Living In The Avon Hills Conference

This weekend we went to the Living In The Avon Hills conference at Saint John's University again.  I don't live in the Avon Hills but when traveling west on Highway 94, that area is my favorite part of the road.  We listened to Stan Tiekkela speak about feathers.  I have heard this naturalist and author speak before and I like his self-deprecating  and interactive style.  After that we went back to the old chapel for a little break and they were serving free samples of beer?  Who drinks beer in a church at 10:15 a.m.?  I do, that's who.  After that we had our choice of classes.  I took one on a tour of the workshop.  Turns out Saint John's does sustainable forestry.  Their wood is certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.  They harvest their wood which is mostly red oak but also white oak, birch, ash and pine.  They send the wood to Browerville to be milled by the Amish.  The wood is brought back and dried on the property of Saint John's.  One year is required to dry boards that are one inch thick. Two years of drying for the two inch thick boards.  We got to go inside the wood drying kiln to finish drying the wood.  This kiln was big enough for 30 people to go inside and it was warm like a sauna in there.  And it smelled good too.  I love looking through these old buildings and looking at the wood working equipment, the saws, the clamps, the lathes and the piles and piles of boards.  In the wood working department they make furniture for the University, the prep school, and items for sale such as coffins.  Two kinds are coffins are made. One is mummy style and made of pine with a single door.  The monks get those coffins but the public is free to buy one as well.  The other style is rectangular and has a traditional two section lid.  They also make huge book stands for museums and churches.  These book stands are made to hold a book a wide yard when opened up and they were quite impressive.  After the wood working tour I took a class on designing recreational trails, on bears of the world, and on LBJ's. LBJ's are a birder's term for little brown jobbies - sparrows and finches that are hard to tell apart.  This speaker made it seem a little easier by listing the sparrows in order of most common to least common.  I had to laugh as his instructions on where to see a certain rare sparrow because part of the instructions were to "Park illegally."  The lunch was great with Saint John's bread and Saint John's cookies.  I try not to eat much bread or any cookies but when it comes to Saint John's bakery, the carbs are worth it.  I had a great day learning new things and meeting new people.  The great bells on the chapel rang when I walked from my car to the hall and again when I walked from the hall back to my car.  Was it because it was 8 a.m. and 4:30 p.m.?  Or were the bells ringing just for me? 

Memory From Five Years Ago

Five years ago I was snorkeling in the Galapagos Islands.  Now that was fun.  I put on my gear.  Putting on a wet suit is no easy task.  I jumped into the ocean off the side of a boat and explored underwater.  We snorkeled out by Kicker Rock - a giant rock protruding out of the ocean off the shore that was split into two halves.  The rock sides were almost straight up and down.  We swam around the rock and could feel the temperature differences as we rounded the corners and encountered currents from the south (coldest!) and the north (warmer).  All colors of coral lined the rock including pink and black and turquoise and white and yellow and blue and green.  Later we snorkeled another part of the islands closer to shore.  Blue footed boobies were fishing around us.  These birds looks like ducks flying and when they see a fish in the sea they dive bomb into the water to catch the fish.  As I was snorkeling I was disturbed by a splash a few feet ahead of me and I actually saw the turquoise feet of a blue footed booby swim by.  Later I swam in a deeper area and about ten feet below me I saw the dark body of a shark.  The shark was as long as I was.  A shark!  I couldn't help it.  I screamed into my snorkel.  The shark was ten feet below me and totally ignored my presence but I didn't know it was a harmless Galapagos reef shark.  I was so alive at that moment.  I didn't stop swimming or go back to the boat so I guess I wasn't too worried about the shark but I did ask about it when our snorkeling session was over.  Later we saw sea stars, sea cucumbers, iguanas, penguins, sea lions, hammerhead sharks, and schools of fish.  Our guide took us to another area where the sea floor was sandy.  There was no plants and no fish and really nothing to see.  I wondered why we came here.  We swam on and came upon two dozen green sea turtles.  Everybody stayed calm and split up.  We seemed to have one turtle apiece.  I followed my turtle.  When my turtle left the sea floor to come up and have a sip of air, I had to arch my body upwards so that we didn't touch each other.  I put my head up at the same time the turtle put it's head up out of the water.  I tried to smile at "my" turtle but with a snorkel pipe in my mouth I couldn't really pull it off. The experience was magical.  Later our guide complimented us on staying calm and creating a joyous experience that lasted a long time.  The last time I went snorkeling I followed a ray.  Where the ray went, I went.  I was so relaxed and peaceful following that ray.  The ray and I swam into a school of 8 inch long white fish.  We split the school of white fish in half.  I looked behind and saw the school combine together again.  After each snorkeling session we had to climb back aboard our boat.  We handed our fins to the guide and the round ladder rungs hurt my feet.  Once aboard we all talked about what we saw while our guide gave us a snacks like nachos or fruit.  Everything tastes good after swimming. We looked through the guide books to identify the fish we saw.  All this happened five years ago?  It feels longer than that.  Snorkeling is one of my all time favorite activities.  I should plan another snorkeling adventure.

