The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

I've been listening to this book on CD lately. This is a classic from American literature about life in Chicago for an immigrant from Lithuania names Jurgis (pronounced Yer-gis). Jurgis comes to Chicago with his fiancee, Ona, and her step-mother and siblings. He tries to make a life for them in the stockyards of Chicago around 1910. Wowie, if you aren't a vegetarian now, you might want to be one by the time you are halfway through with this book. You may not want to know what went on in those stockyards and rendering plants. You may never eat Spam again. You may never eat Lard again either. The author wrote to make a point about the poor working conditions in Chicago but even he admits, "I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach." The book includes stories about the political corruption in Chicago back then, strangely echoed in the recent news by Governor Rod Blagojevich, high unemployment (again echoed in current events), and the evils of capitalism versus socialism. 2009, exactly 103 years since "The Jungle" was written, is a strange time to be reading this book. This book, an immediate bestseller, made a huge splash when it was released. Theodore Roosevelt sent inspectors there to see how much of the story about the Chicago stockyards was true. The author hoped they would check out the hazardous working conditions. The inspectors focused on tubercular beef and food safety. Even though the stockyards knew the inspectors were coming, the inspectors found all but one of the accusations to be true. This startling discovery led to the Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act. I recommend you read this book if you follow it with a light-hearted novel to readjust your mood.

Anxious for Chickens

I am all set for the chickens. Here is a photo of their new home. The heat lamp is in the upper right corner of the photo. They'll start out in a 3 foot long plastic tote. I have 3 inches pine bedding down. The water container is in the upper center of the tote. The food container is on the lower left of the tote. The box in the central lower part of the tote is a sample trial size box of cheerios (minus the cheerios), cut in half and filled with chicken feed. My reference book suggests this for the first few days in case the chicks don't recognize what is food and what isn't food. I want to make it easy for them. The really dark object on the lower right of the tote is my car compass/thermometer in case the chicks don't know north from south. Kidding, to make sure the temperature is between 90 and 95 degrees to start. A friend suggested I name the chickens Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. I'll have to think about that. I need two more names. By this time tomorrow, I'll have them home.

Bird Watching Class Starts Tonight

I start a 6 week class tonight. Here is the description: Make a deeper connection to the environment and learn to identify at least 50 species of birds and their behavior. Understand and enjoy birds in your neighborhood and how to attract birds to your own backyard. First session meets in the classroom; future classes include field trips to be discussed at first class. Learn about the excitement and fun that is birding.

Project Birdfeeder Watch Update

Saturday: 5 black capped chickadee, 1 crow, 2 slate colored junco, 1 cardinal
Sunday: 5 black capped chickadee, 3 slate colored junco, 1 robin

Birds and Wariness

Today Offspring #2 and I carried the swing chair back on the deck. As we worked, a black capped chickadee flew to the deck railing, stopped, flew between Offspring #2's arm and abdomen, and flew over to the bird feeder, startling us both. This chickadee flew so fast and weaved in so close we barely had time to see what it was. We were in motion lifting the heavy swing at the time. Why is a little chickadee so tame? And why are owls, so large, wise, and predatory, so wary? In a human versus bird fight, the owl would be a stronger contender than a chickadee. Once I saw a 6 ounce cliff swallow take on a 120 pound dog. The dog ended up turning tail and crying to get back into the house, proving attitude is everything.

Mother Hen in Waiting

I am little excited to be getting my chicks this week. Like any expectant mother, I've been getting the nesting instinct. I've got my temporary chick house ready (cardboard box). Thanks to a sibling I have the warming light, the feeder and the waterer ready. I stopped to buy chicken feed and bedding. My coop isn't here yet but that is alright because the chicks will stay warm and dry in the house for the first 5 or 6 weeks. Lets hope they don't peep all night long. I doubt if they can distinguish day from night with a heat lamp shining on them 24/7. If the chicks come on Wednesday or Thursday, they must have been laid on March 9 or 10. They are in the incubator right now. Soon they'll be ready to start pecking their way out of the shell. I'm starting to think about names. My chicks will all be girls. How does Pamela, Phyllis, Angela, Meredith, Kelly, and Creed sound? Maybe Dwight instead of Creed.

Come Ride The Little Train That Is Rolling Down The Track to the Junction

Once in a while a woman in my building that I know only by sight will blurt random questions at me as I go by. I stop to answer them, I'm not sure why. This week she asked, "What is the name of Jeanie's boyfriend, the astronaut?" She's talking about the television show, "I Dream Of Jeanie." I am very familiar with it. I offer "Major Burns? No, thats MASH. Colonel Klink? No that's Hogans Heroes. I don't know." She doesn't know either but she immediately blurts another question at me, "What is the name of the two girls who throw their petticoat over the tank?" With absolutely no hesitation I answer, "Three girls, not two. Betty Jo, Bobbie Jo and Billie Jo." Why do I remember this useless piece of TV trivia? If I could delete this and other unnecessary bits of information, I might have room for useful things like where I put the directions for the sweater I've been knitting for almost a year!

