a shower in the rain. They lather up their bodies and go outside to rinse, performing handstands in the pounding rain. Now, that is togetherness. The book was written in Norwegian and translated into English. I could hardly tell it was a translation. The descriptions of the pine filled forests and fjords of Norway, close to Sweden, are beautiful. The book is set in the time during WWII. Some Norwegians were part of the Nazi resistance. I cannot imagine living in an occupied country. This book describes the German soldiers traveling on motorcycle through the Norwegian countryside and inspecting farmyards for suspicious activity. We talked about leadership during times of war. The King of Norway, during the Nazi occupation, fled the country. The King of Denmark stayed. When told he may have to mark the Jewish citizens with yellow stars, the King of Denmark said all Danes would wear yellow stars including himself. As a result, the Germans never asked the Danes to mark their Jewish citizens with yellow stars. How would I react in such a situation. Would I be more like the King of Norway or the King of Denmark? I pray I will never find out.

What used to bug me . . .

Dearest Blunder,

It used to bug me when we were walking down the street and if someone came along you would jump on your back feet at the end of the leash begging them to pay you some attention. I was embarrassed by your flirtatiousness. I'd give anything to see that again. It used to bug me that you wouldn't pee unless we were on a walk. There were many mornings and evenings that I did not feel like going for a walk, especially in the winter when the streets were icy. Now I don't know what to do with myself because you aren't here and you don't need a walk. It used to bug me that you needed verbal prompts to pee sometimes. I was embarrassed the neighbors might overhear me saying, "Urinate! Go to the bathroom!" It used to bug me that you had stomach problems unless you got a lot of exercise. This summer when we figured out that I could ride my bike and you could run along with me was helpful. I really enjoyed our longer bike rides when you ran for the first mile or two and then rode in the basket on the bicycle. It used to bug me when I went to the bathroom and if I didn't latch the door tight you would push it open and stare at me to see what I was doing. I miss your little black eyes now. It used to bug me the way you would stare at me and study me. I'd tell you to stop staring. Remember how sometimes I would even hold the newspaper up so you couldn't see my face? I wish you would study me now because I am so sad without you. It used to bug me when you stretched out on my lap, sometimes leaving claw marks on my legs. My lap is cold without you on it. It used to bug me because your curly fur was like Velcro and you dragged leaves, flowers, stickers, and sometimes even small branches into the house and I would have to pick them up. My floor is cleaner now but I am not happy about that. It used to bug me that I had to come home right away after work so you could go for a walk. Sometimes that was inconvenient for me. Now I'm in no hurry to come home because the house is so empty without you. It used to bug me that you stomach was so sensitive. Iams dog food made you sick. I had to buy Science Diet which you didn't like unless I doctored it up with some canned dog food, brown rice, cheese, hard boiled eggs, yogurt, or meat. I struggled to keep you up to 10 pounds. I wish I could make you dinner right now. You really didn't bug me Blunder. I just didn't realize how fortunate I was to have you in my life. Miss you. Sincerely, Sue

No Words to Express

My blunder, My Blunder

WARNING: ABSOLUTE HORROR AND TEARS AHEAD

I've gone over this in my mind countless times. I keep seeing it happen and I wish I could make it stop. We've done this before. I mow the lawn, she sits quietly by the front door and watches. We've had this routine for at least 50 lawn mowings. Why did she run for the mower this time? I let go of the handle so the blades would stop as soon as I saw her coming but it was too late. I accidentally killed my dog. I am just sick about this. I screamed and lifted the killer machine off of her. Offspring #2 came out. I knew she was dead. I'll spare you the gruesome details. Offspring #2 saw her little tail wagging and thought there was still a chance but I had seen the horror and I knew. The tail wagging was the essence of Blunder - friendly and flirtatious till the very end. After a couple more wags she was done. If I could turn back time I would. If I could only rewind that last minute and save her. We were filled with shock and disbelief. We cried as we put her in a shoe box and buried her beneath the apple tree. As horrible as this accident is I am comforted knowing she didn't suffer. She was gone instantly. She had a good weekend too. I spent 20 minutes this afternoon making her pretty - brushing out all the tangles and clipping her nails. She got to sleep in the bed with Offspring #2 who was home for the weekend. If I am home alone she does not have that luxury. She had lots of lap time this weekend. I am so sorry. This was 100% my mistake. I never would have put her out there if I thought this would happen. I understand why some people drink because I could use one or twenty. I really do not want to be feeling the feelings that I am feeling. My life has changed today because her life has ended so abruptly. I am so grateful I was not alone when this happened. Offspring #2 was a huge comfort. You were a good dog Blunder. I am sorry.

