I am the proud holder of a library card!

I love libraries. Of course I love bookstores too, but in libraries everything is free. You can browse all day if you want. You can relax and revel in being in the company of kindred souls.

I was introduced to the library at an early age. One memorable fall morning, my second grade class was escorted across the street to the imposing Carnegie Library. Around on the right side was a half-flight of stairs leading down into the children's section. We were all seated in a half circle around a tiny woman named Miss Mole (or so it sounded to me) who read us a story book. The book was about a little boy who ate so much, he turned into a balloon and floated away. This concept was confusing and a little frightening but I was enthralled--there were lots and lots of other books in the library with other stories. We were each issued our very own library card so we could come back and check out books again.

The prestige of being the holder of a library card was pretty heady stuff.  I was hooked!

The adult section was up the outside flight of stairs and we were not allowed to check books out of the adult section until we turned thirteen. It therefore became a "rite of passage" to ascend the steps and be issued an adult library card.

Oh the wonderful things that were to be found in the upstairs library! There were books on archaeology and foreign countries, murder mysteries and science fiction, biographies and even humor! I loved reading so much, I would smuggle books to my upstairs bedroom and read far into the night. 

Of course, that old library no longer exists. It was built in an era when nobody gave a thought to providing access to the elderly or handicapped. It also became far too small for a growing population and too expensive to maintain. I'm sure that was the fate of many Carnegie libraries around the country.

But how wonderful that we had those treasures while we did!

Four years a blogger and still not quite doing it right!

It was four years ago today that I posted my first blog. I was quite enthusiastic and titled it, "Hallalujah I'm a Blogger!" I didn't have any followers at the time so there were no welcoming comments, but I was undeterred. I wasn't savvy enough to realize that the way to acquire followers was to find other blogs you like and become their followers. It took me a while to "get on board" with other blogs.

Over the years, four or five of my favorite bloggers have died and more than a dozen have stopped blogging or just faded away. Every once in a while, I see I have a new follower but discover there's no link to get back to their blog. I've also signed on as a blog's follower on impulse and discovered that it's not what I hoped it would be. It's hit or miss, like paging through a magazine looking for an interesting article to read. It seems that the best place to find good blogs to follow is on your favorite blogger's list of followers.

I noticed that the groundhog/woodchuck above has a Dragon voice recognition system. I tried working with a Dragon when I was going through a particularly bad spell of arthritic hands. I found it incredibly frustrating, and correcting the errors it made was more trouble than it was worth. It truth, the bigger problem is my arthritic brain!

So anyway, here's to year number five. May it be more productive and interesting than the previous four!

The glass is greener

Once I was talking with a nurse who was the wife of a Baptist minister. She had recently returned from a women's group trip to Russia. She told me that she had been raised in a church that forbid drinking alcohol but all her life she had the notion that if she ever tasted alcohol, she would love it.

She said that every place the group went on the tour, they were served alcoholic beverages. Out of curiosity, she finally decided to try it. So she sampled everything they were served and, she announced happily, "I hated all of it!"

Borrowed image

Personally, I don't like booze either. Back in my dating days, I tried beer and couldn't believe anyone actually liked it. I moved on to sweet "lady" drinks like a sloe gin fizz, Tom Collins or Bacardi cocktail. Nothing really struck my fancy. I much preferred soft drinks and they were cheaper. I also hated the feeling of being tipsy--the lack of control made me feel uneasy and vulnerable.

I came to realize that I didn't much like hanging out with drunk people either. At the risk of offending those who enjoy the light-hearted camaraderie of drinking with friends, it made me feel out-of-sorts. I hated having a conversation with a boozy-breathed, cloying, erstwhile "buddy" knowing that they probably didn't mean what they were saying and wouldn't even remember it the next day. Basically, I felt like I was being used and at the same time, I felt like an outsider.

After I was put on medications that restricted drinking alcohol, I had a valid excuse for declining whatever was being served. I figure that since I quit smoking in 1972 because of sore throats, I've probably saved a small fortune on booze and smokes. It may seem like those who like to drink and party have more fun, but I find going out to eat and a movie is more my speed.

Keeping busy is good for you!

When folks tell you that you're just as busy after you retire as you were before, they aren't kidding! You feel like you have lots of free time so you gradually take on more things to do until suddenly you start feeling overloaded. But then, you just carry on.

