Prague Winter

I read (or listened to) Madeline Albright's book Prague Winter: A Personal Story of Remembrance and War 1937-1948.  Madeline did her own reading and I liked to listen to her voice.  Madeline grew up in Prague and she writes from the point of view as a native Czechoslovakian and a diplomat.  She was born in 1937 and her father, Josef Korbel was a diplomat for his country.  But it wasn't until Madeline was working as a secretary of state for the United States and until the age of 59 that Madeline learned that although she was raised as a Roman Catholic, she was Jewish and had lost more than 20 family members, including three of her grandparents, in the Holocaust.  She learned this fact after her parents had passed on and never got the chance to ask why she wasn't told.  Escaping the Nazi's might have played a role in it but her parents were out of the country and living in England when that happened so it is possible they had other reasons.  Albright gives a detailed history of Czech politics which is quite convoluted and confusing.  I found it interesting to hear about World War Two politics from a diplomatic point of view.  She writes about Adolf Hitler and his demands before going to war.  He demanded quite a bit and threatened to go to war if he didn't get what he wanted.  Nations were falling over themselves to give him what he wanted.  If he was appeased in his demands, he changed what he wanted.  He never wanted to be appeased.  As much as people didn't want to believe it, he wanted to go to war.  No matter what concessions were made, he was not reasonable because his goal was to be famous by creating a war.  In my life, I have met people like that; unreasonable people who want what they want when they want it.  There is no way to win with them.  But I never heard a diplomat come right out and label it like she did.  Albright is a great writer and I imagine she'd make a very interesting dinner guest.  I get the feeling she might even offer to help with the dishes. 

Fire In The Hole!

On Sunday afternoon I decided to burn some brush.  The day was warm and the wind was still.  The fire took right off and I decided to burn an extra long log of white oak.  The center of the branch had rotted away.  A woodpecker had made some side holes as well.  All these openings made for a log that was very easy to burn.  This log was at least 12 inches in diameter and 2 feet long but I never had to turn it to get it all to burn.  Despite the rotten center and the many holes, this log had an amazing amount of fuel to it.  It burned hot and heavy for three full hours.  Burning brush isn't exactly relaxing because I'm always gathering more brush and moving extra long pieces toward the center but it is enjoyable.  On Sunday I believe I burned about 7 % of the brush pile.  93% left to go.

Planting Spuds

I got my blue potatoes prepared and planted.  On Saturday I cut the 10 pounds of blue seed potatoes into pieces so that each chunk had at least 3 eyes on it.  This amounted to 3 or 4 pieces per potato.  Starchy blue juice ran over onto my kitchen table.  I let those pieces dry out until Monday night when I put each piece into the ground.  I watered the ground pretty well so the taters will take off.  I hope to serve blue potatoes on Thanksgiving.

Move To Summer HQ

It is time to move the chickens to a fresh spot of ground on the east side of the house. First I tricked the chickens into going into the coop by throwing a handful of sunflower seeds in there and shutting the door on them.  Then I moved the run to the new spot on the east side of the house.

Then I moved the chickens inside the house over to the east side.  How does a person with a new hip joint move a chicken coop?  It's easy.  I can even take a photo while I'm doing it. I use my red dolly and pull while walking backwards.  To keep peace inside the coop I offered commentary such as, "The pilot informs us there is some turbulence ahead so stay in your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened.  Please remain in your seats until the plane has taxied to the gate." 

Chickens can't speak English but they do communicate.  As soon as I let them out of the coop in the fresh spot of earth, they clucked in their contented tone of voice.  They scratched the clean dirt and pecked at all the green leaves they saw.  They threw the sandy soil up and covered themselves in sand.

Here is a photo of two happy chickens.

Fresh dirt.  Fresh smells.

This is much nicer than the old spot that was covered with four months of solid waste.

I scraped all the old manure out and put fresh wood chips down for my girls.

I put them in a spot where I can keep an eye and an ear out from my bedroom window.  I haven't seen the fox lately but I'm sure it's around.

