Happy Halloween

Normally I don't dress in costume at work.  I had a conversation with a young, red haired geologist this weekend and she gave me the idea to wear a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a red scarf in my hair.  So I did that. A few people recognized who I was but not everyone.  At the gym after work I saw a T-Rex on the treadmill with a young boy on his back and that was pretty funny.  The inflatable dinosaur costume went up to his waist and he held the reins on the T Rex as he walked along. When someone clapped for him I just had to clap too.  You ever try clapping your hands on the stairmaster?  It's not easy!  I almost fell off.  The funniest costume I saw today was a duo at work.  One of the guys I work with is clean shaven, brawny muscles, a shaved head, and pierced ears. Sometimes he wears a white tshirt.  In my mind I have called him Mr. Clean for years but never told him that. He tends to wear sports clothing.  Another guy usually has a beard, has long brown hair, wears jeans, eye glasses, a tshirt or a plaid shirt.  These two guys work closely together every day.  Today they dressed up as each other.  The Mr. Clean look alike shaved his beard and shoved his hair under a ball cap.  He wore a sports jersey and shorts.  The actual Mr.  Clean guy wore jeans, a plaid shirt, eye glasses, a wig and a fake beard and mustache.  I come down the hall at work this morning to the sound of much laughter so I go to check it out.  These two guys look at me. My jaw drops.  I bust a gut.The looks on their faces was just hilarious.  All day long people are laughing at these two very creative fellows.  Halloween these days is not as fun as when the  offspring were young. No one comes to my door to ask for candy anymore.  Actually I hope they don't because I didn't even buy any this year. I think my driveway is just too long and dark and scary.  Many of the kids around here go to churches for something called trunk and treat.  Overall,though, I have to say this Halloween was a pretty good Halloween.

More Photos from the Nibi Walk

Here we are at Lake Phalen before the ceremony.

I am not visible on the far right by the life guard chair.

Here are some of us tying yarn on to the pieces of artwork that line our path.  The blue metal bar is the shape of Phalen Creek and the outline of Lake Phalen.

Here we are at the spot where Phalen Creek enters the Mississippi.

Words

There is a game on facebook called "Words With Friends."  Similar to Scrabble, you play games against an opponent.  When the game first came out I played against Offspring #2.  I lost most of those games. Offspring #2 decided words with friends was a waste of time so we quit playing.  Perhaps that is true that the game is a waste of time but I am still playing.  I play against my cousin. We have six games going today.  Once or twice a day we add a word to each of the games. She has a degree in nursing so she has the advantage of medical terminology. One day she played the word aureole so, even though the word I played wasn't the most points, I played anus just because I thought it was another medical word and somewhat funny.  I love playing with my cousin. I really admire her.  I am a much better player than she is. I have won probably 97% of the hundreds of games we have played but she keeps plugging along. I think most people would get discouraged by loosing so many times.  Not her.  She told me if she looses by less than 100 points she counts it as a win. Her husband told me that on the rare occasion that she does win a game, she does a happy dance all around the house. So now, when I loose a game, I picture her doing the happy dance and her husband looking up at her and smiling and that makes me feel very good.  How long will we keep playing Words With Friends? I do not know the answer to that but I hope it is a long time.

Nibi Walk

Today I went on the Nibi walk.  Here we are at the Humanities Center in Saint Paul near Lake Phalen. The Humanities Center is a building that used to be a part of Gillette Children's Hospital. The architecture of the building is truly fabulous. We gathered there for last minute instructions, coffee, snacks and a question and answer session. We had each sewn little blue pouches to carry tobacco in. I did not bring any tobacco. A woman near me stopped at a stogie shop on Grand Ave. in Saint Paul to buy some tobacco. When the tobacconist heard it was for a ceremony he gave her a full bag of cured tobacco leaves.  I used some of her tobacco in my pouch. A puppet from Heart of the Beast puppet theater came along with us. The puppet represents water.

