Stronger Than Dirt

Bessy.

2012-01-18T23:02:00.001-06:00

The troubles really started about two months ago, on the way home from a weekend in Wausau. That "low coolant" light led to a leaky gasket that the mechanic estimated would cost about $700 to fix.

"Your car is getting awfully old..." my parents cautioned.

"I know, but I want at least one more winter with her -- once this is fixed, it'll be fine. And if another big problem comes up, I'll know it's time."

Two weeks later, when I was leaving work on a Friday afternoon, I put her in reverse, tapped the gas...and nothing really happened. The engine revved when I hit the pedal, but Bessy just slowly rolled backward a few feet before running out of steam. All the way home, every time we came to a stop, the same thing happened -- when I'd take my foot off the brake, we'd just slowly roll forward, no matter how much I tapped the gas, until finally some mysterious, arcane gizmo inside the engine would catch and off we'd go (until the next stop sign, anyway).

I knew it was bad, but I kept trying to convince myself it wasn't anything major. "The mechanic said something about the accelerator cable, maybe it's frayed? That's probably what's doing this."

On Monday, she went back to the mechanic. I went to work and waited for the call.

"Yeah, it's the transmission. I can't quite figure out what's going on, but I think it's failing."

I held it together while I walked back to the repair shop to pick her up; I held it together while I talked to the mechanic (who looked almost as sad about it as I felt). But as soon as I plunked my butt in the driver's seat, I cried like a baby.

(Brand new [to me] Bessy, September 2000.)

I got Bessy in August of 2000, a week or two before I moved back to Duluth for my last year of college. Up until then, I'd been carless in Duluth -- on weekends when I came home to Ashland to work at the motel, I drove the 1978 garden-hose green Oldsmobile I'd been driving since my last year of high school (deemed "too old" to go beyond a 50-mile radius of home)...so having the freedom to go to Target without taking a two-hour bus ride on the DTA was pretty exciting. Plus, a car with a tape player? Four doors? Power locks? Cruise control? It was like I'd died and gone to heaven. Compared to a '78 Oldsmobile, a 1996 Chevy Lumina was pretty damn luxurious.

The next summer, Bessy moved me and some of my stuff (the rest rode in my parents' pick-up truck) to Montana. From our home base in Helena, we visited almost every corner of the 4th largest state in the union (and pretty solid chunks of Idaho, Washington and Wyoming, too) -- east, west, north, south. We went on interstates where 75 mph speed limits were more of a suggestion than an iron-clad rule; we wound our way at a snail's pace on one-lane back country roads with boulders on one side of us and sheer drop-offs on the other. We got stuck in the middle of cattle drives, snapped pictures of bison in Yellowstone, danced along the edge of Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier, twisted around mountains and through blankets of drifting snow, and spent countless hours behind the wheel taking in the alien (well, alien to someone from the close, thick, wet woods of northern Wisconsin) landscape around me.

Four years later, Bessy (and the truck, and my parents) moved me back to Wisconsin. There weren't any mountains to drive over anymore, but we made do with stuff like trips to the world's largest badger and the world's largest twine ball, long drives around the south shore of Lake Superior, and drives that went, well, right over Lake Superior.

Bessy hit 100,000 miles. Then 112,000 miles. Then some more. She got dented and pooped on and made she funny noises when we went over big bumps. (And sometimes when we went over little bumps, too.) The tape player quit in 2003, the cruise control in 2008. (The power locks are still going strong!) There were stains on the floorboards, a tear or two on the seats, the occasional mouse turd in the trunk. None of that stuff bothered me. I was just glad she kept running.

I've driven Bessy since I was twenty-one years old. Eleven years. That's nearly one-third of my life.

Bessy had 65,000ish miles on her when I got her; I didn't get to put another 100,000 on her like I'd always hoped, but hot damn, we got close.

(January 5, 2012)

After the news about the transmission had sunk in, I realized it was time. I started looking at the used car ads. My dad started highlighting things in the paper. Trips were made to used car lots...lists and phone calls were made. Meanwhile, Bessy kept running -- more sluggish than usual, but she's never done the no-get-up-and-go gas pedal thing again since that fateful Friday a few weeks ago. No one's really been able to explain why.

If anything, that made the whole process harder. As silly as it is to anthropomorphize a car, over the years, that's what's happened. Bessy's not just a car, she's another character in the story of my life -- call it stupid, but to me, she's a personality, a spirit. I knew if I traded her in somewhere, they weren't going to re-sell her...she'd be going to the junk yard. The thought of her getting smashed in a big ol' car crusher literally makes me sick to my stomach. So does the thought of her parked out in a field full of junkers...I mean, she's not dead. She feels fine.

"I just hate to see her get junked out. If someone who likes to monkey around with cars could get their hands on her, I'll bet they could get her to 200,000."

The wheelings & dealings went on hold at the end of the year -- Christmas kept us busy, and my brother's wedding kept us even busier. At the reception, I noticed my dad spent a lot of time shooting the breeze with my cousin-in-law, Matt. The next morning, I found out what they'd been talking about.

