My Personal House of Horrors

I don't like mice; not one little bit. Mickey is OK.  Minnie is acceptable.  A frozen mouse being fed to a snake is OK. A mouse in the yard will make me scream but it's okay.  Once, years ago, my brother came over to help us cut down trees and he laughed as I screamed as a mouse made figure eights around my feet.  Even a mouse in the garage is tolerable.  But a mouse in the house is horrible.  Horr. I.  Ble!  How can people say fall is their favorite season? Fall is when the mice invade.  I saw mousey evidence in my house on Sunday. Horrible!  Horrible I say! I set some mouse traps.  How many? I set 13 snap traps with peanut butter and 1 wind up snap trap and one poison trap.  While talking on the phone I heard some snapping coming from the traps in my laundry room. More actual horror.  Not the kind you see on television. This is actual horror!  I wish my braver offspring still lived at home because they could handle this better than I. I go down there!  Horrors!  One mouse is caught in a trap.  I bring my latex gloves, a garden shovel and a garden trowel.  I can't stand it. I like nature but Lord Almighty, this is horrible! I come back in an hour! Horrors!  The mouse has turned it's head from one side to the other!  I can't stand it. I come back in an hour.  More horrors!  How is this possible?  What could be worse than a half dead mouse caught in a trap? The mouse has disappeared!  What could be worse? Why do I ask myself these questions?  I come home today, on Halloween, and find 4 dead mice in the the snap traps and the wind up trap completely missing.  My personal house of horrors!

Sickened

I read Sickened by Julie Gregory because I was curious.  There is this disorder called Munchhausen by Proxy. It's a form of child abuse. In fact it's the deadliest form of child abuse.  The parent convinces medical providers that her child is ill and in need of tests, more tests, and even surgery. Julie is a child who managed to survive her childhood abuse.  With her story she provides actual medical records of the multiple, invasive tests done to her.  All the tests were unnecessary.  It's hard to believe such dangerous parents exist in this world and I think that is why Julie suffered as much as she did.  People didn't believe her mother would act in such a fashion.  The story of Julie's resilience in the face of adversity from her very own mother is inspirational.

Battling Buckthorn

Buckthorn is a tricky enemy.  I pull buckthorn and I cut buckthorn and poison the stem with Brush B Gone.  Some of those I pulled earlier this summer, three feet high. sit there on their exposed roots still growing?!   What!   I pull more buckthorn even though my hamstrings sing in protest.  Those I do pull are relocated to the branches of a crab apple or a black walnut tree so their evil roots can not reach the ground.  I hope the rain and the snow expose those buckthorn roots and kill them dead.  Some I pull but can not pull out.  My hamstrings complain loudly.  I cut their stem and poison them.  Some places the buckthorn are so thick it's easier to proceed on my hands and knees.  Dang. Today I killed at least 100 buckthorn and did not kill them all.  The trickiest buckthorn trees are the ones that look like I could maybe pull them out so I try but I can't so then I have to bend over and cut them.  Areas that have been cut previously are the worst.  When I cut the stem and spray the poison goes down an inch or so.  Some of these trees, after a year or so of being poisoned, send out new branches sideways for 10 inches and then go vertical.  Even though they're short they're impossible to pull out.  My idea was to kill buckthorn and also identify who is a rooster and who is a hen among my Polish chickens.  No chickens crowed while I was out there.  I worked steady and furiously until my hips said, "Enough!"  As a homeowner I have learned there will always be more work for tomorrow!

When Will I Learn?

I know I have only myself to blame when someone answers a question with an answer that makes me angry.  I tell myself, "Don't ask unless you are sure you want to know."  How many times do I need to learn this lesson?  More times than I thought.  On Friday I had to have an x-ray (no big deal, simply routine for an old lady).  I changed into a gown with a tie in the back.  When I came out I asked, fully expecting the x-ray tech to answer in the negative, "Does this gown make me look fat?"  He said yes!  Doggone it!  He softened it by adding, "That gown makes everyone look fat."  As a paying customer I fully expected him to say "No."  When will I learn not to ask these questions?

The Excitement Builds!