Bike, Boot or Boat

In honor of the 125th anniversary of Minnesota State Parks and Trails, you can participate in a "Bike, Boot, or Boat" challenge.  Interested?  Can you bike, boot or boat 125 miles some time in 2016?  If you can you could bragging rights and a sticker and be entered in the "Finisher's Gallery."  Plus you would get the mental and physical benefits of spending time outdoors in nature.  A sticker!  Just imagine you owning a limited edition state park sticker.  I think I might go for it.  Get more information at http://www.dnr.state.mn.us/125/125miles.html

Perspective

Every year, as the calendar pages turn from one month to the next, my perspective changes.  Today was a balmy 39 degree high, a day warm enough to apply the 2017 tabs to the car and to the motorcycle.  A few weeks ago 20 degrees seemed balmy because at least the air wasn't cold enough to hurt my face when I went outside.  Come June, 39 degrees will not feel balmy.  My definition of balmy changes every month.  Because I live in a northern climate, I am forced to adapt to the changes.  If I don't or can't adapt, I will die. yes, it's true that Minnesota weather is extreme enough to kill me. The climate affects what I wear, my footwear, what I keep in my car, what lotions I use on my skin, what sports I choose to indulge, my hobbies, what I eat and how I cook what I eat, and what I put on my bed when I sleep at night.  I would not need so many clothes in my closet if I lived nearer the equator. And because I live in a northern climate, I have a larger BMI.  I have to compensate by having less surface area to body mass.  So that totally explains the excess weight I have carried around for years.  It's the fault of the weather; not what I eat or how much I exercise or how many Dove chocolates I ate today (only 2).  If I lived in a warmer climate, I'd be tall and skinny like the Masai.  Instead I am short and stocky like an Eskimo simply to survive this winter weather.  The Masai might be a warrior tribe but could one of them shovel the snow off a long driveway such as mine without developing hypothermia?  I don't think so.  Logic tells me that when I retire and spend a winter season below the Mason Dixon line, it will only make sense that I grow taller and lose weight.  The bones in my arms and legs will lengthen because I won't have to work as hard to maintain my body heat and no doubt I will need to buy all new clothes. Can. Not. Wait. For. That. To. Happen!

How Do You Know When It Is Time?

How do you know when it is time for a new bed?  Has it been 7 or 8 years since my last mattress purchase? Yeah, more like 25.  Do I have poor sleep quality?  Check.  I sleep just as well camping  on a yoga mat as I do in my bed which says a lot.  Also, when sleeping in my son's house in Bremerton, I sleep much better on his futon than I do on my bed.  Add that to  the fact that it's not good for me to take Tylenol or Aleve every night at bedtime to even get to sleep at all.  Do I have a lumpy mattress?  I don't think so but the box spring shows wear.  Is the frame unstable?  This brass bed of mine has been loud and squeaky from day one.  Just turning over in bed, as I do many times a night, creates a metallic ruckus.  I am tired of my squeaky bed!  The other reason for buying a new bed is that I picture the current dust mites in my bed as being the great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great to the tenth power grandchildren of the dust mites from my ex so that is totally nasty. I should have gotten a new bed a long time ago for that reason alone. So I bought a new bed.  The frame is wood and the furniture style is mission.  This bed is solid.  Once the stain is totally dry I will lug it up the stairs and put it together.  I hope I sleep well in it knowing any dust mites are mine, all mine.

Major Staining!

