Having a Norwegian moment

The other day when I was at the lobby desk at the clinic, two young women came down in the elevator, looked out the front windows and saw that the sky had turned dark and ominous. One said to the other, "Uff-da!"

Having grown up with a Norwegian mother, I knew exactly what she meant. Actually, it is one of the nicest expletives anyone can use. It's a regionalism, with connotations of oops, ouch and holy cow! Uff-da is also folksy, quaint and fun.

A lot of Scandinavians settled in Wisconsin, Minnesota and North Dakota because there was good farmland and lots of lakes to remind them of home. They were salt-of-the-earth people who adapted to America within a single generation. However, uff-da apparently said something that no other American exclamation quite covered. As a result, more than a hundred twenty years later, folks are still saying it.

I googled Wikipedia and here are some of the entries listed:

"The following are some examples of how Uffda has become established in parts of the upper Midwest of the United States, often in a humorous way.
* There is an "Uffda" store in Red Wing, Minnesota selling various Scandinavian-Minnesota souvenirs, craft, gag gifts, and folk art .
* The "Uffda Mountain Boys" is a band from the Fergus Falls, MN area, playing Scandinavian and bluegrass music.
* In Westby Wisconsin there is an "Uff Da Mart".
* The New Glarus Brewing Co. in Wisconsin markets a brand of beer called Uff-da Bock.

* Yogi Yorgesson's "I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas" with a studio group called "The Uff-Da Band" is still popular (around these parts) after 60 years.
* The logo of the Fargo ND Marathon includes the phrase "26.2 miles...Uffda!"
* According to one edition of Red Stangland's book of Norwegian jokes, "Uff da" expresses one's feelings on dropping a sack of garbage; "fy da" or "fee da", getting one's hand in it.
* Uff Da Airport (2WI1) is located in Stoughton, Wisconsin.
* In Grand Forks, ND, there is a stand that sells Uff-Da tacos. " (Oooh, I wonder if an uff-da taco is lefsa filled with lutefisk.)

No more schmaltz

OK! Enough of the homespun ancient memories.

I't's time for a good rant. Like last week, when I was at the checkout at a grocery store. The cashier, a woman in her late 60's-early 70's, remarked on the cool weather and then added with a smirk, "So much for Al Gore's global warming!"

DUH! As if a cool week in the middle of one continent for a single June is proof that it doesn't exist! I responded, "The earth's weather cycles are just really screwed up." She scowled at me. I wasn't validating her ignorance.

I watch a lot of documentaries and I believe them when they show how the cold fresh water melting from the polar regions cool and distort the oceanic gulf stream that powers the weather systems worldwide. This cooling also derails the jet stream so transatlantic flights can take much longer, and again, weather patterns get screwed up. Add to that the hole in the Ozone layer, the rapid growth of the Sahara Desert and the ballooning hurricane seasons, and we've got trouble, right here on Planet Earth! Denying it won't get us anywhere.

The last couple of days have been really hot in the middle of my continent. It's supposed to get hotter. So to those who would blame Al Gore (or me) for screwed up weather, let's support those who are trying to do something about it. Seriously, we can't put it off any longer.

Wednesday--cleaning

I remember all the stay-at-home moms from my childhood. They would get together for a coffee-klatsch or visit by the clotheslines on Monday washdays. "Mom-talk" probably hasn't changed much since those days. Discussion on teething, kids' birthday parties and good bargains are timeless.

Other things have changed, however. It's the expectations on housekeeping. A stay-at-home mom was above all a housekeeper-no matter that she had a hundred other responsibilities like gardening, canning, ironing, plus cooking and baking everything from scratch. If she didn't keep a tidy home, she was gossiped about.

As a child, I heard grown women sneering about a "lazy" housewife's dirty corners, or sweeping dirt under the rug (that's where the saying originated). A woman's worth was ultimately based on her housekeeping ability.

We had to clean house every Saturday--scrub floors, dust furniture, shake out rugs and vacuum--in case someone would come to visit on Sunday. It wasn't uncommon for people to decide to "go visit" friends or neighbors on Sunday afternoons. Our family, all six of us, would sometimes get in the car to "go for a ride" (this is back when gas was four gallons for $1). If we passed someone's house and my folks noted they were home, they might decide to stop in for a visit. There was always the expectation that they would be ready for "company".

I'm rarely ready for company nowadays, not on Saturday or Wednesday or any other day. If someone drops in when the kitchen's a mess and we haven't vacuumed for a week, so be it. I sorta plan to clean the kitchen today, but I have to go pick up some neighbors out at the airport this afternoon and I've got a bunch of stuff to do first. I hope to get a piece written for my Writer's Group on Friday etc.

You see, I AM NOT A HOUSEKEEPER!

Tuesday--Ironing

Golly! Aren't you glad we don't have to iron everything anymore? When I was in my midteens my mother taught me to iron my dad's white cotton long-sleeve shirts. It was a step-by-step process that began with moistening the clothes to just the proper dampness. This was done with a "sprinkling bottle".