Two Films at the Walker

We spent some time at the Walker Art Center on Saturday and took in two films. One film was "Stop the Reroute: Taking a Stand on Sacred Land." This film is about Highway 55 and the light rail track. Maybe you remember reading a little bit about this encampment and the attempts to stop the road construction from taking people's homes and ceremonial Native American grounds. Construction of this reroute was about 10 years ago and my first thought was why make a film about a failure? Obviously the civil disobedience/encampment was not successful since the road went through. After watching the film and observing many people in the audience who were a part of the Minnehaha encampment, I can see that there is more to the story. How everything went down makes a fascinating story and prods me into thinking more about eminent domain, the role of the MN Department of Transportation, tree huggers, and civil disobedience. The second film is called Snow. This was a foreign film so the actual title is Snijeg (Bosian for snow). And in the audience there appeared to be a large number of Bosnians (I'm guessing from their accent). I suppose if I was living in another country, I would welcome seeing a film about the USA and to hear English spoken again. This is a story about a village in Bosnia after the war. With the exception of one old man, only women are left to support themselves which they do by making jam,other canned foods, and rugs and selling them. Times are hard. The main character, Alma, is pictured here on the left. She lives with her mother-in-law and works hard, thinks optimistically, and tries to get by. This was a great film and I enjoyed every minute.

A Day Outside The Zone

Today I had an unusual day; a day spent a little outside my comfort zone. I started out at an all day inservice to become a certified accessibility specialist. The MN Dept. of Labor and Industry offers this opportunity at no charge. Since I am involved with accessibility issues at work and the price was right, I decided to give it a go. I didn't know that I, along with 3 others, were involved in one day of a 4 day building inspector class. When the instructor said his first sentence, "We'll be looking at IBC and RBC codes along with ANSI and statutes." I thought to myself, "WTF?" I raised my hand and said, "I think I'm in the wrong class." He tells me, "Oh, no, you're not. You need to know the background on these codes before we get into the accessibility issues." Meekly I lowered my hand and listened. I know more about it now but wow, I really had to learn how to think differently. Most of the people in the class were architects, building designers, and building contractors. They are used to the building codes and reading building plans. I am not. The class wasn't about making things easier for people with disabilities. The class was about the codes. We must meet the codes. If the code says to do it, we do it. If the code doesn't say to do it, we don't do it. White is white and black is black. I work in human services and I am not used to thinking this way. I got the hang of it after a while. We broke for lunch. Our class was directly across the street from a sibling's place of employment. I was so disappointed to see my phone screen fail to light up. when the battery runs out you can't even get the numbers off it. So instead I chose to scout out the places I used to live when I was an East St. Paul girl. I lived in three places. The first place was on Bates (I was 24 when I lived there). My old apartment complex was gone and the space was turned into a parking lot. The second place was on Arcade Street (I was 20 years old) and that was gone too - also a parking lot. So the rest of the day I've had the Joni Mitchell song in my head; the one where she sings, "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot." The third apartment on Minnehaha (age 22) was still there. This was a lovely older home with a wide front porch and an alley on the side. My little studio apartment was still there. On the way back to my class, I stopped at Burger King to grab a vegie burger. I opened the wrapper on my sandwich. I could smell the onion, the sauce, the tomato and the meat. My mouth watered as I opened my mouth to take a bite. It was chicken! It looked good too but I just couldn't bite the chicken. I went back to the counter and said, "I ordered a vegie burger but when I opened it up, it was chicken." I felt calm as I said this but when the words came out of my mouth, the word chicken has an alarming vehemence to it, surprising even me. The Burger King employee giggled. Then she smothered the giggle and apologized. The employee next to her also apologized but I could see him trying not to smirk as well. I guess chicken is a funny word when you say it in an angry tone. I spent the rest of the afternoon learning about codes, the placement of grab bars and the width of doors and the placement of handicapped parking signs. For dinner tonight we decided to try a new restaurant in Anoka on 7th Avenue called Thunh Do. I had the Kung Pao Mock Duck and it was delicious and the portions very generous. No longer do I have to drive to Uptown to get my Kung Pao Mock Duck. WooHoo! I am so happy that they serve mock duck that I'm sure I will return. We had fried tofu for an appetizer. I'm not a huge tofu fan but this was ok. After I dipped my second piece of fried tofu in the sweet and sour sauce, I looked at it and realized I was eating what looked like Sponge Bob Square Pants. We stopped at the Russian Grocery next door - a place I've been intending to visit for the past 5 years but never have. We bought some Russian tea and some Russian chocolate. We passed on the other interesting items - cabbage, canned beef (the cow's face on the label looked so sad), smoked fish with head and tail still attached, Russian cookies and crackers, Russian cheese, jam and candy. On the way home I had an errand to run at the library. As I opened the door to the library, a woman fell forward. She had been leaning her forehead against the door. Her face was full of anguish. She had tears in her eyes and mucous hanging from her nose. I said I was sorry and she turned and leaned her head against the next door. I saw a little girl run up and open that door and the woman again fell forward but this time she kept walking and she went outside. The little girl looked aghast and scared as she ran back to her mother. I wonder why the woman was so upset in public. I just know there is a story there and I hope things get better for her. All in all, it's been a most unusual day.