Spring Is Potential

Both yesterday and today I spent a lot of time outside enjoying the spring weather.  I close my eyes and try to identify everything I hear.  The blue jay calls in three languages before it is sure the coast is clear enough to come and take a drink from the bird bath.  Two phoebes call "Cheese burger!  Cheese Burger!" back and forth from different trees in the yard.  White breasted nuthatches call their negative "Nuh - uh."   Chickadees say their own name. The stupid calico feral cat sits so still next to a pile of brush that I stare at it for 30 seconds before I see it appear like an image in a  magic eye picture.  A pileated woodpecker zips like a fighter pilot through the trees making me wish I could fly.  A bee goes into a hole in the sand. Angleworms wiggle in the soil.  The moss is growing little flower stalks on a shady path and I pick the early dandelion leaves because the chickens and the canary love to eat them.  The gooseberry brambles in the woods have leafed out but the rest of the foliage still preparing.  There is so much potential in the air!  And it's the potential that I appreciate.  Change is coming.  The world is coming back to life after a long nap.  Like a soprano taking in a deep breath before planning to hit the high "C" or a sprinter posed at the starting block, spring is about to bust wide open.

Today a group of us had a guided tour of Crex Meadows near Grantsburg, Wisconsin.  We saw many birds but the trumpeter swans are the easiest for me to photograph.  We also saw song sparrow, chipping sparrow, field sparrow, kestrel, robins, morning doves, mallards, buffleheads, coots, Northern shovelers, blue winged teal, Northern harrier, a rough legged hawk doing acrobatics in the sky, sandhill cranes, Canadian geese, yellow rumped warblers, bald eagles, and blue birds.  It was a great day to stand outside and look for birds!  The same rug company that used the cord grass to make rugs out at Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area also owned the property that is now Crex Meadows.  We don't use cord grass for our rugs anymore.  Now we use petroleum products to make our rugs. I guess a few are made out of wool but I wish we used more sustainable materials for our rugs instead of petroleum products. 

Spring

Slow to Realize

I am listening to a fascinating book on CD.  The author is reading the story and she is American but she has somewhat of a Romanian accent in her voice.  Listening to her talk, something dawned on me slowly.  Since I was a kid my father would talk about people he knew named Tater.  He talked about Tater K. and Tater B.  I thought it odd that people were named after potatoes but I didn't question it because I've heard it all my life.  Listening to this woman talk, it began to dawn on me that when my father says Tater, he might actually be saying Theodore.  Theodore is a name I've only read about.  Never meeting anyone named Theodore, I thought it would be pronounced in three syllables, thee' - a - dore, with the accent on the thee.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe Theodore sounds like Tater.  I'm pretty sure it does.  Duh!  Live and learn.

Anticipation

I am feeling anticipation.  Every time the phone rings my heart starts to race.  Every time I hear a text come on my cell phone I start breathing faster.  Even looking at me email in-box I feel anticipation about this grandchild who isn't even due for 3 weeks yet.  Yesterday I felt anticipation opening the mailbox and I'm pretty sure I won't find out about the baby via snail mail.  I'm going to have to coach myself to relax a little bit because I don't think I can take 3 weeks of this feeling.

 

 