Last Wednesday, the entire turkey troup suddenly showed up in the wooded lot looking for food. I raced out with the goodies and they roosted overnight in the big cottonwood tree. They left the next morning and haven't been back since. I was so very happy and relieved to see they were all together and doing fine. They really brightened up a boring winter and gave me a lot of joy--not to mention blogging topics!

I have signed up to volunteer with the local Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. They work with sick and injured birds and animals to return them to the wild. I have orientation training next week and it appears I'll be working with baby birds. Maybe I'll even wind up with young turkeys or wood ducks!  

                 (Borrowed from Google images, as always!)

My vendetta against the wild cucumber

( I wrote this several years ago. The wooded lot has changed since then. Several large trees have fallen opening it up to more sunlight so the wild cucumber isn't as bad as it had been.)

One balmy summer morning, I noticed that there were large-leafed weeds snaking up the trees and shrubs outside my bedroom window.  On days to follow, I could see the vegetation was rapidly spreading higher and wider.

I was becoming more and more alarmed as it threatened to spoil the view and invade my private little woods.  When I began to recognize trees and shrubs along the highways completely enshrouded by this same vine, I feared it was taking over the city!

I live in a modest townhouse that is blessed with a lovely wooded lot next door.  Because my bedroom window overlooks the glorious green property, I have always taken a proprietary interest in it.  As a result, I was overcome with indignation at this weedy interloper.  I resolved to do battle with it.

The wooded lot is lower than my lot and is separated by a four-foot high retaining wall.  As I walked around and entered from the street, I found it was cool and shady under the trees.  It was also swarming with hungry mosquitoes that were delighted to see me. Amidst the shafts of light streaming down through the leafy canopy of black walnut, box elder and cottonwood trees, I could see hundreds of small yellow-green plants with palmate shaped leaves growing profusely in all directions.  The larger plants had totally engulfed other weeds and shrubs, apparently hogging the available sunlight.  The mosquitoes lost their menace as I realized the extent of the invasion.

I advanced on the “enemy” and began pulling up as many small plants as I could.  I grabbed great handfuls of the fuzzy, sticky vines and flung them at the mosquitoes.  However, I soon realized the futility of this approach.  I switched my vengeance to the larger, more insolent weeds that were climbing the trees and advancing over the retaining wall.  I was surprised at how effortlessly the pernicious vines were uprooted.  I was able to draw up long strands of it into balls that were easily tossed aside.  I was making great swaths through the most heavily infested areas, but gradually I became exhausted and gave up for the day.  My socks were full of cockleburs; I was hot, sweaty and covered with mosquito bites, but I had definitely launched a worthy attack.

Around that time, I happened to read a magazine article about a noxious weed imported from Japan called kudzu.  It was originally thought to be an excellent ground cover, but it spread so wildly that it had become a serious problem in the South.  I was certain that I was the first Minnesotan clever enough to discover kudzu in our northern climate.  I phoned the University of Minnesota Extension Office about it and learned they would have a team of horticulture experts available to the public on Saturday morning at a location in my area.  I could hardly wait!

Saturday morning, I eagerly rushed outside to pull up some representative samples of the nasty vines and tucked them into a Cub Foods plastic bag.  I drove over to the Extension Office with my prize.  There were three experts seated at long tables to field questions from gardeners, weekend lawn warriors and frustrated weed haters like myself.  I stood in line clutching my bag until it was my turn.  I stepped forward, dramatically presenting my array of droopy sprigs and told the horticulturist my suspicions about a kudzu invasion.  To her credit, she took this news with a straight face.

After looking over the samples and consulting several books, she informed me that I had Wild Cucumber (Sicyos Angulatus).  The name originates from its resemblance to domesticated cucumber plants to which it is distantly related.  Although it’s not widespread, it is a native plant found in southeastern and southwestern Minnesota and along the Wisconsin border.

I was quite disappointed to learn it was a mundane weed.  It was not as prolific as I feared either.  It is found only in woods, along streams and roads and in damp, shady places where it can grow up to 25 feet.  The UM expert told me that the most effective way of eradicating it was simply pulling it up, mowing or hoeing.

Armed with this knowledge, I went back home to fight the good fight.  I made frequent forays into the woodsy lot over the summer pulling more of the weeds and concentrating on those producing seed pods.  If the plants are uprooted before the seeds are produced, the annuals can’t seed back the following year.  By the end of the summer, I was smug in the belief that I had won the war against the enemy. 