Bingo #3

We played Scrabble last night and I GOT ANOTHER BINGO! Woot! If Offspring #2 didn't take forever on her turn, I never would have gotten this bingo. The word was sunnily. I had to look it up. Sunnily is not a word I have ever used. Why say sunnily when sunny works just as well and has fewer letters? I attached the y on sunnily to the end of phone and earned myself 75 points. I won the battle but lost the war, loosing the game by less than 10 points. I used to think earning a bingo in Scrabble was like hitting a hole in one during golf but now I have to admit that Scrabble bingos are easier. After you get the first one, subsequent bingos are easier to spot.

Project Birdfeeder Watch Update

Sunday - 5 black-capped chickadees, 3 slate colored junco, 1 goldfinch

Performance Evaluation Today

Woot! Woot! Outstanding in my field.

I Wasn't Born Yesterday!

Immediately after my auction on EBay closed, I got this email with the email address of my seller:

Hi smsuchy, My name is Pavan Reddy, I am the seller of the Item#: 280321662550, Green Chicken Coop, writing you because I have to congratulate you for your winning bid of US $XXX.00. Unfortunately, immediately after the listing closed I got a Notification from eBay and I must warn you that my account is unavailable and you cannot pay for the item through Paypal as usual. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this has caused and I would be more than willing to help you to complete the transaction immediately. Now I am located in United Kingdom because I have to sign a contract with a company and I know the mainspring of the paypal problem was caused because my account was accessed from different locations, while travelling to UK. Anyway we have a solution, payment approved by eBay for this transaction is Western Union Money Transfer so you can send the payment in a few minutes.
To send a wire transfer you need my full name: PAVAN REDDY and country: United Kingdom. You will deduct the transfer fees from the total and you will send the remaining amount. If you want to send the payment with your credit card check the following link for more details:
https://wumt.westernunion.com/WUCOMWEB/staticMid.do?method=load&pagename=howToSendMTOnline
If You want to send the payment with cash you have to visit a western union location and fill a form with my full name, city and country. The city is London.
MOST IMPORTANT: WHEN THE PAYMENT HAS BEEN MADE PROVIDE ME THE FOLLOWING: MTCN# (MONEY TRANSFER CONTROL NUMBER), YOUR FULL NAME ON FILE WITH WESTERN UNION AND EXACT AMOUNT SENT. ALSO PLEASE CONFIRM YOUR SHIPPING CONTACT INFO. As you take these steps, please be aware that you may need to repeat the instructions provided above if the payment is received with errors, missing letters or numbers.
PS: Just is case... If you have already made the payment through Paypal your account will be credited back automatically when my paypal account is re-established.Waiting your confirmation with a copy of the receipt from western union. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Please let me know if you need further assistance. Thank you!

I know my seller lives in central Michigan and builds chicken coops out of renewable wood sources. I saw his website. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to be signing contracts in London.

My First Response

My first response is unprintable. I have been trying to give up swearing for Lent. (Not going so well).

My Second Response

My second response is this. HOW DARE YOU! Do I look like I was born yesterday?

My Third Response

My dear Pavan Reddy,

Thank you so much for your email. I really appreciate getting this chicken coop at such a reasonable price. I know you do quality work so I did not deduct the Western Union fees. I have sent the total amount to you in London. So be sure to head over to the Western Union office as soon as possible to get the money I sent. The money should be there today but if by chance the money isn't there, be sure to check at the Western Union office every day because I want to make sure you get what is coming to you. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Sincerely!

(Readers - rest assured EBay was notified of this scam).

I Won The Auction!

I bid on a chicken coop/run auction on EBay and I got the highest bid. Look. See. Cute, not? The back of the chicken house juts out and that is where the chickens are supposed to lay their eggs. I hope they know that. The front has a cute arched door with a latch that you turn sideways to close and vertical to open - much like the latch outside an outhouse. There is a ramp so the chickens can walk into the run. And in the back (you can't see this) is a screened window with a Plexiglas cover so the chickens can get fresh air and sunshine. It's so cute! The run is 6 feet long and the house is designed for 2 to 4 chickens. The wood is from a renewable sources and the paint is non-toxic to chickens. These chicken coops are constructed in Michigan and will come delivered assembled on a freight truck. I am picturing a huge wooden box big enough for a gorilla that I'll have to use a crowbar to open. The chicken coops come in three colors - green, white and red. My house is yellow with white trim so I chose a red coop.