Here we are at beautiful Lake Phalen named after some guy who later went to jail for murder. Isn't it strange how people keep renaming things that already have names?  We have a ceremony here.  Sage is burned in a clam shell and we wave our hands over the sage smoke to draw the smoke over ourselves. Native prayers are recited and native songs are sung while flocks of geese land on the lake and gulls circle over head. Three trumpeter swans swim by.  As I offer my tobacco to Lake Phalen I put my hand in the water to find out the water is cold. Some water from the lake is put into a copper bucket. This water will be carried by women all the way to where Phalen Creek enters the Mississippi. A male will carry the staff with eagle feathers and the rest of the group, maybe 40 of us, will follow in silence. We can offer tobacco to any dead animals we see along the way. I offer tobacco to a dead warbler and an angleworm.

I thought the hard part of this Nibi walk would be keeping up for five miles but I was very wrong. The hard part was keeping my mouth shut for 3 hours.  No singing, no whistling, no talking, no humming for 3 hours? When we go under a bridge on Phalen Boulevard a classic car honks a horn that goes "Arroooooga!" I am startled and make a startled noise followed by a full minute of suppressed snickering. An artist has made 12 metal shapes depicting the outline of Lake Phalen. We are given 12 strips of yard and we are supposed to tie one yarn to each metal shape so they can fly in the wind.

The creek was not visible immediately right at Lake Phalen where it went into the sewer.  I tried to keep track of where in Saint Paul we were but it was hard. Here we are walking under Highway 94. I think of how this creek looked 200 years ago and it makes me sad.

I have seen Saint Paul from a totally different angle today and for that I am grateful.  I offer my last piece of tobacco to the Mississippi River. We have another ceremony.  More sage is burned. Songs are sung. I don't know the words but I hum along. All the yarn pieces we have left are tied to a tree there. When the ceremony is over we can talk again!  I am so glad to talk again. After that we board a coach bus and head back to the Humanities Center.  Here we are treated to a delicious lunch of vegetable bean soup and salad and bread and peach cobbler. We sit together at tables and everybody appears to be so kind and generous.  One lady approaches me. She heard me talking on the bus to another woman about where I grew up. She happens to work for the watershed district and she leads children through the swamp behind my childhood home. She asks for my contact number so she can learn more about how the land was used in the past. She thinks it will make her walks with the children more interesting.  I am glad to help her out.  We learn more about the efforts to bring Phalen Creek back up to the surface again. We learn more about native culture.We learn that water is the most powerful force of nature. These water walks were started because women felt they had to do something to protect the water from more pollution. We are asked to draw our favorite body of water.  I draw Round Lake which is not my favorite lake but I couldn't decide which one was my favorite. We are then asked to write down three things we will do to help protect the water.  I write down 1. talk about water, 2. vote and 3. explore.

Ravelstein

I picked up Ravelstein at the library, the last novel written by Saul Bellow.  I picked it up because I liked his earlier book, The Adventures of Augie March.  I did not like this book as much as the Augie March book.  This story is about two elderly men.  One of them is a professor and the other one is a writer. Both of them are in and out of the hospital facing indignities and humiliations that come with being old and ill. Some parts of the book are really sad. I understand the book is based on Saul's friendship with Allen Bloom.  Bellow is a very accomplished American author who won many prizes for his work. I am glad I read the book but my next book will have to be something a little less depressing.

Don't Cry Over Spilled Prune Juice

Today I must have had butter fingers because I dropped a glass jar of soup all over the floor. Uff Da.  What a mess. As I wiped up the kale, potatoes, and broth I thought of the biggest mess I ever made by dropping something.  Instantly I am 16 years old again working at my first job. I am wearing the white polyester uniform of a nurses aid. I am in the med room with the LPN on duty. She had a white dress on and one of those old fashioned nurse caps on her head. She is short and solid and she reminded me of Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith show. She was very nice. She is dishing out pills into little paper cups. She asked me to take the container of prune juice and the container of apple juice out of the fridge and put them on the cart. These juice containers are plastic gallon sized jugs with metal screw on lid.  I have the apple juice container in one hand the prune juice container on my right hand.  Of the two containers of juice, guess which one falls from my hand?  The not so bad apple juice or the dark brown prune juice? Yep, the prune juice lid let go of the container. The container hit the floor hard and stayed upright. Brown juice from prunes splashed up and out in every possible direction.  Prune juice hit the ceiling. Prune juice hit the starched white cap of the nurse.  Prune juice splashed me in the face. Prune juice flew into dozens of little paper cups of medicine.  Prune juice on the cupboard doors. Prune juice in the drawers. Prune juice on my pants and shirt. Prune juice on the nurses's white dress, white nylons, and white shoes. Prune juice was everywhere even though there was still a third of a gallon inside the jug. I look down at the brown puddle of prune juice on the floor and I am 100% mortified. The nurse does not blow her top. She helps me clean up the mess. She is ever so patient. We wipe up prune juice as best we can.  I feel the most terrible about her little white cap.  How will she ever turn that brown polka dotted cap into a white cap again?  The next day she approaches me about the prune juice fiasco. She tells me she asked the kitchen staff to be sure to put the caps on the juice jugs on nice and tight from now on.  Wow, what a classy nurse. The fault was mine, not the kitchen staff. Her comment lets me know I am off the hook. I should have moved one jug at a time and put one hand below the jug as I lifted it onto the cart. From then on I moved one jug at a time and v.e.r.y. c.a.r.e.f.u.l.l.y.  If I am lucky, that will be the biggest mess I ever make by dropping something.