Which Super Power Would You Choose?

For me, there is no question, I'd choose to fly. I used to dream about flying. And today, I felt like I flew on my motorcycle. Before leaving, I mapped my route and wrote the directions on my hand. Lesson learned - write the directions on top of your hand, not the palm. Gripping the handlebars makes the writing unreadable. So I got lost. And that was OK. Back in the early 1970's, I got lost all the time. My goal was to get lost and then find my way home again. I was a newly licensed driver with my own car and gas was way cheaper than it is now. Today reminded me of those carefree times. Towns I passed while being lost and getting home again - Oak Grove, Forest Lake, Hugo, Wyoming, Stacy, North Branch, Harris, Rush City, Braham, Stanchfield, Grandy, Cambridge, Walbo, Bradford (where I bought my bike in the first place), St. Francis, and home. Miles - 130. Time flying 3.5 hours. Fun - immeasurable.

Another Kind of Crack

You've heard of plumber's butt, I'm sure, the vertical smile, etc. And maybe you've heard of toe butt. I first heard of it at a sibling's wedding where the bride and the maid of honor were comparing their feet and admiring their toe butts. I added a photo that sort of shows what I mean. Toe butt is when a woman wears a shoe that barely covers the toes plus the shoe pinches the toes together and the skin forms a crack where the big toe separates from the next toe. Anyway, this morning, while getting ready for work, I was astride my motorcycle putting on my helmet. The helmet has a strap that fastens under the chin with a "D" fastener. The strap goes through both silver "D's" and then comes back through one of them. I pulled it tight and attempted to snap the excess amount of strap so it wouldn't slap me in the face. I struggled to get the snap fastened. I used the mirror on my motorcycle to see what I was doing. To my absolute horror, I saw a neck butt. Possibly it was a chin butt but I was too horrified to look close. I thought my skin got pinched because I pulled the helmet strap too tight but no, it wasn't pinched. When I have the helmet on securely, the excess skin on my wattle forms a definite butt crack. Oh, the joys of aging!!!

Police Blotter

Direct quote from the Star Tribune police blotter for the city of Coon Rapids: Disturbing the Peace. A complaint was received that the kids are screaming at the New Horizon child care center in the 13100 block of Riverdale Drive NW. The noise is disturbing his cat.

Just so you know, as a child I was a screamer. There was nothing finer than spending a summer afternoon in the playhouse in the back yard screaming in unison until our ears rang. After a few minutes of screaming, we'd get our voices to blend and harmonize together. It was great. We weren't screaming about any particular topic. We weren't upset. We weren't especially happy. We weren't even screaming for ice cream. We screamed for the joy of screaming. My cousin's wife was complaining about her neighbor's kids screaming so I told her (in detail) how much I enjoyed it as a child. She gave me this priceless look - a combination of skepticism, distaste, disbelief, and wondering if I was putting her on. I wasn't making it up. She is a little tightly wound so I enjoy pushing her buttons just a little bit.