Bugs

How do you feel about bugs?  Do you like them?  Hate them?  Or are you indifferent to bugs?  I guess we all have our reasons for how we feel about bugs.  I have a friend who has a phobia about bugs.  Her fear of bugs goes back to a childhood trauma; bugs literally take her back to the scene of a crime.  She has gone to therapy and is now able to sleep at night without nightmares and able to enjoy a hike in the woods.  She doesn't appreciate seeing any bugs though and I can sympathize with her.  Another friend of mine has a phobia about spiders.  Although a very independent woman, she has to call for help if she is home alone and sees a spider.  She jokes about it but I can tell spiders are a huge barrier to her peace of mind.  I am generally okay with bugs as long as they're not inside the house.  I can tolerate a spider or two in the house if they're small or medium in size.  But I will poison the sugar ants in my kitchen.  If I am aware of wasps building a nest under my deck I probably will knock it down or spray it with pesticide unless a killing frost is expected soon in which case I would let it go.  If ground dwelling bees build a nest in my lawn where I mow I will get rid of it but if it's in an area I don't mow I will leave it alone.  I try not to over use pesticides but I do use them once in a while.  I think I am more tolerant of bugs than some. We humans have altered this planet too much already.  I actually think some germs are good for me.  I don't buy any products that I know have antibiotics in them.  I won't buy germ killing dish soap or hand soap. I have to read quite a few labels before I can find a product that doesn't kill bugs.  If I am going to clean my hands I'll use soap and water and not germicide hand cleaner. I purchase products with probiotics which is a more appetizing way of saying I buy food with bugs.  I have to admit that some people's attitude towards bugs bugs me.  I am bugged by how much bugs bug them.  To tell the honest truth, I've been sassy about it as well. One friend of mine was planning on spraying pesticide into a flower pot and smothering the plant with sand to kill the eggs of the bugs she saw in the dirt.  How did she see the bugs in the dirt?  They weren't easily visible.  She had to stir up the dirt with a spoon, wait a minute, and squint to see tiny insects moving in the soil.  Seriously?  These tine subterranean bugs bugged her?  This was a plant that spent the summers outdoors.  And in about six weeks it will be outside again.  Of course it has tiny bugs in it.  Twice in the past month, when people are freaking out about bugs, I've said to them, "Do you realize you have mites in your eyelashes?"   Judging by the pained look on her face, I probably went too far. But she does have mites in her eye lashes; just saying.  

Great Night For Frogging

A pickerel frog.

Last night was a great night for frogging.  I was worried about potential rain but I'm glad I didn't cancel.  The rain held off, for the most part, until after frogging was complete.  We had dinner at the Crow's Nest north of Mora and got started well after dark.  There was no moon and the sky was cloudy so it was pretty dark out there.  We heard more wood frogs croaking than I have ever heard before.  The wood frogs were croaking so loud it sounded like they were shouting at us.  I feel lucky to hear a wood frog because they only call 2 out of the 52 weeks in a year.  But after the tenth stop where we heard a full, never ending chorus of overlapping wood frogs calling "keck-a-heck, keck-a-heck, keck-a-heck!) I was hearing them for hours after we left the swamp.  I heard them in my sleep.  The wood frogs were so loud we had to strain to hear the spring peepers and the chorus frogs.  At three stops were were delighted to hear the slow snore of a pickerel frog.  I had never heard one in the wild before.  I don't believe I've ever seen one but maybe I have because they look much like a leopard frog.  A pickerel frog has rounded spots on the ridges along it's back while the leopard frog has rectangular spots.  The pickerel frog and the leopard frog both have a long, slow snoring sound but the leopard frog follows it up with a chuckle and the pickerel frog doesn't chuckle.  Also on our route we heard a pair of barred owls calling to each other from a long distance away.  There was wildlife on the road as well.  We dodged a pheasant, slowed down to keep far enough back from a waddling skunk, slowed down for a pair of deer, and nicked a dead raccoon laying in the middle of the road.  If I had to hit one of those animals I was glad to just touch the dead one.  Last night was a good night to be outdoors focusing in my hearing.

Oak Cookie

Last weekend I cleaned out my gutters and found this tree cookie on my roof.  I think the arborists left it there.  I scooped it off the roof and took a closer look.  I counted about 45 rings in this branch.  So that means that in about 1970 this branch was just a little twig.  Can you see the inner brown circle, the middle light brown circle and the outer beige circle?  I moved in to this property at the edge of the middle circle and the outer circle.  This oak tree cookie has a lot of history in it.  Healthy oak tree years have wider bands.  Years where the oak was stressed has thinner bands.  If I knew more about trees I would be able to read this tree cookie like an autobiography.

