Keeping An Open Mind

¡Adiós 2010! ¡Bienvenido 2011!

2011-01-01T12:49:00.004-06:00

New Year, new commitments! I have been out of touch in the blogging world for quite some time—since August! OUCH!! As one of my New Year’s resolutions, I am going to try to increase my blogging. I am pretty certain that daily is out of the question, so for now, I will attempt weekly, and I may even go for twice weekly, with more often being a bonus.

To get back on track, since I only blogged a few times last year, I will do a quick year in review. We ended 2009 with the loss of my father-in-law, so the year 2010 started on a sad note. Many changes have come about in the family since then. My mother-in-law sold the 40+ year family home in April, moved into a senior living apartment, which we sensed right away was not her cup of tea, then announced the purchase of a new home in December, which is being prepped for occupation this month. Of course her move from the old home meant my single-over-40 brother-in-law had to find new digs as well. He purchased his first home after ten months in an apartment, and is moving this week as well. More moves happened at our house and my employers’. All of my adult children have now left the nest and are learning first-hand the work and expenses involved to maintain an abode. The main office of one of my jobs relocated, which allowed me to score a new home office set-up, which is still in progress. I am hoping for increased organization and productivity. We also had to make several temporary moves at my other employer, which got old after awhile—hopefully they will have things figured out if I return in spring.

January started off with a health scare for my hubby, which resulted in numerous high tech tests and biopsies. One year later, we are cautiously optimistic, with a rescreen scheduled for April. I also spent a little more time with the doctor, chiropractor, and physical therapist this year. (I’m happy to report that six years after the retirement of my favorite family physician, I have found a doctor I trust once again.) Between all the people working on me, my bum shoulder returned to 95% healthier, my back about 90%, my depression & ADHD issues are almost under control, and less frequent migraines. With a few small dietary changes and slight bit more activity, I lost 20 pounds from May-October 2009, gained back 10 from October 2009-April 2010, and have now lost that 10 and another 12, for a grand total of 32 pounds since May 2009! Yippee—hope it never finds me again! Here’s a toast to great health in 2011.

I am thankful for the continuing health of my parents, which is brought to light when I see some of the struggles others their age face. I spent a great deal of time working with my Mother and my sister on some family legal issues, and other than the headaches of legal jargon, our time together was very rewarding. I hope to be able to spend an equal or greater amount of bonding time with family this year.

Work has been about the same. I split my time between two part time jobs. I love one more than the other, but until there is an opportunity to go full time at this one, I will hang onto the other a while longer. (I actually like the responsibilities at both jobs, but the management decisions at one can make it unbearable at times).

Probably the biggest event of my year was turning fifty, and I found it wasn’t so different from being 49, or 48, or 47, or……19.  The only thing different about 50 is it just seems like I have less time to accomplish everything I want, and I feel like I’ve barely touched the surface!

I am on a mission to become more organized in 2011. I got a little head start in 2010, but the bulk of the projects will hopefully be accomplished in 2011. I look forward to organizing my tubs of photos (and hopefully completing at least a few albums), continuing my efforts to pull the family history together and completing a written narrative, blog more often, de-clutter, do some remodeling, and once again attempt a garden (mine failed miserably last year). I think planning a family reunion is in order, as well, perhaps linked with my father’s upcoming 80th birthday this summer. It will be another busy year, and that is just the way I like it!

Happy New Year to You and Yours! ~Abra

JUMP START

2010-08-04T11:36:00.001-05:00

This blog needs a jump start. Yes, the battery has died, after several incidences of poor attempts at restarting, it finally died. Perhaps a jump start won't help...maybe it needs a new battery altogether. Anyone know where to get one of those? It may even be possible the engine needs a total overhaul. Anyone know a good blog mechanic?

While I have had several trips I wanted to take down memory lane and country roads, favorite Minnesota destination points, and along the daily washboard avenue that is my life, I just couldn't get the engine started. It would whine a little, even cough and sputter, then nothing. Engines can be so maddening. Sometimes when your engine won't go, it's hard to be a passenger, as well, so I haven't been witness to the revving engines of many other blogs, either.

A couple days of respite from work due to a nasty pink eye infection has given the battery and engine just enough spark to make this feeble attempt to get on the road again. Let's see if that is enough to keep it rolling. Keep watching the road. Perhaps I will be driving along with you more often. Wishing you safe travels.

Random Acts of Kindness

2010-05-24T10:42:00.000-05:00

A couple months ago, my niece posted on her Facebook wall that the person in front of her had paid for her lunch. It surprised her and of course lifted her mood.

I have made many kind gestures over the years, but I had never bought lunch for a total stranger. Shortly after my niece's experience, I had my opportunity. As I pulled up to the drive through window, I asked to pay for the lunch of the fellow behind me. That brought a big smile to the attendant. It brought a look of surprise to my husband's face (since we had just ordered from the value menu because we were cash weary). As we drove away, I explained my reasoning. I must say, the feeling I got stayed with me and was well worth the few extra dollars I spent.

I have been on a mission since then to find a way to display intentional kindness on a frequent basis. My hope is that someday, it will just be ingrained...second nature. Most of the time it is just taking the time to greet a stranger, hold a door, or offer a hand with a bag of groceries. Sometimes it is a compliment. A word of reassurance to a struggling parent (in place of the easier judmental behavior) is most often a welcome change for him or her. I recently bought a gift card to send anonymously to an elderly woman who mentioned in passing one day, that coming to the post office is not fun, because it only results in bills, nothing more. When I was out perusing garage sales in Wabasha on May Day, I presented a little boy running a Kool-Aid stand a treat filled May Basket. He was pretty pumped that I bought Kool-Aid AND gave him a treat. I will likely never see this boy again, but I will remember his joyful excitement and smile forever. Something as simple as cutting my hair for Locks of Love brings a euphoria, as well as an important gift to someone I'll never know.

Sometimes the gestures are for family or friends or neighbors, just something simple and unexpected, but the feeling for both the giver and reciever is far from simple! It amazes me how grateful people are when you take a few minutes to drop off an unexpected treat or "treasure perfectly suited to them," even when said treasure was purchased second hand or something you no longer have a use for. Other times it is just a bit of human compassion between two strangers, so that when we move along our daily path, we have brought the world a bit closer together.

I did not write this today to bring attention to what I've done, but rather, to invite my readers to also partake in this rewarding actvity. I attended a presentation once in which it was explained that the euphoria you get from giving without the expectation of a return gesture is comparable to a "runner's high." Since you won't find me running in a marathon any time soon, I'll just keep up with the random acts of kindness to capture my highs.

If you aren't already doing this (I know some of you are), I hope you'll join me. Perhaps our conjoined efforts will make our little corners of the world kinder & gentler. Please feel free to leave a comment on something you've done or any ideas you have or have heard of that are inexpensive ways to reach out and make a difference in someone else's day!

It truly is better to give than receive!

Wallowing In Self Pity---No More

2010-04-23T11:41:00.001-05:00

I haven't written much lately. Sometimes even reading is hard to keep up with. Those who follow my blog regularly, probably realize my last 18 months have been somewhat of a rollercoaster ride. Unlike a rollercoaster, however, the downhill ride seems to be steeper than the uphill pull, and even though the ups have been a little more frequent lately, I sometimes let the downs take over. Hang on for this ride--the story is a little longer than usual, but hopefully you will find glimmers of hope in what I share today.

The ups, in no particular order: I have been working hard to manage my depression amidst the dizziness and bumps of this ride. I have restarted my ADD medicine to regain some sort of organization and focus in my daily tasks, as well as the larger tasks that have been hovering over me for a very long time. I am happy to report it is working. Additionally, I have pretty much recovered from my bum shoulder episode, and my back is holding together fairly well, though the headaches and neck are still troubling me. I have started to lose some of the weight that sneaked back on over the holidays and am gearing up for a healthier year ahead. I think I've finally completed grieving, for the most part, the inequities of my former job. I am thoroughly enjoying my new job (but need to find something additional to be fulltime, though I probably have a back-up plan through autumn). I have been able to spend more time with family. I have also spent time working on my family history and and I am starting a blog on that topic, as well as mentoring my nephew in his paternal family history. I am working on planting a small garden. In addition to the most typical root vegetables, plants, and leafy greens, I will be trying my hand at some berries (all sorts), plus a few plum trees. Wish me luck--I am not known for my green thumb, but I'll have help, and I have gardeners on both sides of me. My daughter has landed a 9 month position with benefits. Her boyfriend has another interview today; I'm crossing my fingers. All of my adult children are living at home right now, which can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the day and my state of mind, and the balance in my checkbook. :-) My mother-in-law was able to sell her house quickly, and while that wasn't all blessing, as I think it cut into the time of grieving, she is now moved and settling into her apartment. I have only one more week until our annual sisters and adult nieces get-together in Rochester: Woo-Hoo! Spring has been glorious, with perennial plants and flowers popping everywhere, pelicans, loons, and other waterfowl gracing the lake in large numbers, and fresh breezes and fresh perspectives floating through the house.

The downs: I thought I was almost through the wild ride, only to find out my husband's three month follow up after a recent health scare didn't come with the results we had hoped for. I am not going to panic, yet. Instead I am going to ask for prayers and kind thoughts as we face a biopsy next Friday. I am still working on paying off all the medical bills from our combined winter of tests and therapies, along with other large unexpected expenses, and now the first half real estate taxes are looming over our heads in three weeks. Having a drained savings account due to many large expenditures over the last two years, while a drastic cut in both of our incomes, I tend to feel a great weight on my shoulders as we face next week. Yet somehow, I also know all will be okay, it always is. We are still grieving the loss of my father-in-law, and selling the 4+ decade family home brought new emotional challenges to the entire family. We will be interring Richard's ashes two weeks from today in his final resting spot at the Minnesota Veterans Cemetery near Little Falls/Camp Ripley. It will be an emotional time, but also a necessary step in our grieving process. I've felt dragged down before, seemingly to the lowest of low depths, but somehow, I always manage to pull through, so I expect this time will be no different. Again, prayers, kind thoughts, and encouragement are extremely welcome.

I have come to realize over my life journey, often through others I've known up close and personal or through close contacts, many people face great challenges in life. While some people seemingly have greater challenges than most, either in quantity or scope, there are often common factors in their successful journeys. Humor, prayers, emotional, physical, and sometimes financial support from family, friends, and even complete strangers, carry sufferers through some of their toughest challenges. Every day I seem to hear of or know someone who is facing a similar challenge, and many that are facing challenges far beyond anything I've experienced. Some have survived and moved forward to help others, while others are just beginning the wild ride. It keeps my woes in perspective to know that no matter how tough the road gets, someone else has been down this same path, or a journey filled with even more and/or larger potholes. Some recent examples:

A local teenager, friend to my children, was in a car accident April 8th on her way to school. Her car rolled over and was submerged in a pond, with only the very back end still visible to passerby, but she was soon found and pulled from the pond by local heroes, her lifelessness restored by a man who had just learned CPR two weeks earlier. There were some very tense days these last two weeks, two steps forward, one back, but she's been "fighting like a girl" (her mom's words), and is scheduled to transfer out of the ICU today. She still has a long road ahead, with possible twists and turns, but she has had many thousands of visits to her Caring Bridge page, and the prayers and support from family, friends, and strangers alike, are lifting her spirits and holding her family up. A whole community and beyond (friends of friends of friends, etc.) have rallied together, organizing a Facebook prayer page, prayer chains, a fund at two banks, a "Fight Like A Girl" t-shirt sale, and a spaghetti supper. What is especially cool about all this support is that most of the efforts have been spearheaded by youth, a segment of our society more commonly frowned upon than respected. I'll leave that topic alone, for now, because that deserves its own special place of honor. It is amazing how the support grows in this small town, but after all, isn't that what community really means?

I just started following the journey of another local woman recently diagnosed with breast cancer. The twist to her story is that she is a quadripalegic, having been paralyzed in a sledding accident when she was a teen. It seems like some people get the challenges piled on, perservering throughout. There are lessons for all of us in the challenges of others, I think. Her Caring Bridge journal is a well articulated account of the daily struggles she faces, filled with humor, prayerfulness, hope, and humility as she forges ahead on this journey. Her words flow beautifully, allowing the reader to literally be there with her. Again, thousands are visiting her page, offering prayers, hope and encouragement, as she goes forward, and a community that has had several tragedies over the last month, is still raring and ready to march in support for this marvelous woman. Another twist to this story is that her cousin was the passerby that resucitated the teenager pulled from the pond. While each family suffers their own tragedies, they and those whom have been touched by them, are offering up prayers and support for each other.

I was recently emailed a video from my supervisor. I am not technically skilled enough to place this video here (I tried once without success, and am sure I've learned nothing new lately that would help in that skill), so I will share a link. The woman shown is a friend of my supervisor's daughter, and in my supervisor's words: "she is absolutely amazing and one of the kindest, most loving women I've ever met." This Missouri woman, faced with a condition at birth that limited the use of her arms and shoulders, recently had a baby, and is shown in her daily child care routine. I was absolutely amazed at the ingenuity and skills she has developed and the fortitude she displays. Diapering, feeding, and bathing a child with her feet puts any challenges I had as a parent into perspective.

I recently heard part of my my supervisor's own life story, surviving a childhood filled with abuse (all forms), taking what she learned from her experiences, using it to be a better parent and help others who have challenges along the way. I must say, she is one of the most kind, caring, and delightful individuals I have ever met, and I am so glad our paths have crossed. We recently heard her story will be shared in a national woman's magazine, and when it is, I will try to follow up here.

Another woman whom I have encountered in my work has recently been interviewed for an upcoming piece in the St. Paul Pioneer Press as part of the events surrounding the Healing Field, which strives to bring awareness to the plight of child abuse and the ongoing prevention efforts in Minnesota, as well as supporting and praying for healing for survivors. She is another woman filled with tremendous fortitude, and abundance of faith, and a seemingly endless supply of sunshine, overcoming a life filled wih tremendous child abuse, using what she has learned and continues to learn, to help others. Again, when that story comes out, I will try to link to it in my blog.

Somehow, when I learn about or meet people as those above, I am compelled to reach for the strength that I know still lies within, and march forward with purpose. I know the support from others will help that strength grow. None of the people above are looking for pity, just prayers and support, and thus I am reminded to stop wallowing in my own self pity when times are tough and start counting my blessings, of which there are many. As I go through this week, I will remember a favorite quote: "When you feel like you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on!"

Hello Old Friends...It's Been Awhile

2010-02-27T13:35:00.000-06:00

Hello! Gosh it's been awhile. How have you been? I wish I could tell you that my absence from the blogosphere was because I had something very exciting going on in my life, like a trip to an exotic (and warm) destination, but sadly, I've been here all along, waiting out the winter with a gigantic stash of comfort foods. Yup, the only thing that has gone south is my derriere, bogged down with bread pudding, mashed potatoes with butter and gravy, oatmeal-butterscotch cookies, homemade cinnamon rolls...you get the picture.

Along with my butt, life in general has been on the south end for a while, as well. After three months filled with funerals (a young community member, a cousin, my father-in-law, and a family friend, plus a few not as close acquaintances), a few family issues I can't publicly discuss other than to say I was definitely blindsided by them, a health scare for my husband (thankfully, a mass discovered was benign), my own ongoing health issues (migraines, back & neck problems, and now treatment for a rotator cuff issue), a couple extra unemployed adults to feed and house (there are possible job offers pending--TG), and decreased income from job losses/cuts with increased debt from medical bills and major house malfunctions, is it any wonder that depression reared its ugly head in my life? I am now getting that under control and hopefully life will get back on a smooth road once again. The sun is peeking out....whew!!

I guess my resolve to be more consistent in my blogging didn't work out so well, either. Often times, writing is a stress buster for me. Believe me, there were more than a few times that I thought I had an idea worth writing about, only to fizzle out by the time I had a chance. Sometimes I felt the need to write, but much of the need would have been to get negativity off my chest, but who wants to read that? In a similar fashion to not saying anything if you have nothing nice to say, I felt if I had nothing good to write, I wouldn't write anything at all. I am truly wanting to go to blogging and thinking in a positive mind frame, dealing with the negative as it comes, but searching for the good in life.

Bright spots are coming through these days. I can tell spring is around the corner by the increased level of chirping in the trees outside my house. Rather than running to do their business and quickly scampering inside, my dogs have been lingering outside, noses to the ground, as if they can actually smell life under the waist high snow piles and still ice-covered walking paths. This old house (101 years) has been creaking more lately; I imagine it too is starting to thaw from this brutal winter. Believe me, with March knocking on the door, spring could not come soon enough for me. It would be nice if the melting doesn't happen too fast, though, so the flooding is minimized. I worry for all of those who live in areas that may once again be struggling with flooding issues. With my basement actually being inhabited by humans instead of spiders and the occasional mouse, I would hope to not have water problems there, either!

I have been drawn in by the Winter Olympics this year. I love to watch ice dancing and speed skating. The women's and men's half pipes competitions were also spectacular. I imagine the skiing is nerve racking--I wouldn't want to drive in a car as fast as some of those skiers are flying; I can't imagine being on a mountainside racing that fast! I think of all the bumps and falls and how these athletes carry on day after day, compared to my aging body, which can't seem to handle even the smallest falls or bumps. Quite the stamina these athletes have! I have been especially interested in hockey this year, particularly men's hockey. David Backes, a member of the USA men's team (and member of the NHL's St. Louis Blues team) is the son of my husband's cousin. It has been great to see someone from humble roots work tenaciously to achieve personal goals. He is truly an example of a blue collar working class family's hard work and sacrifices to reach for the gold! I was bummed when the first few games were not broadcast on network television (I don't have cable), but was able to catch the games Wednesday and Friday (what an amazing game on Friday). I look forward to Sunday's rematch with Canada. Go team USA!

Time to get up and at 'em. Once again, the weekend will be filled with a myriad of activities, sandwiched between the need to declutter and continue organizing. It's not the North wind you'll be hearing this weekend folks, it's the whirr of my engines as I race to complete the tasks on my never-ending list. It's been said that an idle mind is the devil's playground, so I imagine idle hands must be forced to shovel coals. Happily, I am nowhere near heat, so perhaps this winter is a sign of true paradise. It has been angelically white, if I must say so myself, and my hands would rather be flapping out snow angels than shoveling coals any day!

Have a beautiful weekend and look out for signs of spring--it shouldn't be long now!

