Happy Halloween!

One of my best friends left me a message on my work voice mail this morning.  I was not expecting to hear two inappropriate Halloween jokes and a riddle on my work voice mail at 7 o'clock in the morning. I was confused, then amused, and then I was laughing out loud.  I could not see clearly because my eyes were full of water. I told my office neighbor.  She texted half the joke to her mother in Longville, Minnesota.  Her mother came back with an even more inappropriate response than the one I had. So then we were both laughing so hard we couldn't talk. Now this terrible, inappropriate joke is going all around the senior citizens in Longville.  Next I called a family member and told her the inappropriate joke.  Now the same terrible joke is going around Roseville.  What a day I have had.  Unexpected pleasures keep coming at me when I least expect it.  I will give you the first part of the joke and you come up with your own answer.  Why don't witches have babies? Answer: _________________________________________.

One of These Eggs Is Not Like The Other!

What Defines A Bad Day?

This morning I went to the gym to lift weights before work.  I walked on the stair master for just a short while.  One other fella was on the stairs with me.  I didn't look closely but he was about 30.  He had headphones in his ears and was looking at a device.  At about 3 minutes before I was going to be done he loudly proclaimed "G__ Dammit!" He might not have known how loud he was because of the headphones but he sounded like a 7 year old boy about to have a meltdown. I don't know if anyone else heard him. I kept staring ahead.  I was trying to walk these stairs with good posture. A minutes later he repeats the cuss word with the same emotional upheaval and volume. I want to look at him but don't so I roll my eyes right and get a glimpse.  He's looking down into the phone. Why is he upset?  Is he looking at sports or politics or his bank account? Did he just get dumped?  Did his dog die? I go back to focusing on my posture.  I have about 7 seconds left on this machine and again he loudly wails, "G-- Dammit!" Ok, now it's funny.  I want to laugh out loud. I use my filter.  I finish my steps.  I'm breathing a little hard but I do not laugh as I dismount. I purse my lips tightly and feel sorry for this guy although I don't know why. I smile as I walk to the dressing room and I go to work where I want to tell this story to someone.  But I don't do that. At work the topic is the homeless man that has been hanging around our building and walking up and down the street.  His story is a sad one.  Here is a man who needs help and the authorities know he needs help and no help is given in a way he can accept. I have walked by him many times and said hello not knowing his difficulties.  I just admire his newsboy hat and his purposeful stride.  We all have bad days.  Our feelings about our bad days are valid. For me it helps me feel better to hear about someone else who has it worse.

Breakfast of Champions

I used to read Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., back in the day, back in the 1970's. I didn't remember which books but I remember I liked his writing enough to read more.  I read quite a few of his books.  So I saw this one, Breakfast of Champions, on the library shelf and picked it up expecting I would like it as much as an old fashioned dinner of comfort food.  I was wrong. I did not like this book. In fact I was shocked and appalled by this book. I read it on CD and actually turned it back into the library because I was disgusted and confused. I accidentally left one CD in my car and the library called me back. I had to go back into the library and talk to the librarian. I explained what happened. She said she understood.  She said she could not read that book herself unless it was on CD. The fact that she said she could not read that book made me want to read that book.  If a librarian can hardly stand it, I felt the need to read this book. So I finished it. The fact that Stanley Tucci read it to me helped quite a bit. I could picture Stanley reading with his dark glasses and bald head. What else helped me finish it was to relax and quit trying to make sense of the story because there is no sense to be made. The plot?  What plot? Relax and read between the lines. Vonnegut talks about race in a way I never heard before (or maybe I did hear it before but I can't remember anymore). The writer makes snarky remarks about Nelson Rockefeller Jr. and if I just substituted the name of our current president in that sentence it was funny as all get out. This book was published in 1973.  The problems in our nation remain the same in 2017 as 1973. The names of the politicians have changed.  We have more Honda's on the road and fewer Oldsmobile Toronado's but other than that, life in the US of A remains basically unchanged. I would not recommend you read this book unless you like to be shocked, provoked, disgusted, confused, amazed, and disillusioned. At the end of the book there is an interview with the actual Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. himself. I hear his voice talking about his work and he is laughing so hard he can hardly talk. He said he just wanted to free his mind of clutter when he wrote this book. That statement explains everything.

The Truth?