Slumdog Millionaire

A friend and I took in a movie last night called Slumdog Millionaire. I can see why it won so many academy awards including best picture. I thought the movie was great. I loved the way the plot was unwrapped. I like a plot that isn't that hard to understand. I loved the characters in the movie (especially Jamal pictured above in the blue shirt riding the top of a train). Some parts were hard to watch. Life in a slum for an orphan child is not a pretty thing to see. One part of the movie is where Jamal and his brother take a German tourist through the Taj Mahal. He's not an official tour guide and he's just making up the story about the building and the occupants of the Taj Mahal as he goes along. His story is hilarious. I really enjoyed the movie. The friend I went with is a worrier. She whispers to me during the show what terrible things she thinks will happen next. This story has sad parts and happy parts too. If you go, stay for the credits because that is why the actors dance at the train station. I just love the crowd dancing in movies about India. I have to put "visit the Taj Mahal" on my list of things I want to do.

Project Bird Feeder Watch Update

I almost forgot!

Saturday: Black capped Chickadees-5, Junco-2, White breasted Nuthatch - 1, Crow-1

Sunday: Black capped chickadees-5, White breasted nuthatch-2

Today I heard my first and second red winged blackbirds singing. The first one was in Blaine in the parking lot at work. The second was at the Rum River Library in Anoka.

Ruby Loved The Water

My dog, Ruby, loved the water. If I was sprinkling the lawn, she'd be right at the sprinkler head, biting at the stream of water. We had an underground sprinkler system with five heads scattered throughout the front yard. If she were biting at the water from a sprinkler head, I would walk over the the valve control and turn off the water just to see the perplexed look on her face. She'd stare at the sprinkler head for a long time before turning away. That is when I'd turn the water back on just to see her go back to it. Then I would turn it off again and turn on a sprinkler on the other side of the yard just to watch her sprint at top speed to bite at that one. Ruby would run after sprinkler heads longer than I wanted to keep turning them on and off again. She also loved boat rides because she could bite at the frothy wake at the side of the boat. We had a 12 foot fishing boat with a 7.5 HP Evinrude motor. With the throttle fully open, I could get some wake moving at the side of the boat and she would bite at that wake, snapping her jaws together and throwing her head back and forth. She would be SO excited! Without warning she would decide to bite at the wake on the other side of the boat. I'd have to be careful because a 75 pound dog throwing her weight from one side of the boat to the other was enough to tip you over if you weren't careful. And watch out if you were sitting by her because she was reckless in her water biting. If Ruby was in the boat and we were going to go fast, we took the rods and reels out first because of her recklessness. She loved boat rides but she was a handful. I never had the courage to take her for a canoe ride. If I was in the boat, she wanted to be with me. If I wanted to fish, I'd have to have someone hold her and take off away from the cabin a.s.a.p. and at full speed. If I went too slow or too close to shore, she'd follow me and sometimes swim out to the boat putting herself in danger. Sometimes we took the paddle boat out for a spin. She didn't like the plastic shell of the boat but she didn't like being left out either so she followed us. And she wasn't the only one. I remember one leisurely paddle boat trip around the point where we were surrounded by a 75 pound golden retriever (Ruby), a 110 pound golden retriever (Wedo), and a 120 pound St. Bernard (Cupid). What a sight we must have made. Good times, good times.

I'm So Old

I was out shopping for a birthday card this week for a birthday party today. I looked the card selection over. I wanted something not too mushy, not too disrespectful, and not too cutesy. No animals doing human things - I draw the line at that. I looked over the selection. There were a bunch of "Over the Hill" cards. Most of those cards had a number on them like 30 or 40, a few 50's. So then I looked for an Happy 80th Birthday card. There were none. Then I realized, there comes an age when "Over the hill" isn't funny anymore. In fact, it would be disrespectful to give an "Over the Hill" card to someone who was way, way past the hill. That would not be funny. That would be morbid. So I decided against giving two Happy 40th Birthday "Over the Hill" cards. So when does "Over the Hill" change from being funny to morbid? At age 30, it's really funny. At age 40 it's funny. At age 50 it's kinda funny. Past that - not funny. To my horror, I realized I am too old to get an "Over the Hill" card anymore. OMG! I am so old! When did this happen? With my head hanging a little lower and my shoulders slumped forward, I selected a picturesque card with no message inside, grabbed some fiber and calcium supplements, and drove home to go to bed early.

Carrot Cake

Ingredients: 3 cups grated carrots, 2 cups of sugar, 1 1/2 cup vegetable oil, 4 eggs, 2 cups of flour, 2 tsp. baking soda, 2 tsp. baking powder, 2 tsp. cinnamon, 1 pinch nutmeg, 1 cup slivered almonds, 2 tsp. vanilla, 1 small box of raisins.
Cream sugar, oil, eggs and carrots together. Mix remaining ingredients and add to creamed mixture. Bake in 9x13 inch pan for 25-30 minutes. When cool ice with:
1 1/2 sticks butter, 3 cups powdered sugar, 8 oz. creamed cheese, 1 tsp vanilla.