Little Things

2010-01-07T10:41:00.000-06:00

Sometimes it's the little things that make my day. Such was the case yesterday, and I woke this morning, blanketed in warm thoughts. It started with something as simple as reading one of my favorite blogs, Farside of Fifty's Forgotten Old Photos.

As some of my readers may already be aware, I love to immerse myself in family history. Sometimes it doesn't even have to be my own. For some people, genealogy is getting the most names in a family tree. For me, it is about finding the ways in which people are interconnected and learning about their lives. What are their stories? When I hit the jackpot, I can be giddy for days.

Such is the case with Della. Rather than relay the whole story, I invite you to check out the progress of events from photo publishing to reunification of photo with a family member. Farside and I have married our interests a couple times on her Forgotten Old Photos blog. She brings forth the photos, with as much information as the picture relays, and if there is enough information to do a search, I go digging through ancestry.com records to try to find a history on the subject and his/her family. We've had some successes in searching and she has made connection with some families(though this will be the first photo to be returned, I believe), which brings us both great excitement! Additionally, there are other regular visitors to her blog that supply their expertise on clothing styles, photo types, etc.

Soon, Della's photo will be on its way to her daughter, Virginia, a woman in her late 80s, whom has pretty much lived in the same location all her life, as did her mother. Della's photo, however, has traveled from Illinois to South Dakota to northern Minnesota. The final trip back to Illinois should be a sweet one!

2010-01-01T14:45:00.000-06:00

2009: Out On A Sad Note

Our family didn't really ring in the new year as much as we sent out the old year on a sad note. In the bitter winds of December 31st, we stood at attention and listened to the song of the distant lone bugler. The finality of those solemn notes is felt ever more deeply when they are played in honor of one you love. As Taps hauntingly floated through the air, a volcano of emotions erupted: thankfulness and respect for a life well lived and services rendered to God, country, and family; honor for knowing and being part of that life; sadness in knowing his physical presence is gone, yet happiness in knowing a new life with God, absent of pain and suffering, was his eternal gift.

My father-in-law passed away peacefully Tuesday morning, after a valiant struggle with health issues. We were very fortunate to have a final family holiday celebration on Sunday, in which he was very alert and involved, refusing to rest for a single moment, while his wife, children, and grandchildren surrounded him with love. He enjoyed his favorite foods, he joked around a bit, and he shared his gratitude for the day. He rested all day Monday, drifting in and out of sleep, then slowly slipped into God's hands as Tuesday morning broke. We knew his health was failing, but most of us just didn't expect him to pass this week, and didn't quite expect Sunday to be the final goodbye. His final wish was the Sunday gathering, and with that fulfilled, he was ready to be called to Heaven. He was a gentle loving man--a wonderful husband, a dedicated father, a super father-in-law, a doting grandpa, and a supportive brother. We will miss him greatly, but are relieved that he is no longer suffering.

We offered our final goodbyes yesterday at the church, surrounded by a multitude of extended family members, friends, community members, and the Honor Guard of the Richmond American Legion Post, of which he was a past commander for two years. He was a Veteran of the Korean War, serving as a MP in the U.S. Army from 1949-1953. He never talked much of his service time, but his family always knew he was honored to serve. He loved this country deeply and the flag presented to my mother-in-law at services yesterday is already prominently displayed in their home.

As I finish this entry, I would like to share with you the words I wrote in his memory Wednesday morning. My father-in-law was an avid gardener, in soil and in life, and thoughts of him came together in this piece.

Richard The Gardener

The gardener’s tools are set aside,
His hands no longer toil,
Winter’s snow has mounded upon
The fertile garden soil.
Perhaps you’ve tasted produce
From his abundant yield,
But his greatest crop ever
Came not from earthen field.
No, t’was the living seeds he planted,
Starting at his birth,
The relationships he nurtured,
As he walked upon this earth.
Life’s garden rows aren’t always neat,
Weeds pop up all over the place,
But Richard, the gardener, tackled pesky weeds
With dignity and grace.
Whether you entered his garden plot,
As family or as friend,
His love for you was rooted there,
Until the very end.
He came here as a plant from God,
The finest of seeds from ’27,
Now his time of growth here is done,
He’s been harvested and back in Heaven.
As you survey plants in your own garden,
Think of Richard and wear a big smile,
For as sure as the sun rises and sets,
He’s with God and they’re here all the while.
In Loving Memory ♥ Richard Nicholas Thomes ♥ 3-27-1927 to 12-29-2009

HEY! WHO ARE YOU CALLING ELDERLY?

2009-12-13T13:25:00.000-06:00

The definition of elderly, according to the online Merriam Webster dictionary, is rather old, especially past middle age, or old fashioned; it is defined further as relating to, or characteristic of later life or elderly persons.

So, how do you define someone who may fit that description if you numbered their years, yet you have a hard time defining as elderly, due to the negative connotations the word often holds? I am not sure where the negative spin comes from, but many people get beyond a certain age (it is different for everyone) and they dread hearing the word 'old' in reference to themselves. Perhaps it is because the word old is often linked to things that have served their useful purpose or gone bad (old car, old shoes, old food, old house, etc.).

People of any age never outgrow their usefulnesses, while in fact, their years of living often add to their value. If the wisdom that comes with aging could be converted to money, we'd never long for anything. Even without the conversion factor, the rich blessings granted to those surrounded by the wisdom of elders is irreplaceable. Yet, the negativity factor of the word 'old' or 'elderly' sometimes sticks, especially to those of us approaching or past middle age. To make matters worse, the youthfulness of one's mind and soul are often overlooked when trapped in an aging body.

It seems all people of certain eras are lumped together, as people that will all enjoy the same activities, be in the same state of health, or have the same thoughts on matters of the mind. In my experience, this is generally not the case. In conversations with my sisters this week, I was reminded of the word elderly being used in a way that offended my dear Mother.

One of my sisters took my mother Christmas shopping this past week--Tuesday, to be exact. The weather in their area, while a little messy, was nothing like the southern part of the state. At the mention of the shopping trip in our Facebook banter, the following conversation ensues:

Sister # 1:Just got home from St. Cloud--out Christmas Shopping with Mom :) The wind is really blowin'! Not too much snow yet, but expecting more...

Sister#2:Well, glad you made it home without injury this year :)

Sister #3:Did you learn last year's lesson and get home a little earlier this year? LOL!

Sister #4:Mom's OK, they didn't stop at my house for a beer before going home, so no slippsy down my front stoop "while out late night holiday shopping" this holiday season! ;)

Sister #1: Rest assured, I held onto Mom even tighter this year! And we giggled as we walked arm in arm in the blowing snow--recalling last year's episode. Who says my Mom is elderly? She certainly doesn't believe it and neither do I!! I love her youthful spirit!Got her home by news time--no bumps or bruises and lots of shopping accomplished!

Sister #3:Our mom is a trooper--you would think all those kids, she'd be worn down, but instead, it seems to have kept her young. We are so lucky to have her!!!

Obviously, by the above conversation, there is more to this story. Here's what happended last year:

My mom and my sister (#1) went out Christmas shopping in St. Cloud. (There may have been another sister there as well, but I can't recall that detail, as I wasn't there.) They stopped off at a another sister's (#4) house for refreshments. I truly don't know if it was beer they had (as sister #4 suggests in the conversation above), but it is highly possible, as my brother-in-law is a brewer, and would rarely be without a growler on hand. On the way out of my sister's house, my mom slipped on the ice and injured her leg. I think the time was somewhere right between 'news time' and midnight.

Once home, there were some concerns as to the seriousness of the injury. Fearing complications due to my mom's diabetes, my sister called the insurance company's 24 hour help line for advice. The first thing out of the nurse's mouth: "Why in the world would you have an elderly woman out at this time of night?"

I'm fairly certain my mom's jaw dropped. I'm guessing she was too polite to say it to the nurse, but she likely said it loud and clear, later: "Hey! Who are you calling elderly?" I know she was offended by the remark, or at least flabbergasted. I assume the thought of being elderly has rarely crossed her mind. She often stays up quite late at night, so being out and about is not a stretch in the least. We did joke about it a bit at Christmas, as my Mom spent the evening with her leg up in the air, unable to participate in the meal preparation, etc. I think she about went stir crazy. Oh, she tried to get up and participate, but she had 50+ other people in the house holding her down, figuratively speaking, of course! I think being injured is about the only way to keep my mom down.

It is hard for me to think of Mom as elderly or old, even though at 77, she is past middle age. She just doesn't act her age! During all those times we tell our children to "Please act your age," I am sure we never stop to think about whether someday we will stop acting ours! I hope, like my mother, that I will always be young at heart.

QUOTES ON AGING

"Old age is 15 years older than I am." Oliver Wendell Holmes

"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." Jack Benny

"Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative." Maurice Chevalier" It is not the years in your life, but the life in your years that counts." Adlai Stevenson

"Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional." Unknown

"You don't stop laughing when you grow old; you grow old when you stop laughing." Unknown
"Age is something that doesn't matter, unless you are a cheese. " Billie Burke

UP BEFORE THE BIRDS

2009-12-13T13:20:00.000-06:00

I was up before the birds this morning--3:55 a.m. to be exact. I did not awake by choice. I awoke to the smell of smoke and a migraine. No, the house was not on fire...it was my daughter's boyfriend puffing away on his cancer sticks down in the basement, and I was smoking mad. Smoke is one of my common migraine triggers, and I am becoming more sensitive to it as I age, it seems. The smoking boyfriend is a problem I have yet to figure out! Instead of storming downstairs and handling it, I did the following:

3:55 Looked at the clock and groaned---no, more like a low, deep growl.

3:56 Dragged my bum to the kitchen for water, then dug through my purse for pain reliever and migraine prescription. Muttered the whole time about the unfairness. No desire to be assertive before 4 a.m.

4:00 Not one to fall back asleep after I have ambulated more than the minute it takes for routine middle-of-the night bathroom visits, I logged into Facebook. Played the every-four-hour bonus round of Farkle, one round of Word Drop, checked updated status/live news feed of friends and family, left a couple comments, and on to the next thing.

4:15 Played one game of Mahjong Titans on the computer, then wandered back to the internet.

4:30 Read several blogs on Area Voices, and thought about writing my own. Wandered away to my email. Distracted by some news article, I never got to the part where you actually open the emails. Started googling some family history names and places.

5:30 After several interesting reads about topics not even related to my family history, I returned to Area voices, hoping to start a blog topic. Read a few others, left some comments. Remembered that I wanted to check my email.

6:00 Returned to my email, but computer was acting crappy, so I fiddled with a few operations to try to speed it up. Sometime later, after a restart and other fiddling, I ended back up on Area Voices.

7:00 Back to Area Voices, catching up on some blog reading, I link over to one of Farside of Fifty's other blogs, Forgotten Photos. This is one of my favorite blogs, and I see she has left me a challenge, which I get right to work on. I spend about an hour and a half researching someone else's family (I wish it would be this easy to research my own family tree). I have hopefully given her some clues she can use.

9:00 Finish up with the other family's history search and leave my comments. Just as I was about to head to something else, I returned to the other family's search, as I thought of an avenue I had not yet traveled. I spent another 1/2 hour working on that.

9:30 Remember I can sign into Facebook & Farkle another bonus round. Read the scattered updates, which are limited.

9:45 Return to Area Voices to write this blog, with a few distractions in between. And, no I still haven't checked my email!

Aahh, just another day in the life of a middle aged wanderer! Wait, it's only a little after 10 AM. Oh, the day is still young...lots more paths to travel.

*disclaimer* all times approximate & all wanderings may not be listed--remember, I forget where I go sometimes (see previous blog topic).

Keep Your Hands Off My Food!!

2009-11-21T18:21:00.000-06:00

No, this is not about food sharing! It is about germ sharing!

CDC (Center for Disease Control) data shows poor personal hygiene of food workers is one of the leading causes of food borne illness, with the most common being Norwalk-like viruses. One very common means of spreading these viruses is when ill food workers have direct hand contact with ready to eat foods (any food that does not go through an additional cooking process, such as baked goods,fresh fruits and vegetables, salads, and sandwiches). It is estimated that about 76 million people are sickened annually, with 325,000 hospitalized and 5,000 dying from foodborne related illnesses.

A requirement of a former job a couple years ago, was to become a certified food manager. As a supervisor to people who handled food for public consumption, as well as preparing the food on occasion, I understood the importance of clean hands, sanitized food preparation areas, no bare hand contact with prepared food, and changing gloves whenever contaminated, which generally means moving from one preparation activity to another, or touching a non-food item during the time ready-to-eat food items are being prepared. As a supervisor, I had no problem correcting or reinstructing staff when they didn't follow safe food handling practices. Some employees seemed to think they only needed to follow protocol when a food inspector was on sight. Wrong!

I never became good at objecting, in person, when I see my food mishandled in public or if it is not my direct report. I have a former co-worker that would absolutely ask that her meal be remade if she witnessed any food preparation indiscretions. For instance, people preparing sandwiches at a sub shop (this applies to any food prep operation) should not be handling ingredients in a sub, then touching handles to appliances, then ringing up the order and handling the germ infested money, then moving on to the next sandwich, without changing gloves. On several occasions, in various establishments, I've witnessed servers doing just that.

I once watched as a fast food employee layered lettuce, onions, and tomatoes on a sandwich (not mine) with her bare hands. Another time, I watched the cook/server (small restaurant) place her ungloved hands on my sandwich to cut it. I recently stopped by a highly recommended hamburger joint. The food preparation area was open to customer view, and yes, there again was the cook, handling the buns and add-ons (onions, pickles, cheese, etc.) with bare hands. Unlike my co-worker, I didn't object, but quietly ate the food. I was robbed of some of the pleasure of enjoying the burger, and while it was good and I didn't get sick, I probably won't visit the restaurant again.

Another pet peeve of mine is when I order an ice cream cone. There is a reason the little paper strip covers the bottom half of the cone. A server never need to touch the cone with their bare hand, yet I am willing to bet minimally 50% of the time, at least one of the server's fingers ends up on the exposed part of the cone. I have had that happen numerous times, but I am too much of a chicken to call them out on it! Generally, the same server that hands you that cone, has handled your money, as well as that of others, and had their fingers all over the grimy cash register. Yuk!

At another place of employment, where I was not the supervsior, I witnessed kitchen staff use bare hand contact while preparing such items as sandwiches. Sometimes I reminded, other times I reported, but it seemed to continue to happen repeatedly. It drove me nuts, and even though I didn't have to eat the food, my charges did, and it was my job to make sure they stayed healthy.

Basically, the food service rule states: Bare hand contact with RTE food is not permitted unless there is no reasonable or practical alternative. If that is the case, a written plan of action must be approved.

When eating out, I always wash my hands after I order, but before I eat. If I am in a drive though situation, I keep a bottle of Purell handy to killl germs before I eat. I am far from a cleanliness fanatic, but food borne illnesses are no joking matter.

At home, I occasionally use food service gloves, especially if prepping something for a potluck, but more often than not, settle for tongs. I tend to be a little less regimented about bare food contact under my own roof, although I do wash my hands frequently during meal prep. Of course, I am not handling dirty money and other contaminated items, either.

What kinds of improper food preparations have you witnessed? Do you speak up? If you do, do you have some pointers to help this wimp out? Mainly, I just eat out less and less.

Let The Wild Goose Chase Begin

2009-11-08T21:46:00.000-06:00

I am off and running! It's my fingers and mind doing the running, however. Why? Let me explain.

For a number of years, I have been researching my family history. I operate in the manner of the classic person with ADHD: work a little on this, then a little on that, changing direction on a whim. Every piece of historic evidence can lead me in a new direction, and while being distracted in most tasks can be disastrous, in genealogy it usually isn't, at least for me. I almost always learn something new. My goal in my latest chase is to stay on task as much as possible, however, because I just found a puzzle piece for which I've been searching for years. This one piece has allowed me to uncover a few more pieces. If I can stay on task, I might resolve some major pieces of my maternal grandfather's family history puzzle.

It all started innocently enough. Over the last few years, when I hit dead ends in searching, I have sent correspondence to parishes where I knew my ancestors were members. I have yet to get a response from any. I've been thinking a lot recently about how I have let this particular project lapse for too long. The guilt has been harboring for a while, so I wandered online in search of contact information for some of the parishes in Wisconsin and Illinois, ready to renew my search. Well, I found a gold nugget yesterday. I came across online historic records for the diocese of Belleville, Illinois.

According to most of my previous records and family lore, my great grandfather, John, was born in Wisconsin (Oct 1857), while his younger sister, Theresia, was born in Illinois (Bellville, Nov 1859). One family story states my great grandfather was born there, as well, but I have yet to find any documentation of that, plus, I have some reliable information from a Wisconsin historian that states great grandpa's oldest sister, Maria, died in Watertown, Wisconsin in February of 1859. Since I couldn't find any census records for 1860 for this family (I have searched hundreds thousands of 1860s census pages), I could never confirm the move in 1859 from Wisconsin to Illinois, although I knew they eventually moved there, as that is where my great-great grandfather enlisted in the Civil War.

After years of dead ends, I finally found the baptism record of his younger sister yesterday, proving the move, so I am pumped. I also found names of baptismal sponsors, with another possible familial connection I didn't know existed. This clue is starting to help me make sense of why this young family, in mourning, and expecting another child, may have moved from Wisconsin and the rest of their extended family to a place where there didn't previously appear to be a family connection.

It took me numerous reviews of that baptismal record to start pulling up clues. First, the priest's handwriting is not very legible, and there are some words written in German or Latin, so I had to look at the pattern of other baptism records. I think I will eventually take this over to my 3rd cousin, Bob, who is skilled in deciphering old handwriting, to be certain of the meaning of some words. Second, the priest hyphenated the baptismal sponsor's last name, and I didn't catch that until several reviews later, so I had been chasing down the wrong path for many, many hours yesterday and into today. After hitting dead end after dead end, I once again reviewed the clues, as well as other baptisms on a couple pages. I found that my ancestor’s baptismal sponsor also had a baby a few weeks later (possibly the day after the baptism of my great-great aunt), and here is where I found the possible connection, as this entry lists the sponsor’s maiden name, which appears to be the same as my great-great grandmother’s. There may be a letter that is different (nn vs hn), but this priest does not appear to have strengths in spelling or handwriting, so I am thinking that is the same name. If this is indeed a relation, it now makes sense why the baby (my great-great aunt) was named after her baptismal sponsor, although perhaps babies were named after unrelated sponsors, as well. What I don’t know is the nature of the relationship: sister, or perhaps cousin to my great-great grandmother? I will dig more.