Everyday I feel the excitement building in the city of Anoka.  I travel there.  I shop there. I go to the doctor there.  I see fake spider webs, orange jack-o-lanterns and black bats displayed all over town.  Anoka is crazy for Halloween.  On Friday morning I drove down Main Street at 8:45 in the morning.  Rugs and lawn chairs blocked the sidewalks even though the parade of little people doesn't start until noon.  Elementary school children, in costume, will walk down Main Street.   There is another parade in the evening.  Today I drove into town to buy chicken feed at the Coop.  I steer clear of Main Street because I know that will be a mess.  As I travel down Harrison Street I am followed by squad cars from  Brooklyn Park, Ramsey, and Blaine.  Squad cars start lining up in the parking lot where I buy my chicken feed.  I tell the man there I can feel the excitement building.  He says the typical crowd for the parade is 50,000.  This year they expect 70,000. Why the larger turn-out this year? Because in September the newest U.S. postage stamp was unveiled in a big ceremony at Anoka City Hall.  Like I said, this town is crazy for Halloween!

 

Last Class

Last night was the seventh and last class out of a series of six citizen academy classes. I thought it would be easier and shorter.  Wrong!  We are scheduled from 6:30-9:30 p.m.  We usually get out around ten p.m.  Last night I leave at 10:45 p.m. and we could have stayed longer.  I am the one who stood up at 10:45 and said, "Thank you!"  I started the process of ending otherwise we might have been there all night. Many times during the evening I thought about leaving. Somehow I felt an obligation to stay.  I am a citizen.  I am a member of this community.  The lesson we learned was hard but I stayed.  Sometimes I had to cover my eyes to avoid the gory scenes of the power point presentation but I stayed.  I can't stand gore or violence.  I don't watch crime shows on television because I get ill. Sometimes, during this class, I had to suppress the waves of nausea that rose from my stomach but I stayed.  I stayed until the bitter end.  At the beginning of the class we were joined by 3 Girl Scouts and (surprising to me) their fathers.  I believe the girls were middle school aged.  The detective told us about crime scene investigations including DNA, finger prints and other evidence. One one screen she showed sources of DNA including a cup, clothing and a condom.  She showed a condom to middle school girls?  She actually said the word ejaculate?  My mind travels back to the 1990's. I am a Girl Scout leader at the junior winter camp-in.  My troop, well, they're great but they don't sleep at the junior winter camp-ins.  They stay up all night talking and disturbing the other troops.  I don't let it get to me.  To make this girls sleep at night is like sweeping up feathers. Much effort but not much result.  As we leave the weekend at the junior winter camp-in (between Elk River and Zimmerman) the lack of sleep has affected my mind and I mention that the Blaine water tower looks like a condom.  "What is a condom?" asks one innocent girl (now a psychiatric resident in Chicago).  I really regret my words but, unlike this detective, I didn't show her a picture!  We go for a tour of the detective vehicles with their various cases of equipment for finger prints, DNA, markers of evidence, and other equipment. When we come back from the garage the detective and the fathers have a discussion. These girls want to stay for what follows. The detective warns them of the graphic nature of the presentation.  The fathers want to stay. The detective convinces them to leave.  Well, good for her because I can't take what follows.  An 18 year old girl from Saint Paul puts an ad on back pages.  Her mother reports her missing. I know her name. I see her photo.  I learn she met someone in Brooklyn Park.  Her mother learns that her car has been found in a Brooklyn Park apartment complex and towed to an impound lot. The detective goes to the impound lot.  It's December.  Her frozen body, wearing only socks and a sweater is found in the back seat of her mother's car, crammed into the floor with only one leg up on the seat, covered with a floor mat and a sheet, her body is frozen wearing only a sweater and socks. We see photos of her body in an awkward position.  She froze solid on the floor of the back seat with one leg up on the seat.  Really?  How are we not re-victimizing her by viewing these photos?  Add to bucket list - not to be a victim on a law enforcement power point presentation.  Later we see the photos of the Andover victim of arson/murder.  I am thankful the Girl Scouts are gone.  Nausea hits me as I view the naked photos of a burned man. Close-ups of the  print marks on the skin from his feet as he virtually walked out of the skin on his feet a day before he dies from burn over 80% of his body make me sick. I cover my eyes again.  Should I walk out of here and go home?  Should I stay and be an informed citizen?  I stay.  Later we learn about another investigation of a death.  It turns out this man died from a head injury after ingesting too much wine. He was found two days after his death.  Was it necessary to show us pictures of his messy house? He landed in the kitchen with his face right over the heat vent.  Did I want to see a close up of his dead face projected on the screen?  Lordy.  I suppress the nausea and cover my eyes.  I am so glad this class is over. I am also glad I chose my job over others.  I am not the person cut out to investigate crime scenes.   