"Matt'll take it -- he's got a buddy that works on cars in his garage and he's not convinced the transmission's shot since it hasn't done it again. He'll give you whatever the dealership offers for it."

I felt like a 3,600 pound weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Two weeks later, on a Friday afternoon after work, Bessy went into retirement. And the new new-to-me car came home.

(It doesn't have a name yet. We're still in the getting-to-know you phase.)

There's a few loose ends to tie up -- we're not sure when Matt's coming to retrieve Bessy, and I need to clean her out before he does. But before I do that, we need to take one final joyride -- maybe I'll treat her to a trip to the car wash, or give her a shot of that premium gas at the pumps. Whatever we do, I want her to go out in style.

Police blotter.

2012-01-17T20:43:00.003-06:00

Saturday, 12:57 P.M.: Caller reports someone came into her residence and stole all of her meat out of the freezer.

Sunday, 9:39 P.M.: Called to report someone rang their doorbell and ran away.

Wednesday, 4:00 P.M.: Caller reports seeing "the black kind of cows" on the edge of the highway.

Friday, 7:57 A.M.: Caller in Barksdale reports a Christmas tree in the middle of Highway 13.

Friday, 12:22 P.M.: Caller on 14th Street West reports that his delivery vehicle dropped a pool table and it's in the middle of the road.

Friday, 5:28 P.M.: Caller quite upset about snowmobiler smashing the door off their mailbox. States this must be a federal offense and she wants something done about it.

Friday, 8:27 P.M.: Caller reports large chunks of ice or something in the roadway on 8th Street West between Chapple Ave. and 6th Street. Update: officer advised it is a snowman in the road.

Brr.

2012-01-16T16:27:00.004-06:00

Hey, look who finally decided to show up!

Oh, winter. You playful scamp.

Unrelated: enjoy this picture of Flannery looking extremely relieved to have been sprung from cat jail (aka the boarding place) after we got home from the wedding.

Finally, someone to share my My Little Ponies with.

2012-01-06T12:23:00.003-06:00

Dewey got married!

Finally, another girl in the family. I'll have to show Sarah where all the Cabbage Patch Kids & My Little Ponies are out in the garage in case she wants to borrow them sometime.

In the meantime, Nick's extensive collection of mustaches and lucha libre masks came in handy.

The bridesmaids, however, needed no props when it came time for the traditional heaving of the groom.

It was an awesome way to spend New Year's Eve, and a pretty fabulous way to start 2012. Welcome to the family, Sarah!

More pictures...

If Great Aunt Ruth were around to see this...

2012-01-02T23:32:00.003-06:00

...I think she'd dig it.

(Great Aunt Ruth's old house, 12/29/2011)

Police blotter.

2011-12-28T19:46:00.002-06:00

Sunday, 2:24 P.M.: Caller reports she just busted out the window of her boyfriend's car because she needs to get her baby to Duluth and needed the car seat.

Monday, 5:43 P.M.: Caller reports she just received a suicidal message from her computer.

Monday, 9:26 P.M.: Called to advise that Christmas decorations have been found; 1 drummer boy, 1 caroling lady, 1 street lamp.

Tuesday, 4:56 P.M.: Caller yelling and swearing about her neighbors. Dispatch could not understand the female very well because she was yelling and had the phone too close to her mouth. Female didn’t know who the people were but they left pop cans on her porch.

Friday, 7:00 A.M.: Caller advised she received a postcard reporting a barking dog complaint from "the neighborhood."

Friday, 6:08 P.M.: Caller reports she believes someone may have broken into her home and broke some items. Update: officer advises her suspicions were unfounded, picture just fell off wall while resident was out.

Christmas!

2011-12-27T16:04:00.004-06:00

We had kind of a low-key Christmas this year...lots of eating, a fair amount of loafing, nothing high-pressure. It was nice.

Despite the laziness, apparently Toivo was overwhelmed by what little activity there was and felt the need to retreat to his fortress of solitude.

And, of course, I'd be remiss if I forgot to post a picture of this year's nativity scene in the basement.

It's pretty much the same as last year's, but I did give the patriotic nutcracker & Mr. T the year off. (As for the Brett Favre angel...well, I don't know if he'll ever be asked back.)

Stuff I've made lately.

2011-12-26T23:37:00.003-06:00

More substantial posts to come (I swear -- honestly, there are actual legitimate things keeping me away from the computer lately) -- for now, here's some of the stuff I've been busy crocheting lately.

An elephant for my friend John's daughter, Laney:

Monkeys for as-yet-unspecified recipients:

And a scarf for my soon-to-be sister-in-law:

I was really proud of the scarf, since I'd never made anything quite like that before...until I re-read the pattern after I'd finished and realized I'd been doing the wrong stitch the whole time. Oh, well -- I still like the way it turned out and don't think it really makes a difference in the long run.

Coming up next: baby gifts (everyone's having so many babies!), some more stuffed animals, and a long-overdue yarn heap reorganization. If I stick to my guns, maybe I'll finally make a dent in that pile in 2012.