A Spool of Blue Thread

I loved every word of Anne Tyler's A Spool of Blue Thread.   I love her writing.  This book didn't have much of a plot.  The story is about 4 generations of the Whitshank family living in Baltimore.  But in Tyler's description of the Whitshanks I found myself, members of my family, and some of my friends.  There is a black sheep, jealous siblings, sons who take after or deliberately do not take after their fathers, and people who put the needs of their family above their own needs.  Like in other Tyler novels that I have read, even the black sheep are loveable.  Funny, tragic and moving, I love everything Anne Tyler has written.

A Warning In My Pants

I bought a pair of white capris. I had to try on 5 pair before I found some that fit and had thick enough fabric.  Some capri material is so thin that underwear shows through.   Halfway through my first day of wearing them I noticed a crinkly feeling when I put my hand in my left pocket.  So I looked and found a warning glued to the inside of my pants.  In case you can't read it, the warning says:  Lift Tuck Technology NYDJ cannot be held responsible for any positive consequences that may arise due to your fabulous appearance when wearing our jeans.  Seriously?  Since I had to go to the bathroom to get this warning out of my pants I tried to look at my rear end in the mirror.  But I am too short to see that part of my body in the mirror without jumping.  I really wished I hadn't worn a belt and a tucked in shirt today with these new pants.  Who knew what positive consequences I could be in for now that I had read the warning?  I wasn't prepared.  Paying attention now, I wasn't feeling any lifting or any tucking. Nope, none at all.  In fact I had room to spare in that area. These capris could be designed for a rear end that is less flat than mine.  And in that case positive consequences shouldn't be a problem. Two coworkers (both women) complimented me on my new capris so I guess I did get some positive consequences after all.

Wait Till Next Year

My book club chose Wait Till Next Year by Doris Kearns Goodwin.  Most of the group liked it more than I did.  I'm not a sports fan and I skimmed the long and dry parts about the Dodgers.  The other parts she wrote about, growing up on Long Island during the 1940's and 1950's was more interesting to me.  She talked about the Joe McCarthy hearings.  She claims she and the neighborhood kids "played" Joe McCarthy.  She says they reenacted the hearings about Communism.  I find this a little bit difficult to believe.  Other details she claims to remember seem to be a stretch but this is a memoir so not all of it has to be fact I guess.  Goodwin is a historian so she might have a special way of relaying information.  Her father taught her how to keep track of all the information during a base ball game.  When he came home from work he would listen to her tell about the game, inning by inning, what exactly happened.  Her father sounds like an especially patient and kind man.

I Slept But My Ears Stayed Awake

Last night before bed I spent a couple hours learning by listening.  I listened to frog sounds .  I took a frog quiz which included 15 sets of 30 seconds of listening to nature and choosing which frogs were croaking.  Some questions had 4 or 5 frogs in it.  Other questions had fewer but I always heard at least two frogs in every question.  I really had to use my auditory sense for this test and normally I don't rely on my ears exclusively.  I was tired when I went to bed and I left a window open.  I like to listen to the sounds of nature at night.  I think this was the second night with the windows open for the year.  As my body cycled down towards sleep I relaxed onto my pillow that still smelled like the fresh outdoors because I hung my sheets on the line.  I went to sleep rather quickly except for my ears.  Was it the auditory exercise that kept my ears awake after the rest of me went to sleep?  I'm not sure but my ears woke me up when I heard things.  I identified a robin that should have gone to bed hours ago.  Can a robin be a night owl?  This one was.  At 12:45 a.m. my brain processed something in the far distance that made my eyes fly open.  I listened.  Way far away, probably in Andover, a barred owl called.  I listened to it call three times before I went back to sleep.  In the morning, before my alarm went off, a cardinal in the black spruce right outside my window called and called and called.  A blue jay rudely gave directions from the back yard.  Blue jays are bossy.  Black capped chickadees were singing their fee-bee song. A robin sang in the front yard.  Far to the east, again, probably in Andover, two sand hill cranes were talking.  I'm sure they will be quiet as soon as an egg is laid.  I wanted to get a good night of rest but I wasn't too upset with the birds.  I thought it was a strange feeling to have my ears be so awake while the rest of me slumbered on.