I have now been able to come up with the list of passengers for the ship the sponsors sailed on, which arrived almost five months after my 2nd great & 3rd great grandparents (1855). Just a little off topic, if you pull up the ship record, you will note that a number of passengers died on the journey, with most of them being infants and young children. That must have been an extremely tough burden to bear. In addition to ship records, I also came across some census records for the sponsors, and death record for one. It looks as if I have plenty of material to dig through for awhile, though I am certain I will continue to chase the elusive clues (still looking for a match in the 1860s census) for some time. I have a few more family history sites to explore for continued clues and records. If there is one thing I have learned about genealogy, the clues can be few and far in between, but if you have the itch, you just can’t quit scratching. I hope to find enough information to confirm the connections between the parents and godparents of my great-great aunt. Perhaps I’ll find enough tidbits about their lives to write another chapter in the family history.

And so the chase continues! Gosh, I hope I don’t run into a dead end again.

Never Forgotten

2009-11-08T12:52:00.000-06:00

I arrived at work Friday, only to find that one of my little charges would be moving. His last day was upon me. There was no advance warning. I had no time to properly mourn. Yes, mourn. You see, when we have a big change in our lives, it is always a loss. I work with very young children, under age five, but mostly infants. So, they are always moving on, up to the next age level, on to a new location, away from the geographic location. Many times, I know, the likelihood is that I will never see them again in my lifetime. For me, it is a period of joy for knowing them, then a period of grief for 'losing' them.

It is a sobering truth of the work that I do and it is a reality I dread facing. These are children I have nurtured, fed, diapered, comforted, played with, nursed to health on sick days, cheered on the first milestones, loved unconditionally. It is important to build a strong connection, as it helps them to thrive. Still, I don't like to let go, but alas, they must move on. Most will grow up to be productive citizens. Some will have challenges along the way, while others will have an easier time. I may never know of either the challenges or ease they face.

This most recent child is one I will likely never see again. I cuddled him before he left, told him I would always love and miss him, wished him the best in life. The look in his eyes was as if he understood. He is only nine months old, yet it was as if he sensed the sentiment and understood. I may never know the ways I affected his life, but I always offer a piece of my heart to those I work with, so he left with his share. It seems if you take a piece of a heart, the love would shrink, but it doesn't. It appears to generate another piece, double in size, with plenty of love for the next child(ren) entering my life.

It was hard to let go, once again. I know that this little child is too young to remember me. In this type of work, you must trust that you have played an important role, but unlike a teacher of older children, whom can often see the direct results of their teaching and guiding, with the youngest children, you don't often see the direct results. The early years, however, are much like a foundation for a building, that which upon everything else is constructed. If the foundation isn't constructed with great care and intentionality, the building may crumble in later years. I know this. I trust this. I just wish I could see all the buildings once again in my life.

On Thursday, just before the departure of this latest child, I attended a conference where the following wisdom was shared:

"When we are new and when we are fresh and young,

Our hearts are very open in a way they may never be again for the rest of our lives.

So that impressions that are made on us and the good that is done for us,

The kindness and generosity by which a child lives, are never forgotten. Never forgotten.

Nothing you do for a child is ever wasted. Ever. You may never know exactly what the child saw, or how the child received it, but any gift you give a young person is permanent.

Because it is then given to others, and that is as permanent as we know."

~Garrison Keillor

Having this on my mind during those departing moments made the goodbyes a little sweeter. I know I have given as freely as I could. Have a good life, oh precious child.

Flashback Friday

2009-11-07T01:37:00.000-06:00

I love everything and anything old: people, places, things.

I enjoy visiting with those older than myself, as they can share stories of the way life was before I was alive. The longer one lives, the more they have learned through experience, and the more we can learn from them. I also love strolling through historic towns, being swept back to a time I've never known. There is a certain romantic feeling that overcomes me, perhaps because of the respect I have for those whose daily lives were far more difficult than our own, or maybe because I long to float back to a simpler, less chaotic time, despite the hardships. Then there are the old things, items handed down that have special meaning, or antique shops filled with thousands of pieces from the past. History oozes from each nook and cranny, as people's past lives are on display, if only by imagining the tasks carried out with the various kitchen or farm implements, or wondering about the lifestyles of those who graced the fine pieces of furniture, read the rich poetry between the tattered pages of old books, or donned the exquisite or plain clothing and jewelry.

It is because of this love of all things old that I find myself immersed in searching my family's history and why I have collected a large number of old books. Today, I would like to share a photo from my family archives, accompanied by a poem from a very old book, The Little Speaker and Juvenile Reader, published 1863. The purpose of the Speaker was to give primary age students an opportunity to practice speaking out loud. Many of the selections are opportunities for several students to engage in an exchange of dialogue.

GENEROSITY

Brother.
Dear sister, only look, and see
This nice red apple I have here;
'T is large enough for you and me,
So come and help me eat it, dear!

Sister.
No, brother, no! I should be glad,
If you had more, to share with you,
But only one--'t would be too bad!
Eat it alone, dear brother, do.

Brother.
No, no! there's quite enough for two,
And it would taste so much more sweet,
If I should eat it, dear with you--
Do take a part now, I entreat!

Sister.
Well, so I will! and when I get
An apple sweet and nice like this,
I'm sure that I shall not forget
To give you, dear, a fine large piece.
(For a previous selection, look to my 6-29-09 blog, Wisdom For The Ages.)

Pictured above is my paternal grandfather, Nicholas, and his sister Ludwina. My grandfather was born December 10, 1901, while his sister arrived on January 30th, 1905. In between these two was another brother, John, who died at six weeks of age in August 1903 (I am unable to decipher the cause on the death record). Another sister, Hildegard, came along in 1913, dying from an umbilical hemorrhage at 10 days of age. In 1914, the final sister, Madeline arrived. Just months shy of Madeline's 3rd birthday, my great grandmother passed away. My great grandfather later married my great grandmother's cousin. They did not have more children.

The children look somewhat sad in this photo, perhaps because they had to sit still so long, but more likely due to the formality of the photo session and the need to sit still so as to not blur the photo during the long exposure time necessary in early photography. I do not know the exact year this was taken, but my estimate is somewhere between fall of 1908 to spring of1909 which would make the subjects around the age of four and seven. This picture also displays the fashion sense of my great grandmother--stories I have heard is that she was quite particular, wanting her children always dressed their best. Somewhere, I have a digital copy of a photo of her. I will include it in a later blog. Did you notice the bouquet of flowers each child is holding? Farside recently posted a baby photo, with the baby also holding a bouquet. My grandfather is also holding a hat--I wonder if it is his, or just a photo prop. Although I don't know the reason behind the bouquets, most photographers of young children still employ some sort of prop in their photos. I think it probably gets a child to sit still long enough to get a few quality photos.

I never got to really know my grandpa, as he passed away just after my third birthday. I see his face in my dad and my brother (my youngest brother looked very similar to my grandpa at the age shown here). From the stories I've heard, apparently they also have his personality (short tempered and critical) and his genious streak. I love to look back at these pictures and see the resemblances that have carried on through the generations.

Thanks for taking this trip back in time with me.

A Patchwork of Ramblings

2009-11-01T14:54:00.000-06:00

When I started this blog, close to two years ago, I stated that I would be offering a patchwork of ramblings on life, family, work, politics, hobbies and more. An astute reader once pointed out that the letters of my alias can be rearranged to state: ‘A Neat Ramble.’ While it was not the origin of the name Abra La Mente, I do like it! I envision my blog as a crazy quilt of my life. There is no theme, per se. No rhyme, no reason. Topics are the fabric of my life, mismatched pieces loosely stitched together, placed on display at the quilt show extraordinaire, Area Voices. Most often you see the outside covering, the side of the quilt which is fit for display when company is coming. Occasionally, I turn back the edges of the quilt, and you get a glimpse of the underside, a little more ragged around the edges. Other times, I don’t really care what company thinks, I bare it all, and you get to see the rips and tears that comprise the well worn quilt that is my life. My ramblings are usually limited to one topic per blog, but on occasion, I will string several thoughts into a blog topic. Today will be one of those days—many random thoughts about the last couple days, loosely woven together, with links to many other great blogs and random sites.

Another Halloween has come and gone, but not without some controversy and varying perspectives on it’s meaning and purpose. I see controversy as mostly good. It means we don’t all think alike, and for that I am grateful. Where is the fun in having the same views? How boring!! I am highlighting a few AV blogs that have discussed Halloween perspectives this week. Read up and see what you think. Peace Garden Mama had two blog topics covering Halloween. I enjoyed her view, and I agree with her children’s school’s perspective. Perhaps that view should be forwarded to the Vatican, as I disagree with its most recent stance regarding Halloween. Far Side of Fifty shared the highlights of her Halloween evening, and her views fully mesh with my own. Prairie Woman shared a wonderful history of Halloween—gosh, I always learn so much from her. The (formerly) Fat Girl, shared the damaging statistics on sweets consumptions—I’ll start to back away from the candy bag, albeit very slowly!! Of course, I can’t forget Buffalo Gal’s ‘candy corn purist’ discussion, of which I have some similar views.

My hubby and I traded the hosting of trick-or-treaters for a busy afternoon and evening of varied activities, a patchwork sort of day. First, we headed up to the Stearns History Museum, hoping to take in the Keith Laumb photo exhibit. Keith is the deceased father of my brother-in-law, and a former social studies/history teacher in St. Cloud (Technical High School and Apollo High School). He was a hobby photographer, concentrating on the social fabric of not only central Minnesota, but some European pursuits as well. His work is true artistry. Usually, members visit the exhibits for free, but since the museum is currently hosting the worldwide traveling exhibit “A T-Rex Named Sue,” and there is no way to separate the exhibits, members must also pay a fee. I had already viewed Keith’s exhibit, but my hubby had not. Since we are planning to see the T-Rex exhibit with some of my nieces and nephews later, we opted not to go in yesterday. Of course that moves our planned T-Rex visit to next week, since Keith’s exhibit is ending November 8th. Instead of visiting exhibits, we went archive digging in the research room. My hubby does not have the same fascination with history as I do, so the visit was limited. We did have an interesting visit with Bob, my third cousin, a former museum employee, but now full time volunteer (and I do mean FULL TIME—as in 7 days a week). Bob is a walking encyclopedia of not only central Minnesota history, but the European roots of the area, as well as a reader of German script. I think I’ll devote a blog to him in the future—amazing man. While Bob shared that he is not interested in the dinosaur exhibit, because he is one (his words, not mine), he did share in my fascination with tidbits of local history and old photographs. If you also enjoy old photographs, you should definitely stop by AV Blogger Far Side of Fifty’s other blog, Forgotten Photos. It is quite interesting.

Next, we were off to purchase some candy corn and dry roasted peanuts for an easy treat for our parents. There was still one aisle of Halloween treats,at the big box store, which was filled with last minute shoppers, but no regular flavored candy corn, or even evidence that there had ever been any. There were many other flavors to choose from—candy apple, caramel candy, chocolate, Indian corn, etc.—but not the traditional. See the problem with this at Buffalo Gal’s page. I opted for the caramel candy flavor, and while it didn’t totally destroy the mix, it wasn’t as good as traditional. If you haven’t experienced it, a scoopful of candy corn and peanut mixture is a little bit like eating a salted nut roll. Now, the problem of tainted candy corn is one thing, but far more disturbing to me was the next aisle, which was filled with Christmas candy. While I can somewhat see the convenience of one-stop shopping, I WILL NOT buy Christmas candy on Halloween. Perhaps today? Just kidding. :-) Perhaps after Thanksgiving.

Our next stop was my husband’s parents’ home, where we checked in on the health of my father-in-law. He seems frailer each time I see him. He now has oxygen continually attached, and spends most of his time in the recliner. Unable to climb stairs, and with no bedroom on the main floor, he has a hospital bed in the living room. I was his Saturday night entertainment when I sat in the swivel rocker next to him and it flipped backward. I landed with a thud, feet straight up in the air. He was shocked. I told him he needed a little excitement in his day. I wasn’t even rocking that chair—I swear it was the resting place of a Halloween spirit and I must have really upset it, placing my arse uninvited on its throne. I was also able to pass out candy to some very cute little goblins and such, got caught up on family news, and it was all too soon time to be on our merry way.

On our drive over to my parents, we were able to enjoy the setting sun through many scenic hills and bared tree branches. The scene, mixed with the rising moon and the eerily scattered clouds, created a haunting portrait of Halloween night. It was an absolutely gorgeous sight, captured only in my mind, as I was the driver, thus unable to even attempt capturing a photo. Arriving at my parents’ home, I was greeted by a myriad of costumed characters, on a pit stop for Grandma treats, before heading out for more adventure on the town. A short visit with my mom (my dad was out bow hunting), a taste of some baked candied squash (off-the-cuff creation of my single brother and oh-so-tasty), and on it was to the next destination.

How fitting that in this blog topic about patchwork ramblings, I discuss our concert attendance at Aunt Annie’s Quilts & Silks shop. Yes, that is right. Aunt Annie’s is a quilter’s dream by day and a venue for local and sometimes national artists by night and weekends. Located in the lovely community of Avon (a hop, skip, and jump from the town of my origin), the quilt shop was a lovely backdrop for the bluesy, jazzy, Americana genres of musical variety that are found in small spaces throughout central Minnesota. A very enjoyable evening, and I was able to hear a few of my brother-in-law's newest songs, one of them a very touching tribute written to honor the life of another brother-in-law’s father. Ralph passed away this spring, but the essence of his family farmer life has been caught up in a beautiful musical piece, of which I am sure he would approve.

After a few sets at the quilt shop, we headed back to my parents’, where we were able to observe the Halloween loot of the children. Holey Moley—their pillowcases were full beyond my wildest childhood dreams, and I used to be quite the avid candy collector myself! One of their stops contributed entire packages of fun size candy bars. There were also bags of chips, juice boxes, cans of pop, etc. These were definitely not the treats of my youth! My main reason for the return trip, though, was to retrieve a dresser, a family heirloom, one which I will treasure until it is one day passed on to one of my own children, sometime in the future, when they can truly appreciate the connection to their past family history and their great-grandmother.

Arriving back home, I was well worn, much like I am now, after all this rambling, despite all the thoughts still rolling around up above. I think I will use my extra hour of this weekend to sit and pause awhile, resting these weary bones, and mending some of my fabric tears.

(Note: I first started blogging at Area Voices, thus the references to AV & such. )

Sandwich Suggestions?

2009-10-28T22:06:00.000-05:00

I don't eat out often, but I have had the opportunity to enjoy a panini grilled sandwich on occasion at a few different coffee shops. A Panini is just a fancy spin on the grilled cheese of my youth, but with a wide variety of breads and fillings I didn't taste in my youth.

I recently discovered that a rarely used Foreman grill could double as a Panini grill. Who knew? Probably many of you. Regardless if I am the last to know, I am happy with the discovery. It takes only a few minutes of prep, a few more minutes to grill, the addition of a side salad and some fresh fruit, and supper is ready. Easy and relatively healthy, depending on the sandwich ingredients and the spread you use on the bread (butter, olive oil, etc.).

My first attempt last week was French bread slices with a filling of shaved ham & turkey, along with cheddar cheese shreds and slices of Swiss cheese. MMMM. Tasty. Last night, I picked up some white & rye swirl bread from a small town bakery. The filling I used was simply pastrami and swiss cheese. Simple, yet again, tasty. Today, for lunch, I whipped up a version of a sandwich I ate at a coffee shop a few years back. I spread raspberry jam on the insides of the white & rye swirl bread, and layered ham & swiss cheese. A couple minutes on the grill and lunch was done. Divine! (Sorry--no pictures--computer issues are not allowing me to transfer from camera to computer.)

I am not sure what I will try next, or when, but this grill is finally being put to use. (It was a gift I gave my hubby several years ago, but it wasn't used by us before my duaghter scooped it up and took it to her apartment; she is back and so is the grill.) Now that I have figured out how easily I can finish preparing an evening meal after work, the grill will take a prominent storage position, right next to my often used crockpot. What can I say? I LOVE EASY!!

Now, I look for suggestions. Do you enjoy paninis? What fillings do you like? Is there anything I just must try--you know, something 'to die for.'

I Lied

2009-10-28T21:04:00.000-05:00

I lied. Sort of. Just a little. In my last post, a very serious subject, I talked a little of Halloween and I told how I am not a fan of goriness, especially in movies. I make an exception on gore for haunted houses. For many years, our civic organizations put on a haunted house, and I was invited to take part, first by borrowing out some of my decor and helping out, and eventually, given my own room to decorate as I saw fit. It was fun to be part of the terror (I always went easy on the kids) and a good deal of money was raised for the police department's children's activities fund. It has been a number of years since a haunted house was operated in our little community, and I have not been to one since.

I was invited to partake in a haunted excursion yesterday, and until last night, I forgot how much I enjoyed haunted houses. While others may scream, and clutch their companions ( I think I still have claw marks from where my nephew dug in), I generally laugh all the way through. I was often propelled to the front of the group to lessen the fear factor for my "followers." The scary dudes jumping out are really usually only frightening to the lead person--unless, of course, they wait and jump put behind the last person! BOO! Perhaps, after working in haunted houses for a number of years, I know most of what to expect around each corner, so I don't get too jumpy.

We went to Valley Scare (Valley Fair dressed up for Halloween).

I attended this event with my sister and her two sons, age 10 and almost 13, as well as my two daughters and my oldest daughter's boyfriend. This plan was hatched earlier by my daughters and my nephews, probably at the Labor Day campout that I missed. I only learned of it a few days ago, but who am I to disappoint my nephews? It was the first time my sister and her boys had gone to Valley Fair, so the excitement factor was ratcheted up a bit to begin with. The boys were pumped!

There are a number of indoor and outdoor haunted mazes. We partook in all of them, some two or three times. There was the Carnage at Crimson Isle, Hellside Farm, Blood Creek Cemetery, CarnEvil(fun only if you buy the $1 3-D glasses), Mr. Cleaver's Bloodshed, Chateau du Damne, and the Mangler's Asylum. Some were scarier than others, and there was one very innappropriate comment made in the asylum to one of our group, but all in all, it was very theatrical and a good time if you like that sort of stuff. This is probably not a great activity idea for very young children or those who are really squeamish. To add to the haunted feel, there are smoke machines blowing and haunted music selections playing throughout the park, which is decked out in its finest Halloween decor. Valley Scare really goes all out in this venture. The whole setup was aided by mother nature--a cloudy, damp night with just enough breeze to add a little drama.