Happy Moment!

Here I am in a happy moment with all the glory and none of the responsibility.  It was just pretend at the county sheriff civilian academy.  My white shirt with a big yellow badge makes me feel like a third grader.  Never mind that wrist brace.  I bought it at Walgreens.  The occasional use of the brace and a month of time eliminated the need for a doctor visit for wrist pain.  Was it fun to drive a squad car and turn on the lights and siren?  Oh, baby, that was FUN!

The Goldfinch

I chose a Pulitzer Prize winning novel when I chose The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.  The story is about a world famous piece of art, a painting on wood of a goldfinch on a perch attached there by a tiny chain around one foot.  The main character is Theo who is 13 when the book starts and in his mid-twenties at the end.  Theo's life is tumultuous and he tries to make good decisions.  His best friend, Boris, also has a tumultuous life and he makes decisions to benefit himself.  Boris and Theo seldom agree on the best course of action to take.  In this story there is parental neglect, drugs, crime, alcoholism, terrorism, and cheating. Throughout this philosophical long story an older man named Hobie represents honesty, decency and integrity.  As a reader, I needed Hobie in this story.  I needed a genuinely nice person to balance out the other characters. In the end the question remains, is it better to live a life making decisions that benefit yourself over living a life making decisions to benefit others if you both end up in the same place?  Does our free will influence the trajectory of our lives? I really enjoyed this book.  I warn you, it's a long one.

Press The Reset Button

Sometimes when politics (national or work related) get you down it is good to get out of town.

A trip out of town will press the reset button on my perspective.

How much do I love Itasca State Park?  I love Itqsca enough to hug a red pine in Preacher's Grove.

Preacher's Grove is a spiritual place.

And I am grateful to be here on this day in October that is warm and sunny and the air is completely still.  I breathe in the scent of the piney woods and rejoice!

We contemplate walking across the headwaters. I have jeans on. The water is cold.  My sister says, "I will if you will."  I agree thinking she won't.  She does.  I do too.  Bad decision!  The water is freaking cold!  Hurry up and take this picture before I die of exposure!

I dry my feet and am glad I wore wool socks today,  It may be cold but not too cold for this dragonfly on the railing of the boardwalk by the Missippi headwaters.

I have never been to Itasca in October before but was rewarded with a warm and lovely day. Tamaracks are so beautiful in October! 

I have been to Itasca a half dozen times before but never in October. We had a much more lovely day that we could normally expect. An October visit brings out the beauty of the Tamaracks.

I walk through  the pasture following the cow paths.  I realize how much easier a flat sidewalk is than a cow path.  This oak is lovely.

The sun is setting.  This day has helped me regain perspective.  A dose of nature has done me good.

Forensics

This week my academy class was on forensics.  We heard how evidence is taken in, documented, given a bar code, stored and sealed in bags and kept.  We heard about drug testing and got to see the drug testing lab with overhead hoods and scientific equipment.  The newer way to use marijuana, we hear, is to put it in a tube, infuse it with butane, and dry the liquid until the butane has evaporated.  What is left is a honey like substance that you can smoke with an E-cig or "dab."  To dab is to heat up that honey like stuff and inhale it.  Dangerous stuff.  Butane is highly flammable which is why it is used in lighters.  I had never heard of this. We are shown a display of how the process works. The supplies for the display were obtained, ironically, on Amazon and Etsy!  We learn about fingerprints.  Years ago, when somebody broke into my house and rifled through my underwear drawer and sock drawer, my dresser drawers were dusted for fingerprints. That white powder was hard to get off.  Fingerprints are easier to obtain from solid surfaces.  Leather, for example, doesn't hold a fingerprint well where as plastic, wood and metal are easier.  Fingerprints are unique.  No two people have the same fingerprint. Now hand prints are taken so there are even more places to compare.  We learn about the state database and the national database for fingerprints.  We move on to hear from Officer Moriarity (which is a hilarious name for a law enforcement person if you are a fan of Sherlock Holmes) about DNA.  This department has a clean lab (where people wear coats, hairnets, booties, and hairnets) with lots of very expensive equipment.  The information we get is technical and difficult but also very engaging.  What gets me most is the enthusiasm and pride each one of our speakers have for the jobs that they do.  If ever, someday, I write a book, it probably wouldn't be a mystery.  But if it was a crime mystery, and the criminal was an identical twin, it is good to know that the criminal could pin the crime on his or her sibling if DNA evidence was used.  However, if the evidence was a fingerprint, justice could be done.  Even identical twins have different finger prints.