Ribbit!

Frog season is coming up.  I have already heard chorus frogs and wood frogs.  So it is time for me to study for and pass the NAAMP (North American Amphibian Monitoring Program) frog quiz.  I took it tonight and passed the first time. I am all set for our frog route near Kroschel, MN.   Mink frogs sound like the distant hammering of nails.  I actually saw a mink frog once.  A biologist trapped it and brought it out from the bottom of a wetland.  And phew!  It smelled like a mink.  And a mink smells a little bit like a skunk.  Mink frogs are rare.  I've only heard them once.  Mink frogs sound like the distant hammering of nails.  See if you agree.

Glad I Cleaned The Gutters and Set Up the Rain Barrel Today

As I stood on the ladder and pulled soil out of the gutters, I thought I could get a hose and get every last speck of dirt out of there.  And then I thought that would be crazy.  Surely the next rainfall would take care of that.  And by the pile of debris on top of the screen on the rain barrel, I was right.  Thank you Mother Nature!  It's really coming down out there.

Road Trip

I went with other family members on a road trip to celebrate a 100th wedding anniversary (50th for the parents and 25th for two of their kids = 100).  Due to confusion about the time, we got there 2 hours early so that gave us time to visit the farm and take our time and enjoy this gorgeous yet windy day outside.  We walked around "the block" taking time to peek in the windows of the school house.  On the dirt road we saw a mourning cloak butterfly fly (or be blown) by. A pair of sand hill cranes sing and fly over the barn roof and land in the pasture. While leaving the farm someone noticed an animal in the pasture down the hill from the front yard.  This animal was booking it south.  It was running faster than I could run. The backbone of the otter curved up when the back feet caught up to the front feet and curved back down when the front feet went ahead. The body was too long to be a muskrat so that meant it was an otter.  We drove farther down the driveway.  About 2/3 of the way down the driveway the otter sprinted up the hill, under the electric fence, across the driveway and through the woods toward the road.  Where is the fire?  Why is the otter in such a hurry?  He (or she) otter slow down!  Halfway across the road the otter did an about face and ran back towards us.  Suddenly it turned again and raced across the gravel road, down into the ditch, under a horse fence, and through the pasture toward the wetland.  I had no idea an otter could run this fast.  Wow.

One in our group wanted to feed her crinkle cut fries to the fish off the dock.  No can do.  There was ice on the lake and no docks were out yet.  With this wind today and the condition of the ice, the lake looks like it could be ice free any minute.  In consolation we stopped the car so she could catch a leopard frog.She said the frog urinated on her.  I imagine her warm hands on the ice cold frog might have had something to do with it.

The anniversary party in the church hall was well attended and very fun.  The once exception was the minister who got our attention to say a prayer before we ate.  He said something so shocking misogynistic and offensive I can't even remember what his words were.  I was shocked. The food was great.  The wedding dresses of the 3 brides and their attendants were on display. The mother and one of the daughters wore the same dress.  We had fun chatting with cousins that we have not seen in a long time.  I felt honored to be invited.  How nice to talk with each other and not while at a funeral.  We stopped for a photo opportunity in Alexandria with Big Ole and headed southeast toward home.  I got to drive!  I like driving.  I especially like driving a vehicle nicer than mine.  This car was so nice the people in the back watched a movie (Frozen) while I sang along from behind the steering wheel.  Such a fun road trip!.