Work Out Value

For the past several months, on Tuesday nights, I've been working out for a half hour on the Nu Step recumbent step machine. I started out slow but I'm up to a half hour now on difficulty level 6. I can get my heart rate up around 115. I usually keep the steps per minute to around 200. I'm really working it. My legs and arms are pumping and I am working up a sweat. It's fun and I feel great when it's over. I can breathe deeper and this exercise doesn't aggravate my back like walking does. This machine has digital readouts and I am not familiar with everything. Basically I get on and start working out and the machine turns on and tells me how long I have worked, how many steps I'm stepping per minute. The machine also tells me one of four other things - total steps, total watts or total calories. This last week, it was set on calories. So guess how many calories I burned off during 30 minutes of nu stepping? A lousy 118 calories, that is how many. This can't be accurate. I am so disappointed. I looked up other activities that burn off 118 calories and I found I could burn just as many is 30 minutes of table tennis, or an hour of getting dressed, an hour of ice fishing, or an hour of doodling in the margin!!!! 118 is nothing. I felt like I had burned off at least 300 to 400 calories. For 118 calories, I can eat 3/4 cup of apple Cinnamon cheerios. I don't like apple Cinnamon cheerios. Other things I can eat for 118 calories? A pork chop (don't eat meat). A glass of Cabernet sauvignon (don't drink). A cup of fruit loops (Ewww). A serving of split pea soup (Ewww). A persimmon (never tried one, the name sounds sour). One medium sweet potato. One cup of orange juice. One half cup chow mein noodles. From now on, if that machine shows calories, I'll ask for someone to show me how to turn it back to total steps or total watts. Watching the calories burn off, one by one, is just too discouraging. After the nu step, I lift weights for another 45 minutes or so. I walk out of that place feeling great - it must be the endorphins brought on by the exercise. On a brighter note, I put 60 miles on the motorcycle today. I rode to work. Then I had a meeting in Anoka followed by a lunch meeting at Applebees and back to work before heading home. When I got to my street, I wasn't ready to be done riding yet. If I didn't have responsibilities like a dog waiting to go to the bathroom, I would have kept on traveling. I'm really enjoying riding. The posture of leaning forward with my weight on the handlebars is really comfortable on my back. When I got home I took the dog out for a walk while I pedaled the non-motorized bicycle. Lately, the bike has been harder and harder to pedal. I thought I was getting weak or sick. I checked the brakes to see if they were gripping the tires - they weren't. I could barely make it up a hill and it wasn't any fun at all. When I got home I checked the air pressure in the tires. The tire says it should be inflated to 40 psi. My gauge says one tire was 12 psi and the other tire was 15 psi. No wonder it was so hard to pedal. I pumped up the tires so we're ready to roll tomorrow.

Disbelief

A healthy young man I know died suddenly yesterday. I was shocked to hear the news. Sometimes poetry helps channel my grief, so here goes:


The phones that will not ring
Sit powerfully silent in their cradle.
We stare at the phone in disbelief
Comprehending, we’re not able.

We crave for a smart pat on the back
The long distance “Howdy” he would send.
The penalty box is out of service,
There are no more indiscretions to amend.

Would I have acted differently
If I knew that visit was our last?
His points, his water, the Twins, his night
Conversation routine, intense and fast.




His compliments were genuine
His laugh loud, whole-hearted.
Edgy, pushing the boundary
Of himself and what we wanted.

RIP

Lesson Learned - $48.09 is TOO MUCH!

What a glorious day today. I took my motorcycle for a spin around St. Paul. I thought about going downtown but after watching the 5 o'clock news, I'm glad I didn't do that. I was shocked at what the anarchists were doing. Anyway, the ride was pleasant. I rode around Lake Como and stopped at a sibling's house to see if the kids were ready for school. I probably put on 80 miles day - using up a whole gallon of gas! I'm so glad I got this motorcycle. I'm really having a good time. I brought my backpack to get groceries on my way home. I knew that what ever I got would have to fit in the backpack. In the cart, it didn't look like much. Except for a loaf of bread, I was able to fit everything in the backpack. Trouble was, I could not lift it to put it on. I had to ask the check-out clerk at County Market to help me put my back pack on. She had to come around the counter to lift it. "Are you on a motorcycle?" she asked. "I don't want you to tip over backwards." Great, another thing to worry about. I could not believe how heavy that back pack was. The bread went inside my jacket. All I had was some bananas, peaches, raspberries, some cheese, some fat-free half and half, an onion, some potatoes, a little container of low fat mayo. Oh, yeah, a liter of sugar free A&W. Give me credit - I knew I couldn't fit a 12 pack! I actually considered leaving the backpack behind the counter and coming back for it later. Lesson learned - don't buy so much stuff when shopping on a motorcycle. ,