My Class

My class was on television. I am pretty good at hiding from the cameras!

http://kstp.com/news/anoka-county-residents-citizens-academy-police-situations/4296195/

Nutshell

If you are pregnant, if you know anyone who is pregnant, if you know anyone who will become pregnant I suggest you not read Nutshell by Ian McEwan. From the first sentence this is one of the freakiest stories I have ever read.  Imagine a worldly, educated, wine loving gentleman is inside a uterus and commenting on the behavior of his mother, his father, and his uncle. I never did catch on but this is the story of Hamlet as told by a fetus.  Creepy in the extreme!  But also captivating. I read the whole thing.  When I first finished it I thought someone ought to get Ian to therapy as soon as possible.  Now that I know it is the story of Hamlet I feel much better about his mental health.

Kidnapped

As I left my house for book club the sun was just going down.  I wished it were lighter and warmer. As I headed south on Highway 47, what do I see?  On the telephone wire on the curve of the road, above the pedestrian underpass, perched an owl.  Given the size and the pointy ears, it had to be a great horned owl.  I have never seen a great horned owl or heard a great horned owl in my neighborhood before so this was a very big thrill and a good omen for my evening.  I was almost late for book club. We had a good discussion about Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped.  I had  not read it before.  I have read Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and I have read Treasure Island.  This book was good in that it was full of action and adventure but the language was difficult.  The Scottish brogue was thick.  It helped that there were explanatory footnotes in the book for some of the words.  The politics of Scotland in the mid 1800's is complicated.  They had a clan system going and some clans sided with the King of England and others didn't.  I guess the author wrote this book for children but I don't think only children would enjoy it.  His descriptions of the hills and the shore and the tides and the heather were amazing.  I could picture myself right there on the scene.  Halfway through reading this I obtained the BBC two hour television of the story. I watched that and then went back and read the second half of Kidnapped.  I wouldn't always recommend that sequence of reading and watching the movie but in this case it was a good choice for me.

New Visitor

I pay attention to the birds who come into my yard.  I like seeing birds I haven't seen before enter my property unless, like the scarlet tanager earlier this fall, they die after hitting my window. I wouldn't have even noticed this little birdy sitting in the window feeder if the black capped chickadees weren't acting differently.  Chickadees, you see, are the most polite birds at any feeder.  Chickadees come to the feeder, grab a seed, and immediately fly away making room for the next chickadee to come and grab a seed.  Chickadees are used to this pattern. So the chickadees who flew to this feeder, saw a bird hogging the feeder, staying in there for five full minutes at a time eating, they didn't know what to do.  One chickadee whirled around in front of the window in a panic.  Another chickadee whirled to a stop and clung to the bottom of the window sill for a minute before flying away.  The odd behavior of the chickadees made me look up to see what was up. There, in the feeder was a new bird to my yard.  A song sparrow had a long leisurely meal while the chickadees were made to wait.

Somebody Was Crowing On Sunday

I worked outside on Sunday doing fall chores. I emptied my rain barrel.  I washed and waxed and cleaned my car.  I cleaned out the gutters. I picked up all the leaves and filled my compost bins to the top.  While outside I heard a sound like a chicken crowing but not exactly.  I've been waiting for signs of roosters in these chicks who hatched in July. Crowing is a sign of a rooster.  I heard the sound and wondered if a local wild turkey made that sound.  Sometimes I'm not too bright. Turkeys gobble. Chickens crow.  A bird watcher should know that.  Later in the afternoon I heard a feeble crowing again!  This time I knew, a rooster is trying out his voice.  Which one of you chickens is the rooster?  Inquiring minds want to know. Because, by the way, you are doomed.  I have no need for roosters.  I sneak around the corner of the house to observe.  I hear the feeble crow again. One of the whiter Polish chickens is crowing and I can tell by his body language.  Earlier, I had thought about naming one of these white Polish Donald Trump but I didn't want to because I didn't want a Donald Trump in my yard.  But now, knowing he is off to either a chicken auction or a stew pot, naming his Donald Trump does seem more appropriate. 