Looking Forward To

On Time

I have a thing about being on time.  Maybe it's because my father was always on time or that he was 15 minutes early for church every Sunday.  If I am late I feel very uncomfortable.  So I try hard to be on time.  Not everyone feels that way about being on time.  I schedule and attend an average of 10 meetings per week.  Today I had 5 meetings.  Some people are early.  Some people are late.  Some people are so late that we don't even think about them not coming until 10 minutes have passed since the meeting was scheduled. I like people who come on time.  I even like people who come a little late as long as they eventually make it. One paid professional I know often doesn't come at all.  She doesn't say she isn't coming.  She just doesn't show.  If I call and ask where she is her office says she is checked out to be at my location and should be there soon.  She still doesn't show.  And if she chooses to come to the next meeting six months later, she acts as if she never missed the last meeting. She gives us no acknowledgement of her absence and no apology.  One family I know shows up 30 minutes early and is very anxious to get the meeting started even though it's too early.  This is the family that taught me it can be as rude to be early as it is to be late.  Another thing I learned is that the people who are the most apologetic about being late are the ones who are usually politely early or on time.  Today we had a meeting that was scheduled last month.  The meeting didn't happen last month because one person didn't show.  So we rescheduled for today. The person who missed last month came and he came early. He apologized.  He said he had a brain fart.  He said he felt terrible.  And he (this is a first) gave us Caribou gift cards as an apology for wasting 45 minutes of our time last month.  I told him not to worry about it.  For years this guy has been leaving work early to attend meetings with us and he has always been reliable and on time. I gave him the Caribou gift card back and said I really appreciated the gesture.  His apology was all I needed.  I'm pretty sure he won't be late again; at least not if he can help it.

Little Dot

A friend and I were chatting last night about the good old days when life was simpler or at least it seemed simpler to us because we were young.  One of the things we remembered was the little girls.  There was Little Dot, a cute cartoon character who was obsessed with dots.  She might be the reason I'm still in the market for a cute dress with extra large polka dots.  Polka dots seem simultaneously sophisticated and innocent to me.  There was also Little Audrey.  She was a friend of Richie Rich who had his own show and was better known.  Lastly, there was Little Lotta and there was nothing little about Little Lotta.  Well, I guess they didn't have the charisma of Spiderman but I did enjoy Little Dot.  She loved polka dots.  We don't know why she loved polka dots but I'm pretty sure she wasn't bitten by a spider.  She didn't have any special powers.  Maybe I wasn't the most discerning fan but I liked Little Dot.  She had thick legs like me and she liked polka dots.  She was proud of her fondness for polka dots and took steps to surround herself with what she liked.  What's not to like?  Little Dot had her own special brand of polka dotty charisma.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

A month ago I read a fictional historical novel about the wife of Robert Louis Stevenson.  That spurred me to want to read his writing.  That is why I read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  He writes in the Gothic British style (ever so many extra words!)  The plot is amazing but the writing, well, maybe I'm not one to judge.  I thought his writing was extremely wordy but that was the writing style of that time.  In any case, I don't think Robert should have been as arrogant about his writing as he seemed to be.  The story was good but could have been much shorter.

Electric Boots, A Mohair Suit

Today at the gym a song took me away from the mind numbing drudgery of lifting weights in 3 sets of 12.  This song took me to the 1970's and I'm visiting a couple of girlfriends in their upstairs bedroom on Lovell Avenue just west of Victoria.  I was friends with two sisters. One of them was my age and the other was a year younger.  We sat in their bedroom exchanging beauty secrets, gossip, dancing and singing together to this song.  This song, the BEST SONG EVER WRITTEN was fun to sing together.  I thought we were especially good at the falsetto parts and the stuttery parts.  These two women were great fun.  Even their Mom was fun.  She welcomed my visits and remembered my name and I appreciated that. I still have her recipe for Russian tea cake cookies.  I love how a song can transport me.

I Haven't Cared For A Baby in a Long Time. I Better Study.