Feliz Navidad & whatnot.

2011-12-24T18:11:00.002-06:00

I've been a bad blogger lately. Bad! Bad Mary! But I promise to post more soon.

In the meantime: Merry Christmas (or insert-the-holiday-of-your-choosing) and we'll catch up soon, I swear.

Police blotter.

2011-12-06T21:04:00.003-06:00

Saturday, 5:48 P.M.: 911 call from a woman about a white SUV that parked in the fire line and “there wasn’t a fire!” Caller was upset because when she told the person to move, the other lady laughed at her.

Sunday, 10:44 A.M.: Caller said her husband picked up two roosters from the woods in Marengo and brought them home.

Monday, 11:12 A.M.: Report of a fifth grader who isn't listening and laying in the parking lot.

Tuesday, 12:28 P.M.: Caller reports her neighbors are in a verbal argument described as “a good one.”

Tuesday, 6:22 P.M.: Reports a male driving a white cargo van came to her door trying to sell meat.

Wednesday, 11:18 P.M.: Caller states she heard her door unlock and believes that someone entered her residence, then left and locked the door again. Caller stated that there is cat food missing.

Thursday, 10:07 A.M.: Downstairs neighbor keeps putting out too much garbage and it doesn’t get picked up.

Friday, 1:47 A.M.: Requested police to respond for "monkey business."

Ice ice baby.

2011-12-06T12:10:00.003-06:00

The bay is icing over.

IT BEGINS!

30 Days of Thanks: Days 25-30.

2011-11-29T15:02:00.005-06:00

Day 25: Not super thankful to have to work today (especially since we average roughly one phone call per year on Black Fridays at the Law Factory), but thankful to have a job, and thankful that the boss left early (and for a forgotten stash of M&M almonds in my desk).

Day 26: Thankful for the return of...Lappy the Laptop!!! And extremely thankful for my friend John's assistance at getting Lappy back up & running. I don't know what I would've done without his help.

Day 27: Thankful for a day alone at home, and for finally crossing a bunch of stuff off my ever-expanding to-do list. I cleaned and organized all day long, and I mean all day long. When it got to the point where I was vacuuming each individual frond of the blinds over the windows, I knew it was time to give it a rest.

Day 28: Thankful that I inadvertently brought something to read with me in my purse today when the power went out for an hour & a half at the office. Alas, the ten minute rule from college does not appear to apply to post-collegiate workplaces. (Then again, it didn't really apply in college, either.)

Day 29: This.

Day 30: This is a day early, but I'm thankful that Bessy's going in for her repairs tomorrow and hopeful that that'll be the end of her troubles for the time being.

30 Days of Thanks: Days 16-24.

2011-11-24T16:25:00.006-06:00

Day 16: Thankful to have some time to tinker on my crafty stuff after work.

Day 17: Thankful for this piece of ridiculousness.

Day 18: Thankful to have a good mechanic who figured out what was wrong with Bessy the Lumina (a leaking gasket), and who I know won't rip me off when the repair bill comes in.

Day 19: Thankful to sleep in today, and for not having to go anywhere as a very pretty 6-8 inches of snow fell from the sky (our first "big" snow of the season).

Day 20: Thankful for the snow plow drivers who cleared Highway 2 to Superior so I could shuttle my mom & Grandma Rosie to my brother's fiance's bridal shower. Also thankful for Chinese food and ice cream cake.

Day 21: Thankful to be able to come home from work and take a nap. Seriously, who doesn't love a good, solid nap?

Day 22: Today, we mourned the loss of Whitey the goldfish, the longest-living goldfish in the history of my mother's fish pond. However, we were thankful for Whitey's many years of fishly service (2006?-2011), and that he (she?) is off enjoying the great fish pond in the sky.

Day 23: Thankful to dig out the Christmas trim at work and get it all put up after-hours. It makes the very brown room I sit in all day much more tolerable.

Day 24: I'm thankful for turkey and mashed potatoes and pie, and for a nice family to eat them with.

Police blotter.

2011-11-23T15:08:00.004-06:00

Tuesday, 1:15 P.M.: 911 call from a female who said she was calling for time & temperature. When identified again as 911, she said “they connected me to you, f#$% you” and hung up.

Tuesday, 7:31 P.M.: Caller reports a vehicle pulled onto Fifield Row and parked at the end of the street. Update: Officer advised vehicle operator was looking for a good spot to "park" with his girlfriend. He was advised to move on.

Thursday, 7:53 A.M.: Officer reports a seagull that had been hit on Highway 2 by Timeless Timber; animal is beyond repair.

Friday, 4:08 P.M.: Caller would like to speak to an officer regarding another contractor that’s telling clients that he’s growing marijuana in his garage.

Saturday, 1:13 P.M.: Caller reports someone asked to borrow his bike for a few minutes and it’s been over two hours.

Saturday, 2:25 P.M.: 911 hang-up call. Update: called back, subject said her phone was in her bra and must have “bra dialed.”