The following summer I was visiting my daughter, a suburban soccer mom, whose hobby is landscape-gardening a large back yard.  She took me out to see her newest plantings.  As she led me toward a “cute little plant” she found near some woods, I was first shocked and then amused to find my daughter was raising a young Wild Cucumber.

Show and Tell

I was inspired by Elaine and Meggie to post my collection of emerald-green glass. I don't wear jewelry and I'm not attracted to jewels except for emeralds. I love the gorgeous green. I've been collecting green glass objects for many years. Most of these items came from second-hand stores and cost two or three dollars. The one in the middle with the "ruffles" cost the most at $28. I found it in an antique shop and it was so beautiful that I couldn't resist.

                              ( This is in my office)
I also collect cougars, cedar waxwings and Garfields. Most of my large Garfield collection is packed away and some of my better cougar and cedar waxwing pieces too.

On the top shelf on the left side are two teapots that I picked up for my granddaughter when she was collecting them. But she grew up and decided not to collect them anymore, so there they sit.

Building a collection piece-by-piece can be a lot of fun until you reach the saturation point. It seems that when friends and family learn you collect something, they will start adding to it as well (note granddaughter teapots) and pretty soon your passion starts to wane.

                                 (This is in my bedroom)
Here is my vacation souvenir collection. In the midst of it are the two silhouette pictures that my mom had hanging on the dining room wall when I was a kid. They aren't rare and I see that a similar pair sells for only ten dollars on ebay. I'm pleased to have them on my wall anyway.

I am struck by the realization that these photos make me look like a real pack rat! Hmmm...

You Know You're from Minnesota if:

It's been snowing most of the the day and more is supposed to come tonight. It seems like a good time to post these oldies.

You're a true Minnesotan if:

You're proud we make the national news 75 times a year because International Falls is the coldest spot in the country.

Your Dairy Queen is closed November through March.

 You know several people who have hit a deer with their car.

When someone says, "Uff da!" you look to see what happened, and you always smile when someone mentions Ole and Lena.

You consider 0 degrees Fahrenheit just another cold day.

You know all four seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Road Construction season.

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

You can drive 65 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching.

You carry battery jumper cables in your trunk and the whole family knows how to use them.

The pressure builds

It's been a week and a day since I last posted. I write posts and then wimp out because I don't have the courage to hit the little orange rectangle that says Publish.

I wrote a rant the other day but backed off because it doesn't seem to fit my grandmotherly persona. I would rebel against the idea that this persona is all I am, but then I worry about getting too far out of character. This would make it seem that I'm pretending to be somebody I'm not or that I don't have the confidence to just say what I want to say and let the chips fall where they may.  I worry about disappointing people who think I'm above what might be perceived as petty annoyances. I aspire to be one of those bloggers who write about nice, safe things.

But darn it, that is not who I am!

Well, not entirely anyway.

Let's hear it for long lives!

The other day I saw a TV news story about a 90-year-old woman who had accomplished the last item on her "bucket list". She went sky diving.

But, what was remarkable to me was that the jovial lady in question was overweight! For decades I've been told that if you're fat you'll die at a younger age. I was a fat child and I often wondered if I would survive until I turned 60 in the distant future year of 2000. Of course, I did and it was actually the best year of my life for a number of reasons.

I retired from my job in 2005 in part because I felt like I didn't have many years left to live and I wanted to enjoy them. I have been enjoying retirement a lot! So, I revised my life expectation upward to 76--that's the age at which each of my parents died. Since I'm going to be 72 in less that two months, that would have moved up my demise to within four years or so.

However, now that I know we plus-size gals can hang in there for much longer, I'm revising my life expectancy upward again! Hell, I might even make it to 80 or 85!

I should mention that I am working at being healthy and I've taken off some weight just to give it my best shot. All things considered, I just might pull it off!

So, now I should probably start a new Bucket List!

 

Puddling up at my 60th Birthday Party in 2000 when my kids gave me a group picture

I am a reluctant re-use maven

This is my dining room looking into the kitchen. The hutch came from the Salvation Army Thrift Store, the chairs from the Goodwill Store, the table under the fan was from my Mom's estate, the table on the back wall (behind the fan) came from Unique Thrift store as did the cat tower on the far left. The table under the pass-through was bought used along with the sofa and loveseat from a guy moving out of town.

I buy all my clothes at thrift stores except for socks and underwear. Just recently, my computer monitor died and I bought a used one from a store that recycles old computers.