Should I Try an Uff Da Jar?

Last year I was extremely lucky to get to travel to Poland, Finland, Amsterdam and Germany. To prepare for that trip I tried to learn some of the language. I had Finnish in-laws and they said, "Uff Da," so last year I started saying Uff Da too. Uff Da is a catchy term.  Once you start saying Uff Da it comes out when you least expect it. I lift something heavier than I anticipated and I say "Uff Da."  Someone cuts me off on Highway 10 at 70 miles per hour I say "Uff Da." I overhear someone at work give really poor customer service and I think to myself, "Uff Da." But the thing is I am not Finnish, or at least not very Finnish, I am mostly German and Polish.  I get frustrated when "Uff Da" comes out unexpectedly. To make up for that I try to say something Polish.  I have been saying "Perestroika."  I looked up what Perestroika is and turns out it is Russian. I could say "Za Glosne Wolanie" which is Polish for "for crying out loud."  Or I could say "Co Do Cholery" which is Polish for WTH. I am not sure what to do.  I just want to quit saying "Uff Da."  Maybe I should start an "Uff Da" jar.  I used to put money into a swear jar and that helped me.  Maybe an "Uff Da" jar will help me too?

A Bold Rodent

Yesterday I heard a story from a friend of mine. She was camping with her best friend from second grade and her father up north. Her father chose to sleep in a pup tent because he knew the two girls would be up all night chatting away.  In the middle of the night my friend was awoken to the voice of her father saying, "Hello there, bear." She and her friend peeked out the window of the tent to see her father in his underwear, holding a cast iron frying pan and speaking to a bear who stood upright. The bear walked forward and tripped on the guidelines of her father's tent.  Her father kept saying, "Hello there, bear." until the bear ambled away into the darkness.  She went on to say the next afternoon they went fishing. As they returned to the campsite they saw the bear walking upright through the woods.  Once at their campsite they found their cooler with teeth marks on it. The cooler was open. The bear had eaten a pound of butter, a pound of raw bacon, and a dozen eggs.  All the three campers had left to eat was the fish on their stringer.  So that was the story in my mind this morning as I left the Government Center in Anoka. Right outside the door to the seven story building are two trash cans. The lids had blown off the top of the trash cans. Inside the garbage trash can sat a grey squirrel feasting on unhealthy carbohydrates left in the trash.  So I had no choice but to say, "Hello there, squirrel." I stood only a yard away from the squirrel who was busily munching on Subway sandwich crumbs and MacDonald's French fries. The squirrel looked right at me without blinking a brown eye. I waited 15 seconds. The squirrel continued to eat. Such a bold rodent! So confident and self-assured was the squirrel that I just had to walk away in admiration.