Sunday, 2:01 A.M.: Skunk stuck inside kitchen cabinets.

Monday, 1:16 A.M.: Call reporting a disturbance in the motel room next to his. Update: a couple of Chippendale dancers were talking loudly.

30 Days of Thanks: Days 10-15.

2011-11-15T15:06:00.005-06:00

Day 10: Thankful for a lazy night at home.

Day 11: Thankful for veterans like my dad. One serendipitous thing that came out of my moving to Montana back in the day was that my dad got to reconnect with an old Army buddy of his who lives near Billings -- they hadn't seen each other since they'd gotten out of the service after Vietnam.

(Christmas 1969 in Vietnam.)

Day 12: Thankful for a weekend in Wausau visiting Shannon and Brad, and for another great Cinematic Titanic show (this time, in Green Bay). Oh -- and for paninis! Delicious paninis.

Day 13: Thankful that I followed my gut instinct to pull over and pop the hood when the "low coolant" light came on the dashboard on my way home from Wausau. Also: this marked the first time I've ever been thankful to find a Walmart (not much of anywhere else to buy coolant at 6:00 on a Sunday night in Minocqua).

Day 14: Thankful that I popped the hood on Bessy the Lumina this morning to check the coolant before I drove to work, otherwise the haphazard bits of seat stuffing the mice had assembled for their slumber party on the engine block the night before might have made for quite the fire hazard.

Day 15: Thankful that they had chocolate macaroon brownies at the bakery this morning.

"What did YOU do last Saturday that was so important?"

2011-11-09T12:39:00.006-06:00

Upon hearing of Andy Rooney's passing last week, this immediately sprang to mind:

This clip is the stuff of legend at my house. Me & my brother Nick happened to be watching 60 Minutes the evening that it originally aired in 1997 and we just about died laughing. It's probably funny on its own merits, but I think we lost it because the dumping-out-a-can-of-mixed-nuts-and-counting-them totally sounds like something our mixed-nut-hoarding dad would do. In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he has.

So R.I.P., Andy Rooney. You were an interesting guy and one of the great cranky old men in American history. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the enjoyment of muttering "a lot of NUTS in the supermarket" to myself lo these last thirteen years.

30 Days of Thanks: Days 6-9.

2011-11-09T10:03:00.003-06:00

Day 6: Thankful for a leisurely get-together with my old friend John, and that even though Lappy the laptop is majorly on the fritz, John thinks he can rig it to run for a little while longer -- long enough to allow me to procure Lappy's replacement, anyway. Also thankful for Italian sodas and pumpkin cheesecake at the Black Cat.

Day 7: Thankful for leftover Hugo's pizza, heated up in a frying pan.

Day 8: Thankful that we didn't have any elections today in Wisconsin (or none in my neck of the woods, anyway), nor anything particularly contentious across the border in Minnesota. It was nice to be spared from all the nasty political ads for a change.

Day 9: Thankful for a warm coat and remembering to put my mittens in my purse.

Yip! Yip!

2011-11-07T11:39:00.002-06:00

Filed under "better late than never": the tea towel I started embroidering for my friends Paula & Nick's wedding last December...and which I only got around to delivering a couple of weeks ago, along with the baby presents.

It's a loose homage to their dog, Bootsy, who looks a little less chihuahua-y than this but well, I suppose it's close enough. (Also, I haven't heard her bark very often, but Bootsy's isn't super yip-yippy, either. I just thought it was more fun than the generic "woof, woof" option.)

My favorite part of the pattern: the waggy-tail lines.

30 Days of Thanks: Days 4 and 5.

2011-11-05T21:52:00.003-05:00

Day 4: I'm thankful that my plucky old computer kept running for almost exactly seven years.

(I'm not thrilled that it decided to suddenly stop running after almost exactly seven years, but still. Seven years was a good run.)

Day 5: I'm extremely grateful that my old friend John is passing through town & is willing to take a crack at jumpstarting ol' Lappy up there, or at least extracting the couple of things I hadn't gotten around to backing-up yet.

30 Days of Thanks: Days 2 and 3.

2011-11-03T14:19:00.003-05:00

Day 2: thankful that my 92 year-old grandma is still spry enough to accompany me & my mother on occasional shopping trips to Duluth, and for seeing this rather judgmental item on a clearance rack at Michael's.

(I mean, for all we know, those monsters might be entirely well-mannered and delightful.)

Day 3: for having a coupon for a free smoothie in my wallet this morning.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 1.

2011-11-01T23:07:00.009-05:00

My friend Regina mentioned something she's doing with her boys this year that struck a chord with me -- instead of focusing on the old, played-out Pilgrims/Indians bits of Thanksgiving later this month, every day she's making them pick something they're thankful for. It seems like a much more tangible, meaningful way for little kids to learn about gratitude and contentment than, well, stuff like this.

So: today, I'm thankful that I live in a town where I bump into random ridiculousness like this on an almost daily basis.

Halloween omnibus.