This is not so much because I am noble or thrifty but because I don't have any "disposable income". Of course, that may well be due to the proven fact that your expenses will always increase to equal your income.

It sure would be fun to test that theory on a higher income, however!

Dirty Dishes

As kids, my siblings and I took turns doing the supper dishes. One night it was my sister and I and the next night, my two brothers. Of course, we would sometimes get into big fights over it--like who left the nasty dried-on pot hidden in the oven?

Years later, the same thing would happen with my own four kids. When I came across this poem, I put up a copy by the kitchen sink. (It didn't really help.)

Thank God for dirty dishes,
For they have a tale to tell.
While other folks go hungry,
We're eating very well.

With home and health and happiness,
We shouldn't want to fuss,
For by this stack of evidence,
God's been very good to us.

Minnesota--just a hoot and a holler from Canada.

Corgi Dog Mama mentioned that my last post reminded her of Garrison Keillor's radio show. I've been told that before--but only by non-Minnesotans. Garrison and I are almost the same age and grew up in small towns in Minnesota. We were exposed to the same Norwegian Lutheran influences and staid upbringing. We we were born just one or two generations from our European roots and off of the family farms homesteaded by our grandparents.

There are thousands of us like that. We grew up believing we were innocuous, unremarkable folks who took care of business and tried to be well-thought of.

Thus, it came as a revelation when Garrison Keillor and Howard Mohr (who was a writer on The Prairie Home Companion radio show) began pointing out how truly different we were. In 1987, Mohr published his (locally) famous book How To Talk Minnesotan-A Visitor's Guide. It's a funny book.

Sorry. I'm starting to sound like a Wikipedia article. I guess the upshot of all this is that the moment we discovered we were kinda unique, the uniqueness began to disappear. It always happens that way.

There was a time when "Minnesota Nice" was a common expression. Now the expression is "What ever happened to Minnesota Nice?" (I think we're still pretty nice, though.)

Tomorrow--the last time I saw Garrison Keillor.

Making new soup

I have a strong urge to make a pot of soup today so I settled on Minestrone. Fortunately I have all the ingredients on hand so I only have to assemble them and sit back while it simmers on the stove.

I really love to make homemade soups. The only problem is that I keep adding stuff and pretty soon I have way too much. After eating it for several days, it gets boring so then I put the rest in plastic containers and freeze it.

That would be great except the next time I want soup, I want to make it, not defrost it.

There's just no enjoyment to defrosting old soup!

Baby, it's warm outside!

While the TV news was overtaken by coverage of the Iowa Republican caucuses, I kept wondering what other news was not being covered. What were we missing out on?

It turns out that it was only the weather! Every newscast is now centered on the unseasonable weather. The local weatherman on last night's forecast was positively giddy over all the records being broken in Minnesota.

This is the time of year when we usually have our coldest weather. It's not uncommon to have 20 degrees below zero for days on end. Not only don't we have any snow, but with temperatures in the 40's, it's too warm to snow.

My son, who loves to cross-country ski, is quite frustrated along with thousands of ice fishermen, snowmobilers, pond hockey players, ice skaters and outdoor enthusiasts. In their place are avid golfers out on the snow-free golf courses.

I don't mind the balmy weather and roads free of ice, but I'm starting to feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. Something is way out of kilter!

Backtracking

I've been ambivalent about taking a position on accepting awards. This actually hadn't been a consideration until recently when Kittie at The Block gave me an award soon after Nancy at Blissed Out Grandma gave me one.

When Corgi Dog Mama posted this graphic on her blog, something in me said, "Amen Sister!" So I lifted the graphic from her and now I'm assuming the same position.

I don't wish to be ungracious or insult the generosity of Kittie and Nancy, but I don't feel like blogging is a competitive sport. Every blog has it own unique qualities and appeals to different tastes. In the scope of things, my blog is nothing special.

This is certainly not meant to disparage anyone who gives or receives awards. I'm just opting out of the awards scene as I'm sorta embarrassed by it all. Thanks for understanding.

Of dogs and Christmas cookies

It turns out that the dog in the Snuggie is named Carmella and she has her very own blog! Daughter Number Three kindly forwarded the link to me and it's really worth checking out. It's at http://alittlebrownblog.blogspot.com/.

I have totally avoided doing any Christmas baking this year. Although I miss the fun of decorating cookies and the way the oven warms up the house, my doctor has cracked down on me about my blood sugar.