The sprinkling bottle is a lost art form of past generations. I remember making mine when I was in the fourth grade. Sometime before Mother's Day, the teacher instructed everyone in the class to bring in an empty ketchup bottle (but it's a secret, don't tell your mom what it's for). What kid doesn't love a secret?

After the ketchup (or pop) bottles were "smuggled" to school, the process began with a flat pan with paint of varying colors swirled to create a marbleized effect. We would each roll our bottle in the paint and then it would be set aside to dry. The next day, it would be fitted the standard sprinkling top--a cork topped by an aluminum head full of holes.

The Friday before Mother's Day, we would wrap it in white tissue paper with a little tie of crinkly ribbon and take it home for the big presentation on Sunday. I don't remember my mom's reaction when she opened it--or her reaction when she received three more in the following years from my siblings. In any case, they were in use for many years.

Eventually the cork base would crumble away and once that was gone, well, what possible use is there for a painted bottle? It went in the trash. As a result, when I went online to find a picture of an old-fashioned genuine Mother's Day sprinkling bottle, I checked Google images, ebay and Yahoo. All I could find was a single picture. It's not painted, but this is what it looks like:

After the clothes were sprinkled, they were rolled up and packed together in a laundry basket or plastic container. Some people would put them in the refrigerator. I think that was to keep them from getting mildewed it you didn't get to the ironing the next day. If the stuff got mildew, then you'd have to wash it again and hang it out in full sun to kill the mildew--if that failed, you'd have to soak it in bleach!

Monday, Monday

REMEMBER WHEN MONDAY WAS LAUNDRY DAY?

You spent the entire day washing the clothes and bedding, carrying the heavy, wet stuff out to the clothesline in bushel baskets made of thin wooden slats with metal handles that cut into your fingers. If you were lucky, it would be a sunny, breezy day so the laundry would dry quickly but not blow off the clothesline. Then you could rotate the dried things off as you hung out more wet things and not have to worry about running out of clothespins. It was HARD work.

Now you can do laundry 24/7. It's no longer a big deal--you can do it as an afterthought. Don't you just love it?

I remembered a song from my youth about Monday being washday, Tuesday ironing etc. If you're interested in all the lyrics, I googled and found it only on another blogsite at http://mimirock-castleyonder.blogspot.com/

Monday's Wash Day

Today is Monday, Today is Monday,
Monday's wash day, Everybody happy?
Well, I should say!
Today is Tuesday, Today is Tuesday,
Tuesday Ironing, Monday washday
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.
Today is Wednesday, Today is Wednesday,
Wednesday Cleaning, Tuesday Ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.
Today is Thursday, Today is Thursday,
Thursday baking, (a little faster) Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.
Today is Friday, Today is Friday,
Friday fiii-sh, (a little faster) Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.
Today is Saturday, Today is Saturday,
Saturday shopping, Friday fiii-sh, (faster) Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning, Tuesday ironing, Monday washday,
Everybody happy? Well, I should say.
(Hushed and reverent voice) Today is Sunday, Today is Sunday,
(very hushed) Sunday church,
(Louder) Saturday shopping, Friday fiii-sh, Thursday baking, Wednesday cleaning,
Tuesday ironing, Monday washday, Everybody happy?

Well I should Say!

It's Flag Day

Some interesting facts about our flag:

* It's the most complicated of all flags requiring 64 separate pieces to construct.

* President Harry Truman declared Flag Day in 1949, however, it is not a federal holiday.

* It is not illegal to put a US flag across your butt--it's considered freedom of speech.

* The emails circulating that President Obama refuses to wear a flag pin or salute the flag are Hoaxes.

* Ours is the prettiest and best flag in the world!

You're a Grand Old Flag by George M. Cohan

You're a grand old flag, You're a high-flying flag,
And forever in peace may you wave.
You're the emblem of the land I love
And home of the free and the brave,
Every heart beats true 'neath the red, white and blue
Where there's never a boast or a brag.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
Keep your eye on the Grand Old Flag.

Help yourself to a blessing

I did my volunteer stint at the specialty clinic yesterday. It was an uneventful day for the most part. People come in and pass the lobby desk where I am parked in my maroon vest, ready and eager to help.

There is a woman who comes in regularly and each time stops to ask me which floor her doctor's office is located on. I'm not sure if she is doing this as a courtesy to me as her way of acknowledging my usefulness, or if she is simply that forgetful. I suspect it is the latter.

Later, she came back down to the lobby after her appointment to wait for her ride. She came over to me and said, "A million dollar's worth of blessings on you to go spread it around".

I thanked her and for a moment felt quite honored that this sweet, balmy lady said that to little ol' me. A short time later, the Security Guard came by and she went up to him and pronounced $14 million worth of blessings.

Oh well, help yourselves to your share of my million dollars worth and be generous to yourselves. One can never have too many blessings!