Fall Color Road Trip

After driving through Collegeville, avoiding crowds of people all wearing red shirts, we saw this red shed.

We saw this lake.  The sky was cloudy but the colors were still pretty.

We saw an elk and an elk saw us.

We saw a prairie with woods in the background.

We drove slowly with the sun roof open down this road and

up the next all the while enjoying the beauty of fall.

I saw a push me/pull me truck and had to get a photo of that!

Where was this?  We have no idea.  We drive aimlessly around the Avon Hills.

We stopped in Cold Spring.  I always have a good time in Cold Spring.  At Grumpy's two handsome young men approached us selling meat raffle tickets.  I told him, "I'm a vegetarian."  My friend bought two tickets.  As she is fishing out her money I look at his shirt and say, "Look at this shirt!"  His tshirt has two words on it.  The top word starts with an F followed by a t-bone steak and a u, a c and a k.  The next word spells lettuce. Those two words become our phrase for the rest of the day, uttered whenever we see something lovely, unusual or just downright strange. We see these Trumpeter swans with one cygnet too.

In Rockwood we drive to Eagle Park where we see this very large eagle nest.  After a few minutes of searching, we see an eagle too.

We see some lovely tamarack trees with golden needles.  Nice day for a fall drive.

Ten Traveling Turkeys Today

Emotional Hangover

Last night was the fifth out of sixth classes I take with the  Anoka County Sheriff citizen academy.  Our classes are scheduled from 6:30-9:30.  Do we ever get out before 10 pm?  No, we do not get out before 10 pm.  Last night I left with an emotional hangover.  The topic on the syllabus was "use of force."  Also mentioned was "training scenarios."  We had a short discussion on "Use of force" where I had to ask, what, on the spectrum of use of force, are the other options?  I didn't know that just showing up with a uniform and marked car is a use of force. Words are a very valuable use of force.  Hands on guidance is a use of force as well as batons, painful holds, tasers,and deadly use of force.  I didn't know.  Our speaker is a use of force trainer for Anoka County. A serious, dedicated, awesome young man taught us about use of force.  We asked him numerous questions.  Some questions were not easy to answer and he was great.  Our class was held in a training room with wrestling mats on the floor and padded walls.  While he talked two of us were drawn out of the room to go to the simulation exercise.  I didn't notice at first that this was happening. So it wasn't until 70% of the class had already done it, I went to the simulation exercise with the very youngest memeber of our group. She is a Hamline University student thinking about law enforcement. She is great.  We went into the room not knowing what to expect.  I think that was the plan - for us to not know what to expect.  We entered the dark room and were handled holsters with guns. Excuse me?  I got to ask - "Is this a real gun?"  Yes, I am told like I should have known, this is a real gun.  I ask, "Is there bullets in this gun?"  A reasonable question, am I right? I am told there are no live ammunition in this room.  Good to know.  You could have told me instead of making me ask but good to know.  My partner is handed a rifle. She has never shot a rifle before.  She is shown how to use it.  I ask if the safety is on.  No, there is no  safety.  We are told to stand at this line and the first experience will be a hostage situation.  Frankly, I am more than a little annoyed that we aren't given more information before we get to this point.  It's dark. We are not given much explanation. I have men helping me attach the holster to my pants and I am not used to men handling the waist band of my pants.  I feel manipulated.  I don't like this. I ask, "Wait now.  How do I get this gun out of the holster?"  I am shown how to release the gun from the holster.'  I have to push a button to get the gun out.  Good to know!  You might have told me!  Two sheriffs are in the room.  One watches and one runs the computer.  The first scenario is a hostage situation.  We see a school setting. A couple kids are laying on the floor, dead.  One girl is kneeling with her back to a man holding a gun to her head. Gross!  I hate violence!  What the hell am I into here?  I say out loud, "Gross!"    My partner uses her rifle and shoots the man holding the gun to the blonde girls head.  I ask, "Did you do that?"  Our video plays on and wwwe go down the hallway to another room.  A man holding a gun shoots at us repeatedly.  I, a vegetarian, a peace loving person, a woman who gave up even fishing 20 years ago because I can relate to the fight the fish put on my line,  fire my fake gun at the shooter. He keeps shooting. The scenario ends.  We are told we were both shot and are dead.  WTH?  The next scenario starts.  I am handed a taser to hold along with my gun.  