She Thought She Was The Boss

Offspring #2 reminds me of Ruby's rough treatment of her. Ruby loved to play "Chase Me." She would grab something of value and take off, looking behind hoping you'd be running after her trying to get it back. She'd take the kids' mittens off their hands, their hat off their head, and the toys out of their hands. She'd take my gardening trowel. Once she grabbed my red begonia - a bedding plant I had taken out the pack of six. If you didn't chase her, she'd chew it. If you needed it back, you could chase her but you'd never get it that way and in the meantime, Ruby had a boatload of fun keeping it away from you. Once, when small children were visiting, she grabbed a dirty diaper out of a diaper bag on the lawn. This was a really dirty diaper - about the worst used diaper you can imagine. I almost had it too but as my fingers nearly closed around that diaper I hesitated. What would be worse - touching this oozing diaper or letting her have it? I remember it being a hard decision. I believe I have mentally blocked out the final outcome on that incident. She took people's shoes and boots. One Sunday I was vacuuming the living room when I looked out the window and saw a twenty dollar bill lying in the grass. I went out there and also found a wallet and a driving license with some teeth marks on the corner. She stole the neighbor's wallet! I talked my husband into bringing it back to him - I was too embarrassed. Husband said the neighbor was not at all grateful for the return of the wallet and made a comment about how fences make good neighbors. The problem, when distilled down to the core, is that she thought she was the boss. She wanted me to pay attention to her and that was all she thought about. When she took my trowel or my begonia, I stopped gardening and paid attention to her. When she took the mittens off the kids, I stopped playing with them and paid attention to her. When the kids walked toward me, she would put her body between us and push them away. She cornered Offspring #2 on the deck and would not let her come in the house. When other dogs approached me, she would aggressively bark at them. I was outside building a snowman with the kids once and when I looked up I saw Offspring #2 lying on her back in the snow like an upside down turtle and Ruby's front paws on her chest. We worked on that. We taught her she wasn't the boss of us. I held her down on her back on the ground and made her stay there longer than she wanted. I had the kids help me do it so she would respect them as well. I insisted that when we went through a door, people went through first and then the dog. She never liked that. Every time we went through a door, she tried to go first - every single time. We took obedience classes and she learned to sit, heel and stay. Although we managed her behavior so we could live together in peace and harmony, I suspect she still thought of herself as the boss.

What is My Favorite Color?

Go to atomsmasher.org/wof

Don't Question Why She Needs To Be So Free

Song Lyrics:
She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if its gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...
Don't question why she needs to be so free
Shell tell you its the only way to be
She just cant be chained
To a life where nothings gained
And nothings lost
At such a cost
Theres no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

I had a dog named Ruby. She was a beautiful golden retriever (or golden keep it) with curly red hair. Listening to the Rolling Stones sing “Ruby Tuesday” caused memories to flood back about my dog Ruby. Ruby and I had power struggles of epic proportions. Her intelligence and constant monitoring of my behavior made for legendary confrontations. Sometimes she knew me better than I knew myself, which could be very maddening because I was the owner, and she the pet, not the other way around. If dogs can get oppositional defiant disorder, she had it. Getting her to go into her kennel is a prime example of our power struggle. She knew what I wanted. I was advised to say “Kennel” when I wanted her to go in there. I could “kennel” till the cows came home. The only way she would go in there willingly was if I went in first with a bowl of food. That was the only trick that worked consistently. Too bad I could only use it at meal times. If I were in a hurry she could lock me into a power struggle so fast my head would spin. I would act as if I wasn’t in a hurry, as if I didn’t have an appointment to get to, as if I weren’t going to be leaving in the car. Didn’t matter. She knew. I don’t know how she knew but she knew. I’d saunter casually up to her as if I would pet her, whistling an innocent tune, leash hidden under my shirt and she’d wait until I was almost within grasping distance before dashing away, a sneer on her orange little face. I’d sit on the grass and ask if she wanted petting. She’d walk up to just an inch beyond the reach of my arm and stand there looking at me, letting me know she was no fool. I paid extra attention to my body language. I’d try to reason with her. I told her about my need for speed, how important this was, how she could help me out by being a good dog and get the h--- over here right now. Didn’t matter to her. I could plead and beg. She didn’t care. I adjusted. I added 20 minutes to any routine that meant she had to go in the kennel. I enlisted the help of the kids. I pretended to give her a brushing. I offered a new toy. I'd dangle a milk bone in front of her. She knew I wanted her in the kennel. She caught onto every new trick I pulled out of my hat after only one trial. I became mentally exhausted thinking of creative ways to get her into that kennel. She was a sucker for car rides though. She would go with almost anyone, and in any car. I’d have to pretend we were going to go for a ride together and then snap the leash on her collar as she was seated in the back seat. Was that a cruel trick to play on a dog? Maybe it was but I had to get going. I loved that dog. She made me want to hit my head against the wall. She drove me crazy sometimes but I still loved her spirit. She never once looked remorseful or sorry and I just had to admire that in her.