After The Battle

A good friend of mine went to school in Battle Lake. She lent me the book, After the Battle; A History of Battle Lake, Minnesota.  This was the second printing and the binding is coiled wire. I thought it is a very interesting book. The battle was between the Ojibway and the Dakota tribes right on a sand bar on Battle Lake. Most of the information is not about the Native Americans but about the Norwegians and other immigrants who settled in the area. The book lists every business in town, every mayor, every doctor and just about every city council decision. Over the years many businesses in Battle Lake were destroyed by fire. Eventually they got a fire department but even then some building were lost to fire. At one point they made a resolution that people could not let their live stock roam the town because they made a mess of every hay wagon that pulled in.  The book talks about anglers pulling 600 pounds of bass out of Battle Lake in a single day. In 1902 the state game department announced they were releasing ring necked pheasants (a species from Asia) into the area for hunting purposes.  That was a poor decision, in my opinion, because pheasants peck holes in the eggs of prairie chickens and soon we won't have any more prairie chickens. Some of the stories in the book are sad and some are very funny.  Here is an example of a funny story that came from a newspaper article on Dec. 21, 1916: Tuesday with the thermometer from 28 degrees below zero in the morning up to 15 degrees below at noon, automobiles were running into and out of Battle lake.  Running an auto when it is below zero we imagine is colder work than changing underwear on the ice in the middle of Battle Lake at midnight with the underwear wrong side out, four sizes too small and all the buttons gone with no pitch handy.

Museum of Extraordinary Things

I just finished another book today. This one was written by Alice Hoffman (who wrote Practical Magic and The Dove Keepers and Turtle Moon).  I got an audio book at the library and Judith Light plus two other people read The Museum of Extraordinary Things to me.  I think Judith Light was with Tony Danza in Who's The Boss? I really enjoy Alice Hoffman's work. She seems to be a fierce feminist. This book talks about life on Coney Island around 1911.  The Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire is mentioned.  One of the main characters is a photographer who happens to be there at the fire.  He took photos of girls jumping out of windows and photos of dead bodies on the ground.  The other main character is a woman named Coralie.  Coralie grew up in the Museum of Extraordinary Things. She, herself, is an extraordinary thing.  Her bond with Maureen, the woman who cooks and cleans at the museum, is solid. I liked Coralie. She reminds me of myself. Coralie loves to swim. Unlike me Coralie likes to swim in the frigid water of the Hudson River.  I prefer a pool and 84 degrees Fahrenheit is just right. I really liked this book so I think I will look for more books by Alice Hoffman.

A Book Without A Title

One of my BFF's lent me her book.  The book has no title. The cover shows a young girl in a blue dress and a blue hat.  She has blue ankle socks and mary jane shoes. Behind her back she holds a wheel. A stick lies at her feet. She is surrounded by flowers and bushes. The book is dedicated to my BFF's daughter and the date is August of 1990. The pages contain the handwritten memories of my BFF's mother.  I knew my BFF's mother. I met her in the 1970's and she was a very nice woman. She always remembered my name. She always asked me to stay for dinner.  She treated me like one of her family and I thought she was the bomb.  In her book she writes that when she was born she weighed 15 pounds.  She was weighed on a scale that they weighed grain on. Her first best friend was Betty. When Betty moved away "her heart was crushed."  At her home they did not have city water. They had a cistern but the cover was not on tight so lizards and snakes got in there. They did not want to drink that water so they walked to "Doc Johnson's" house to get drinking water. While walking with her brother and her black and white terrier dog, Tootles, Tootles was struck by a car. Her brother Gene carried Tootles home and laid him in the yard. Gene had Tootles blood all over his coat. After a couple hours someone saw Tootles move.  They took Tootles to Doc Johnson's. The Doc found a broken leg and put a cast on the dog.  In a couple of weeks Tootles was as good as new. When she was in first grade she got measles on Valentine's Day. She was sad to miss the big party. She was home alone on Valentine's day.  At lunch time her father came home from work and brought her a heart shaped box of chocolates because he knew she would be sad. Her father cheered her up and she did not feel so sad about missing the party. Her school was on the other side of town. They had to walk to school wearing tan stockings, a garter belt, and long underwear.  When it got warmer she would roll down the stockings and roll up the long underwear as soon as she was out of sight from her home.  On the way home she would wait until she was almost home to roll the long underwear down and the tan stockings up again.  One day her mother had the church ladies over to her house. She was told not to get her feet wet "or else." She and her friends liked to walk in the ditches where the melting snow gathered. So she borrowed her father's mud boots so her feet would be dry. She and her friends went into the ditches to play. Her feet, inside her father's mud boots, got stuck in the mud. She could not pull her feet out.  The harder she tried the more stuck her feet got. She pulled so hard she ended up falling backwards into the mud. She had to take her feet out of the boots and in doing that she fell forwards. The only part of her that wasn't covered with mud was the top of her head. She went home to her mother very muddy and without her father's boots. Her parents punished her.  They didn't spank her. They did something worse than spanking. She was not allowed to play with her friends at her house or their house. She was grounded. She was so bored she laid on her stomach on the swing and watched the ants at work for hours. Her father's job was to drive the gas truck. One year he hurt his back and could not work. Her mother tried to support the family with her seamstress work. Her mother was a talented seamstress. Eventually they could not pay the rent so they had to move in with another family.  A boy at school made fun of her for being poor.  That boy's father was someone who cheated other people out of money. She did not make fun of him for having a cheating father because her parents taught her never to make fun of other people.  Living in Donnelly, Minnesota, she and a friend were out one night stealing apples from an apple orchard. Suddenly the sky lit up with lights. At the time she had not heard of Northern Lights.  She thought the creator was angry with her for stealing apples so she went home and never stole apples again.  When she was 13 her family moved to Murdock, MN so her father could work in a grain elevator. She met a boy in school who was ill with rheumatic fever. Eventually he had to leave school because he was so sick. She wrote him letters. When he died, at age 17, she felt glad she did send those letters.  She went to high school during the war years. All the good teachers either joined the service or worked in manufacturing plants. Gas and other good were rationed. This book ends when she graduates from high school.  Because of the war there is no class trip. no senior dance, no home coming, and no class pictures.  She ends her book with the words, "But we survived."  What a class act!  My BFF's mother, she was a class act.