The employee club at work had another contest. This committee (that I am not on) rolls out another morale boosting effort about every month or two. Some ideas are raffles to raise money for the employee club. They will raffle off tickets to the state fair for example. I do not buy raffle tickets. Gambling is one sin I avoid, mostly because I hate to lose money. This contest was more fun than a raffle.  This contest was about honesty. Each employee was invited to write three things about themselves. Two of the three statements were self-truths and one of the three statements was supposed to be a lie/factoid/fakenews/untruth. When I got my paper inviting me to write three things about myself I had just gotten back from a bus tour of the prairie and I was in a prairie state of mind.  I spent 30 seconds on my entry. Do you want to know what I wrote? I will tell you. 
1. My new nickname is Orange Sioux
2. My new nickname is So Sue Me
3. My new nickname is Sioux Quartzite because it implies that I rock
Today the head of the employee club asked me which one was a lie.  This committee chair is one of the best pranksters I have ever met in my life. He is smooth with his pranks. He never confesses. He remains silent if someone doesn't get the prank. He has pulled some epic pranks over the past 25 years. He is so expert at pulling pranks that I get nervous every time I do the annual inservice on maltreatment of vulnerable adults because I am afraid he's going to pull another one and there I will be, standing in front of the group, speechless and helpless like a deer in the headlights and not knowing if I should laugh or cry.
"Which one is a lie?" he asks me.
"I am not going to tell you," I answer honestly.
"I am the head of the committee. I can't win this contest."
"Oh, okay," I say warily, "I am sorry. I should have seen I was supposed to check which one was a lie. I spent 30 seconds on it because I was in a mood."
I look over the list that I wrote and turned in. All of them are lies. Geez Louise.
I tell him a lie, "Number 2 is a lie."
When I go into the break room at work an hour later all the entries are posted on a white board. I allow myself to read only one of the 15 or so entries in this true or false contest. I can't read them all at once because they are so funny it would be like eating an entire box of bon bons. I read one. I leave snickering quietly so as not to disturb the people who are reading the newspaper and catching a respite from their challenging work.
Do you want to hear some examples?
1. I do not believe in reincarnation. In my previous life as a hamster I did not believe in reincarnation. (Wow. Mind blowing entry from a 60+ year old man)
2. I have been to 3 Lady Gaga concerts. (This is from the committee chair. I know he has been to at least one because he has an unusual child and he is a great father. But he is tricky so this could be the lie because he has been to 4 concerts; not 3)
3. I once had my tongue pierced (and she really doesn't come across as a tongue piercer but tongue piercers are hard to spot these days. Next time I see her I will ask her to stick it out at me so I can examine her tongue for scars)
4. I once went to culinary school and traveled to France on a school trip. (this one I thought was true. This guy's father works there too. I casually ask the father at lunch where he is sitting with his son if the son ever traveled to Paris. The father says yes without hesitation. The son is irate at his father and even more upset with me. The son accuses me of cheating. I admit I did cheat. Sonofagun that was funny.

My Hero!

The Notorious RBG

My book club decided to read The Notorious RBG:The Life And Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. This book was written by younger women who look up to this amazing supreme court justice. Their style of writing is definitely not traditional literature but the story is real.  See video for a snipped of what the book is about.  After that go buy, borrow or steal a copy of the book for yourself.

Root Soup

Ingredients: 1 Tb. butter, 1.5 large onions chopped, 2 green peppers, 3 garlic cloves, 1 cup chopped celery, 3 cups vegetable broth, 4 large carrots sliced, 4 parsnips chopped, 2 rutabega chopped, 1 teaspoon cardamom, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon basil, salt and pepper to taste.

Method: Heat butter in an old cast iron pan because your anemic blood needs the iron. Sautee onions, celery, peppers and garlic until shiny. Eat one of the carrots while you do this and think about the conflict between Peter Rabbit and Mr.McGregor. Add rest of ingredients and simmer until all the vegetables are soft (took about an hour). Use immersion blender and blend the ingredients. Serve warm.  Optional: top with dab of sour cream and fresh cilantro.

No Words Necessary-The Eyes Are a Window To The Soul

Invasive Species

What exactly is an invasive species?  Here is what wikipedia says it is: An invasive species is a plant, fungus, or animal species that is not native to a specific location (an introduced species), and which has a tendency to spread to a degree believed to cause damage to the environment, human economy or human health.  So is buck thorn an invasive species? What about garlic mustard? Am I doing the right thing or the wrong thing when I pull garlic mustard and send it away in the trash to a landfill? Are my actions as the steward of the property that I (almost) own causing damage to the environment, human economy, or human health? If so, if my actions are causing damage, does that mean the garlic mustard should stay and I am the invasive species?  I have European blood. I invaded this corner of paradise. Are my actions causing damage to the environment? Am I helping or damaging human economy? Am I helping or hurting human health? I joke about that bird house gourd vine trying to kill me but maybe, just maybe, I am the invasive species and I should leave the buck thorn and garlic mustard alone. I think the great Doctor Suess wrote a book about this very topic.

Busy Sioux

I enjoyed a 3 day bus trip with other Master Naturalists. Here I am leaning against the supposedly haunted historic hotel in Pipestone. I had a room to myself. They said the hotel is haunted. There was an extremely creepy doll on the table by the front desk. As we looked at this Chucky doll look alike the desk clerk roughed up the doll and it spoke and laughed in an evil way that send all four of us out of the area while the hotel clerk smirked.  Haunted!  Really?  Is that why they have spider webs and mummies and fake ghosts laying around everywhere?  Or is this a way for the management to turn noise complaints into a pleasure for some gullible people. Ghosts/schmosts! No spirits can get through these thick walls of Sioux quartzite.