2011-10-31T12:26:00.002-05:00

I'm lame and don't have any scandalous Halloween plans this year. Didn't make a costume, didn't go out carousing on Saturday night, didn't get into any shenanigans. I'm well on my way into my spinster years, I know.

What I did instead was make Halloween decorations. Which was fun, and I like how they turned out...but on the other hand, we don't ever get any trick-or-treaters at our house anymore (seeing as how we're out in the sticks), so the only people who'll get any enjoyment out of them are me, my mother, and maybe the UPS guy. (I'd include my father in this list, but I'm pretty sure he tunes all this out.)

Cheesecloth ghosts! I remember my mom making these when we were kids, and how cool it was to get off the school bus and just find them there one day after school...if I had it to do over again, I'd make more of these to hang closer to the house.

Also: snake wreaths!

This was featured in a Martha Stewart daily e-mail a few weeks ago (shut up, yes, I know, see above mention of spinsterhood) and I thought it was awesome. I ran into a couple of minor snafus that made this project drag on much longer than I'd anticipated, though. First, the spray paint I used on the snakes had a reaction that made them impossibly sticky -- like, pry-them-off-your-hands-and-wash-with-GooGone-for-twenty-minutes-afterward levels of stickiness. So I had to repaint them twice with a flat cheapo acrylic paint just to make them manageable. Next, though it was warm out when I started painting, all of a sudden the bottom dropped out on us weather-wise and it's been down in the 30s-40s-50s, making it hard to get the spray painting finished. Last, I bought more snakes than I needed for one wreath, so in the middle of the project, I had to track down another grapevine wreath, and yadda-yadda-yadda.

Anyway, I think they turned out pretty wicked gnarly.

And that's about all I have to report as far as Halloween festivities this year. Tonight, I'll be heading over to my friends Elizabeth & Peter's house to help them hand out candy (i.e., eat Little Caesars and watch Dance Moms on Lifetime and occasionally get up to answer the doorbell), which will be delightful but, again, probably not all that scandalous. Especially since their baby's bedtime comes around 8:00.

Instead, enjoy some tantalizing tidbits from Halloweens past.

Stuff I've made lately.

2011-10-30T23:29:00.002-05:00

My friends Paula and Nick welcomed their baby Charles a little ahead of schedule...and a little ahead of my crocheting schedule, too. Thankfully, he's doing great, and I got his blanket done in a hurry, too.

I actually screwed up the stitch that was the basis for this pattern, but didn't realize it until I was about halfway through -- it's supposed to be more V-shaped, and less like a granny square shape. But I thought it looked fine the way it was, and that the baby probably wouldn't mind, so I just kept going.

Also made recently: a heap of baby hats.

Another one bites the dust.

2011-10-30T23:20:00.002-05:00

Despite my mother's protests...

...the big maple in our front yard is no more.

Well, not entirely no more.

Yeah, the goofy stump. I wasn't 100% sure about it at first, but it's grown on me in the past week. Kind of makes the loss of the tree sting a little bit less.

It continues.

2011-10-27T16:21:00.006-05:00

The wooden trestle leading up to the Oredock is gone.

(Saturday, October 22, 2011.)

It's...disorienting. It looks frail, more vulnerable. Like it could just tip over or something, without that piece balancing it and connecting it to the shore. Driving into town from the west and seeing it on the lake's horizon, it takes a second to notice the empty space on the right...but once you do, it seems impossible to stop staring at it.

Even though I've been here in town during its demolition and have seen the process unfolding with my own eyes, I'm still sort of disbelieving what I'm seeing.

For comparison -- photos from October 8th, October 15th, and October 22nd:

October 8th vs. October 22nd:

October 15th vs. October 22nd:

It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that something that's been there for almost a hundred years has been dismantled in less than a month.

Police blotter.

2011-10-19T20:16:00.004-05:00

Sunday, 3:41 P.M. (Apple Fest weekend): Received two cell phone calls regarding a male who is exposing himself by the Bayfield Inn on Rittenhouse Avenue in Bayfield. Subject wearing red shirt and straw hat.

Monday, 6:40 A.M.: Man wants it on file that he had a peeping Tom at about 6:00 A.M. on Broad Street in Bayfield. He was unable to locate suspect.

Tuesday, 6:29 A.M.: Caller reported that 2 white dogs walked into her yard and barked when she brought her dog outside to “potty.”

Tuesday, 1:50 P.M.: Caller requests officer assistance for her sister who dropped her keys in a yard filled with leaves on 6th Street West in Washburn. Update: keys were found.

Tuesday, 3:34 P.M.: Report of a snake in yard that caller believes might be poisonous on Omaha Street in Washburn. Update: snake is not poisonous, is caught and released in woods.

Wednesday, 1:34 P.M.: Report of a motion detector alarm at a residence. Update: keyholder called and stated everything was fine, it was the beetles and flies setting off the alarm and did not need an officer to respond.

Thursday, 11:16 A.M.: Caller reported that her husband came home from being out all night with a hickey on his neck and refused to tell who gave it to him.