Much Mulching

On Thursday evening the weather was unseasonably warm. I had an opportunity to spend my time after work on any of a group of fall chores. I chose to mow and pick up the fallen leaves with the bagger on my  mower.  I added some gas before mowing but not too much as I wanted to run the mower dry so I could put it away for the season. I got right to work.  All the basswood leaves were down but not all of the oaks and maples.  I filled up my compost bin but kept dumping leaves on top of the already full bin. I finished mowing the lawn parts of the yard so I took the bagger off to mulch the leaves on the paths through the woods.  I mowed through the paths mulching leaves so deep the yellow leaves were higher than the deck of the mower. Round and round the yard I went mulching away waiting to hear the sputtering of the mower that indicated I was running low on gas. I mulched down to the street.  I mulched along the boulevard.  I mulched the driveway. I still had plenty of gas.  I mulched over by the rain barrel and kept the mower running as I filled a bucket of water. I mulched with the bucket over to the chicken coop and watered the chickens.  I mulched back down the mailbox and got the mail. I mulched by the recycling bin as I read my mail and put most of it into the recycling bin.  I mulched through the woods again.  I sat in a lawn chair for a few minutes watching the clouds go by while the lawn mower mulched.  I mulched down the driveway again and again and again.  By now the cars passing had their head lights on. I wondered if this mower was ever going to run out of gas.  I regretted putting in so much gas in the first place.  I sat for a few minutes.  The clouds were turning pink and gray.  I mowed down to the mail box again and mowed over some of the dried out day lily leaves. I mowed back to the house.  Finally, at 7:15 p.m., after mowing for 2 hours, I gave up.  I turned the mower off with gas still in the tank. Darn efficient mowers they make these days!  It takes forever to run out of gas!

Kim

My book club chose Kim by Rudyard Kipling this month.  I had just read Rikki Tikki Tavi so I thought I would like Kim. This is supposed to be a young adult novel but, man, oh, man, it was a difficult read. So many times I thought about giving up. The first few chapters were so difficult because I am not familiar with the Indian terms. The story is about an Irish orphan boy in India making his way in the world. People don't know he is Irish because he acts like a native.  Kim gets himself attached to a Tibetan Lama and seems to be heading down a spiritual path. Here the book is easier to read because Kim and his Lama are taking a journey, walking through the country side and meeting all kinds of people. A British officer notices Kim's masonic medal, a memento from his father, and all that changes. This book is  highly regarded in England as a classic. I am glad I read it but I gotta say, it wasn't easy.