While not all rides were open, several of the roller coasters, tilt-a-whirl, scrambler, trapeze swings, and a couple others were available. Unlike the usual summer craziness that is Valley Fair, the lines were not long. I am not sure how or why, but my daughter led us straight to the Wild Thing Roller Coaster. I recall riding this sanity defying coaster once when it was first opened and swore I wouldn't do it again. Somehow, with the cajoling of the kids, I found myself up there....what was I thinking? All I could think as we made that first ascent toward the heavens was that I couldn't back out now and I sure hoped I wouldn't become a victim of incontinence, projectile vomiting, or heart failure. I survived...but, seriously, what was I thinking? Is this really what it takes to be the "Cool Auntie?"

Shortly after gaining composure from the Wild Thing, the Tilt-a-Whirl presented itself. My sister didn't think she could handle it after the Wild Thing, but I kept at her and convinced her, pointing out how tame it was after the Wild Thing. Silly me. I swear, ours was the only car spinning madly, and as my sister held her mouth to heep from vomiting, the car swung even faster. She made it just through the ride, but didn't make it to the restroom before vomiting. Poor thing! She wasn't quite right for the rest of the night. After that experience, there were no no rides for either of us for a while, but once we traipsed through all the haunted areas, my nephew convinced me to ride the old wooden roller coaster...the one I hate almost as much as Wild Thing. We went on again and again and again. Despite my dislike for roller coasters, and my continuing objections to the "Just one more time" pleas, I figured I owed it to my sister to keep her son entertained. Plus, my nephew kept me reminding me how I am the coolest of all his aunties...they'll say anything to get you to cave, won't they?

Well, I can tell you one thing: I will take the haunted houses any time over the roller coasters, but I wear my "Coolest Aunt Badge" proudly!

A final thought to any of my sisters who may read my blog. If you want to be the world's coolest aunt, you'll have to ride the roller coasters and hit the haunted houses with a few of your nephews. Until then, I've paid my dues and am the solitary owner of this badge. :-)
Originally posted on my Area Voices Blog on 10/26/2009 at 11:06 PM

An October Nightmare

2009-10-28T20:51:00.000-05:00

October is a time often filled with haunting activities: Halloween parties, haunted houses, scary movies, and ghoulish costumes. All these activities are carried out for thrills and entertainment purposes (although I can say I've never watched one of the numerous terrifying movies in its entirety ; I personally don't get thrills from goriness).

Twenty years ago, there was a different kind of October nightmare. It had nothing to do with entertainment and thrills, except perhaps, for the perpetrator of this atrocity, which continues to haunt central Minnesota and beyond. Straight out of an ordinary October night, a monster lurked, then preyed upon the most innocent of victims. Three young boys, just hanging out, enjoying their time together, living in a place where bad things weren't supposed to happen.

Just a few days ago a very sad anniversary came and went, with a renewed interest and a few leads, but still no answers. 20 years and we seem to be no closer to having any answers. Mass media is often frowned upon as using sensationalistic journalism, trying to get their ratings up by falling all over stories that will garner the most public interest. In the case of this story, however, keeping it in the public eye will hopefully one day bring answers to the hope that is still held in the hearts of family, friends, and countless others. It is Jacob's Hope!

I know exactly where I was when I heard of the kidnapping of Jacob Wetterling. It is one of those few moments frozen in time. It was the early afternoon of October 23rd, a Monday, the day after the night of horror. I had just arrived home from work and my neighbor stopped me to tell me of the event. I remember thinking this was "unbelievable." How could such a thing happen in St. Joe? I know my mind also flashed back to the still unsolved Reker sisters' murders, wondering about any possible connection.

I quickly went inside to look for media coverage. I called my parents to find out what they had been hearing. You see, although I never knew Jacob or the Wetterling family personally, I did grow up in that area of the state. At the time, his father had at least two chiropractic clinics, one being in my hometown. I felt drawn to this case, mostly because of my connection to the area, but also because I was a parent of small children at the time. Many people living in or connected to central Minnesota will remember this horror story for the rest of their lives. This is not the only unsolved mystery of Stearns County (murders, missing persons, kidnappings), but it is the one that that seems to have received the most attention. Some of it is due to the age of the victim, but mostly, I think, it is due to the family's fight for answers and their willingness to keep reminding us that until the mystery is solved, there will always be hope, and we will never stop looking.

Halloween of 1989 arrived just 9 days after the abduction of Jacob. The usual array of ghosts and goblins were still out, but as I recall, their tiny hands were being held a little tighter. There were more parents on the pathways of tricksters that night, keeping their little ones in sight. Children once considered old enough to go out alone on this night, had parents hot on their trail. As a parent of two youngsters at the time, and expecting my third, I recall mourning the loss of innocence. It was just an eery time as I thought about where Jacob might be at that moment and what types of monsters now lurk in the shadows of our children's lives.

In all reality, the monsters have always been there, but this hammered it home. More often than not, perpetrators are someone known to the children they violate. The stranger danger is a less likely scenario than the neighbor, relative, or trusted adult when it comes to exploitation of children. Still, in this case, it was an unknown person, at least in the darkness of that October evening. Although investigators still work the case and have some possible suspects, there has never been that one clear break to crack the case wide open. It does seem odd, that in a small town in rural Minnesota, this monster's secret is still being held. Perhaps the perpetrator is cold and cruel enough to keep the secret, but he must have friends, family members, or neighbors that know or suspect something. Just one person that comes forth could be what it takes. If you are that person and you are reading this, now is the time.

As I close this piece, I will provide some links to the coverage of this story. Watching the old clips, and then seeing the newest coverage, it is hard not to see the pain of waiting and wondering that is etched on the faces of the Wetterling family or Jacob's best friend, Aaron. I continue to keep my outside light on as a symbol of hope for Jacob and all of missing children. Jaycee Dugard's family recently got their answers and a happy reunion. It is time for answers, and hopefully a reunion, for the Wetterling family and all others as well!

From the Jacob Wetterling Resource Center: Every kid should be a kid. They should be able to ride a bike, have a lemonade stand or walk home from school confident in their own safety. As adults, we all must play a part in ensuring the safety of kids...to keep them free from sexual exploitation online or in-person.

St. Cloud Times Coverage

Jacob Wetterling Forum This includes some You-Tube recordings that I found a bit disturbing. Not sure what to make of them.

Star Tribune Coverage

Kare 11 Coverage

WCCO: Wetterling Siblings Reach Out
Will you keep your porch light burning, as a symbol for Jacob and all missing children, that they may return home soon?
Originally posted on Area Voices Blog 10/25/2009 at 12:55 PM

2009-10-25T00:04:00.001-05:00

Cat Haters' Club: Part II

If you read my post yesterday, I am sure you have surmised that I am a cat hater. But I am here to proclaim that I have officially canceled my membership, the one in my heart, as I would have never joined a real cat haters' club. While I had a strong dislike for cats, I wasn't alone. There are many others, I am sure, that don't care for cats, given the number of members in the so-called clubs I linked to yesterday. There are even some famous people that had a great aversion to cats:

Dwight Eisenhower's loathing for cats was so great that he gave his staff orders to shoot any cat seen wandering on the grounds of his residence. One of Johannes Brahm's favorite forms of relaxation was to sit at an open window and attempt to kill neighbourhood cats with a bow and arrow. Napoleon Bonaparte was once found sweating with fear and lunging wildly with his sword at the tapestry-covered walls, all in fear of a small kitten. Noah Webster described the cat as a "deceitful animal and when enraged, extremely spiteful."

While I would have never sunk to the outrageous activities of the above mentioned haters, the dislike of cats was present for close to half a century, with varying degrees of intensity. Although I may not be quite ready to claim intense love at this time, I have moved closer to the realm of the cat lovers below.

St. Francis of Assisi, one of my personal favorites, according to an Italian legend, was saved from a plague of mice by a cat which sprang miraculously out of his sleeve. Sir Winston Churchill's cat, Jock, shared his master's bed and table, and he refused to start eating until his cat was present at the table. Ernest Hemingway shared his Key West home with more than thirty cats. Florence Nightingale owned more than sixty cats in her lifetime and often complained of mysterious "stains" on her paperwork. Mark Twain kept eleven cats at his farm in Connecticut. His daughter, Susy once remarked, "The difference between Papa and Mamma is, that Mamma loves morals and Papa loves cats."

The information on famous cat lovers and haters, including many more examples, is found here. By the way, it seems there are more lovers than haters.

How did this change of heart come about? Let's just say he slinked his way in! He is was a stray cat that had been hanging out in the neighborhood. I'd first heard of his existence from my husband, who shared tales of the pursuit of said cat by one of my dachshunds. Another stray cat in the neighborhood. No big deal, and his existence was quickly filed in the recesses of my brain. It was my daughter and her boyfriend who first befriended the cat. Yes, this is the same daughter who was attacked by the neighbor's cat years ago and has spent her lifetime in loathing of cats. Her boyfriend, however, has always been a cat lover. Oh, the things we do for love.

It played out something like this:

Cat comes slinking to the front yard where boyfriend and daughter are sitting on a bench. He rubs by their legs and "Meows." They notice he is very thin. My daughter sneaks a can of tuna from the cupboard, as well as a dish of water. She does this a couple times.

"You know the cat isn't going to leave if you keep doing that," I say when I first catch her in the act.

"He's hungry. Look how thin he is. You know he isn't going anwhere, anyway. He just lives in the sheds out back, " says she.

I respond: "I know. There are always cats out there. It's probably the same one LuLu was chasing." After a short discussion about the merits of helping the cat, my response was something like: " Well, fine, I don't want him to starve, but don't even think about bringing him in the house. I don't like cats and I certainly don't want one in the house. Besides, the dogs would rip it apart."

"Don't tell dad. He told us not to feed him. He doesn't want a cat around," she replies.

"Well, we can't let it starve. That would be inhumane, and I will tell him so," I reply.

Over the next couple days, the cat takes over the bench, and makes himself at home. He is lying on the steps when I return from work, and purring at every entrance to our home. "Please bring me in," he seems to say. A few times, he is almost able to slither by me as I open the door, but I kindly shoo him out just in the nick of time. I watch daily as he attaches to my daughter and her boyfriend, and they to him. When he rubs up against my legs one day, this stodgy old cat miser softens a little more.

We have determined he was once a pet, even though he has no identification. He is declawed and we think neutered, that is if he is really a boy. It's kind of hard to tell with this cat when it won't sit still when you try to check its genitals.

I can't believe my heart has melted toward a cat. He is a handsome creature, and mostly gentle, though he doesn't like to be fussed over too much. Only a couple days after he came around, I went out and bought him cat food, as the tuna stockpile was withering. My daughter tried to "hide" said food from her dad, afraid of his reaction to their sneaky feedings. I told her not to bother hiding it and I told him, in no uncertain terms, I would not take part in allowing a cat to starve. It seemed a cat, once used to being indoors and taken care of, I assume, with no claws, would be unable to procure enough food to stay healthy. My husband knows me well enough to know I couldn't ignore a creature in need. He did protest any future plans of allowing him to move in. I had still not let him move in when I bought the food. I reasoned with my daughter about all the things I didn't like about cats (shedding hair, litter boxes, etc.). I told her we also needed to make sure someone isn't missing it.

We have not found an owner. We've checked local lost and found ads and asked around the neighborhood. Did his previous owners know he was gone? Are they missing him or was he abandoned? There is no identification to go by. Were they tired of him and just let it go? Could they not afford to feed and care for him any longer? My husband suggested taking him to the shelter, but it is so overloaded with cats, I fear surrendering him to a shelter might be assigning death to him. So, unless an owner is found, my daughter has "adopted" him, agreeing to pay all further costs of ownership, including a visit to the vet to make sure he is healthy and he is really a he.

Recently, it started to get chilly at night. A decision had to be made. The cat moved in and now lives in the basement. My husband has warmed to him, just as I have. The dogs have not warmed to him, and we have to careful that they don't slip downstairs to get after him. The plan is to introduce them in very small increments, so as not to overwhelm the dogs or the cat.

The cat has not been given an official name. They were toying arond with the name Warren, after some rock band singer, which led me to suggest a middle name of Peace. They rolled their eyes and groaned when I explained my reasoning, but I like it. Warren Peace. It has a nice ring to it and it relates quite handily to my half century of dealing with cats:

War 'n' Peace.

2009-10-11T16:09:00.000-05:00

Cat Hater's Club: Part I

Did you know there are internet groups for cat haters? There is the Cat Haters Club, Cat Haters Club of the World (C.H.O.W.), Cat Haters Club on Facebook, and probably a few more. WARNING: If you are a cat lover, you may want to avoid these sights, as just cruising through, I found myself, a self proclaimed non-lover of cats, saddened by some of the comments. While I have never belonged to any official group, in my heart, I have never really cared for cats. Hate is such a strong word, so I prefer something on the lines of intense dislike, but I know I have occasionally muttered, or forcefully blathered, "I HATE cats!!

I am not sure the roots of this loathing. We had many cats freely roaming the neighborhood when I was growing up. Perhaps that is where it began. Pesky things scratching at you and teasing the penned dogs. I vaguely remember a kitten, maybe even two, cared for by my sister(s). I never paid much attention to the creatures and have few details, though I clearly recall a kitten that ate a dead bird and then proceeded to throw up and get very ill. Perhaps that is another scene that aided in my dislike, because as a child, there was nothing I disliked more than vomit...it ranked right up there next to liver. Cats like liver though, and dead diseased birds, so that must prove they are evil, right?

There were other run-ins with cats that I didn't care for. One of my good high school friends, a huge cat lover, had cat hair everywhere at her house, and the smell of litterboxes permeated the air. Strike another vote against cats. I did find it sort of funny when the cat tumbled her Christmas tree, though. I laughed. Their family did not.

A couple of my sisters owned cats. They loved them. I just shook my head and tolerated them. I couldn't fathom this devotion to animals that would jump up on the counter when you weren't looking and snatch your food. One of my sister's cats once dipped its presence into 4 pies we had baked on the eve of Christmas Eve and left to cool on the counter overnight. I would have banished the cat, at least temporarily, I think. She did not. Her animals were rated right up there as family. When we visited her in Germany, the cat was so overwhelmed and agitated by a constant stream of visitors, that she was losing hair and constantly hissing and snarling at us. I felt bad for Kitty, but I still didn't like cats. I must say, though, Kitty had determination, and not only survived that intrusive spring, but survived a few near death experiences. One shout out for persistence and nine lives.

I did smile when another sister and brother-in-law signed their cats' names to greeting cards, complete with paw-prints. They were childless for the first several years of their marriage, so Bob & Greta were their objects/creatures of affection for a long time. Unfortunately, not good around children and getting old, the cats had to depart when the first baby arrived 11 years ago. Since that time, two new cats have made their way into these cat lovers' lives.

Probably the one event that is most responsible for my dislike of cats, though, was the neighbors' tom cat, also named Kitty. One day, some 24 years or so ago, the neighbor lady gave my two-year-old daughter a brush and told her to brush the cat's hair. Apparently, the cat did not like its hair brushed, the lady's son later told me. I returned from work that night, after midnight, to a story relayed by my husband. He had tried to clean the huge bite mark on my daughter's arm, but it still looked sore to me. I cleaned it again. The next morning, my daughter's forearm had swelled to twice its size, and we quickly ushered her to the clinic, where she received a shot and some oral antibiotics, while we were sternly told to inform the neighbor that unless she kept her cat in the house for the next 7-10 days, it would have to be removed and placed under observation. She was not happy and it made for some dicey neighbor-to-neighbor interactions for awhile, especially since she was not inclined to follow that directive. My daughter's arm healed, but my distaste for cats grew, right along with my daughter's distaste for and fear of cats.

In searching, I found this cartoon that perfectly describes some of the reasons for my aversion to cats.

Fast forward to 2009. Over the last two and a half years, we have become owners to two adopted dogs. While I have always liked (most) dogs, we never kept them as pets before, as my husband and I could not come to agreement on rules of pet ownership during our first 25 years of marriage. I really love my dogs (and hubby does too), partaking in some of the same activities as my cat loving siblings: allowing them in my bed, not banishing dogs that steal food off your plate when you aren't looking, signing their names greeting to cards on occasion, etc. Loving dogs is all the more reason to dislike cats, right? Wrong!

Pet ownership must have awakened a new softness in me. (Stay tuned for Part II).

A Visit With the Franciscans

2009-10-04T17:35:00.000-05:00

Despite the exhaustion of September, one big highlight of the month for me came Sunday, September 20th. I had made a commitment to my Mom a month or so earlier, and I always try to keep those, even when tired or rundown. I enjoy spending time with my Mom, and since I shared her with a dozen siblings growing up, and these days with dozens of her grandchildren, time spent alone with her is always at a premium. Our mother-daughter adventure took us to donor's appreciation day at the beautiful Franciscan Convent in Little Falls. It was an exhilarating day for both of us.

Our day began with a special Mass with musical accompaniment by staff and students of the St. Francis Music Center. It was an experience that is hard to put into words, but which extracted memories from my younger years and the roots of my faith. As I participated, a feeling resonated in me that my current life, although on a somewhat different spiritual path than that of my childhood, is still filled with the issues of peace and justice I've always held dear. The day awakened in me a new curiosity to explore further some of the roots of my past spiritual journey, continue to assess my current spiritual path, and set sites on where my future faith journey may be heading. I could not do justice to the topic in this blog at this time, so I will leave it at that for the time being.

After Mass, we gathered in the convent dining area for a wonderful meal prepared in the new kitchen made possible by donors like my Mom. On the menu: Baked Chicken, REAL mashed potatoes slathered in butter (with just the right texture to prove they were real), gravy, mixed vegetables, freshly baked featherlight pillow buns that melted in your mouth with each bite, and slabs of homemade apple pie. There was plenty of coffee to wash it down, or for a non-coffee drinker like myself, milk & water. We enjoyed wonderful conversations with our fellow diners, none of whom were known to us previously, but nevertheless, warm connections were made. The table decorations were interesting, each table sporting a different kitchen utensil. This was ours:

A multi-wheel adjustable pasta cutter: that brought forth a few memories and discussions of home baking. How convenient this tool would have been for my mom when she was baking cinnamon pie crust strips or homemade crackers. My dad's cousin would have loved it too, as she lovingly rolled thin-as-paper dough for homemade stroganoff noodles and cut the strips manually.