If

According to a guy at work, 18 laps (back and forth) in the Andover YMCA pool is a half mile. If the pool at Roosevelt Middle School is the same length, and if I can swim 18 laps in 45 minutes, and if the English channel was calm, and if I swam across the narrowest part (21 miles) and if the water temperature in the channel was above 80 degrees, how long would it take me to swim across the English channel? This is a big IF.

Three Cups Of Tea

I went to book club again last night. As I walked to the door the wind blew the snow sideways across the icy cement and I could hear dogs barking. The weather was miserable and after a minute the dogs started to sound like wolves. Whew it was nasty out there. We discussed a book by Greg Mortenson called "Three Cups of Tea." This book is written by a man who graduated from Alexander Ramsey High School - the high school next to my high school. Although he graduated from Ramsey HS and played on the football team, he never really fit in there. He grew up in Tanzania near Mount Kilimanjaro with his missionary parents. He studied nursing and climbed mountains in his spare time. He attempted to climb K2, the highest mountain in Pakistan, but gave up his attempt to save the life of a foolish fellow climber. He got lost on the way back and was nursed back to health by the folk in a small Pakistan village. He saw the girls there trying to learn in the bitter cold and doing their math problems with a stick in the dirt. He vowed to build them a school. Throughout the book Greg Mortenson isn't your typical guy. He gets lost. He looses his stuff. He's late. He doesn't think things through. He lives in his car. He is footloose and makes hasty decisions. But he is determined. Eventually he does build a school in that poor village in Pakistan in the late 1990's. He goes on to found the Central Asia Institute which builds many more schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Mortenson goes out of his way to make sure the girls are educated. He points out that if the boys are educated, they benefit. But if girls are educated, the entire village benefits. He is respectful of the Muslim religion and he learns to shed his "get er done" American ways for the Pakistani villager ways. To really communicate with someone, you need to drink three cups of tea and trust the process. Don't be in such a hurry. The Taliban moves into the area and they start building schools. Much money is brought into the area for these schools that educate only the boys. The teachers are also uneducated and they do not teach the children to read. According the the book, the Taliban teachers don't want their students to actually read the Koran but only to know the Taliban interpretation. In our discussion I learned that Muslim boys who study with the Taliban must have permission from their mothers. That fact gives us another reason to education the girls in the village. The discussion was very thought provoking and the book was good too. Several people in the book club wanted to help Mortenson build more schools. Offspring #1 keeps advising me to be careful with my charity dollars and to spend them wisely. So I looked up the Central Asia Institute on charitynavigator.org. Mortenson's charity only got 2 stars - not a very good rating. But that does make sense because although well intentioned and hard working, he isn't very efficient. On the Central Asia Institute I found another link to an organization called The Girl Effect. This organization has a most amazing and informative interactive web site. You might want to check it out. They are not listed on charity navigator though. If I knew they used their money wisely, I would definitely consider donating to that cause.

Memories Are Fluid

I watched a little bit of Sixty Minutes last night. They had a program about memory. The show featured a woman who had been sexually assaulted. During the assault she studied the perpetrator so that he could be convicted when caught. She picked out his photo from a selection of eight photos. She chose him out of a line-up. DNA evidence cleared the man of any wrong doing after he spent 11 years in prison. This woman honestly tried her very best but she was wrong, horribly wrong. According to legal studies, the most common cause of people paying for crimes they did not commit is faulty eye witness accounts. Psychological experiments were run showing how fluid memory can be. The people in the experiment were shown a film clip of a crime and asked to pick out the perpetrator from a line up. Many times the wrong person was chosen. Right after the show ended, I got a call from a former college roommate. We hadn't spoken in years. We connected as if the years hadn't gone by. We reminisced about our apartment on Fifth Avenue in St. Cloud. We had a first floor apartment in an old home that was converted into six apartments. Our apartment had 3 beds in the bedroom, the towel racks in the bathroom, and 3 shelves in the refrigerator. Three people fit in there very cozily. She remembered the Baptist church next door. I had no idea there was a church next door. I thought it was another house. She said no, it was a Baptist church, and didn't I remember how loud they were on Sunday mornings? She said the hymn singing through the open windows was very loud. I cannot remember this at all. You'd think I would because listening to people singing hymns on Sunday morning sounds very quaint. I remembered a grocery store in the other direction. She did too. She said we had a little red wagon and would go shopping together. She'd put her Pepsi in the wagon next to my Tab and we'd pull our groceries home in the wagon. I remember the Pepsi and the Tab but cannot remember the red wagon at all. We both remembered our landlord. He was a frail looking older man who wore a suit and tie when he came by each apartment on the first of the month to collect the rent. We agreed that he was very polite and kind. I think it's strange that after we both lived together in the same place at the same time, our memories differ so much.