I have been working on a major wood staining project this weekend.  Now I remember how  much I love staining wood.  You take a blank, unfinished chunk of bare wood.  In this case I am working with tulip poplar which is the southern state's equivalent to pine.  Without stain it doesn't look like much.  Put a nice coat of stain on it and the beauty of the wood, although not as gorgeous as oak, shows through.  Lines show up that were barely visible before.  Patterns appear where no pattern was before.  Some sections appear pink or grey.  Places were a branch grew through a board show very dark.  Putting stain on wood is almost like opening a book and being able to read the story.  As I put the stain on and see the transformation, I don't know for sure what will appear on each board.  I didn't buy enough golden oak stain and had to go back to the hardware store to buy more.  This is a big project and I am not going to be stingy with the wood stain. My entire house smells terrible with the reek of wood stain.  Staining is fun though.  I forgot how much I liked it.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up

One of the guys in my book club recommended this short little book called The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying up by Marie Kondo.  I finished the book on Saturday.  Today is Sunday and my life hasn't changed but I will say I spent ten unusual minutes refolding my socks and organizing my sock drawer. I never do that.  Plus I got rid of 5 pairs of socks because they did not "spark joy" in me. That's right.  If your belongings don't spark joy Marie Kondo tells you to throw them in the garbage.  I didn't throw my socks straight in the garbage but used them on a major wood staining project I did this weekend and then threw them in the garbage.  Much of the work suggested in the book is discarding everything that does not spark joy.  She says to start with clothes.  Sparking joy is a high bar.  I still have 20 pairs of socks in my drawer and I can't say they all spark joy but they all fit now that I know how to fold them.  No more turning 2 inches of cuff over the other one.  No, no, no, that is wrong.  Fold a crew sock in half and roll it up and sit it on the end so it takes up the depth of the drawer.  Store the rolled up socks and lean them against each other.  That way you can open the drawer and see at a glance all your socks and take a pair out without others falling to the floor. The author suggests you fold all your clothes into cube like shapes so they take up the depth of the drawer and you can take them out easily. I found this book on tidying up surprisingly interesting.  She contends that if you get your belongings in order you can relax in your home and have all your life priorities in order. Life changing?  That is a tall order. So far only my sock drawer has changed.

The Girls of Atomic City

I read Denise Kiernan's The Girls of Atomic City, The Untold Story of the Women Who Helped Win World War II.  The story was very interesting.  Many of the women who worked at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, are now elderly and living in assisted living complexes.  She gathered their story and told it in snippets of information.  Women were recruited to work in a government planned community.  The government provided a fair wage and living arrangements in the form of dormitories, small houses and huts.  Factories were built along with a store, a hospital, a church, and a dining hall.  Workers there were forbidden from telling anyone what they did at Oak Ridge and from asking anyone else what they did.  Everything was kept secret and that is why it wasn't until the bomb was dropped on Japan that the people at Oak Ridge finally understood the "tube alloy" they were working on was really plutonium and uranium.  Before that day, everything was so hush hush and on a "need to know" basis and so compartmentalized, no one aside from a few at the top knew the story.  All the 75,000 workers knew was they had to keep their mouth shut and what they were working on would shorten the war.  The government found that young, rural girls were good at enriching uranium because they kept an eye on the dials and did what they were told without trying to figure it out.  Scientists could not keep up with the production of the young, rural women.  I thought this was a fascinating story.

A Love Affair with Birds

Not only did I get to read Sue Leaf's book A Love Affair With Birds but I got to hear her speak about it at my master naturalist meeting on Wednesday. I had read it the weekend before along with her other book The Bullhead Queen.  She is a great speaker and it was interesting to learn more about the Minnesota doctor, birder and author Thomas Sadler Roberts.  Next on my list will be his thick two volume book The Birds of Minnesota.  Roberts wrote this conclusive study of Minnesota birds after he retired as a family physician.  He commissioned artists to illustrate various birds.  The odd thing is he was just as concerned at the loss of bird species in 1930 as we are almost 100 years later.  He saw many burrowing owls in western Minnesota before the prairie was plowed.  When he returned 30 years later those burrowing owls had disappeared and he was really upset by that.  He was so upset that he immediately got to work on a diorama at the Bell Museum about the prairie.  He was driven by the fact the prairie was almost all gone and people needed to know what we used to have.  How do I feel about the fact that Roberts had the same fear about endangered birds that we have today?  Maybe that is a good thing and I should have less call for concern than I do now because the same worry has been going on so long? Or is it a bad thing that after 100 years we continue to repeat our same mistakes?  My take on it is that the human life span is too short to make the changes that need to be made to save our planet.  Not that all older people are wiser but some times the people who make decisions are not looking at the big picture.  Greed for things that don't really matter in the long run has too much influence on our choices. T.S. Roberts also shot a great volumes of birds to death with his gun.  In those days, bird watchers did that.  Sue Leaf said the first ornithologist to refrain from shooting birds was Florence Bailey.  She used binoculars to watch birds.  I raised my hand to ask, "Did she write A-Birding On a Bronco?"  Turns out she did.  What are the chances I would have read that book too and Sue Leaf seemed surprised that I had read such a rare book.  I asked the author to sign a copy of her book and we talked.  Turns out we lived near each other as children and are about the same age.  She asked me if I knew Anne.   "Yes," I gushed, "She was my aunt; my neighbor; my best friend."  She knew her too and thought of her often.  She was saddened to hear of her passing.  How cool that other people knew her and thought of her too.  As we left the meeting and stepped outside the building at Carlos Avery, the wolves at the Wildlife Science Center were in a full-out howling session.  We had to stop and listen as the voices separated and gradually fell out of chorus.  Wow.  Listening to those wolves raised the hairs on the back of my neck and was the perfect way to top off a great evening.