After lunch, we enjoyed a presentation on the Franciscan Music Center and some very touching stories were shared. We later got a tour of the amazing new kitchen, which I did not have the presence of mind to photograph. Then it was off to the gift store for a couple purchases.

Finally, I was able to refresh some memories of long ago visits to the convent when my great-aunt, Sister Emerita, a Franciscan nun, was still alive. We went to visit her grave for the first time since she was buried there in 1968. Along the stroll to the cemetery, there were a couple areas to rest, the photo below showing my favorite area to repose.

We also met up with some other relatives that belong to the Order of St. Francis. One nun, Sister Mary Ellen, is my dad's first cousin. The other nun, whom I'd never met before, Sister Celine, is my deceased grandpa's first cousin. Between the two of them, one from my paternal Grandpa's side, and one from my paternal Grandma's side, we were able to reminisce about long passed away relatives and I learned much more about my grandparents and great aunt than I ever knew (both of my grandparents passed away in the early sixties, Grandma when I was 2 1/2, and Grandpa when I was 3, and my great aunt just before I turned 8). Both Sisters were thrilled that they each learned more about each side of the family, as well.

Part of my highlight of meeting Sister Celine, who is now 91, was to talk with her about her literary adventure. She, along with her niece, recently (2007) published a book about her life and family, titled: Conversations With Celine. The book talks about living in a large family & farm life in central Minnesota during the first half of the twentieth century, as well as losing the farm during the depression. It also chronicles her life and continuing work and missions she was involved in during her Franciscan journey. Reading the book, I was able to add more dimension to my understanding of that side of my ancestral heritage, which any genealogy lover knows is a huge gift. I learned more about the immigration of my great-great grandfather's family and their early years here (1870s). It was enlightening to learn little tidbits of my grandfather's and great-grandfather's relationships with this part of the family.

Visiting with Sister Celine, I also learned a little about the long writing process for the book, and how much material needed to be cut to make the publishing price manageable. Sister Celine is one of only two relatives still living from that generation. Her older sister is 96, but is suffering from dementia, so Sister Celine is really the only one able to pass on these stories. What a gift she has given to her relatives in writing this book! What hope she gave to me about my own family history projects! If I can complete those, perhaps I can extend my writing to those projects in my dreams.

One of the neatest things about meeting Sister Celine was how young she seemed. At 91, I expected frailness, but what I was greeted with was a small-framed powerhouse. Her energy level was amazing and her mind appeared as clear as a bell. On our long walk to the cemetery, she kept a brisk pace, turning to ask my mom if she was okay. I think my mom was a bit embarrassed, even though she keeps a pretty good pace, herself, for 77. Another highlight is her family resemblance to her cousins, my beloved great aunt (who was somewhat of a surrogate grandmother after my grandparents died) and my grandpa (whom I really only know through photos and stories). I am so thrilled at having this new family connection. As we hugged goodbye, she invited us to please return and once again shared in her delight of meeting once unknown relatives. The delight is definitely reciprocal!

Sister Celine and my Mom

Seven Sisters

2009-05-04T21:55:00.000-05:00

I am very lucky to be blessed with seven sisters. (I have 5 brothers, as well, but this post will be mostly about the sisters). We all spent the weekend together in Rochester (MN), to celebrate the fortieth birthday of my second youngest sister. We were also blessed to be joined by my ever youthful mother, 2 sisters-in-law, and 3 of the nieces (of which one was my youngest daughter, but niece to the rest;-}). The youngest niece in attendance spent much of her time at a friend's house or watching movies in her room, as this was an 18 and over ladies' event.

The age difference between the youngest sister and oldest sister is just over 19 years. The age group of those in attendance was 19 to 77, with occasional appearances by the nine year old niece. Currently, all but one sister live in Minnesota, though another will be packing her bags soon in pursuit of furthering her love for music in Austin, Texas. But no matter the age and distance, we can all come together and have a good time when a perfect occasion arises. We share lots of interests, whether it be delighting in the adventures of our children and grandchildren, our love of the various arts, a taste for kitchen delights, or our desire to scout out a bargain. Our world view may be somewhat varied and strongly held for some, so we glide away from some of those subjects during celebratory times. There are plenty of other times to get into heated discussions.

We spent part of our weekend taking in the 100 mile garage sale (Red Wing to Winona), though we only perused a smattering of them. Some of us were doing more looking than buying, but we were all having a good time, as evidenced by the many comments by sellers or other participants along the way. One of our missions, for those who chose to accept it, was the purchase of a "perfect" gift for the birthday girl. Those gifts were opened during the evening celebration and consisted of everything from a vintage 70's print of Jesus with His lambs, a collander/meat grinder lamp, a Mork & Mindy thermos, some 45 records of the seventies, a George Carlin book, a vintage felt Santa's Mail Christmas card holder, some coffee mugs, plus other items I've surely forgotten. Also, a few of us decided we would buy lemonade from all the budding child entepreneurs along the way--I quickly figured that I needed to limit my liquid intake, but luckily, some were selling cookies and bars, as well, so my old bladder could have a reprieve from the lemonade overload.

We spent another chunk of time this weekend in a favored activity: eating...from the awesome home cooked food (best hand-battered onion rings ever and I don't normally care for onion rings) at a tiny restaurant in Wabasha to the Chinese ordered in, to the variety of platters contributed by the sisters: fruit, cheese, and crackers; homemade cheesecakes baked by my sister's friend (Cinna-bun & a caffe-mocha flavor); chocolate fountain with pretzels, chips, strawberries, bananas, sugar cookies, marshmallows, brownie chunks, and even bacon; our family favorite: puffed wheat candy; tortilla chips and dipping sauces; and finally, my dad's contribution to the event and his latest "fad:" homemade peanut brittle and caramel corn. (I probably forgot a few things.) It should be fairly obvious from the above mentioned menagerie of food that most of us possess a sweet tooth.

Most spent some of their energies and calories on sipping wine, margaritas, and other spirits, though I stuck to my diet Pepsi. It seems somewhat unfair, then, that I was the one throwing up Sunday morning (I ended up with a severe migraine and did not remember to pack my Imitrex). Perhaps I consumed a bit too much chocolate and cheese, or maybe I just got too little sleep--all known migraine triggers.

Most of the weekend revolved around sharing stories and reviving and reliving family memories, watching a fun photo DVD organized by a couple of sisters, listening to great tunes, including five new songs written and sung by one of my very talented sisters, giving and/or getting foot/neck/back massages plus parrafin hand dips, and just generally chilling and laughing.

I feel so blessed to have taken part in this great weekend and know that I am luckier than many when it comes to spending time with my family. We truly do enjoy being together, and any differences of opinions and lifestyles are quietly ushered to the background while we focus on the love and commonalities that join us together. Given the great time we had, we hope to turn this into an annual event. I hope we will be making these types of memories for a long time!

Yes, Mary, you can be forty again next year, if you wish!

Life in the Rearview Mirror

2009-03-03T14:09:00.000-06:00

I have been racing toward a finish line lately! I am on a path to getting things done as my time quickly slips away. I am at a point where the rubber meets the road. I am two weeks from dropping the checkered flag on this race between two careers: Do I keep my part time job or return to my seasonal employment? I've been running pros and cons through my head for awhile now. The jobs are in a dead heat right now, which is scary.

My supervisors from each of the jobs want to be declared the winner in this race. On the homefront, my husband and I are not in total agreement about what my career future should hold. My husband prefers I not turn away from the higher income (the seasonal job). I'm not sure the income is worth the loss of my sanity, which proved to be the case last fall. I'm fairly certain I want to stay with the part-time job and hold out hope for some added way to supplement that income. If I don't return to the seasonal work, I do have some vacation time I could cash out to help extend my income to "full-time status" for another month. Also, when I weigh out the cost savings of working from home (no travel costs, no "drive-through" meals, less new clothing, etc.), the difference between the two salaries shrinks a little bit. I know I can't work part time forever, but a little longer would be nice. With a little luck, this new job should yield a few more hours by fall. One plus, my friends tell me I look good (as compared to what, I wonder) and seem more relaxed now that I have been away from my seasonal job for a couple months. I will be in a different position if I return to the seasonal job, but I don't believe it will be less stressful. I know that if the economy hadn't tanked last fall, the part-time job would definitely win, hands down, because I'd have a better chance of finding supplemental income. There is a possibiIity that I can work in a lesser capacity at my seasonal job, with those discussions currently underway. In that scenario, my current part-time job would be my primary employment, while I would work 10-20 hours a week at the seasonal employer. I know my supervisor there would be okay with that, but I'm not certain her supervisors would. I hope to have an answer on my proposal soon.

Meanwhile, I have been looking back through the rearview mirror at what I've accomplished over the last two months, and it has definitely not been enough! Then I peer even further back, and realize what a crazy road I've been traveling. I'm trying to catch up from dozens of years of working too much overtime and not keeping up on daily life. I can't possibly catch up this quickly when I've gotten so far behind. I've banished too many things to the overflowing storage room, attic, basement, and garage, as well as some of it not landing in storage at all, and the time has come to make decisions. Most of the difficult decisions come as I am sorting through mounds of career "materials" I've acquired. Depending on my career decision, and if it is for the long haul, will help decide what I keep. Right now, it's sort & ponder. If I am to continue to work on the tuning up and overhauling of this engine (me), and tackle the repairs and organizing of my parking area (home), I feel I should "race" less.

Is it wrong of me to want to regain some semblance of tranquility in my life? I've been in overdrive for a long time! Heck, I live on a lake I have not been able to fully enjoy for the past dozen or so summers. I haven't planted flowers in my flower boxes for quite a few years. I have turned down more "summer fun" invitations than I care to acknowledge. My trip to to the northwest last summer really started this process for me, I believe. It had been the first summer trip I'd taken in a dozen years, and I realized how much I've missed while putting my nose to the grindstone. Of course, with less income, I may not be able to travel anyway, but I could relax and enjoy what is under my nose.

As I look at all of this in the rear view mirror, knowing what I've already passed by, I ponder what is ahead of me on the road. Is the map I'm using outdated? Are there hairpin curves that will catch me off guard and make me wish I'd stayed on the safer, but less scenic route? Am I going to choose to stop and visit the scenery along the way, or am I going to continue barreling forward, full speed ahead to an unknown destination, missing the highlights along the way? I just realized this blog is starting to sound like the lyrics of one of my favorite Bon Jovi cruising songs. I better make sure I have my plastic dashboard Jesus along for the ride on this Lost Highway!

The Music Highlights Of My Life

2009-02-26T16:52:00.000-06:00

I received this in an email, but thought it might be a fun blog topic, as well. What was the #1 Song on the Day you were born? I expanded this a bit and looked up the songs that correlated with some of the other important milestones in my life.

Go to http://www.joshhosler.biz and look up the number one song on your birth date or other special days. If you are inclined to play along, leave the answer(s) in my comments.

On the day of my birth, the #1 song was Alley-Oop by The Hollywood Argyles.

On the day of my hubby's birth: Young Love by Tab Hunter.

My entry into the teen years: Will It Go Round In Circles by Billy Preston

On my graduation from high school: With a Little Luck by Paul McCartney and the Wings

On our engagement day: Bette Davis Eyes by Kim Carnes

On our wedding day: Abracadabra by The Steve Miller Band

Child # 1's Birth: Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler

Child # 2's Birth: Walk Like An Egyptian by The Bangles

Child # 3's Birth: Black Velvet by Alannah Myles

This was a great trip back in time! What amazed me most was that I was paying attention to the music through the years, because I remembered all of the songs. I hope to hear a few of yours.

2009-02-24T00:12:00.000-06:00

This is me during a technological frustration.

If asked whether I love or hate technology, I'd have to answer: "It depends on the day and the project I'm trying to accomplish."

I use the computer on a fairly regular basis, both for work and personal endeavors. I can set up most basic hardware and software, although when it comes to glitches, I have very little patience. I am far from a techie, although I could be coached through fixing most problems when they spring up.

When I first started my home office job in November, I was given a laptop & printer. It was the start of over two months of struggles getting it to cooperate. I could get the internet, but not get on the company network. I spent many hours with tech assistance on the phone, trying this and trying that. Finally, after many attempts, I was able to access the network, but not synchronize files, etc. I was happy to be able to get into the network, only to find I now couldn't access the internet and my email. While I could get at email through my personal computer, I didn't really want to be saving all my work to my personal laptop. I spent a fair amount of time transferring work from one computer to another - UGHH! About then, I'd say I couldn't stand technology. It took 2 1/2 months before all the problems were finally solved (it would have been sooner if a few people would have listened to me). Now that the computer is mostly cooperating, I'll have to try to get all the features of my printer/fax/scanner working. I'm still trying to save up my patience.;-)

Our newest feature for work is participating in conference calls with Skype, a service which allows us to talk/conference for free. Downloading Skype was piece of cake. The plan was to have a webcam, even though it can be done with just voice. I picked up the webcam, which should have also been a piece of cake, but for some reason, it just won't work with my work laptop. I keep getting a USB error message claiming no driver was installed. I tried it on my own laptop, and got the same message. I let it sit a couple days, and was going to return it today, but thought I'd give it another try. Well today, it works on my personal computer, but still not my work computer. UGGHHH! Again, not good scores for technology.

In the midst of all of this, however, I looked down at the front of my computer and noticed my wireless light was blue, meaning it was on & working. I'll be darned! I have been without that function for a couple months--it just quit working one day, along with my speakers. I downloaded new drivers for both functions but was only able to get my speakers back. Several times I tried to reload the driver over the months, to no avail. The error message was always the same: no driver installed. Today, after several months of getting internet via the ethernet cable, with no rhyme or reason, it just began to work again. I have no idea how or why! HMMM...I wonder how long it will last?

On the bright side of technology, we have access to so much more information and more ways to stay connected to others than we did even a few years ago. For instance, now that I'll be Skyping for work, I plan to expand that practice and send my daughter in Texas a webcam so we can keep in touch a little easier and cheaper. I will also probably start suggesting the practice to other family members. Another way to stay in contact is with Facebook, although sometimes I am a little shocked at what I read...so maybe there is some drawback to that. Instant Messaging also is popular, though I rarely partake. I have so many family members, that it would be hard to keep up with them all by old fashioned means, but through computer contact, I can keep in touch at any hour of the day.

Another great technological advancement has been the wide array of public information available online. As a family historian, it is amazing how much can be tracked online, without having to make dozens of trips to the history museums. It still requires a lot of sleuthing, but that's the fun of it. I have saved thousands of miles on my car, plus, I can search the web at any hour, not just museum hours. Of course, technology can't replace the feel of the ancestral stomping grounds beneath ones feet. That requires a hands on visit. :-) I have crossed paths with numerous relatives online over the years, as I piece together the patchwork quilt that is my family. In fact, a few years back, I was able to contact numerous relatives I'd never met and plan a sesquicentennial of one of my ancestral family's arrival, mostly by tracking via the internet. It was so cool!

Google, or any search engine, for that matter, are lifesavers. The other day, I needed a Hawaiian themed dish for a going away party at work. I typed in a couple words, and I immediately had a recipe for Aloha bread. (It was delicious!) I could have spent an entire afternoon trying to find a suitable recipe in my cookbook collection. On another day, I might want to know an author or a songwriter, so I type in a phrase, and just about everything I ever needed to know is at my fingertips. I may be researching for work or I may want to read about news in locations around the country, or around the world, and its all at my fingertips. Perhaps I have a home improvement question or need to buy a certain item. A quick search, and an answer is at hand. I love the internet.

The availability of classes online are also a technological plus. Whether just for fun, or for academic credit, participating in online classes, webinars, and conferences can save lots of time and money over attendance at brick and mortar institutions. I especially like the abiility to participate on my timeline. It may not be for everyone, but it is nice for some learning.

Finally, the ability to pay bills, complete banking, look for a job, order library books, or complete virtual shopping expeditions, are all technological conveniences I've become accustomed to and those activities raise my love for technology.

So, for most of my activities, I love technology. When it's not working, I have a hard time being patient while trying to find a solution. On a scale of 1-10, I give technology an 8.

Laughing Gas At The Dentist

2009-02-07T16:18:00.000-06:00

I'm in the process of getting a crown, after the painful process of a root canal. It is no secret to those who know me that I hate going to the dentist. I think it all stems from having very painful experiences as a kid, and since we were poor, the visits were far & few in between. I was one of the kids in my family that didn't have "good teeth." One of my dentists explained once that my teeth were not as hard as some. I'm not sure if that is genetic or environmental. Thus, when I went to the dentist, there were always lots of cavities to fill, and my childhood dentist was not too gentle. Once I was old enough to pay my own bills, I chose his competitor, to the consternation of my family, as my previous dentist was my dad's friend. He (the new dentist) was gentler and used gas. He also did really good work, albeit a little more expensively.

After I moved to another part of the state, I found another dentist, whom I went to for a number of years. He was nice, and most importantly, he used gas. I needed gas to relax me so that I could handle the novacaine, which I usually need in multiple dosages. Then, for convenience sake when I was doing daycare, plus an insurance/billing snafu and an enormous amount of unexpected dental bills (long story), I switched dentists to one that was located right in my town, so I wouldn't have to take huge amounts of time off to go to the dentist. I like him. He's nice and very open about charges & billing, so I never have surprises at the end. Once, when the work done went over my insured amount, he knocked the extra amount off as a professional courtesy. I've stayed with him ever since, even when he closed his office and moved to a nearby city.

The only issue I have with this dentist is he doesn't routinely use gas. I get so tense when I am being worked on, and absolutely hate the administration of novacaine. The gas would be relaxing. I asked about it recently and found they do have it, they just don't use it much because insurance won't cover it. I'm not sure if that is something more recent, as I used to get it years ago. I probably should have asked what the cost would be if I paid for it out of my pocket, since it takes me almost to the end of the work being done before I can will myself to unclench my fists and relax my rigid body. I sometimes think I just have a low tolerance for pain, but the dental assistant assured me I handle it far better than some. Maybe that is because I restrain myself and I don't lash out at how I'm really feeling.

However, as I was surfing various webs and blogs, I found a video of a child coming down from "laughing gas" after a dental procedure. Perhaps I'll pass on the gas, after all!