Curious About Changes On The Island

When I left Isle Royale in August there were two wolves on the island.  One wolf was the father and the other wolf was the daughter. Two wolves coexisted with 1500 moose. Since then 6 to 8 more wolves have been released on Isle Royal. I wonder how that is going. Are the original two wolves still alive or were they killed by the new wolves? Maybe they don't even know the other wolves are even there.  This is a big island. But you would think wolves howling at night could be heard from a long distance.  How many moose have been taken down since August? How will this change to the predator/prey relationship change the island?  I am curious how things are gong over there on Isle Royale. The camping season is closed now so I guess I will just have to wait and see.

Obviously Desperate Predator

I got home late on Saturday night so I did not check on my chickens when I got home.  When I went to look at them on Sunday morning I saw my chicken coop and run were damaged. Some animal was on top of the run. The top pieces on the top of the run are attached by hinges and the hinges were not attached anymore. However the top of the run was still mostly in place. The weight of the animal tore the screws out of the wood. When I went to check for eggs I opened the egg door and saw one of the shingles lying on the ground.  The roof of the egg door had teeth marks all over the corner of it. I was lucky no chickens were taken by this obviously desperate predator.  I didn't hear a thing from my bedroom but now that it is cold out my windows are closed so I don't hear as much.  I was about to go get my drill and some new screws to reattach the hinges when snow started falling on me. Reattaching the hinges is a chore that can wait for a warmer day.  I took two old rags and set them out by the coop and soaked them in wolf pee.  I put my motion detector light on at my back door.  So far these measures are working. This poor chicken coop and run cannot take too much  more damage though.

Pretending to Dance

I just happened to pick up Diane Chamberlain's book, Pretending To Dance at the library.  I wasn't sure I would like it but it turned out I did like it.  The main character is Molly.  Molly's father was a psychotherapist who started a new therapy for children called pretend therapy. He would ask a shy kid to pretend to be outgoing.  He would ask an angry kid to pretend to be content.  He would ask an anxious kid to pretend to be relaxed. His patients improved and at a faster rate than those of the other therapists in his office.  He is a good father to Molly in most ways.  An incident happens when Molly is 14 years old and she does not cope well.  In fact it isn't until she is 38 years old that she is able to process what happened and let the past go.  Sometimes the story got overly sentimental but overall this was a very good book.

Savage Beauty

Two eagles observing us.

Two trumpeter swans ignore us with their head in the water while the cygnet (in front of the stump between the two parents) watches us.

A good friend of mine and I decided to meet Saturday afternoon and take a drive through the Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge on the wilderness drive.  As we drove the 9 mile course we saw eagles, hawks, blue jays, trumpeter swans, sparrows, and my first of the year dark eyed juncos.  I also saw a leopard frog jumping across the road. I jumped out of the car to catch it but I was too slow.  I only wanted to catch it and take a photo. Some of the grass was taller than my head. The oak savanna had a savage beauty despite the cloudy skies and the cold wind. The wind actually helped add to the beauty because it gave movement and texture to the landscape.

Deer and Gun Powder

As I left work today a coworker advised me to enjoy the fall colors on the way home. With the sun shining on the pretty leaves, I did enjoy the fall colors on the way home.  As I drove over the railroad tracks in Anoka I saw a herd of almost 30 deer browsing comfortably on the lawn between the little shacks of gunpowder on the property of Federal ammunition. How ironic, I thought, that the targets of many of the bullets manufactured on this site live their lives here completely free of being hunted. On the other side of the Federal property I saw a flock of Canadian geese and a turkey too!