We are told this is a domestic violence scenario.  I, in my job, have dealt with violent and agitated people.  I say, "Wait now!"  This is going way too fast. I say, "We can't both be jabbering at this person.  Let's decide who talks and who doesn't talk!"  My young partner agrees to this plan. She asks if she should talk or I should talk.  I look at her big eyes with lots of mascara and say, "I'll take this one.  You take the next one."  She agrees. The scene opens.  We're at a hotel.  The door is slightly open.  A woman crouches on the floor next to the wall beyond the two hotel beds. She holds her hands over her head while a man, holding a baseball bat calls her names and threatens her.  It's my turn to talk.  "Sir," I say in an authoritative tone, "This is Anoka County Law Enforcement!  Drop the bat and come outside." He looks at me and asks, "What the F are you doing here?"  WTF? Did I sign up for this?  Did I willingly take on this challenge? "Drop the bat and come outside!"  I say like I know what I'm talking about.    He throws the bat at the victim.  The he draws his right hand back and throws a haymaker at, wait now, is that us? My partner asks, "Should I shoot him?"  While she asks that I press my taser. He falls back on the bed and says, "I'm sorry."  I respond, "Turn on your stomach!  Put your hands behind your back!"  The scenario is over but I am still into it.  I am told I did well.  My partner asks, "Should I have shot him?"  Is a punch a deadly use of force the instructors ask us?  Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't I am thinking but before we can process this the third scenario starts. I recognize the Anoka County Government Center court house entrance. I see the metal detector.  I see a white haired gentleman putting his keys and change into a dish to go through the x-ray machine. I am a bailiff I guess at the entrance to the building.  They could have told me. As the white haired man goes through the metal detector a young man squeezes in with him. I say, "Step back!"  The alarm goes off.  My mind,after traveling to Sicily, thinks "hip replacement. Pat the poor arthritic man down."  But no, the young man has a gun. After the alarm goes off he holds his gun to the head of the old man.  I point my fake gun at the young man but before I can speak and before I can squeeze the trigger, the old man is shot in the back of the head. My partner and I both shoot and the young man is killed.  We didn't die but we didn't save the life of the older man.  We are excused from the room.  As I leave I try to be positive so I say, "Suddenly grateful I have the job I have."  Is it any wonder that I have an emotional hangover after such an experience? I feel terrible.  I shot a gun at another human being!  But wait, I didn't actually shoot a real gun and the human being was an image of a human but not real.  These facts seem simple but it takes me a while to process this experience. Here I am, another Wednesday night, it's after my bed time and my eyes are wide open.  Typically I avoid violence.  I don't watch violent movies or television shows.  I avoid mystery books because they usually have more violence than other fiction.  I usually process by talking to other people but this was such a violent night I can hardly bear to say the words aloud.  I did not enjoy this evening.  This class is a challenge tonight.   

  

An Offer I Can't Refuse

A guy who works in my building approached me and asked, "Would you be interested in any wild mushrooms?  Hen of the woods?"  With no hesitation I said I would be VERY interested.  He says he has more than he can handle. Every two years this dead oak on his property sprouts up crop after crop of hen of the woods.  His freezer is full.  I am doing him a favor by taking it.  Today he brings me a grocery store paper sack full of it.  I can't wait to try it.

Loving Limes Today!!!!!

Things Built To Last

In my garage I now have a blower used in the blacksmithing craft to heat up the coal so the metal can get hotter than red hot, hotter than orange hot, hotter than yellow hot, hot enough to be white hot.  Here it stands and although it has been out of a barn for a week and swept off with a broom, there is lots of barn dust on it.  If you touch it, your hands come away black.

The blower stands about 4 feet tall. Although quite difficult to turn the handle, the handle can be turned and air comes out of the pipe on the lower right.

Here is how it looks after a scrubbing with a scrub brush, dish soap and hot water.

This is an awesome piece of equipment.  Eighty years ago my young father stood cranking the handle on this blower while his father forged.  He says he was at the right age to help out.  Local farmers would bring dull plows to him. He would heat up the metal and pound it thin enough to be sharpened with a file. If metal is too thick it cannot be sharpened.  My Grandpa turned the handle.  My Dad turned the handle.  I turn the handle and feel connected to my ancestors.

Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra

A friend emailed me, "Do you want to go to the Saint Paul Orchestra performance with Jeremy Denk, guest pianist this Saturday?'  I responded, "Hell to the Yes!"  I thought a little bit of culture, like sauerkraut, blueberries, or daily vitamins, would be good for me. I enjoyed the concert. I also enjoyed the meal at Pazzaluna (plus two glasses of Italian wine) before the concert.  But Jeremy Denk, he worried me.  He looks so much like a person I work with who needs very close supervision because of his Autism, that I could not relax and enjoy the performance.  Every time his head weaved with the music, I worried.  Every time he touched his head I worried because that made him look like the person I serve. The resemblance was remarkable.  Yes, Jeremy Denk can play the piano.  Yes, he was charming and personable.  And he didn't do anything inappropriate during the performance.  And I was glad because I was watching closely.  Funny how our personal experiences color our enjoyment of a performance.  I loved a good evening in my hometown, Saint Paul, Minnesota, at the Ordway. I loved being one of the younger people in attendance.  I didn't get home until midnight.  I swear, my yellow Honda Fit was about to turn into a pumpkin.  

Thursday Mornings Are Tough

This was a great week at my citizen academy class at the sheriff's office.  We had a lecture on the size and scope of the patrol division.  In my county the sheriff department handles the eight cities at the northern edge all the way from Elk River to Forest Lake.  The shifts are 12 hours long and the cars run day and night.  The city of Andover hires a couple extra to act as school liaisons and to do crime prevention in the summer months.  The more I learn about Andover, the more I like Andover.  We had a demonstration of the unmanned aerial vehicle (which is the same thing as a drone but without the negative connotations of a drone).  As I watched the drone in the sky, I could also see my outline in the screen as the expensive camera picked up the heat of my body in the dark.  After that we got to, you won't believe this but it's true and it was a very amazing thing to be able to do, we (including me, orange-sue! Actually I went first I was so eager) got to drive a cop car, turn on the lights and sirens, pull over another car, shine the spotlight on their rear view mirrors, approach the car with a flashlight, shine the flashlight in the driver's eyes (after checking the back seat and passenger area), identify ourselves as a sheriff, and ask why they were pulled over.  Sorry about that run on sentence there but it just goes to show what an amazing moment that was.  Were we on an actual road?  No, we were in the parking lots of the sheriff department.  Was the driver being pulled over a stranger?  No, it was another member of our class.  But no matter!  I got a kick out of that like I never thought I would. What does that say about me that I enjoyed that as much as I did?  I secretly long to be an authority figure?  No, I don't want to be an authority figure but I do like to pretend!  I also got to drive an unmarked car and make a mistake so I would be pulled over.  I did both roles twice.  As a bad driver I signaled right but turned left.  On my second drive I swerved back and forth so much my passenger was getting sick.  That time my pretend cop asked if I had been drinking. I said, "Yes, we both had a glass of milk with dinner."  When I pretended to be the cop I asked for the driver's license and made them read me their address and birthdate just to make sure it wasn't a fake identification.  So they did read me their birthdate.  I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't read it. My reaction was surprise. Born in 1966?  I thought he was a lot older.  On the second try the guy said 1981 and I was even more surprised to know that I could be the mother of a guy that looked that old. They paid me back though.  I had to read my birth date back to them too.  After that we got to search a car for drugs.  I found a crack pipe in the pocket on the back of the passenger seat and some crystal meth in the wheel well.  I also found a check that was filled out.  I put it with the drugs.  The sheriff hurried over and took it, read it, smiled and put it in his pocket.  I suspect somebody was in for some teasing.  If there is one thing I learned about the sheriff department; it's that they like to tease.  During our power point presentation about the department, clowns with red hair kept appearing on the screen.  Evidently rumors of clowns have been going through the schools in Andover.  And a citizen that day claimed two clowns were chasing cars near Alpine Park in Ramsey.  Like the sheriff said, "It's not a crime to be a clown."  We got out of there late, as usual, and I went home totally excited, wired, eyes wide open and unable to sleep for hours after that.  Once this class is over I will come to like Thursday mornings again but right now, Thursday mornings are tough.