Kid on Laughing Gas

THE BEST MOM EVER

2009-02-05T08:25:00.001-06:00

Today is my mom's birthday. Like so many other people, I think my mom is the best! She means the world to me. As the mother of 13 children, she made many sacrifices to get through 40+ years of child rearing. There are 24 years between my oldest sister and youngest brother. In honor of my mom's birthday, I am sharing with you the piece I wrote for her 75th birthday two years ago. The morning of her birthday, I woke up and wanted to write her a little message of sentiment, and this is what I came up with:

The Best Mom

When I was growing up, I had the best mom that there was,

I didn’t often tell her, but I loved her just because….

She nurtured me from a small babe, with gentle tenderness,

And being one of thirteen kids didn’t make her love me less.

For somewhere from inside her heart came a fountain overflowing,

With love, faith, strength, and wisdom; seemingly, ever knowing.

She sustained us all through lean times, with sacrifice and thrift,

But gave of herself freely, that was her greatest gift.

She sung her songs so sweetly, the ditties that to this day stick,

Like “A You’re Adorable,” “Mairzy Doats,” and the humorous “Chickory Chick.”

Learning and reading were encouraged, and the time she always took,

To assist me with my school work, or to read from a favorite book.

She cooked, she cleaned, she worked so hard, late into every night,

Yet was busy making breakfast at the crack of the new dawn’s light.

She took the time to listen, and accepted me for who I was,

She expected the best, which I didn’t always give, but she loved me just because.

I wasn’t often well behaved, I broke a lot of rules,

But somehow when I grew up, she’d lent to me her tools.

I learned that hard work wouldn’t hurt you, and often times it pays,

Not always in monetary dividends, but always in fulfilled days.

I passed along the songs and stories, to my children and others too,

And though my voice is not as sweet, a piece of her comes through.

I’ve borrowed her passion for children; I use it every day,

To share the love and nurturing I received along the way.

I’m not as good at sacrifice and my patience sometimes slips,

Sometimes letting unkind words pass between my lips.

As I cuddled my small children, or struggled through their teenage years,

I often thought of my mom’s way of handling troubles, fears, and tears.

And even though I’m all grown up and living far away,

I wonder with every choice I make, what my dear Mom would say.

I pray to God that He will guide me as my Mother always did,

When I was growing up as a baker’s dozen kid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my MOM, on this day, celebrating seventy five years of living,

Thank you for being the Best Mom, and for your years and years of giving.
Since I wrote this on the quick the morning of her big day, I didn't get time to "properly edit," but I left it in its original form for what it meant to her. It is a piece that tells alot about the wonderful person she is and the unconditional love she gave. Though she doesn't read my blog, I'll give a shout out anyway:

Happy 77th Birthday Mom! I love you just because!

THE BOX

2009-01-04T15:40:00.000-06:00

As so often times happens here on these blogs, mine and others, nostalgia arises. Perhaps, it is just the need in our hectic lives to return to a time more simple, when everything seemed perfect. Was it? Heck, NO! Somehow, our memories seem to polish away the imperfections. There are gems to be had in looking back, however.

Today, inspired by Country Woman, City Woman, I journey back to my childhood once again, to retrieve the box. My childhood wasn't filled with expensive toys or nice clothes. It wasn't free from pain. It certainly wasn't always happy. I didn't come away from childhood severely scarred, though I would say I didn't come away unmarked, either. However, in the journeys back, nothing seems as painful or insurmountable as it did as a child. Back then, however, I had the box to help me through.

In her blog, entitled Visiting the Magic of Youth, Prairie Woman details the many imaginative games and activities that filled her days growing up in smalltown North Dakota. I could relate to so many of those activities (growing up in small town Minnesota). As adults, we often forget what it was like to be a child, and leaving those childlike qualities behind, can sour us. Returning to those days of simplicity can teach us a thing or two about how to get through the tough moments and can be a sweetener for a bitter day. When things were tough as a child, we journeyed to a land of make believe. Here, no one could hurt you, because you held all the power and magic that kept evil away. You could imagine yourself to be anyone and do anything, because even if the reality was that you were poor and hungry, you could imagine it to be something different. If you were lucky like me, you may have also had a box.

What is this box of which I speak? It was my refuge. My get away from it all abode. In my case, it was an old appliance box...(refrigerator). The box had been hauled up to the bedroom I shared with four other sisters. It was placed on its side under the clothes in the makeshift closet (a closet pole suspended from the ceiling). Pillows and blankets were piled inside for comfort. It was a place to hide out, nap in the middle of the day, or just simply get away. It could be my own little cabin, my castle, my cave, my library, or my art nook. It was a place of serenity when I was mad, angry, fearful, or tired. As a child, as much as today, I recharged best when I was alone. I need reflection time and peace and quiet. I need a space to call my own. The box fit the bill nicely back then.

One day, I caused my family much concern. They hadn't heard from me in hours. Supper came and went without me. We were quite free to roam the town, but we usually didn't miss supper. My siblings were sent to scour the neighborhood. No signs of me. My friends' families were called. Not there. My dad got in his van and drove about town. No luck. The local police officer was called when all the other search efforts failed. Around 10 PM, I awoke and went down stairs, to a surprised but relieved family. They had failed to check the box, which was partially hidden behind the racks of clothes. I had nestled up and fallen asleep. One feeling that was not lost on me that night, even at a tender young age, was that my family really cared, even though there were moments I was sure they didn't (it took a few more later lessons to reinforce that, though).

As a parent, my children had a box. As a daycare provider, my charges had a box. As a teacher, my preschoolers had a box. If the box got torn, we replaced it. If there were none available for awhile, we covered a card table with a large sheet or blanket. At times, we used a small pup tent. It worked the same. It was a place where a child could get away from it all...envelope themselves in down time. Recharge with no interference from the outside world.

Well, we can't imagine our bills away, nor loss of jobs, medical problems, or betrayal of false friends. Through the eyes of a child, however, we can learn to find joy in the simplest of life's treasures. Each day brings new light. Everyday is filled with possibilities if we imagine them. Sometimes, we need to reflect on just what it is that is important. A few minutes or hours away fom the hub-bub of the seemingly insurmountable is sometimes all that is needed to recharge and put things into perspective.

And if you're really lucky, you have known one of the simplest of life's treasures: the refrigerator box.

Adios 2008 ~ Bienvenidos 2009

2009-01-01T20:21:00.000-06:00

For many reasons, I am happy to bid farewell to 2008. I had quite a few unwelcomed changes in the year, which seemed to have a snowball effect at the end of the year. My own personal blizzard of sorts. At the same time, there were joys sprinkled throughout...those few glimpses of sun that assure you there will be spring again.

As a former ECFE parent facilitator, I used to start my parent sessions with joys and concerns...joys always came first. So, too, in this recap of 2008, I will start with the joys.

Early in 2008, I discovered Area Voices. I started this blog after reading Farside of Fifty for about a month. Along the way, I have discovered many other regulars, really too numerous to mention, but I comment on many of them. You usually know if I read your blog regularly, plus I've linked many on my sidebar, though it needs a huge update. Thank you to my readers, but also to all the other bloggers. This has been a wonderful avenue for expression of inner thoughts, ideas, and opinions. It has also been a tool for me to practice writing again. Yea!

The program I managed saw great growth and wonderful changes in 2008. We received accolades from many areas, had great program reviews, and I received many personal compliments on my endeavors. I worked my butt off! My work touched the lives of hundreds in positive ways. Thankfully, the work I did, was not unnoticed or unappreciated by many, especially those who were in the mix of the every day operations, which helped me later in the year when things got tough.

I was able to take a whole week off at Spring Break & was able to spend it with my entire family. Rare! We had a very relaxed week at out time share near Nisswa. I actually had time to read several books, an added bonus.

In August, I spent 10 days on a trip to the northwest to attend the wedding of a special friend, a former co-worker, and one of the nicest guys I've ever known. He made an absolute wonderful choice and I was so happy to see him take this step. It was a girl's only trip, which helped us make some mother-daughters memories that are helping to carry me through a very bleak time. It was my first real summer vacation in eleven years! It also challenged me to stretch-- navigating 4500 miles into unknown areas was quite freeing.

I applied for and started a new job, which is related to my previous work, but in many ways quite different and somewhat freeing. In the new job, I work out of my home office and do not have to hire or supervise other employees! Woo-hoo! I am still learning the ropes, but hope this will be the right fit for my future. At this time, it is part-time, so I am looking for ways to supplement my income, but hoping that my vast experience in many service areas will help in that manner, despite the poor economy.

Although many of my readers may not agree, I was excited for the outcome of the 2008 elections. Many people that know me think I am quite conservative, but I usually vote independently, though I truly lean toward the Democratic views. Personally, I don't think I could ever find a party that totally defines my views. I do think President Elect Obama elicits hope that we can work together, and should work together, to solve problems. As a country, each and every one of us has a stake in our future. We all need to pitch in and do our little part in making this a better world for all people. Any contribution is helpful.

I was able to spend Christmas with all thirteen siblings and two relatively healthy parents. Additionally, for the most part, my physical health was mostly good...mental health, well, that you'll find in the concerns.

I am sure, I've missed a few joys along the way. Somehow, the negative always seems to cast a greater shadow, that seemingly consumes the soul, at times. Perhaps, it is human nature.
Now,those concerns. Whew, they have brought me to my knees!

First came the announcement that our hours at work would be cut. Then, during what was a busy and fairly successful summer, came some news that the "powers that be" had some issues with my work, though clear reasons were never given. The first issue was successfully resolved, then all the sudden, it was something else. To this day, I've not been given clear answers, only that my position was changed, & it would be less hours. I had worked my butt off for what?During the time that I was reeling myself, I was trying to reassure employees and partners who were totally shocked, angry, and confused. I still do not have answers, but in the span of a few days I was offered a new job, so I stressed greatly in November & December to work both jobs. I am now working 1/2 time and collecting a small amount of unemployment as I search for ways to keep from going back to the former employment.

In May, my daughter, should have graduated from high school, but didn't. It is frustrating, as she had so much support, but has always needed to be defiant and do things her way. She also overestimates what she can accomplish in a certain amount of time. We continue to work on trying to resolve this, but her defiance often gets in the way. Uggghhh. It was difficult to attend the graduations of my niece & nephew, and answer all the questions, but one of my sisters, at least, has offered many supportive words. This child is the most like I was at that age, and academically, she could have done this early, so it is disheartening, but in her time, it will get done.

My son, struggled through lots of poor choices after moving out mid summer. His first 21 years were so easy on me. Not sure where things changed. He has lost one job, struggled to find another, struggled through college this fall, being put on academic probation, etc. I probably don't even know all the details, but his choice of friends and activities after moving in with his older sister, caused her to become so frustrated that she just picked up and left. He has lots to learn.

My oldest daughter, always the level-headed one, opened her apartment to her brother when he wanted some freedom. Within months, his constant parade of so-called friends, non-stop partying, etc. wore her down. It caused small cracks in her relationship with her long-time boyfriend to break wide open. They called a break, and she soon started to see a manager of the store she worked, which is a forbidden activity (probably why she kept it somewhat quiet). Within a month, she had picked up and moved to Texas, where he transferred. She left her secure job, with no job prospect there. No goodbye. Took only some of her clothes that she could fit in her car. The siblings took over the apartment. It's been a struggle to understand. I'm working on it, though the holidays were tough.

My final concern was the clouds of depression that I dealt with as my life was changing. I am still working on that, and finding ways to come to grips with the darkest days. I will monitor myself closely in 2009, and take appropriate measures if the sun doesn't shine enough.

Last night & this morning, I closed the chapter on my year. My 2 younger children thought they could manage moving out of the apartment (which they had quickly learned they couldn't afford), even as we've been trying to help over the last few weeks. They assured us they didn't need (or want) help & had lined up six pick-up trucks. At 7:00 PM, my daughter called. Everyone had ditched and they had no help. My son was at work. There was no way they could be out by this morning. My husband and I spent a very long night and morning, packing, moving, and cleaning. We finished the move at 7:00 A.M. this morning and learned we aren't as young as we used to be. (We slept in until about two, and we both ache today.) Leaving the apartment empty allowed us a clean slate and a new beginning. I assured the kids they are welcome to come home, under our house rules. For the next few days, at least, they seem content to eke it out on their own. Just as my journeys have been ways for me to stretch and grow, so their's will too.

In 2009, I look to the possibilities that all of these changes bring. A former employee commented yesterday, regarding my work situation, that perhaps this was God's way of giving me a kick in the pants to slow down. She reminded me of the good that I did, and that I am needed somewhere else now. I have had that reoccurring thought throughout this ordeal. So, in 2009, I will work at recognizing what lessons I am supposed to be learning as I go through my daily trials.

Welcome 2009! You could not have arrived a moment too soon!!
(also published at Area Voices).

An Elvis Kinda Christmas

2008-12-30T19:40:00.000-06:00

I'll have a blue Christmas without you
I'll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won't be the same dear(s), if you're not here with me...

I spent my first Christmas without my children and that was very sad for me. My oldest daughter pulled up stakes and moved to Texas last month, without telling me goodbye, because she couldn't bear to "hurt me." Newsflash: It hurts more that I didn't get a hug goodbye! :-( I think it was just as likely she wouldn't face me because it would be too difficult for her to go if she had to say goodbye, so she just left.(A very long & somewhat complicated story that I may tell another day.) I have been feeling the loss over the holidays, but she emailed and texted yesterday, and said she would call in the evening, which gave me some hope. My other two children, who "took over her apartment," were no shows, and when I learned they weren't joining us for our traditional Christmas at my folks' house, I was deeply saddened. I wish children, no matter their age, would understand that they will change friends many times over the years, but your family will never change, and times with them are precious & limited. I guess, as very young adults, they need to learn these things in their own way, and their own time, but it doesn't make it easier for the parents. I cried most of the way to my parents' house.

I was running pretty late getting to our celebration, so every one else had already gathered. It is fairly overwhelming to walk into my mom's living room, as there is no porch, entryway or foyer...you are just thrust right into the chaos that is dozens of people getting caught up with each other. As soon as I walked in, I was bombarded with "Hey, how are you? " I don't know how many times I was asked before I fell apart, and was immediately ushered into a mini counseling session with my private therapist...my oldest sister is a licensed therapist and deals with these situations all the time. It helped to unleash emotions, at least some of them, and then I tried to put on my happy face. After all, I was looking forward to a phone call from my oldest daughter. The call never came, so I was disappointed by that. I did pretty good at keeping my happy face on most of the evening, as long as no one was prying. Yes, they care, and want to be supportive, but I didn't want to be the bah humbug of the party.

On the flip side, all of my thirteen siblings were present and that is a feat in itself. It was good to see everyone. We were able to get the first group photo since we last took some in 2002 at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. Officially, there were 49 of us together for the evening meal yesterday, and we actually ran low on some food (that doesn't happen often), but there were plenty of sweets to compensate. Still, there were six grandchildren & 2 of their spouses, as well as 3 great grandchildren missing. Our family is now officially at 60, not including "significant others." We actually "lost" two in-laws over the last number of years (divorce), so we had once topped 60. My niece is expecting a baby at the end of March; the numbers continue to rise. With several nieces and nephews now in their late teens and early to mid twenties, I predict a snowball effect soon, as the marriages & babies start to come in quick succession.

My parents are aging a little (don't tell them that, though). My mom fell on Monday evening, severely bruising her shin. She had shopped the evening away with my sister, then went to visit another sister. After her injury, my sister called the Blue Cross help line, & checked in with the hospital, as well. My mom is diabetic, and the family was worried about blood clots, etc. The lady on the end of the help line really wanted to know why my sister had an "elderly" woman out so late (11:30 p.m.). My mom & sister were shocked to hear Mom referred to as elderly. We just don't think of her as old, and neither does she! She is almost 77, but she just doesn't act like it! The injury was somewhat of a blessing in disguise, as she had to sit with her leg elevated and be waited on. No matter how hard we try to get her to ease up on the holidays, she usually doesn't. I must say, after not being required to work in the kitchen, she looked so much less tired than was the case at Thanksgiving.

As blue as I was about my children's absence, I surely count the blessings that are my parents. I treasure every additional day and holiday we can gather together. I wish my children would appreciate how lucky they are to be part of a large family with living grandparents. By the time I was 5 1/2, I only had one grandfather left. I so treasured my visits with him, and if I could go back, would have even spent more time with him. He was with us until I was 20.

Here is an attempt at a family photo (parents & siblings only...well except for that one niece that sneaked in for one). It is just difficult to get the group to be "on task," especially with all the ADHDers in my family. (Professional photos always require a very skilled photographer, especially when we try to get the WHOLE group to look in one direction, at the same time!) The problem with multiple photographers is everyone chooses a different photograher to look at.;-) My 18 year old niece was so cute, as she took photos with several cameras. "Oh, this is so cute!" "Aww, precious...I'm so touched." Funny, sweet girl.

And here...my mom's tree, with her eclectic collection of ornaments.

Other blessings in my family are just being around all the nieces and nephews & great nieces and nephews. I have a couple favorite "finger play" rhymes I started doing with the little ones a few years ago, and as soon as I walk in, I have several holding their palms out to do the "Little Hare Chased by the Cat," which is then followed by "Criss Cross Applesauce." I suppose this started about four years ago, and some of the original children, now four years older, are still looking for me to share this with them. It has become a tradition, and I hope they have warm memories of this when they think back on their childhood memories. I suppose they'll be blogging about it in a couple decades. LOL! Of course, it probably won't be blogging any more, as we'll have moved on to some more technologically advanced form of communications.

Hope your Christmas was merry and you were able to spend cherished time with your loved ones!

(Previously published 12-26 @ Area Voices)

Christmas Gremlins

2008-12-30T19:31:00.001-06:00

...so, the Christmas Gremlins came my way...must have wanted a reprieve from picking on Farside, for awhile. I sent my husband back to retrieve my mom's anniversary photo album, then on to St. Cloud yesterday to get the last picture scanned that was missed in my Mom's /sibling's project...see previous blog. He brought it home, I popped it in, the drive started to run and run and run...but nothing. Popped it in my work laptop, still nothing. Spent several hours on that last night, still nothing. This morning, my CD/DVD drive wasn't working; luckily a reboot took care of that. Tried to run the CD again, to no avail. I think it should have been burned to a DVD, not CD, as the original scans were. I knew this was going to need another trip...or hang it up all together.