Project Bird Feeder Watch

Saturday: 3 black capped chickadees, two white breasted nuthatch, 1 crow, one downy woodpecker

Sunday: 3 black capped chickadees, two white breasted nuthatch, 2 crows

Hurrying Spring

I am anxious for spring so I did some spring cleaning today to get that out of the way. Twice a year I deep clean my bedroom. I clean everything. I wash the curtains and the tablecloth and the quilt. I clean the windows. I vacuum out the cobwebs in the corners and the baseboards. I move the bed. Rearranging the room is part of the cleaning process. This time I moved the head of the bed so that it is between the two windows and I will be able to feel the summer breeze come in one window and go out the other. I spent 5 hours cleaning that room today. My mother-in-law would do this to every room in her house in the spring. I don't have as much energy as she did.

Out On The Home Town

Last night we went to see Anita Renfroe in concert at Northwestern College in Roseville. I've driven by the entrance to that college but never been through the grounds before. Holy shamoley, that campus is about 20 times larger than I thought it would be and is a beautiful setting complete with a lake. Anita Renfroe is a modern day Erma Bombeck and very funny. She can take mundane daily activities and turn them into comedy with her gestures, facial expressions, and great timing. Besides stand up comedy she can sing and play the piano. She took a song called Breathe by Faith Hill and changed into a tune about her husband's morning breath. On the screens to the side of the stage was a parody of Faith Hill's video of the song - extremely funny stuff. You might have seen her video on You Tube. She sings to the tune of the William Tell Overture. I believe she calls it Momsense. She ended the show with that song. From our front row seats, we applauded until our hands were sore.

Edamame

I was dining with friends at one of my favorite restaurants, Good Earth, when we decided to try something new to us - an appetizer named Edamame. The menu described them as steamed soybeans and frankly, they didn't sound that appetizing. They were delicious. Our waitress told us how to eat them. "Put them in your mouth and suck on them. Don't eat the pod. Suck the beans out of the pod and eat those." Good thing she said that because we would have gotten that wrong and tried to eat the pods like an unfamiliar person might eat the corn husk on a tamale. The salt on the pods gets in your mouth and the beans inside were delicious. We ate every last one. As a child, I would not eat my vegetables. I hated canned peas the most. Canned green beans were awful and I didn't like cooked carrots. Don't even get me started on sauerkraut. I did like corn and tomatoes. If I was to go back in time and tell my 8 year old self that I would grow up to love vegetables and to be a vegetarian, she would never believe it. She'd be sitting there alone, at the dining room table, sentenced to sit there until she finished her canned peas, waiting for people to get busy so she could bring those peas out to Tilly the Weimaraner. I just know she would shake her head in disbelief. I still cannot stand canned peas. I love fresh peas. I can tolerate frozen peas if they are served cold. I love raw green beans but cannot eat them canned unless they are french cut and in a hotdish. I prefer my carrots raw but will eat small pieces if they're mixed in with other things or stir fried. And sauerkraut? I'll eat only a small amount on a hot sandwich.

A Thing For Pens

People who work with me know I have a thing for pens. I love pens and office supplies in general. If you do a lot of paperwork like I do, a good pen can make the difference between a good day and an average day. A smooth rolling ballpoint that lays down an assertive solid line is very satisfying. Some generous people at work give me pens because they know I like ‘em. Today, a friend gave me a big handful of new pens she acquired at a conference. She gave me at least 10 pens. Two were silver, one was electric purple, one was blue, and one was orange (my favorite color) and had a soft grip but turned out to be a mechanical pencil. I prefer big barrel pens with soft grips and a thicker point. I’m totally spoiled. I doubt I could even work with a plain Paper Mate fine point anymore. A couple months ago I got a pen from another friend that looks like a shot. When you depress the plunger the point clicks out. This shot pen has a pink liquid in the barrel and comes complete with lines on the sides marking the milliliters. That pen is a little too unusual for me to use comfortably. A year ago another friend at work gave me this ergonomic pen that is shaped like a slingshot. You put your pointer finger in the crotch of the slingshot and propel the pen that way. When I write much with it, my finger accidentally hits the button that withdraws the point so I don’t use it very much. Another coworker admired my handful of pens this morning. She showed me her favorite pen - a blue ballpoint with a thick barrel and an antimicrobial surface. I don't know what makes this pen antimicrobial. The surface felt a little sticky. I would expect germs to hang onto that pen. We looked on the box and there was no explanation of what made this pen antimicrobial. Call me a skeptic. Years ago I went to meetings with this one man who had a pen 12 inches long with a 2-inch diameter barrel. He was a large man and he needed a large pen. “Oooh,” I said like Homer Simpson when he sees candy, “Nice pen.”