In a Parallel Universe

Owls

Last night we completed our annual owl route near Pierz, Minnesota which kept me up WAY PAST my bedtime.  We know the route pretty well now so we felt comfortable to wait for the day to end by shopping at the butcher shop and having supper at a bar in Pierz.  The weather wasn't too bad. The wind was mild and got less strong as the route went on.  The temperature was just above freezing.  The sky was almost completely covered with clouds but because the moon was so full it didn't seem completely dark out there.  The roads were dry and in good shape.  We stood at each of the ten stops for five minutes, waiting in the dark to hear what we could hear.  I find it very unusual to stand for so long and depend only on my sense of hearing.  I listen intently and sometimes I think this forges new pathways inside my brain.  I am the owl hunter.  Cars going by irritate me because I can't hear as well as they pass.  Passing cars on dirt roads are especially irritating because they drive slower and take forever to go by me.   One owl was heard but not by me.  A great horned owl hooted twice at one stop.  I did hear plenty of Canadian geese, dogs, dogs who pretend to sound like owls, pigs, chorus frogs, and wood frogs.  At one stop we heard a whooping sound.  My first thought was a tribe of Indians on the war path.  (Who watches too many old cowboy shows on MeTV)?  As they came closer I could make out separate voices.  These birds were bigger than geese but did not have the super loud noise of a Trumpeter Swan.  We guessed tundra swans and when I looked up the sound of tundra swans on the Cornell Lab or Ornithology website today I think we were correct.  The flock of swans came closer and closer and by the sound I could tell they were right over our heads.  But I couldn't see a thing against the dark and cloudy sky.  I even turned my head lamp on to illuminate what had to be a low flying swan but the light just dissipated away.  It's thrilling moments like these and the good company that keep me on the owl route year after year after year.  .

My Mother Was Nuts

No, not my mother.  This is a book named My Mother Was Nuts by Penny Marshall.  I know Penny as Laverne from "Laverne and Shirley," a sitcom I watched many years ago where Laverne wore a big initial "L" on her shirts and started out the show singing "Schleimel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated."  There was a lot I didn't know about Laverne, I mean Penny.  Penny went on to be a big time producer after the sitcom.  She was the producer of the movie "Big," the movie "Awakenings," the movie "A League of Their Own," and the television series that I really liked, "The United States of Tara."   Laverne, I mean Penny, if a funny lady and she reads her own words in the audio version of the book that I listened to.  She is no angel and she speaks plainly about sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Well, not rock and roll so much but she and Art Garfunkel spent time motorcycling around Europe.  She lived a full life and was quite talented as a director.  She is a funny lady.  Even when reading the credits she made me laugh when she thanks her two husbands and her significant others.  Then she thanks the men she hasn't mentioned yet but she had sex with.  After that she thanks Ringo Starr for recognizing and greeting her at the airport.  As a kid she was always telling her mother, "Five more minutes!" when her Mom called her in for supper at night.  When Penny was having fun she didn't want to quit.  She wasn't ready for "Laverne and Shirley" to end when it did.  And when she found out her lung cancer had metastasized, she wasn't ready to be ill either.  All she wants is five more minutes.  I hope she gets it.  

Monitoring Streams

My spring and summer volunteer job of monitoring streams has started up again for the season.  I did it yesterday.  I don't usually start this early in the year and it was nice because without leaves out it is easier to see the area all the way down to the stream.  I monitor Coon Creek and the Rum River.  The creek was two degrees warmer than the river.  Both were clear to over 100 centimeters. Using a metal bucket on a rope, I bring up water and pour it into a secchi tube.  This time I could see the black and white pattern all the way down to the bottom of the tube which is 100 centimeters in length. I've seen the river that clear many times but this is the first time I've ever seen the creek that clear.  The water was so clear I could make out the sand dunes at the bottom of the creek.  Nine mallards swam by increasing the recreation suitability of the area.  Actually I enjoy visiting the same two areas weekly.  I believe this is my fourth or fifth year now.  Sometimes I get questions about what I do.  People walking by ask me what I am doing.  One day I dropped my bucket into the Rum and a guy in a boat under the bridge yelled up at me.  He thought about yanking on my rope to get my attention but decided not to do that. I'm glad because I think I would have been very startled to feel a tug on my rope.  One day I was monitoring the Rum in a rain storm and a police man got out of his car and said, and I quote, "What the hell are you doing?"  I didn't hear him coming because of the rain pounding on the hood of my rain coat and he scared me before he made me laugh.  Several times people I know have stopped me to say, "What were you doing on the bridge the other night?  So I tell them I monitor the stream for the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency.  Most people seem interested and they always have a river story to share with me.  Appreciation of bodies of water seem to unite us Minnesotans.