Early this morning, we headed off to drop my daughter's car off for new tires and get some last minute grocery shopping done. Swiped my debit card in the reader--it wouldn't authorize. My husband swiped his--again, it wouldn't authorize. The lady on the next aisle...same thing. Unfortunately, neither my husband or I had our checkbooks along. I ended up getting cash out of the ATM, which cost two dollars for that bank, and probably another charge at mine. It was a system problem at Walmart (I think it was overloaded), but I feel sorry for the cashiers & customer service people that have to deal with irritated customers. I am not one of those...I go with the flow; heck, they're just the little people...they can't help the glitches. My daughter was a CSM for several years, and she had to deal with that flack alot. I bet she isn't missing that on her first Christmas season not working there!

After getting home, we determined we will try the scanning project one more time. My hubby wanted to stop at McCann's Brew Pub & refill growlers for Christmas gifts, anyway, so he has been assigned the duty. This will be our fourth trip to get this done right. Again, it is just one of those computer glitches...I am guessing Office Max will not want to take that kind of project on again! I definitely have my fingers crossed this time.

I get to bake today, finally. Friendship bread, fruitcake, beer bread & some fudge. I am tempted to whip up a batch of divinity, as well, after Buffalo Gal blogged on it. I haven't made it in forever. The food prep for tomorrow (our celebration day), is to cut up bread cubes (I think I'll toast some of those), as well as grapes, apples, cauliflower, and broccoli. We also have ham cubes, pretzel braids, and tortilla chips. We are going to do a cheese fountain, which I've not tried, but I thought chocolate (which I haven't tried yet, either, despite having this fountain for a year) was too sweet with everything else we'll have at the buffet spread. Christmas is an enormous spread at my mom's, with so many siblings, and every body bringing one or two dishes, not including the cookie candy trays. I will also make my pina colada punch, which is simply a bottle of pina colada mix and a 64 oz bottle of cran-raspberry juice frozen overnight in an ice cream bucket. It is thawed slightly, then placed in a punch bowl. I pour in a bottle of raspberry ginger ale & it is gone in no time. The kids love it! I prefer the hot drinks: Tom & Jerrys--usually sans the alcohol, Chai Tea , or raspberry tea with a little hot chocolate mixed in! Yum!

I am also on a mission today to clip the dogs nails-or rather-sand them. I bought a new little grinder, called a "pedi-paws." We'll see how that goes...they hate nail grooming, so I picked up a muzzle, as well.

Well, time to don the apron & chef's hat & flour up the kitchen! Here's a little walk down memory lane...my first Christmas; I was not quite six months! My oldest sister was eight, the middle brothers were five & six; the twins had just turned two. Seven more children followed over the next sixteen years. Always a house of merriment!

Ann(8) holding Susie (5 1/2 mos.), Steve (5) holding Jim (2), Danny (6) holding Janet(2)

Merry Christmas to you and yours!!

(Originally published at Area Voices)

Sentimental Gifts

2008-12-30T19:13:00.000-06:00

Christmas will be here before we know it and I am up late, again, trying to put together some sentimental gifts. We already purchased my parents a new dishwasher and had it installed before Thanksgiving. I usually make some sort of food gift for my siblings & their families. Last year it was Instant Tortilla Soup in a Mug (the little kids each got a tin of puppy chow). The Year before, beer bread. Previous year: Chai Tea. This year, I have eight Friendship bread starters "working" in the kitchen; they will multiply to 32 tomorrow!

I still always try to give something sentimental to my mom. One year I wrote my parents a book about their grandchildren. It has been a favorite & I had to rebind it this year. For her 75th birthday I wrote a poem that I framed. I would still like to turn that one into a book--maybe for her 77th? On her 70th, we made a book full of thank-you's (70 of them), each on 4x6 card stock & illustrated by my very artistic sister. This year, I got an idea when I was visiting my mom last Wednesday and saw her 50th Anniversary Photo Album was busting at the seams from all the handling. My very artistic sister scrapbooked two pages for each of their children as a gift for their anniversary. I decided to take it Wednesday...though my mom didn't want to part with it...to get the pages scanned to a DVD. I wanted to print out & laminate a kid friendly copy for the grandchildren to peruse, which should ease on the wear & tear. I also planned to copy DVDs for all my siblings. This way, we all have a copy, since many of us gave up our few one-of-a-kind photos for the project (not too many kid pictures are taken after the first couple kids, as those of you from large families may know).

The project is almost done, but not without a bunch of snags. I took the book to Kinkos, but their scanners weren't big enough for 12x12 pages. I then went to Office Max. Yes, they could do it. $7.99 for the first page, 1.99 for additional, and a fee to put it on DVD. The gentleman said, come back in a couple hours. It was Friday night...right before the storm. When we returned, they had some troubles. The files were too big & he couldn't do with them what he planned, but they were all scanned. They were taking too long to download. Could I maybe stop back tomorrow? Probably not in a blizzard...so, he was going to email them. That didn't work. The files were too big. Their computer has now crashed several times. Now it is late Saturday evening and he is trying to figure out how to shrink them. Sunday, I hear nothing. I call Monday, and the gal says the guy working on them will be in tomorrow and she knows of nothing she was supposed to finish. Right after supper, I get a call saying they had burned them to a DVD. I send my husband on the 2 1/2 hour round trip. He gets the DVD home. I pop it in my computer and immediately notice there were only 29 scans, not 30. I check my sales slip from Friday, and sure enough, there were only 29 scans done. Dang! Why I didn't I notice that Friday night? So, I open up each page to figure out who is missing. My youngest sister is missing one of her pages. I'll have to call in the morning to see if they can do the page, though it will be snowing, & not sure hubby would want to run back to St. Cloud, plus to my mother's to retrieve the album, which I had promptly returned to her Friday night. Plus, if they charge it as a new project, I'd have to pay $7.99 for the scan plus another DVD burned ($9.99 or something like that.) Poor guy working on this will probably run next time he sees someone walk in with such a project. I'm thinking about recording what I have to a re-recordable DVD, then having the other page done later. What would you do (besides come up with the idea a little earlier)?

Here are a couple of the pages...my Mom & Dad's Wedding Photo & part of one of my pages...

The shot below was shrunk & cropped, so it is a bit warped...not unlike myself! ;-)

Pictures, clockwise from bottom left: My brother (5-1/2) and me(4) holding up a fish almost as big as us. My 4th grade picture (almost 10). Here I am at 11 months (I still have that dress). My husband, the kids, and I in the Beatles booth at Hard Rock Cafe in Orlando --1997. The kids were 13, 10, & 7 at the time.

(Originally published @ Area Voices)

I Love to Write...I think?

2008-12-30T19:07:00.000-06:00

I am a writing school drop-out! A few years ago, I was involved in an Institute of Children's Literature course. It was a guided study course. You read through assignments, write, turn in your writing assignments. Your assigned instructor reviews them and returns them with remarks on your abilities, errors, and pointers for change, etc. My "instructor" was Minnesota author Janet Graber. I enjoyed writing, and was doing well, while learning new skills. Unfortunately, I only made it about half way through the course before I "dropped out." Somehow, even though my lifelong dream was to be an author, life just took hold, full force, and I got too busy to write. One of the pointers is that to be a good writer, you should write daily. (I read many bloggers at Area Voices that do that well!)

At the time I quit writing, I had been working a full time seasonal job (April to October) and a half-time school year job. Therefore, the months of April to October left little time for anything but the daily grind. I worked on my writing and genealogy work mainly during the less busy time: November to March. Then the seasonal job went full time (and then some) and I couldn't find a moment to myself.

Over that two year period, I really missed my writing. I worked on an occasional personal piece, but nothing more. I started this blog in an attempt to start writing again. In the beginning, it was fairly easy to write, not usually daily, but at least several times a week. Then, around mid-summer, I started facing some severe career challenges. I am still working through some of those processes. I am currently laid off from my once-again seasonal job, and working a part-time job. After Christmas, I will be looking for some more work to supplement my part-time job. I would then be able to walk away (haltingly, though I should probably run) from the seasonal job, which has been a source of distress for some time now, as much as I love the work.
My oldest daughter recently added to my distress when she made some life altering decisions just totally out of character for her. (I'm not ready to blog about that, yet, or maybe never).

So, with the craziness that has been my life, I have not been blogging or writing much. I've been in a ruminating phase as of late. I am getting to the acceptance stage of my woes(partly by reading about those in more dire circumstances; I need to count my blessings). If I am successful with finding a way to supplement my part-time job to meet my budget, then I hope to find time to return to my dreams of writing once again in more earnest. For a small (unknown) fee, I could re-enroll in the course I dropped, since I had fully paid for it.

Meanwhile, I am content to come to Area Voices and mostly just read the blogs by the many talented writers. I still leave comments, too, and some of those end up being blog length. Participating at Area Voices nourishes my mind with the written word I love so well. It sparks a light in me that may soon be fully illuminated again.

Whether I return to the writing course, or try to work things through on my own, a regular "kick in the pants" from some of my regular readers may keep me going...hint, hint!!

I know there are others out there with dreams of publishing, and it is never too late. My former writing instructor (see link above) didn't publish her first book until age 60, then another a few years later. She will be releasing another in spring (which I think may be part of a trilogy). Keep on writing, friends. Even if it is just your friends and family that you write for, you will leave a legacy for the future. As a genealogy buff, I must impress upon you how important those little pieces of your life really are!

(originally published on my Area Voices Blog)

A Boy and His Dog

2008-12-08T21:20:00.000-06:00

A Boy and His Dog
This is one of my absolutely favorite dog pics!

The handsome little chap, complete in his Lord Faunterloy suit, is my maternal grandfather. He was born in 1896, so I am judging this photo was taken about the turn of the century, which fits in with when this style of dress was still popular. Lucky for him, he did not have to wear the curls that were popular for boys then. I have photos of my other grandfather, in similar dress, but complete with "girly" curls.

I don't know much about the dog...like if he had a name or was a beloved pet, or only a photo prop. I love the touch with the cap in the dog's mouth. I will have to see what I can learn from my mom about this photo. I don't know if my grandpa always kept dogs, but I know he had great compassion for his final companion after my grandma passed. He had a little guy named Chico. I can't remember what breed it was; it was during those years when I was self absorbed (you know: the teen years). One night, while out doing his thing, he ran out and was hit by a car. Grandpa was living at his cabin on Little Mantrap Lake near Park Rapids at the time. I am surprised there was enough traffic on that little dirt road to be a danger. At the time, I never fully understood how deep a relationship could be formed with an animal, but my Grandpa was deeply affected by the loss.

I witnessed the same type of dedicated attention when my sister had her first Corgi. She adored Fiona. When it came time for Fiona's spaying, my sister had no inkling of what was in store. Fiona never recovered from the anesthesia. My sister took a long time to recover and donated all of Fiona's supplies, kennel, toys...everything, to the humane society. Eventually, despite her previous reservations, she became owner to another Corgi, Schatzi. Another dog that was pampered and often visited by a neighborhood "mutt," Woody. When the neighbors decided not to keep Woody after their son moved off to college, they offered him to my sister. My brother-in-law insisted they could not have another dog...no time, etc. The dog was taken to a shelter. Missing Woody's daily visits to Shatzi, my sister & her hubby began visiting Woody at the shelter, and next thing you know, my brother-in-law is adopting the dog they could have had for free. ;-) Woody was one of the nicest dogs you'd ever want around: gentle, playful, loyal. He must have got the best traits of all of his mixed breeding. I have great memories of our visits with them, especially when we visited in Europe. Dogs go everywhere there; even to restaurants, where they are often offered a water dish & treats, as they sit under the table while you dine. This past September, Woody was let out for his nightly jaunt through the woods in a very rural area of southwest Wisconsin. Sometimes he would lay chase on some small varmint in the woods. Long story short, he ended up a long way away at the highway, where he was hit and killed. My sister has beaten herself up over this turn of events and truly continues to mourn his loss.

Another sister just experienced a similar fate when she let her dog out to relieve himself, in a very rural area, and he just disappeared. Having lost another dog previously, she says she is done with dogs (we'll see). It is too hard to handle losing a pet.

I have two wonderful dachshunds, both rescued, one from a shelter, and one purchased from a neglectful owner. They have become such a big part of our lives. Every member of the family has deep affection for these dogs, which has been a great focus for us. I can't imagine how I will handle it when I must some day face their end days.

Knowing how important these companions are to so many, it bothers me deeply when I hear stories of abandoned or tortured dogs. Recently, a hunter discovered a mother dog and her ten pups, left to starve in an abandoned farm house. Five of the pups did not survive. The mother and the other pups were emaciated and are healing at the Tri-County Humane Society (St. Cloud). In another case, a morbidly obese border collie was found frozen to a sidewalk in Wisconsin. The owner is being charged with neglect.

Please people...do not get pets if you can't take care of them or don't intend to keep them forever! To those thinking of getting the kids a puppy for Christmas, remember, they aren't forever a cuddly puppy: they do grow up and they are a huge responsibility. Make sure your kids (or yourself) are ready for the responsibility, because a pet should have the committment of their owner for life! As Farside suggested in an earlier blog, it is better to wait until summer for adopting a pet, when children are out of school and have more free time to develop the habits of daily cares and attention. There is a lot of benefit for children learning that resposibility, but it needs to be well timed.

If you do get a dog, please look to adopt one from a shelter, as there are always many waiting for a happy home. And if you are one of those, thinking of giving up on your companion, simply put...How could you?

Pizza!

2008-12-03T19:28:00.000-06:00

I am preparing to take time out for a little supper break...Papa Murphy's Pizza. My husband picked up the "Perfect Pizza." I'll eat the pineapple and ham, and he'll eat the pepperoni. I recall the first time I tried pineapple on pizza was 20+ years ago. I was visiting my sister in Minneapolis and my brother-in law suggested it. I thought he was nuts! One bite and I was hooked. It is one of my favorite kinds and for that particular combo, I think Papa Murphy's is the best.

This summer, for the first time, I was introduced to ranch dressing on pizza. Have you tried that? I love ranch dressing, but it didn't really "knock my socks off" on pizza.

I like just about any kind of pizza crust...thin crust, pan crust, thick crust, stuffed crust, french bread, etc. Pizza baked in wood fired, brick lined ovens in Italy were a special treat on our visit there. My hubby likes to make his own special version on the grill in the summer...thin & crispy, and tasting somewhat like the crusts from Italy.

As for toppings and sauces, I like almost anything, though I'm not crazy about pepperoni. What are your favorite pizza toppings? Do you have any "wierd" combinations? Do you have a favorite "brand?"

Pizza's here.....mmmmm. Smells great! Time to enjoy!

National Day of Listening

2008-11-28T12:08:00.000-06:00

I have been absent from blogging for a couple weeks, due to an overload of personal issues. I've had a little too much of life's less appetizing portions heaped on my plate this year, especially in the last couple months. I'm working through the latest helping, served up by one of my children, and when I've digested that, I'll hope for more appetizing entrees, or perhaps a decadent dessert. I sometimes just can't converse when I have too much on my plate. It's bad manners to talk with your mouth full, right? Anyway...

It's Black Friday. You could be one of those in the throngs of people trying to get a good deal today...if so, I feel sorry for you! I have participated on rare occasions, but the older I get, the less likely any item of merchandise would get that much attention from me. In the past I have found many shoppers to be rude, pushy, and entirely void of any of their Thanksgiving spirit from the previous day. I say, "No, Thanks!" Unfortunately, tragedy played out in Long Island, NY because of the rush of shoppers, and according to the NY Daily News, a Walmart worker was trampled to death this morning. Pretty sad commentary on the greed of commercialism.

Buffalo Gal seems to be enjoying her day in her pajamas. I think that's a good idea. I am going to go out and help my kids with some home repair projects. Then, I may call my mom and ask some questions for the first annual day of listening. I wish I would have known about this earlier, but just read about it in my brother-in-law's blog. Thanks, Chris!

So, here is the scoop. Today is the First Annual National Day of Listening. I will spare you a lot of the details, as you can go to the link and read them for yourself. The main idea is that you take the time today to listen to someone's story...as everyone has a story to tell, and everyone's story is important. This story can be from a parent or grandparent, a friend, a person you see daily but don't really "know," anyone! Write it down, record it on audio or video tape, photos, whatever.

It is these stories that bind us together. I feel we would be sometimes better off as a country if everyone would take some time to listen to one another, instead of just talking over each other. I enjoy blogging, but only half as much as I enjoy reading other people's blogs. I have always enjoyed biographies...individual people's stories...and I find the stories of everyday people just as, if not more intriguing, than any famous person's biography. I enjoy reading, and often commenting, on the various blogs I try to read on a daily basis. From little snippets to long, drawn out opinions, each gives a view inside the minds of others. Some have similarly held views to my own, others do not. Some are similar to me in some ways, but not others. It doesn't matter, though, because, agree or disagree, we are all have a right to hold our own beliefs, and really, a duty to allow that same freedom to others.

To those who may read my blog today, feel free to answer one, a couple, or all of the questions below, so I may listen to your story and get to know you better.

What was the happiest moment of your life?

What are you most proud of?

What are the most important lessons you’ve learned in life?

What is your earliest memory?

How would you like to be remembered?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It is the province of knowledge to speak, and it is the privelege of wisdom to listen." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

"Listen or thy tongue will keep thee deaf." ~Indian Proverb

The Peacemaker

2008-11-09T23:13:00.000-06:00

I have always been one that wants to keep the peace. As a young child, all the way through adulthood, I have strived to not step on toes. Although I have become more assertive over the years, I try to deal with public and private matters in a peaceful manner. I was reflecting today on some wrongs I have been dealt recently, and whether I should stand up and fight, as so many around me have suggested. Though I might fight for the injustices toward others, I may or may not follow the same path for myself. I will continue to mull over the issues a while longer, I suppose, but I have decided not to fight. Why? Because my energy will be better spent elsewhere. The injustices have helped me reflect on where my priorities have been and where they should be. I have never worn bitterness well. Has anyone? During all the ups and downs of the last couple months, I have looked for peaceful resolutions. Sometimes when you turn the other cheek, you get a view from another perspective. I saw something new on the horizon and have set on a journey to grasp it.

My favorite hymn while attending Catholic school as a child was the Peace Prayer of St. Francis. (My second favorite was Whatsoever You Do). Thinking back on these hymns, and the messages they conveyed, I must have taken them quite seriously, as I have spent my life working on the messages contained within. The Peace Prayer popped into my head this evening and brought many of my recent struggles into perspective. This prayer will definitely continue to guide me in my newest adventures.