Friday, 9:56 P.M.: Caller stated there are kids on tractors literally running over trucks in the field and being very loud.

No no no no no no no no no.

2011-10-13T16:41:00.007-05:00

I saw clips of this on last week's episode of The Soup and just about died. Here it is, in all its glory.

Note: if you dare to scroll through some of the comments under that clip on YouTube (an activity I recommend avoiding like the plague), you'll come across some wondering if this cat's being abused or tortured (which did cross my mind at first, I admit, given its posture, its ears being flattened back, etc.). On the other hand, having lived with cats most of my life, I find the original poster's explanation (translated from Russian by some other users) pretty plausible: "My cat Marquis, the first time he saw my friend's daughter. He cried so violently all the time while she was visiting us. That was 7 years ago and he never repeated it a single time. Even when she came to us again, the cat just hissed." I've seen the way Toivo reacts to certain relatives -- when my brother Dewey comes to visit, Toivo'll take one look at him, start hissing and run away -- and I can attest that sometimes, cats do strange crap for no discernible reason. Also, the fact that the original poster's got other videos of the cat playing around their house, and that the cat's just standing still and not trying to run away in this clip, convinces me that they weren't hurting it. (Well, maybe it would hurt its feelings if it knew it were plastered all over the internet like this, but we'll never know for sure.)

It begins. (For real this time.)

2011-10-13T09:00:00.014-05:00

Last week, the railroad started demolishing the last of the wooden trestles leading up to the Oredock. No demolition has started on the dock itself just yet, but now that various permits have been approved, it's only a matter of time.

(Standing by the barricade on the walking trail -
all these pictures were taken on Saturday, October 15, 2011.)

It's been over four years since it was announced that the Oredock's coming down (and five years since they removed the parts of the approach that crossed Main Street and Highway 2), but I don't think the reality's really sunk in yet for most people. There's been some false starts and stays of execution along the way that have delayed the inevitable...with it constantly being pushed off into the future, I guess it started to seem like maybe, just maybe, it would never actually happen. But now, it is.

(Peeking through a fence on Water Street.)

Throughout this drawn-out saga, I've had a lot of conflicting emotions. I still do. I think this has brought out some of the best in Ashland (the rallying of community spirit, the art shows, the shared sense of nostalgia and loss), and some of the worst in Ashland (the negativity, the blame game, the Monday-morning-quarterbacking). I imagine the reactions would be similar in any community facing a similar situation, but sometimes I have a really hard time getting past how negative this place can feel -- or, rather, how the negative voices tend to dominate the conversation. Growing up here, I don't remember feeling like a "if life gives you lemons, make lemonade" sort of person -- moving away to college, and later to Helena, changed something in me, flipped a switch in my brain that made me more optimistic. Or, well, marginally more optimistic, at least.

It's going to be really hard to watch the Oredock come down. People should be sad -- it's a big deal. But at the same time, thanks to bureaucratic paper-shuffling and some plucky peregrines, we got four extra years with it. Four extra years of pictures, and four extra years of driving into town and seeing it off in the distance...four extra years of walking out on the ice beside it, and four extra 4th of Julys with the fireworks booming off the chutes.

Are four extra years as good as forty extra years? Nope. But it's better than nothing. (See? Marginally more optimistic.)

It's not a tum-ah.

2011-10-12T11:30:00.000-05:00

My parents' weathervane has sprouted a hornet's nest in its armpit.

Our fickle friend, the summer wind.

2011-10-12T11:13:00.012-05:00

Summer just won't go away this year. And I disapprove. I disapprove strongly. It's time to be cold, dammit! I want to wear pants! And shoes! Proper shoes that fully encase my feet! Let me put my sandals away already!

I mean, for the love of god, it was eighty degrees last weekend during Apple Fest. Eighty degrees! How can one properly enjoy a fall harvest festival in eighty degree weather? How can I be expected to eat and, more pressingly, enjoy my annual apple bratwurst under those kinds of conditions? I can't go to Apple Fest without a jacket. It's just wrong.

Between the heat, knowing it was the festival's 50th anniversary, and suspecting the sheer amount of insanity that would inspire amongst residents of the Twin Cities desperate to escape suburbia for a day "up north," I opted to skip this year -- and I'm glad I did. My relatives that went wound up driving around looking for a parking space in Bayfield for an hour, and even up at the orchards they had to park in the back eighty acres and stand in line for an hour for a bag of (overpriced) apples. They never even found a place to park in Bayfield -- they just gave up and went home. My internal rage system surely would've overheated and I fear the casualty count would've been high.

Normally, by my brother Dewey's birthday in mid-September, the leaves in the front yard have turned and are at their peak. This year's been different.

Front yard, October 1st:

Front yard, October 5th:

Front yard, October 9th:

Yep, that's right: we had less than a week to enjoy the leaves before a big-ass wind blew up on the 6th and wrecked everything.