Now, I am a sweets freak--it I see 'um, I eat 'um; cookies, candies, fruitcakes, bars, Christmas breads, chocolates, pies...I have to stop, I'm making myself drool!

I've been eating lots of veggies and cutting back on carbs. Astoundingly, I have lost ten pounds! Of course, I still have the hurdle of Christmas to get past. Our family of 22 will be getting together for a celebration at my youngest daughter's on Saturday. We decided to do a "baked potato bar" to accommodate everyone's food preferences. The toppings will include bacon bits, cheese sauce, broccoli, vegetarian chili made with Boca Crumbles, sour cream etc. The sides will include meat balls, smokies, salads, veggie tray, fruit plate and of course, desserts.

I'm not so much concerned about what I might eat that day, it's about the next day. Past experience has taught me whenever I splurge on a large meal it triggers my appetite to turn into a monster. And since the previous day's excess usually produces scrumptuous leftovers, there I am with a raging appetite and half a pumpkin pie..the last pumpkin pie I'll make until next Thanksgiving. What's a gal to do?!

OK, OK, I'm getting myself wound up over something that hasn't happened yet. Courage, Sparrow!

Christmas decorating on a budget

Well, I've got the majority of my Christmas calendars bought. Thank goodness for Half-Price Books stores. They sell new calendars at half price so I saved a lot of money. There are a few more that I will probably need to get at the Mall but that's the only thing I need to get at the Mall! (I consider it a successful shopping season if I can avoid the Malls.)

We just got out our little monofiliment tree again this year. It's great because the four cats ignore it. I shudder to thing what they would do to a real tree!

Today is Hump Day

Actually, when you're retired, Hump Day no longer has any meaning. The 5-day uphill grind doesn't apply because your schedule is no longer regimented by an outside source (in most circumstances). Some weeks you are busy and some weeks not--and you can eagerly anticipate both.

The rest of this week is going to be busy. It's MEA (Minnesota Education Association) when all the teachers in the state have their annual convention. This means Thursday and Friday off for the kids. My daughter is coming from out-of-town to go to the Titanic Exhibit at the Science Museum and my granddaughter wants me to go to the History Museum with her to work on a paper about women in the state 100 years ago. We will be on the go!

Next week, there's not much of anything going on, so I can relax.

Keep on smilin'

I love smiley faces. I have a lot of them because I find them therapeutic. I also have a large collection of Garfields with smiles--or smirks--depending on your way of looking at it.

I have thought about selling my Garfield collection but they don't have very much value. This might be because there are literally thousands of Garfield items out there.

I am the proud owner of such mundane articles as Garfield brown paper lunch bags and plastic sandwich bags. I have a Garfield mug tree to hold the many unused Garfield mugs of every kind I own. I also have a lot of Garfield Christmas ornaments packed away along with the Easter and July 4th decorations.

Collecting is great fun until one day you look at your collection and say, "Now what?" Over the years I have collected green glass, cougar pictures and figurines, cedar waxwing pictures and figurines, calendar art, cookie jars, cat figurines, etc., etc.

I'm not a hoarder but eventually your things start to become a burden. Ownership is no longer fun and you realize that the joy was in the "hunting and gathering". Once you acquire the "prey", it becomes just stuff.

So, as much as I craves the smiles, the stuff has got to go!

Been there, done that

Oh yeah!

I like to think I'm above such violent egotistical displays, but that's exactly how I felt when AARP started sending me stuff at the tender age of 50.

Then, the day after my 55th birthday, I happened to be in Michael's Craft Store and a huge sign suspended over the cast registers announced, "If you're over 55, ask for our senior discount". It made me puddle up.

And, I must admit that I didn't take it well when my first grandchild was born when I was 42. I did not want to be called Grandma W (she was my elderly mother-in-law in a nursing home).

Sometime after I retired at age 65, I finally began to adjust to what I perceived to be other people's distorted perception of my "stage of development". I felt like I was still vital and intellectually "with it". But then, I started doing embarrassing things, like dropping really dated expressions into my vocabulary. That is soooo not cool!

There are tons of expressions that are virtually meaningless to my grandkids, like:

Filling station or Dollar's worth of gas

Penny postcard

Jar of Mum Deodorant

Bushel basket

Duz does everything

Lug of peaches

Pitcher of nectar

Cellophane package

Till the cows come home

Fibber McGee's closet

I could go on and on showing off the stash of nostalgic stuff stuck in my brain, but it's not a good way to impress anybody younger than me. I hope it gave you a laugh.