Tom's River

I finally finished the book Tom's River by Dan Fagin. This is a non-fiction story about corporate greed.  Humans can be so greedy sometimes; so short-sighted; and so desperate to get ahead that they trample over other people. The author starts out talking about chimney sweeps in London coming down with testicular cancer. Years ago the chimney sweeps actually had to climb inside the chimneys to get the soot out. Young, thin boys were hired for this job and to get into the chimneys they removed their clothes. The soot from inside the chimney pipe caused the testicular cancer. From there the story went on to talk about dyes for clothing.  Once upon a time people used natural substances for dying fabric. Fabrics dyed with natural substances were less toxic but they could never get the rich purple color that people craved.  Eventually they found a chemical way to manufacture that purple dye. The Ciba Geigy Corporation in Tom's River, New Jersey, manufactured that purple dye.  They bought a large parcel of land so the public couldn't see that they were poisoning the land, the water, and the air all around the plant.  Plant employees got sick. Toxins from the plant seeped through the sandy soil and entered the water table under the town. Kids who drank water from the wells in the area got sick.  Pregnant women from Tom's River delivered babies who soon developed leukemia or melanoma or brain cancer.  The corporation knew about these problems but instead of addressing them, they made as much purple dye as they could before they were shut down. They tried to hide the damage by building a pipeline out into the ocean and dumping the waste there.  They tried to hide the damage to the air by only burning the waste after dark so people could not see the smoke and there weren't as many people outside to smell the smells.  In the end there was a monetary settlement but no price can replace a child. There are some heroic women and men in the story who fought hard to hold the industry accountable. I was reminded of the current struggle to mine copper near the boundary waters of Minnesota.  Times are hard.  People struggle to make a living. Working in a copper mine could feed your family and desperate people can overlook the environmental damage if their family is fed. I hope we can learn from what happened at Tom's River, New Jersey and not make the same mistakes over and over and over again.

Get it Right!

This morning when I got to work a friend of mine said, "Good morning Sue." I said good morning back.  Another friend of mine heard that.  She said to me, "Hi Steve."  The thing was she was looking at Steve when she said it but she meant to call me Sue.  That mistake got a laugh and the word got out.  Throughout the day five more people called me Steve. Actually it got to be a little annoying. Through out my life I have been called other names on purpose by mistake.  Names I have been called include Weiner, Teresa, Laura, Joan, Janet, Mom, Jenny, Priscilla, Judy, and Jean.  But Steve? Seriously?  Is it because I wore pinstripe pants today?  After lunch another man called me Stacey which severely tried my patience.  Come on, people, get it right!

Bdote!

This past weekend I went to an orientation class for a walk I will take later this month. The walk is a Nibi walk from Lake Phalen, along Phalen creek, to where the creek meets the Mississippi River.  I tried to map the route but I had trouble.  On the map it appeared Phalen Creek just disappeared into nothing. Now I know why I had trouble. When the railroads came into Saint Paul a decision was made to divert the creek into a sewer pipe so the tracks could be built on solid ground. Because the water travels through a sewer instead of the earth, the water is more polluted than it needs to be.  There are plans to bring Phalen Creek back up again because they figure it will be 80% cleaner water if they do.  For this Nibi walk we do not have to go into the sewer.  An artist will explore the path of the submerged creek and mark the path we walk on the streets above with some kind of artwork. Nibi is the Anishinabe word for water. Nibi walks have been going on for centuries but I had never heard of them until recently. Another new word I learned at this orientation is Bdote.  Bdote is the sound newborns make when they make their first breaths.  In my life I have been lucky to hear the Bdote of 5 people. Actually I heard more than that because when you wait around in the visitor lounge of a maternity ward, you hear a lot of Bdote. I am not counting the Bdote of strangers. The five Bdotes I am counting are people in my life that I know and love.

Cold Feet!

I had a plan to hang up my kayak in the garage today. And I did hang it up in the garage.  But before that I took it over to Crooked Lake and paddled around.  I was cold.  I was so cold I went fast and now I have a blister on my right hand. The water temperature was about 50 degrees and my toes were pink and cold.  After a while the coldness of the water seeped into the plastic of the kayak and my rear end was cold too.  I saw many things though to keep me entertained and my thoughts off of being cold. I was staring at this bunch of mallards for a long time before I saw the great blue heron.  I also saw an eagle, some kind of warbler, and a flock of seven Canadian geese that flew right over my head.

This is the public beach on Crooked Lake where I used to take my offspring swimming many, many years ago.

Vegan Leather?

I was shopping for a birthday gift today.  As I wandered the store looking for what I thought the birthday person would want, I walked by the luggage and hand bags. On one round display table were some brown and black bags. At the top of the table was a big sign that read (I am not making this up), "VEGAN LEATHER." What the heck is vegan leather?  Leather doesn't eat.  Leather is animal skin.  How can there be such a thing as vegan leather? Calling a pleather or plastic  handbag vegan leather is like making a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