Posts from my other blog

2008-11-08T13:37:00.000-06:00

I most often write on another blog, but I thought I would transfer some of those posts here, as I don't check in here as often. My other blog is at: http://www.areavoices.com/abrelamente/

Here is today's post:

Doo Doo Doo Lookin' Out My Back Door

These are just a few of the seasonal sights I partake in when looking out my back door. In a busy life filled with daily stressors, I don't always take the time to just stop and smell the roses...well, I don't actually have roses, but you get my drift, I'm sure.

I awoke yesterday morning to glorious, fluffy blankets of snow, covering every lingering flower, every bush, lawn, field, and tree. It was a wonderous white landscape. I truly believe the first blanketing snow is one of the most overlooked wonders of the world. I didn't get to revel in the glory for long, as I had to traverse the one undesirable aspect of the snow...traveling to work. It was pretty tame, with just a couple of slushy spots, and a few well placed splatterings of snowy slop mixed with mud kicked up to the windshield from passing beet trucks. The landscape along the rural backroads of west central Minnesota was picture postcard perfect...a true Currier & Ives scene.

I sincerely love and appreciate all of the seasons Minnesota has to offer. This is a place where we can see all of nature's changes in full glory. There is the birth and regrowth of spring, filled with everything that is new and wonderful. Next comes the summer, the time to enjoy the bounties that spring has sprung. In fall, the season of change, there is either a preparation for the end of a natural life cycle or getting prepared for rest, and reflecting on all that nature has provided. In winter, much of nature is hunkered down and most comes to a standstill. The snow seems to wipe the slate clean, in preparation for the rebirth of spring, and the continuing cycle.

The seasons of a human life, in many ways, seem to mirror those of mother nature.

First, there are the annual seasons, which really do tie closely to the calendar, for me. In my life, spring is the time of new ideas and energized thinking. I make fresh changes to my physical environment and toss out the old. The return of green seems to spur on fresh ideas and new outlooks on life. Summer comes on in all its glory and it is time to enjoy the bountiful and busy life brought forth from the growth of spring. It is a time of celebration. As summer songs die down, the autumn rolls in, sometimes tenuous, not sure if it wants change at all, but knowing that eventually, change will come. It is a time to give thanks for all one has experienced and a time to ready oneself for the upcoming period of "down time," which has different meanings for everyone. After a suitable time of preparation and reflection, winter arrives. It may sneak in quietly or rush in roaring, wanting to be heard, announcing its mission to knock out all that is weak and temporary, and take its hold. It can also be a time of rumination and sometimes depression. There can be a true feeling of being "caged in." There is a desire to rebuild and reach for light once more. When winter finally can't even stand itself, it allows spring back in and the glorious cycle begins anew.

Then there are the lifelong seasons. As the seasons in Minnesota often overlap, and sometimes seem to jump back and forth, so does this lifelong journey. I see the years between birth and young adulthood as the season of spring. New seeds and ideas are planted, nurtured, and cultivated. Spring turns to summer when one begins to revel in what has been planted...the first job, marriage, children, career accomplishments, pursuit of dreams. Autumn rolls around sometime toward the end of a career, perhaps after a few grandchildren are born, or even when one feels they have met many of their life goals. It is a time to reflect, perhaps double-check the list of goals and to complete any pursuits not yet reached. Hopefully, it is a time when one can share their life learned wisdom with others. It is a time to give thanks for all that life has held. Once winter rolls around, it really is a preparation for the end of the natural life here on earth, and the hope of eternal spring...a new light and a new life.

As it stands now, I am midway between the autumn and winter of my annual seasons, and in the late summer of my lifelong journey. Views of the seasons really are personal. I'd love to hear yours.

Save Ratchet!

2008-10-12T13:13:00.001-05:00

CALLING ALL TROOP SUPPORTERS & DOG LOVERS

Do you love Dogs? Do you support our troops? If either or both of these apply, then please read the story (link below) in today's Star Tribune and sign the petition to save Ratchet. Heck, if you have any passion about human interests, read below.
Beloved pup's fate becomes international cause
Please, don't delay.

Ruminating

2008-10-12T13:05:00.000-05:00

I recently came across an article that discusses a link between creativity and mood disorders. The article clearly states that not all creative people are depressed or bi-polar, and that all people with depression or bi-polar disorders are not creative. It does however point out some interesting connections.

From the article:

Experts say mental illness does not necessarily cause creativity, nor does creativity necessarily contribute to mental illness, but a certain ruminating personality type may contribute to both mental health issues and art.

The article discusses such points as hypersensitivity to your environment, creativity, constant ruminating about the things happening to you and the world, and how these are often interrelated. When I first read the article this week, I thought: BINGO! You can read the entire article here.

I am definitely a ruminator, and I have suffered through bouts of depression, from mild to severe. If you ask anyone who knows me personally, they'll tell you I am creative, I have a big heart, and that I sometimes wear my emotions on my sleeve. I imagine that the emotional part comes from the hypersensitivity to my environment. I strongly dislike unfairness, and that is when you will most likely see the emotions. I am also an empathizer, often tuning into the feelings of others, which in turn, can increase my inner burden. Lastly, I think situations to death (perhaps a little obsessive or perfectionist).

There are many people I spend a great deal of time with that seem shocked when I tell them I am and have often been depressed. Most people would say that I am usually upbeat and positive, but that is only when I keep myself busy and focused. If I am around negativity, I tend to fall in to that trap, as well. In other words, I can stay positive if those around me are, as well. At the end of the day, however, when I unleash my inner self, I am exhausted from holding it in and still depressed.

The older I get, the more I realize that I do not think the same as others, which isn't all bad. I tend to think in pictures and emotions. This is quite possibly the creative side of the depressed mind. Perhaps the question "Do I need to paint you a picture?" was meant for me. If I need to recall something, I often must go back to the place the thought first popped in my head. This can be a problem, because if I am asked to recall details of a conversation or action, it may not come to me until I retrace my steps. (I guess I wouldn't be a very good court witness.) Sometimes it only takes one small visual reminder to open the floodgates of memory. Or solitude.

Solitude helps me to sort the scattered thoughts in my mind. My best work comes during times I am alone. While some people may thing I am an extrovert, because I am friendly, as well as busy and productive in group work, chattering away (often too much), I am truly an introvert. Too much togetherness drives me bonkers. It makes me want to jump out of my skin. I need to escape. I do not like spending 24/7 with people, so vacations and business travel can be a bit taxing. I get recharged when I am alone without distractions.

When I look back at my blogs, I see alot of ruminating. Sometimes I write when I'm feeling mildly depressed or vulnerable, thus the ruminating. (Or am I mildly depressed because I ruminate?) However, if I am having a really down day, I would rather sleep or do mindless things, as I can't string together coherent thoughts. As of late, I have probably had more depressed days than not, in a large part, due to some very unfair things happening in the workplace, to others and myself. I have worked hard to fix the wrongs, but to no avail. Add some personal and financial stressors, and there is a recipe for disaster.

I imagine it is time to revisit the medication issue, though that could be a blog of its own...I have handled depression with and without, and will probably spend the rest of my life volleying between the options. Perhaps a change of scenery will be the only elixir I need.

Has The Fire Gone Out?

2008-10-11T19:18:00.000-05:00

I found this as I was reading online. It fits in perfect with the reflective weeks I've been going through. It seems as timeless as when it was written in the sixties. Of course, it is an age old problem, which just becomes more pronounced during times of struggle. The cycle will likely repeat throughout all of time, because history always does, and we are all imperfect.

The Cold Within.

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In dark and bitter cold

Each possessed a stick of wood—

Or so the story’s told

Their dying fire in need of logs

But the first one held hers back

For of the faces around the fire

She noticed one was black

The next one looked across the way

Saw one not of his church

And could not bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch

The third one sat in tattered clothes

He gave his coat a hitch

Why should his log be put to use

To warm the idle rich

The rich man just sat back and thought

Of wealth he had in store

And keeping all that he had earned

From the lazy shiftless poor

The black mans face bespoke revenge

As the fire passed from sight

For he saw in his stick of wood,

A chance to spite the white

And the last man of this forlorn group

Did naught except for gain

Giving just to those who gave

Was how he played the game

Their sticks held tight in deaths still hands

Was proof enough of sin

They did not die from cold without—

They died from cold within

-James Patrick Kinney

In researching the author, it appears he was an "author unknown," but his wife corrected that information with this letter to Abigail Van Buren:

DEAR ABBY: My husband, James Patrick Kinney, wrote the poem "The Cold Within" in the 1960s. It is gratifying to know he left something behind that others appreciate. He submitted it to the Saturday Evening Post; however, it was rejected as "toocontroversial for the times." Jim was active in the ecumenical movement. His poem was sent in to the Liguorian, a Catholic magazine. That was its first official publication to my knowledge. Since then, it has appeared in church bulletins, teaching seminars and on talk radio, listed as "Author Unknown." If that was done for legal protection, I understand. My family is always happy to see it appear, but we do think the true author should be given credit.

There's much to chew on in this piece, The Cold Within. Each person is responsible for their own level of helping to keep the fire going. Will your heart melt the bitter cold?

2008-10-11T19:01:00.000-05:00

Cannery Row @ McCann's Food & Brew October 10 2008

(l to r) Gary Dockendorf, Chris Laumb, Mike Sharp, Dean Severson, and Carol Anderson

Last night, we spent a lovely evening at McCann's Food & Brew in St. Cloud. They are known for their craft brews, carefully created by none other than my very talented brother-in-law, Chris. He started his brewing career as a hobby, with another brother-in-law, Mark, and things took off from there. He was the brewmaster for O'Hara's Pub (same location-33rd & 3rd) for many years, and when they abruptly closed, he went on to roast coffee beans for Dunn brothers for a stint (another passion). When McCann's took over and remodeled, he was back on board, creating many flavorful brews, and feeling lucky to be employed in a career he loves.

Other talents of my brother-in-law include his voice and guitar playing skills. He is a self taught musician with a wide variety of tastes. He has been with the group Cannery Row for a number of years. They are a five member group, playing mainly Americana, Folk-Rock, and Western Swing. They play many local venues such as coffee shops, benefits, farmer's markets, local festivals, art crawls, etc. They played last night at McCann's, the reason for our rare evening out. I went for the music, my husband for the music AND brews. They are playing today at the Hopfest at Brau Brothers Brewing in the tiny town of Lucan, MN. They will be playing with Gentry Bronson in November as a benefit for the Central Minnesota Sexual Assault Center.

I love listening to the folksy songs, some well known, others lesser known, even obscure. Some of the songs are written by the band, some are the work of other singers and lyricists. The songs bring me back to a time where life seemed more simple. We worked hard, we ate mostly home cooked foods and fresh garden produce, we spent time talking, singing, and laughing with family, friends, and neighbors. We seemed united to make our world, or at least our little corner of it, a better place for everyone. We fought for the rights of the little guys...the family farmer, the blue collar worker, the poor, the children, all the disenfranchised, really. Now...we bail out corporate America as we struggle to put food on the table and gas in our cars.

I want to go back...and for a little spell last night, I did.

Below are the lyrics to one of the songs sung last night, which seems to be the root to some of what is happening in our country today, which Farside of Fifty blogged about in her "Hard Times" piece yesterday.

Thirty Years Of Farming (Lyrics by Fred Eaglesmith)

There's a little white note on the gate by the road

That a man put up yesterday

And when we saw it,

we all ran out

Just to see what it had to say.

And when we read it,

our eyes filled with tears

And they fell to the cold, hard clay

Something about a mortgage,

something about foreclosure

Something about failing to pay.

Chorus:Oh, and on the post by the general store

They put up a little sign

An auction sale day after tomorrow

At the end of Lincoln Line

Thirty years of farming,

thirty years of heartache

Thirty years of day to day

Oh, my daddy stopped talking the day the farm was auctioned

There was nothing left to say.

Oh, my mama's tears fell freely down

As she walked amongst the flowers in the yard

And every number the auctioneer called

Was like a blow to her precious heart

And every number the auctioneer called

Meant another thing was sold that day

'Til everything was auctioned,

and we stood there watching

As they loaded it and drove it away.

(Chorus)

At the day's first dawning,

we awoke this morning

There was nothing for us to do

Nothing in the granary,

no hay in the mow

No cattle, no tractor, no tools.

So we loaded up the car,

took the clothes that we wore

And a few things we managed to save.

Mama read from the Book,

we took one last look

And then we drove away.

(Chorus)

Oh, my daddy stopped talking the day the farm was auctioned

There was nothing left to say.

"Meeting People" on Blogs

2008-05-03T11:54:00.000-05:00

Though I never thought I'd be a blogger, I have found this as a tool to write down thoughts and keep my writing skills from becoming too dusty, in case I'd ever get around to my dream hobby of writing a book.

It is interesting that when searching the internet for some ancestry information, I "met" my deceased uncle's step-grandson's wife, through her blog. We have shared some ancestry information, and I learned more about part of my uncle's life that I hadn't known earlier.

On one of the other blogs that I've been writing for a couple months, I was inspired to write a little piece about the Ten Commandments after reading about some controversial actions regarding the Ten Commandments monolith in Fargo, ND. For those that don't know me, my grandfather's cousin helped to spearhead the effort that got these monuments and other replicas placed in public places in the 1940s to 1960s. This makes the topic a piece of my family history. Anyway, a few days after I posted on the particular topic, the author of one of the pieces I linked to, commented on my blog. She is writing a book about the monoliths. Just goes to show you, you never know who is reading what you are writing.

I used to post comments frequently on an area newspaper site, and during that time, got to "know" several of the posters. After several years of posting, many of us got together at a central MN location last fall. It was fun connecting faces to the online personas. A few were surprising, but most turned out to be much like I imagined them to be. I don't post there so much anymore, just because other interests and my work have taken more of my time, but I still log in occasionally and take the pulse of political leanings, news interests, and such.

While blogging, I also run across people whom I've never met, and likely never will, but who have blogs that are interesting reads or have similar hobbies, political views, etc. I have always been a fan of biographies and real life stories, no matter how seemingly ordinary, so perhaps that is why I enjoy reading other's blogs. So to all of you reading this, keep on reading, and start a blog of your own, so I can keep on reading, as well!

A Loony Weekend

2008-04-20T09:56:00.000-05:00

Silver Lake 4-19-2008:Ice is gone!

Silver Lake 4-18-2008 : 1/2 Thawed!

Swan Lake 4-19-2008: Up Close

Swan Lake 4-19-2008: I bet those babies are a wee bit chilly!

Swan Lake 4-19-2008: It looks a little crowded...still a thin ice cover in large areas.

The loons have arrived, although they usually don't stay long. We are just a respite on their trip to the north. Here are a few pictures from Silver Lake (out my back door) and Swan Lake(across town), where Rick was able to get a little closer to the action. You can get a little closer to the action in most of the photos by just clicking on the photo for a close-up.

Pancakes & Syrup

2008-04-17T21:05:00.000-05:00

As a kid, Saturday lunch was always pancakes and syrup. Both homemade. As early as I can remember, I didn't care for either. I'm not sure if I got tired of them or if I didn't like the way they were prepared, but I usually went "lunchless" on Saturday. Perhaps it was the time I got sick in church after eating buckwheat pancakes that turned me off of all pancakes. Maybe it was the bacon fat the pancakes were fried in that caused them to have patches of black. The syrup, which was usually just brown sugar and water, boiled a tad too long sometimes, didn't do much for me either.

Maybe it was just a Saturday thing...I also didn't care for the weekly Saturday supper of spaghetti and meat sauce...but the homemade bread was to die for. We always drank buttermilk, as it could be purchased for 10 cents a gallon at the local creamery (the price did go up over the years). I didn't like buttermilk, either. So, Saturday was somewhat of a bread and water day for me. If I was really hungry, I would eat just the spaghetti noodles with a tiny amount of sauce mixed up in it, but I rarely caved in to eating pancakes.

Given my dislike of pancakes and spaghetti, it used to puzzle me that different organizations and church groups would hold pancake breakfasts or spaghetti suppers to raise funds. Who went to these functions and why were the foods I disliked most so popular? I never attended one of these functions as a diner, although I worked at a few in high school.

Fast forward to adulthood, and I started eating pancakes. The habit didn't start until I had children, and then it was occasional. My husband liked pancakes, and I didn't think I needed to pass my aversions on to my children. In the beginning, I just thought of them as okay. I made the pancakes from a mix and used bottled syrup; sometimes maple (or artificial maple), and sometimes flavored syrup. I also loved to make waffles, which was something we didn't have growing up. It would have been hard to keep the waffles flowing when cooking for thirteen.

A number of years ago, while I was visiting my aunt in Georgia, she made some pancakes from scratch that were very light and fluffy, and turned out to be a delightful treat. That may very well have been a turning point for me. I started enjoying pancakes, not just tolerating them. My husband used to make a wonderful banana nut pancake with banana syrup. We haven't had those in a while. I'll have to dig out that recipe. We do have pannekoeken (baked pancake) on a regular basis.

My daughter requested pancakes on vacation last month. Not just any pancakes, but pancakes from the family recipe of one of her friends. Once she ate those pancakes at their home, there was nothing better in her mind when it came to pancakes. I fulfilled the request, and enjoyed somewhat of a pancake paradise. The pancakes are easy to make, are very thin, spread with a thin layer of peanut butter, then topped with the most luscious syrup. Each of the elements of the meal has its own special part in making this a mouth watering experience. Enjoy!

2-2-2 Pancakes

2 T. butter or margarine, melted
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs
2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 c. milk, room temperature

Mix butter and eggs. Add flour, salt, baking powder and mix to wet. Slowly add milk to desired consistency (we like ours thin). Pour on to hot griddle (plate size), flipping after bubbles form around the edge and gloss is gone. Serve topped with peanut butter and syrup.

Syrup
1 c white sugar
1 c brown sugar
1 c. whipping cream
Combine in small sauce pan and bring to just boiling, reduce heat, simmer for two minutes (until sugar is dissolved). Great on pancakes or use when making caramel rolls.

Blog? Who, Me?

2008-04-17T20:50:00.000-05:00

Never thought I would be a blogger, but I do like to write...sometimes. The thought of my words ending up out in cyberspace, floating around endlessly, is a wee bit scary. What if I say something really unwise, and then it comes back to haunt me, like when I run for president, or something? LOL!

Seriously, since I never expect to run for political office, I imagine there is nothing I write that can and will be used against me.

Mostly, I'll write about family, hobbies, and occasionally news or politics. There will definitely be more than an occasional reference to food, and probably a word or two about my pets. Feel free to leave a comment once in awhile.