I have been to Pipestone twice.  Both times I went in the fall.  Both times it rained. Both times the roads were flooded.  Both times the corn and beans were standing in water.  Last time I went with a little boy with red boots and a cute red rain coat.  Both times I had a good time.

I would not mind being buried on this prairie. On the last night of our trip we were asked to share a poem or a reading or a photo or something about how we felt about prairies.  I talked the group into a sing along of "Oh Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie."  What a moment. As soon as I heard first one then two and then three voices join in I knew I made a good choice. Soon the whole room was singing a very sad song about the prairie.  I had a moment!

Considering My Name to Orange Sioux

Today I took a bus tour of the prairie with my science nerd, tree hugging BFF's. Some of them I have known for years and some I just met today. The woman who took my glamour shot is someone I met today. While traveling west on Highway 14 (the road the Laura Ingalls Wilder family took to DeSmet) I made a list of possible nicknames for myself. I wrote two columns of nicknames. One column was for acceptable nicknames. One column was for unacceptable nicknames. And one common  nickname is acceptable with permission only (and that is Susie. Use only with permission please). Acceptable nicknames include but are not limited to Half-pint, Sioux, Sue City Sue, Sue Sue Sudio, Suzuki, Oh Susannah!, So Sue Me, Sweet Sue, Saluki, Soo-Key,Sioux Key, Souper Sioux, Sister Sue, Saint Sioux and last, but not least, Smokey Sioux.  Unacceptable nicknames are Kooky Soo-key, Two-ton Susan, Sanctimonious Sioux, Run Around Sue, and last, but not least Sooouuuuueeeeeeee! Please be advised of these recommendations and behave appropriately. Regards, Orange Sioux.

Theme Song

I signed up for a master naturalist class later this week. In preparation I have been humming this tune.

Sour Success!

My second attempt at making sauerkraut went a lot better than the first attempt.  The first attempt had to be tossed. This time I used a recipe from "The Pioneer Woman." I followed it closely except I added a kohlrabi to the cabbage.  It's delicious!  I feel good about this accomplishment!  Fermentation is good for the gut!

Walk For Hope

I remember exactly how I felt when I arrived at work one summer day nine years ago. I don't remember everything but I remember how I felt.  I felt annoyed. I had to employ my most powerful mental filter because what I really wanted to say to my boss at the time was, "What the hell? Where are your social skills? You could easily say hello or good morning first." What he said to me as I walked in the door with my backpack, my lunch,and my motorcycle helmet under my arm was, "I thought you were in a motorcycle accident in Andover last night."

What I did say was, "Why would you say that?"

My boss heard about a motorcycle accident in Andover very close to his house. The sirens at 4 a.m. woke many people out there in the sticks. A woman was killed. Her broken body was found on a country road. Rumor had it she hit a deer because hair was found on her body. At the time we didn't know she was one of us. She worked at the same place and she was brutally murdered by her boyfriend and his brother. We didn't know the brothers faked a  motorcycle accident. We didn't know the details.  We didn't know the hair was not from a deer but from her boyfriend's dog.  We didn't know he would leave his DNA on a baseball bat.  We didn't know to what great lengths these two  men would go to pretend to be innocent of murder.We didn't know that one of the brothers was a snitch for law enforcement and that fact would lead them both to a lighter sentence. We didn't know how angry a powerful and successful family would get when the community would not allow these brothers to get off Scott free. We didn't know that the parents of these murderers would promise the judge not to let my coworker's daughter talk to the man who killed her mother and then hand the preschool aged girl the phone when he called from the county jail. I still don't know how my coworker's mother comes to work every day with a smile on her face and does her best to do a good job after suffering the loss of a child from extreme domestic assault.

What I do know is that I had a magical morning at the Walk For Hope in Bunker Hills Park Saturday morning. The weather was beautiful.I walked two miles in 54 minutes. I got behind a man and woman who I thought set a good pace for a long time but eventually I passed them.  The tshirt I earned is orange and I like orange. It's my favorite color. The conversations I heard were pleasant and mostly about things I was interested in. I knew quite a few people from here and there. A politician gave a boring speech. A 15 year old gave an incredibly heartfelt and emotional speech that made me cry. That 15 year old girl is going to be the President of the United States someday. She used her pain of domestic abuse from a step-father to help others which in turn helps her. As I left to go to my car after the walk a 12 members women's drum team was beating drums.  After walking two miles me and my old hips could not walk normally past that drum team. I was feeling so good I just had to prance a little bit as I walked by the drums.

I would have preferred to hug my coworker who would be in her late 30's by now if she had lived. Instead I stared at a red wooden silhouette of her with a plaque with her name and the details of her death. She is not defined by her death. She is defined by the loss we all feel because she isn't here. She was awesome.  The Alexandria House is also awesome. I know or have known 5 women who have used the services of Alexandria House. I have hope.