Saturday night all right!

This sweet couple like to go down to the pub every Saturday night and have a pint. The Mrs. gets dressed up but the Mr. doesn't get dressed up for anything. If I had to guess, I'd say his name is almost certainly Harry. I can't figure out what her name might be: Hermione? Deirdre?

What do you think her name is?

Should I go see Obama or not?

President Obama will be in the Twin Cities tomorrow speaking at the Target Center over in Minneapolis. I would kinda like to go but...

I have attended several such occasions in the past and I always wind up being shunted to an alternate location where I watch the proceedings on a TV screen. Now, exciting as being in the moment may be, I would just as soon watch it on my TV at home.

The Target Center is a large venue so I might actually get to be in the same place as the President, but there are a lot of drawbacks. The doors open at 9:30 am but the event doesn't begin until 12:30 pm. There will be an airport-type security search at the door, so no bags (does that mean purses?), umbrellas, sharp objects, signs, strollers or liquids.

I'm really concerned about the liquid restriction. Where am I going to get water? Anyone who knows me, knows that I am never without a bottle of water. Surely I will perish of thirst if I'm deprived of refreshment for hours and hours. I'm getting thirsty just thinking about it!

I guess I'll stay home and stay hydrated. I hope the President doesn't mind.

Apple Cake Recipe

Since it's apple harvest season, I'm printing my mom's recipe for this wonderful apple cake. It's so good that I make it for company or on special occasions.

RAW APPLE CAKE

2 c white sugar.......................................3 c flour

4 eggs......................................................1 c butter

1 c cold coffee.........................................1/2 t cloves

1 c dark or golden raisins.....................1 c walnuts

3 c raw pie apples, peeled and chopped fine

Cream butter and sugar together and add eggs. Add the dry ingredients alternately with the cold coffee. Stir in the apples, raisins and nuts and mix well. Bake in a greased and floured 9 x 13 pan at 350 for an hour or until it's done in the center. You can serve it with Cool Whip, caramel syrup or frost it with:

Speedy Caramel Frosting:

1/4 c butter............................1/2 c brown sugar

4 T milk..................................1/2 t vanilla

1-1/2 c sifted powdered sugar

Melt butter in saucepan and add brown sugar. Cook for 2 min stirring constantly. Add milk and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and add powdered sugar and vanilla. Beat until smooth--add more milk if necessary. Spread on cake quickly as frosting hardens as it cools.

My friend, Garrison Keillor

I read online today that my dear friend, Garrison Keillor, is in the Mayo Clinic where he's being treated for a minor stroke. They say he should be OK and back to work pretty soon. Now I admit that he doesn't know who I am, but nevertheless he is a very dear friend of mine.

When I was a kid, I always thought that Minnesotans were the most bland, average people in the country. We didn't have any exceptional ways about us and we talked plain--not with exotic accents like the people from New York or the South. We didn't put on airs when it came to cooking or fashion. We traded hotdish (casserole to non-Minnesotans) recipes and dressed from the Montgomery Ward catalog.

But then, Garrison Keillor took a step back and took a good look at Minnesotans and noticed that we were sorta different in a folksy way. And don'cha know, we slowly became just a little bit more special as a result.

In 1987, Howard Mohr, one of the writers for Garrison's Prairie Home Companion radio show, published a book called How to Talk Minnesotan--A Visitor's Guide. I laughed out loud as I read the humorous bits about how my folks, relatives and other Minnesotans all talked. I remained smugly certain that I do not have an accent, however--at least not like the folks in the movie Fargo.

It has been such fun listening to Garrison Keillor's shows. I love the warmth and gentle humor and the fact that there is something just a little bit extraordinary about being from Minnesota.

So be well, Dear Friend!

Unexpected art in Valiant Tomatoes

I brought in three ripened tomatoes from the patio yesterday and dropped them in a bowl on the table. I walked by the bowl today and happened to have the camera in hand so I snapped this picture on a whim.

After I looked at the picture, I thought it looked pretty good. If I tried harder, I'll bet I could make it really artsy. Of course, Art is in the eye of the beholder and those are our very own tomatoes grown from seeds and lovingly tended since the beginning of the year--so, naturally I think they're just gorgeous.

We have been through a lot together, those tomatoes and I--from little seed cups under UV lights, to transplanting into bigger containers plus mfore frequent feeding and watering. And then the day in May when they finally went outside into their big pots in the sunshine! We pampered them with more feedings and waterings. We bought them cages to support their stems and kept them pruned. There were the long, harsh days of the drought and sunshine followed by the rainy spell with all the cloudy, rainy days. Unseasonably cool nights slowed their progress but they struggled on.

(Now, the 20 cent package of tomato seeds was a bargain. But the special lights, all the pots and potting soil, plant food, tomato cages, etc. have added up to a tidy sum. It doesn't appear we will wind up with more than 20 tomatoes, but that will be enough to share.)

Despite it all, these few valiant tomatoes now grace my table with their bright colors and their tempting, home-grown juicy goodness.

Now, excuse me while I go eat a $5 tomato...

Harkening back to my childhood (again)

Today's Pickles comic struck a note with me. As kids, my three siblings and I weren't allowed to say naughty words like Heck or Darn. In fact, we couldn't even say Butt. The buttock area was referred to as the Seater. (I found this to be quite confusing because Mom had a cedar chest).

Since we were average kids, however, the prohibition on cussing didn't stop us from talking trash to each other. We got away with Stinkpot, Snot, Dumbbell, Dope and Big Baby.

In those days, going to the bathroom was either Number 1 or Number 2. The word Pee--as in urinate--and the word Body--as in naked--were very edgy language in our young minds. Incredibly, there was a character on the Fibber McGee and Molly radio show named Mr. Peabody! We happily incorporated this into our lexicon of alternative cussing. As a result, our escalating cuss-progression became:

1. Dummy!
2. DUMB-DOPE!
3. DUMB-DOPE PEABODY!!

This was the worst possible thing we could call a sibling. The offended child might well respond with, "I'm gonna tell Mom!" Fortunately, Mom was oblivious to the foul-mouthed implications of Peabody, so we still got away with it.

My parents' "expletives" were equally mild. Mom, being of Norwegian descent, would often say Ufta (oops) or Ishta (gross). She was also fond of using Ofers, as in: "Oh for dumb" or "Oh for cute!" Her favorite expressions were, "Oh, for Pete's sake!" and "Hon-est-ly!"

Dad would poke fun at Mom by doodling pictures of goofy-looking guys and labeling them Pete or Honest Lee. Dad's cussing consisted of, "Holy Smut!", "Son of a Gun", "Blame it!" or "Bunch of Hooey."

It seems rather sad that we have become much coarser people over the decades. And, it makes you wonder--where the heck will it all end?!!

Ms Sparrow grows a little wiser

I've been getting really lazy lately. I haven't posted since Sunday and I feel sheepish about it. I aspire to being one of those reliable bloggers who post every day but I just can't manage to pull it off. This does not speak well of my commitment.

I've actually been trying to sort through old file folders and reduce the clutter in my little corner. What throws me off is that I have to read everything before I can decide whether to keep it or not. Add to that my chronic indecisiveness and you have the "perfect storm" of inertia. My desk is piled high with old humorous emails that I have preserved for posterity. Such as:

Hello, welcome to the psychiatric hotline.

• If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.
• If your are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.
• If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5 and 6.
• If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want, to just stay on the line while we trace your call.
• If you're schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.
• If you're manic-depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.

I just realized that in the 15 years or so since I received this, I have become more sensitive about the issue of mental illness. It's not nearly as funny as it used to be.

And so, into the recycling it goes. One down, several hundred to go...