Sadly, the big maple next to the garage is getting cut down in the not-too-distant future -- there are some concerns about its health and it falling on the garage if/when it goes. We've had a lot of trees cut down this year, but I think this one'll make us the saddest -- it's so close to the house, and often the prettiest one in the yard each autumn. I wish we'd had a chance to enjoy its autumnal splendor for a bit longer.

Stupid wind. Stupid summer. Bring on the $%#&*! snow!

Apparently, they aren't paying by the pound.

2011-10-01T13:13:00.007-05:00

I mean, sure, his maintenance records are in a bit of a shambles, but he runs fine!

(Also great: this.)

Edit: And in the interest of feline fairness:

"It's just a show, I should really just relax."

2011-09-27T16:55:00.001-05:00

After the few brief, shining years when we had the satellite dish, its rusting, hulking frame taunted us from the backyard as we sank to the ground like Icarus, having flown too close to the sun. The rabbit ears went back into the spider plant's pot at the top of the stairs, and we went back to just having four TV channels. Channels 3 & 6 (CBS and NBC, respectively) usually came in pretty clearly (explaining the vast quantities of Cheers and Seinfeld we'd consume in years to come), but for the next twenty years, anytime we wanted to watch something on 10 (ABC) or 8 (PBS), you had to cross your fingers and hope the snow on the screen wasn't too bad that day. (On the other hand, I can credit that fuzzy reception for limiting my exposure to Full House and Family Matters on ABC's "TGIF!" Friday night line-up, which was probably blessing in disguise. My brains were already rotted enough and they didn't need more help from Urkel.)

Our last reliable outlet for soaking up the wondrous offerings of cable TV was my Grandma Rosie's house -- more specifically, Grandma Rosie's back bedroom, which wasn't really used like a bedroom at all but was more of a sewing/TV room/hideout for grandchildren. On major holidays (major enough to prompt a big family feast, that is) and on lazy summer days (or afternoons after school), me and my brothers and our cousins would usually wind up back there, eating off TV trays or balancing plates on our laps, watching illicit, non-Grandma-sanctioned programming like WWF wrestling, Beavis & Butthead, The Simpsons, South Park, and Ren & Stimpy. If you heard Grandma coming down the hall, you'd better make sure you had PBS or something wholesome queued up to flip over to, because Grandma did NOT approve of vulgar fart humor. (Or did she?)

(Still hiding our viewing habits from Grandma despite the fact that we were all in our 20s, Christmas 2004.)

And in that room is where I saw Mystery Science Theater 3000 for the first time.

It was sometime in the late summer or fall of 1992 -- the exact circumstances that brought me to Grandma Rosie's that day are lost in the fog. Was I there after school? On a weekend, when the family went down to do chores in her yard? Who knows. But I do remember sitting there, flipping through the channels, and landing on this.

"She's cute, she's rooty-toot-toot/I bet she smells like Juicy Fruit."

I'd never seen anything like it -- my thirteen year-old mind was blown. What the hell was this? I sat through the rest of the episode and was completely mesmerized. It was so, so funny, and so out of left field.

If I had to pin down what spoke to me most about the show when I first encountered it, it would be two things: one, that it was really smart and super funny and showed me that maybe my nerdy, bookworm-y skill set (which wasn't doing me many favors as an awkward middle schooler) could eventually come in handy. And two, it was made by people from Wisconsin and Minnesota, not out on a coast somewhere -- to a kid in the middle-of-nowhere in middle America, hearing people crack jokes like "filmed on location in Spooner, Wisconsin" on a nationally broadcast TV show was, like, the greatest inside joke ever. ("Oh my god, I've been to Spooner!") Hearing references that were specific to my mother country, and which would likely fly over the heads of a lot of other people ("ride the ducks!"), made me feel like I was in a secret club. There's nothing a thirteen year-old wants more than to feel smart, and to feel like they're cool, and that's what MST3K did for me. It made me feel cool to be smart.

I started scouring the TV guide listings in the Sunday paper, figuring out when this weird, weird show would be on again, funneling VHS tapes down to Grandma Rosie's so she could tape it for me. (It should be said that Grandma Rosie was pretty technologically adept, especially compared to my parents -- they still don't know how to set a VCR timer.) Every few weeks, Grandma would have a new tape ready for me, and I'd bring it home and watch it over and over, until I took it back so she could tape some more.

This went on for a few years, with Grandma's taping skills growing more erratic (and the show getting harder to find on the TV schedule). I hoarded the shows I had and guarded the tapes like a crazy person, lest they fall into a family member's hands and get taped over. Then, on a back to school shopping trip in Duluth, in an overpriced Suncoast video store, I found...officially-released MST3K episodes. Oh, they were overpriced, but they were worth every penny. I was way more excited about the tapes than I was about any back-to-school clothes.

By this point, I was in high school, and even though I was still a nerd, I'd found a lot of other nerds to be friends with. (I mean that affectionately.) My house became a weekend hangout -- we'd go down into the basement and watch movies, play board games, eat frozen pizzas, dig out old toys in the furnace room...that sort of thing. One weekend, hunting around for something to watch (and still just having four TV channels to pick from), I pulled out my Pod People tape...and the rest was history.