A - Birding On A Bronco

I read this very old book about birding by Florence A. Merriam called A-Birding On A Bronco.  She writes about her bird observations in southern California and New Mexico while staying on ranches and riding a horse in the late 1800's.  She didn't have binoculars or a spotting scope or a camera.  She had opera glasses.  She liked to find the nest of breeding birds and watch the family closely until the birds fledged.  Sometimes she brings a chair and sits under the tree to watch while her horse sits in the shade.  Some birds get used to her presence eventually.  If only I had the time to watch birds like she does.  She takes notes on how often the female parent brings food to the young compared to the male parent.  Some birds are rare and hard to find.  She and her horse go running up and down the canyons looking for them only to come home and find one in the yard of her ranch.  I see now that a bird watcher in the 1800's had a much more difficult time of it than I do now, especially if like Florence Merriam, she didn't take a gun and shoot the bird to get a good look at it like others did in those times.  The Migratory Bird Act changed the hobby of watching birds quite a bit. 

Gourd

This project was started 3 years ago when I bought some gourd seeds.  I grew the gourds and 3 of them were big enough to use a bird houses.  I harvested the gourds and wiped them down with a bleach and water mixture.  I kept my eye on them and let them dry while turning them every week or so and watching for mold.  Once a month for 3 months I wiped them with the bleach and water mixture.  Other than that I ignored them for two years.  Last summer they seemed dry enough.  I borrowed a door handle drill bit from Offspring #2 and drilled holes in each gourd.  I shook out the seeds and other stuff from inside the gourds.  I drilled small holes near the top to insert the floral wire hangers.  I painted them yellow (to match my house) and now they are all set to go outside. My only question is where to put them.  What will the birds think? Nice house - I think I'll move in here?  What is this neighborhood coming to?  Or, in the case of the house wrens - What?  Three more houses I need to completely fill with two inch twigs because it is very important that no other birds nest in this vicinity! 

Enough!

"Enough of this staying in the house," I said to myself.

So I put on my snow pants, my extra warm boots and my warmest gloves, picked up my trekking poles, and drove to the park to way by the Rum River.  I saw tracks of animals commuting from Ramsey to Andover and vice versa.

I saw rose hips on the riverside.

Except for the drumming of woodpeckers, not a single bird was seen or heard.

The temperatures have been cold all weekend but there is still open water on the Rum river.

After an hour of hiking I was very happy to see my car again. Brrrr!

Raspberry Beret

Some music moves me.  The notes and rhythm hit a spot in my brain that forces my limbs to move and my muscles to contract.  If the music is low I have better control but if I crank up the sound, I am dancing around the house like a crazy person.  I have to move. Standing still is not an option. It is fortunate that I now live alone because once in a while it feels good to turn up the volume and allow the music to move me around the house. When my kids were small if they said the word raspberry I would burst into song annoying them no end.  I think that is part of the pleasure I get from this song now.

The Bullhead Queen

I read  Sue Leaf's book, The Bullhead Queen because it was recommended to me.  The author doesn't write a story with a plot but she writes about the nature in her neighborhood on Pioneer Lake in Chisago county.  She writes about the annual ice forming on the lake and even though I'm a spring person, I suddenly appreciate winter a little bit more.  She writes about the Christmas bird count.  People in her area invite her in for coffee and scones.  I wish I got that kind of friendly treatment.  She writes about her spirituality, about stewardship, about the relationship between humans and animals. The book goes slowly through winter, spring, summer and fall. Her writing isn't enthralling and it doesn't build up to a splashy finish.  Instead her writing slowed me down, transported me to a lake side in a small town, and helped me appreciate the little things in life such as a glimpse of an owl, the croaking of a frog, and the blinking light of a firefly.  I liked the book.  Now, since I am meeting the author on Wednesday to hear her talk about another book she wrote. I better get back to reading!