Not The Wieiredest Thing Today

As I drove home about 10:20 p.m. last night, a full hour after I am usually asleep, I saw a marsupial leaving my yard heading north across the road.  "Whatever!" I thought, "This is not the weirdest thing I saw today."  My first marsup9ial sighted in my yard?  I'm too tired to write about it now but I have a helluva Wednesday.  These Wednesday night classes are making me tired.  More tomorrow.

How Much?

On my way home from work I stopped at the gym for a workout, stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of Sicilian wine, stopped at a neighbor's house who are always stopping by with a nice surprise for me, dropped off a bottle of Sicilian wine, and then stopped to get the mail.  Parked at the mailbox I saw two things.  I saw a big branch blown down by the wind creating a hazard to my low slung car and a wood chuck.  Oh, a woodchuck; groundhog, or marmot.  I haven't seen a woodchuck in a long time.  They look like a miniature bear.  My memory travels 17 years back in time.  Offspring #2 is about 10 years old.  I, as a Girl Scout leader, had planned a really great evening for Troop 631.   I was the Girl Scout badge planner. I knew these girls were not the kind to sit at a table and do crafts.  These girls had to move.  These girls had to make their own decisions.  I had a badge in mind for these girls and the physical activities to go with it.  I also had a golden retriever dog named Ruby who was an irrepressible dog. Irrepressible, I say.  Never to feel a single regret in her life, Ruby enjoyed the visit of Troop 631.  She enjoyed the attention of the seven girls.  She, good old Ruby, was so grateful for their attention that she brought them a woodchuck out of the woods and laid it at their feet.  Ruby - she drove me crazy but I miss her terribly.  Troop 631 was standing in a circle talking when said woodchuck was given by this dog in their honor, laid inside their circle of feet.  To the screams of seven 10 year old girls, said woodchuck was torn limb from limb in front of their very eyes.  Murder!  Mayhem!  Was this the official Girl Scout experience I had planned?  No, this was not what I had planned.  What is a Girl Scout leader to do in front of a Girl Scout troop?  Curse out the blasted dog?  Not a good choice.  Girl Scout leaders have to think on their feet.  Rescue the woodchuck?  Yeah, no thanks to that.  Cringe, swear silently, and encourage the girls to enjoy the trampoline?  Yes, that sounded like the best plan.  It's has been 17 years since I saw a woodchuck grace this yard with it's presence.

Percolator!

At the beginning of this year I made it a goal to not buy as much plastic.  I knew buying no plastic would be impossible because many of my favorite foods come in plastic but I would try to, if at all possible, buy wood, glass or metal things instead of plastic.  I quit chewing gum.  Gum has plastic in it.  I use cloth shopping bags.  I went to a second hand children store to buy a small chair for my granddaughter.  I walked right by the huge selection of plastic chairs and bought a wooden rocking chair instead. But I still buy plenty of plastic every time I pick up blueberries at the store. So when my very old tiny coffee maker gave up the ghost, I bought an old fashioned metal percolator instead.  This percolator comes with a plastic handle and a plastic gasket but most of it is metal.  So now, instead of just plugging in the coffee pot and walking away, I set it on the stove.  I have to come back and turn the heat down once it is boiling or else it might boil over. I keep it percolating for 5 to 7 minutes.  This morning was my first attempt at percolating coffee.  The whole process took about 20 minutes.  And the coffee was hotter than the coffee from the coffee maker.  I think the coffee tastes better and smoother.  I got more of a caffeine rush too so that could mean I need to adjust how much coffee I put in that little basket.  I had good coffee this morning; good to the last drop. 

Another Perfect Day

We have been blessed with a series of perfect days. The sun shines on us and the temperature in the afternoon rises to 75 degrees.  Wow!  I could have used that time to prepare my property for winter, waxing the car or cleaning the house.  Did I?  No, I spent my day wisely.  I was outside.  I had a picnic on Harriet Island. The food was good or maybe, because we ate at 1:30 p.m., I was so hungry I inhaled the sandwich without noticing the taste.  We watched the other park visitors at Harriet Island.  Men, women, able, disabled, young, old, all colors, all nationalities, all enjoying a perfect day not doing chores; not being responsible; just enjoying one of the few perfect days in Minnesota before winter sets her claws into us.