Anticipation!

I've made a decision to become closer to one of my food sources. Inspired by the writing of Barbara Kingsolver and the practice of one of my sisters, I've decided to raise some egg-laying chickens. I chose Americaunas. Americauna chickens are cold hardy, docile, and friendly. They are rumpless. They have no rumps. Other chickens have showy behinds but not Americaunas. Their combs are small which makes them cold hardy. Americaunas have prominent ear tufts. The main reason I chose them is that they lay green eggs. I wanted colorful eggs. Some catalogs referred to them as the Easter Egg chicken. We won't have to dye these eggs though because they are already green. The color of the eggs reportedly varies from turquoise to olive green. The birds themselves can vary from white to black to anything inbetween. I felt strange paging through the catalog of chickens and selecting a breed. A wave a guilt passed through me and I felt like a plantation owner selecting a slave. That feeling passed and I made my selection. I wanted 2 or 3 hens. My sister ordered 6 in case some do not survive. She says she will sell the extra chickens. They're coming around April first. She's offered to raise them during that first month when they're fresh from the egg. I said I could pay her chick support. Day old chicks can be mailed because they can survive on their yolk sac. After that they need to be fed and watered and kept warm (between 90 and 100 degrees). Will I miss out on the whole chicken experience if I don't raise them from the start? I'm not sure but right now I'm leaning toward raising them myself. I still have to order a chicken tractor (portable coop and run). I want something portable so I can move the chickens around the yard and make sure they get fresh weeds and bugs to munch on and fresh dirt to scratch up. Eggs from free range chickens have less fat and less cholesterol than eggs from caged chickens. The Americauna breed is originally from South America. Their rumplessness made them safer from predators who try to grab them from behind. I decided against getting a rooster. I won't need baby chicks. Hens won't offend the neighbors as much. If I get brave enough to let my hens roam the yard, they won't roam as far without a rooster to protect them. Besides, my neighbors two doors down have a rooster for their flock. When I want to hear a rooster, I can just listen to him crow two doors down. I am excited to be a chicken owner and egg producer. Koo Koo Katchoo. I'll be an egg woman!

Tough Times

These are tough economic times. I personally know people who have lost their jobs. I know others who lost their homes. I work at the Blaine Human Service Center. Our building has a food shelf, a Workforce Center, and an office to apply for public assistance. Our parking lot is full every day. Cars circle the lot waiting and hoping that someone will leave so they can park their cars. I invite people to meetings and they can't get in because there is no place to park. I arrive about 7:15 a.m. so I have a place to park. Sometimes I leave for meetings and my spot is gone. When I return I end up circling the parking lot searching for an empty space. A year ago we only had these problems when there was a special event such as a job fair or a food give-away program at the food shelf. Now people have taken to creating new parking spaces in the driving lanes or on the snow covered grassy areas. The full parking lot is a sign of the tough economic times. I feel sad to see people standing in line at the food shelf. Sometimes the line goes out the door and into the lobby. On the last Wednesday of the month there is always a long line that cirlces the entire lobby. Senior citizens, some using walkers and canes, stand in line for food. My heart breaks to see them. Today Al Franken was in the lobby. I wonder why. Was he here to apply for unemployment? Can politicians get unemployment? He went past the food shelf so I know he wasn't here for that. Maybe he was here for public assistance. Today tax preparation help was available on third floor. He was probably here for that. I heard he had trouble completing his taxes accurately so that is my guess.

Coming Soon (I Hope)

Cookie Time

Last night two of my favorite Girl Scouts came to the door to deliver the cookies I ordered via Facebook back in January. Yum, peanut butter patties and Caramel Delight. I paid for them and for Offspring #2's cookies (10 boxes - she's a big spender) and they were on their way. This seems so easy. After being troop cookie Mom for about 10 years it is easy. No more gathering orders, filling out paperwork, picking up car and truck loads of cookie cases at the Anoka K-Mart distribution site, no more sorting cookies, no more distributing cookies, no more gathering money, no more working at booth sales on weekends, no more bringing wads of cash and piles of personal checks to the bank for deposit, no more filling out paperwork, no more handing out badges, prizes and camp money, no more working at cookie headquarters helping other cookie Mom's complete their paperwork. We had fun but the truth is, cookie time used to be a lot of work.

Project Feeder Watch

Saturday - 3 black capped chickadees, 2 slate colored juncos, 2 white breasted nuthatch, 5 crows and one red tailed hawk. (There was a noisy altercation between the crows and the hawk that drew me to the window at just the right moment).

Sunday- 3 black capped chickadees, 1 white breasted nuthatch, 1 momma cardinal

I heard the cardinals singing their love songs this morning. The temperature was below zero. You'd think their libido would be frozen.