Does It Ever Get Cold?

I am treasuring every last minute of the last season of Downton Abbey.  I memorize the snappy lines of the Dowager although, to be honest, I like Mrs. Patmore the best.  The romance of Mrs. Hughes and Carson is sweetly formal.  Cora remains inscrutable.  Mary is confident and bossy and a little bit mean.  I am enjoying the show very much and all the more because only a few episodes remain.  Downton Abbey is a good series done well and so very different from most of what I see on network television.

Now I Can Fit In

For Christmas I got a pair of Kelty Upslope 1.0 trekking poles.  They collapse and have adjustable lengths.  Be still my beating heart. These poles make me cool. Automatically cool.  No questions asked.  In my circle of tree hugging friends, trekking poles are standard.  Bad A$$.  And cool.  When they are in my hands, the coolness transfers to me.  Added bonus - I'm less likely to fall on my a$$ which would be less than cool.  Watch out world.  What is next?  Appalachian Trail? Pacific Crest Trail?  Superior Hiking Trail? Maybe out to the compost pile?  With my trekking poles, where ever I go, I'm cool. Cuz I got trekking poles!  

State of Wonder

I had already read Ann Patchett's State of Wonder and loved it so I was happy that my book club chose it for the January book.  I thought the ending was very good and actually was crying crocodile tears while listening to the last few sentences driving in Coon Rapids.  The author has a way of building up momentum for a great ending.  Other people in my book club weren't so happy with the ending because many loose ends were not tied up.  They went so far as to suggest the title of the book came from not knowing the answers to many questions about the characters.  We can't really expect all the answers in a book, can we?  I mean, after all, the characters are not real people.  Some people think the author is too nice.  Others were upset that one of the characters had a casual affair with another one who was supposed to be a committed family man.  The biggest thing about the discussion for me was half the people were sure the main character is pregnant at the end of the book and that thought never even entered my mind.  When they pointed out all the reasons they drew that conclusion I could totally see how they got there and I wondered why I missed it.  And I read it twice for Pete's sake!  This is why I need to be in a book club.  I miss a lot being on my own.  Together, as a group, we explore the book fully and get more out of it.

So Cold

It is so cold out today my face hurts when I go outside, so cold the egg in the coop freezes and cracks before I can harvest it, so cold my mind jumps off track in a meeting to think, "Oh crap! Did I open the door to the well room so my water pump doesn't freeze?"  PS No, I didn't but I did now.  But I'm not gonna focus on how cold it is.  I will focus instead on a warm summer day I had several years ago where I was sweating through my clothes.  Sweat was running down my forehead and I had to drink extra water to stay hydrated.  The sun was shining down warm on my head.  The grass was green.  The birds were singing.  The clouds in the sky were white and puffy.  We rented a four person bicycle with fringe on the top and pedaled a few miles on the Lanesboro bicycle trail.  We enjoyed that hot summer day to the absolute fullest.

Veggie Loaf

I made a delicious veggie loaf for my family this holiday season.  Ingredients:  1/2 cup sauteed celery, 1/2 sauteed onion, 1/2 cup sauteed mushrooms, 4 chopped sauteed garlic cloves, 1 cup cooked red lentils ( I cooked the lentils in veggie broth), 2 TB ground flax, 1/2 cup vegie broth, salt and pepper to taste.  Mix the above ingredients.  Place parchment paper in a loaf pan.  Press the above mixture into the loaf pan to form a loaf.  Top with ketchup (I use hot and spicy Heinz ketchup).  Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees.  Let cool 15 minutes before slicing.  This was a delicious veggie loaf.  The problem came because I buy bulk stuff from my local coop and I can't tell red lentils from red quinoa.  The loaf I made for the holidays didn't contain any lentils at all.  I didn't figure this out until it was almost all gone and I found the bag of lentils in my pantry.  Today I made the above recipe again, using lentils, and it's not nearly as tasty as quinoa.  Both are good but red quinoa is better.