Harmonica Class #2

My second harmonica class was a mind bending experience.  I was reminded of chemistry class in 11th grade. We told Mr. Stanley that we were not understanding him.  He told us we were marching through this textbook whether we understood it or not. What I heard from that was the chemistry textbook was more important than the students.  My harmonica teacher isn't like that, at least I hope not.  He is pushing us.  He was talking straight harp versus cross-harp.  First position is straight harp.  Second position is cross harp. During class he expected us to memorize a twelve measure song with the chord number and the note number.  Everybody was a little confused. We also practiced stopping the music with our throats instead of our lungs. We squeeze our muscles in our necks. We practiced. We sounded like a room full of people choking. The woman sitting next to me knows music and her questions didn't help me at all because between her question and his answer I was all the more confused.  I got some of it though.  I have a few more days to practice. The last thing he asked us to practice was the train sounds.  I have the music for the train chugging and the train whistle.  I am sure I will get it.  I am very good at "Mary Had A Little Lamb," already!

Creative Ways To Stop A Child from Crying

Tonight after work I went to the gym to swim some laps and to wash away all the work worries. Two kids were having swimming lessons in the last two lanes.  One was a boy. His little head was no match for his swim goggles.  The goggles were so big five inches of goggle strap stuck out from the sides of his head like the barbels on a bullhead fish. He was smiling with his instructor and I heard him ask who I was when I walked by. The other swimming student was a girl who also wore goggles and pig tails and a two piece swimsuit with a red skirt. She was screaming bloody murder.  "I don't want to do this!" she said. A woman sitting right there in a chair appeared to be grading papers.  I heard her tell the girl she was going to do this.  I assumed she was the mother of twin swimming students. The girl continued to scream at the top of her lungs as I put on my cap and goggles.  I watched the instructor take the girl by the hands and dip her head under the water. Silence from the girl. As soon as she was lifted above water the screaming commenced.  Again the girl was dipped under the chlorinated water. Silence. Up she comes and she takes in a breath before screaming again. Down she goes.  Silence.  I think to myself, as I start my laps, this is a very creative way to stop a kid from crying.  I swim for about 15 minutes. As I leave the pool the girl is still crying and her brother is still smiling. The girl cries softer though.  Her little lungs are getting quite the workout today.

The Marsh King's Daughter

I got lucky when I picked up this book by Karen Dionne at the library.  The Marsh King's Daughter is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Anderson. A part of the fable is revealed in each chapter of this book. The setting is the upper peninsula of Michigan which is a place I have always wanted to visit.  Now I want to go there even more.  I want to visit Sault Saint Marie and Marquette and the marshes in between the towns.  The narrator is the story is Helena. She grows up in the marsh isolated from all but her parents.  She knows how to track animals, to forage for food, to hunt, to fish, and how to trap animals. She has a Bowie knife and she knows how to use it. She knows that when you slit the throat of an animal you must angle your body so the blood doesn't hit you in the face. Although this is not a true story, it is very believable and I am glad I found it on the shelves.

Anoka County Riot Control

I decided a while ago to have my septic tank pumped.  I wasn't having any problems. The recommended time between septic tank pumping is three years and I was way overdue.  I called several companies and finally connected with one that is local to me.  I signed up for the first one of the day.  I thought I would be a couple hours late to work and would have to pay less than $500.  I was wrong and wrong again. S__t happens, as they say. When he opened the manhole (sexist term!) cover he saw the level of liquid was above the floats. He asked if my lift pump alarm sounded.  I said it did not.  He thought the circuit box had been tripped. I went to look.  Yes, it was tripped. I flipped that circuit breaker on and a loud ugly noise turned on. I went outside to tell him about the loud noise when I saw there was smoke coming out of the hole in the ground. We were both astounded at the sight of smoke coming out of a deep cistern of human waste. He pulled the plug on the pump which you can see in the photo there in the upper left corner. He said the lift pump must have burned out and turned off the circuit breaker. He was sorry to inform me that septic tank lift pumps are $800.  I raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and said, "It's only money."  As my septic tank issues were resolved I did yard work and chicken duties.  I was only 3 1/2 hours late for work.  As I paid my bill I saw on the side of the truck were the words "Anoka County Riot Control." Sometimes when people riot they are sprayed with liquid from a truck. If anyone aimed liquid from that truck on me I would turn and run home mighty quick. I am thankful this problem was discovered now. I would not want the liquid from that septic tank backing up into my basement this winter.  No, thank you!