Us

I read Us by David Nocholls.  It is a story of the marriage of Douglas and Colleen; a scientist and an artist, a right brain and a left brain; a logical person and an emotional person.  One person reads the guide books before traveling to art museums and the other person doesn't want to know the facts ahead of time. They fall in love and after 25 years of marriage, divorce each other.  Just before they embark on a European vacation with their moody 17 year old son, Colleen tells Douglas she may want a divorce.  That alone made me not like Colleen. Douglas tries to win her love on the trip.  The story rings true. Sometimes I sympathize with Douglas and other times I sympathize with Colleen.  Isn't that how it is? In a marriage no one person is to blame in the relationship.  I found my allegiance swaying between the two and in the end, neither is to blame.  The story is sad and funny, heart breaking and heart warming all at the same time.  Great book!

Space is Important

Today was a busy day for me.  I was organizing interviews for people to join a social skills group.  Someone asked me to write a note for her.  I was very busy rushing around so I wrote the note she requested.  I was in a hurry.  I could have been more careful.  Unfortunately, I hesitated between the "e" and the "r" in therapist.  The note made it look like she met with the rapist instead of a therapist.  Wow, it's amazing how just a little bit of empty space can totally change the meaning of a sentence.

Bathing By The Christmas Tree

Somebody made such a mess of herself at dinner that she needed a bath to clean up.  I emptied very many legos out of an old yellow baby bathtub that her father used to use and filled it with warm water and set it on the kitchen table.

She's keeping her eye on me because she remembers there is a canary behind me.  She's not afraid of dogs or cats or strangers and people making funny faces at her but a Russian canary inside a cage is something to worry about.

We're keeping her at the left end of the tub.  If she is in the middle she reaches for the far edge and almost pulls herself to a standing position.

Water everywhere!  Water on the table.  Water on the floor.  Water on Daddy.  Water on Mommy.  Water on Grandma.  Water on Aunty.  Everybody is taking a bath tonight!

This Is A Rock!

When I harvested my blue potatoes last fall, I dug through the earth and pulled them all out one at a time.  I let them dry in the garage for a couple weeks and then I moved them, one by one, to a bag and set it downstairs to stay cool.  On the day before Thanksgiving I dumped them all in the sink to be washed and scrubbed with a brush.  I kept about a pound because I thought I had too many and moved those, one by one, back into the bag and back downstairs.  On Monday I brought the bag up and one by one, scrubbed them again and put them in a kettle to boil.  Then I moved them, one by one, onto a cookie sheet where I could drizzle olive oil over them and bake them into what I call "Smashed Potatoes."  I enjoy serving home grown, home cooked food to my family.  As I was smashing the potatoes on the cookie sheet, one of the potatoes would not smash.  And just as my daughter-in-law came up to my side I said in awe and disgust, "This is a rock!"  It was a rock.  It was a hot rock because it had just been boiled.  I had washed and handled and boiled a rock!  This rock was the same size, color and shape of all the other blue potatoes.  How could I have mistaken this rock for a potato?  I handled all those potatoes many times and never noticed this one was a rock?  I had eight opportunities to notice the difference between a rock and a potato and I missed them all.  I am grateful that I have the kind of daughter-in-law who thinks boiling a rock is funny and not disgusting.

Engaging Dinner Conversations

My grand daughter enjoys meals at the table now.  Some of what she says sounds like a mixture of red tailed hawk and pterodactyl dinosaur combined with sounds that only bats and some dogs can hear.  Wowser.  She doesn't do a lot of mimicking yet even though we try.  We say, "Bah bah bah" and Ma ma ma" and "Pa pa pa" and even "Grandma Grandma Grandma."  She doesn't mimic that.  But at dinner last night she did start to mimic, "Pbbbbbbttt!"So we started to talk raspberry language.  We started with a dainty, "Ah, pbbt!"  We moved on to a lung emptying "Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt."  We rolled our tongues.  We pressed our lips against our arms to blow.  We could have talked about politics, the new world order, ISIS or global warming.f  We raspberried loudly, softly, high and low.  We raspberried questions and we raspberried Christmas songs.  It was hilarious because she was an equal contributor to the raspberry conversation.  Her raspberries had us in stitches.  We laughed so hard!  Never were raspberries this entertaining. We Bronx cheered the night away.

Finished!I

I finished in the (Saint) nick of time.  Tomorrow we celebrate Christmas with my offspring and my grand daughter.  Can. Not. Wait!

Actual Results Suck

More profanity was uttered this morning than all of 2015.  This thing keeps falling apart on a flat counter.  No way will it make it to Roseville.

I threw all the vegies in a pan.  Screw it. The snowman eggs turned okay if they have carrots and celery to lean against.  Stupid pinterest!