Watching MST3K turned into a communal experience. Not everyone "got" all the same references (and I don't think any of us ever got them all), but everyone found something to laugh at. When I went to college, my MST3K tapes went with me, and when I moved to Montana, they took up valuable real estate on the back seat of my car (instead of, say, clothes or winter boots or anything like that). I've made some of my best friends watching MST3K.

There aren't many things I fell in love with at the age of thirteen that are still relevant to me today. (Hey, I may still have that Ace of Base CD I got that year, but I don't actually listen to it.) MST3K has been my favorite show for over half my lifetime. I've seen some of the episodes dozens of times, and what surprises me as I get older is how I'll be watching some movie or reading a book, and BAM! I'll encounter a scene or a line and out of the blue, some joke on MST3K that I've heard a hundred times but never really "got" will make sense. It's a show you can grow old with, without it ever getting old. It's had, without a doubt, the single biggest influence on my sense of humor outside of my immediate family.

A few weekends ago, me & my brother Nick drove down to Minneapolis to go to a Cinematic Titanic show. Nick isn't as ardent a MST3K fan as I am, but because of me, he grew up watching the tapes so he's pretty fond of it, too. It wasn't my first Cinematic Titanic show -- I saw them in Minneapolis when they came through a few years ago -- but this time, we lucked out and sat right next to the stage, literally an arm's length from these people I've watched and idolized since I was a kid. It was like an out-of-body experience -- a really funny out-of-body experience.

After the show, the cast came out to sign autographs. Me & Nick got in line and shook hands with everyone...I got totally tongue-tied and just kept saying, "So nice to meet you!" when what I really wanted to say was "you people are my heroes."

Police blotter.

2011-09-26T00:27:00.004-05:00

Sunday, 11:43 P.M.: Report of 4-wheeler heading down Main Street.

Monday, 4:10 P.M.: Report of bear dogs barking and howling all hours of the day and night.

Tuesday, 4:19 A.M.: Request for officer for highly intoxicated patron at casino who was walking around with only a shirt on, guest was escorted back to hotel room.

Tuesday, 1:02 P.M.: Trespassing: Subject stated that someone put a mailbox on his field, on County G.

Tuesday, 2:25 P.M.: Suspicious activity reporting a possible "peeping Tom," as they have noticed "ear" marks on some of the windows.

Wednesday, 2:10 A.M.: Suspicious activity: caller stated someone was trying to get into her house, and wanted officer to patrol the area. Officer determined it was a raccoon.

Wednesday, 1:11 P.M.: Request to see an officer about "a picture in a window."

Friday, 9:44 A.M.: Report of male going from house to house seeking a wrench so he can change a tire. Caller said he was intoxicated and carrying a can of beer.

This might count as one of the signs of the apocalypse.

2011-09-26T00:19:00.003-05:00

When the Mayans were scribbling out their apocalypse calendar, do you think they looked into their crystal balls (or ancient Mayan crystal ball equivalent) and saw this?

IT HAS A ZIPPERED BUTT FLAP.

Reading/Watching/Etc.

2011-09-13T12:35:00.001-05:00

READING:

In the Peanut Gallery with Mystery Science Theater 3000: Essays on Film, Fandom, Technology and the Culture of Riffing
Yeah, I'm still slogging through this, which I don't mean to sound negative because I'm quite enjoying it. But it's dense and scholarly (really!) and sometimes after reading at work all day, my brain's not prepared to tackle anything that asks too much of me once I get home. Now that I'm going to two Cinematic Titanic shows this fall, though, I think I'll be approaching this with renewed vigor.

Louis C.K.'s USO Blog (a series dating back to May '09)
There was an hour-long episode of Louie a few weeks ago that was so awesome, it managed to stand out amidst an entire season of outstandingness. After the show aired, he posted a link in his Twitter feed back to this series of blog posts he cobbled together after he'd returned from a USO tour in Iraq/Afghanistan a few years ago -- if you've seen the episode, you'll see where he got some of the inspirations for "Duckling." (I wish the episode were posted on the FX website, but alas, it's not up there for viewing, otherwise I'd link to it here.)

"How to Land Your Kid in Therapy" and "How to Turn Republicans and Democrats Into Americans" in the July/August 2011 issue of The Atlantic
I fall behind on The Atlantic more often than I should (so much to read!), but I make time every summer for the Ideas Issue because there's always lots of good brain chow in there for me to mull over. These two articles were my favorites in this year's edition.

Jay Mohr's Real Housewives of New Jersey blog
My secret shame. Well, not really. I'm not a big reality TV person, but the New Jersey housewives are my semi-guilty pleasure -- the other franchises don't really do it for me (Beverly Hills being the exception, because they're so rich and disconnected from reality that it's more like watching Dallas than a "reality" show), but these people remind me of people I know around here. Essentially, they're just rednecks that live in fancy houses. I mean, seriously -- an entire episode this season was devoted to them going to a cabin in the sticks where they did nothing but ride four-wheelers, shoot guns off the front porch, and get plastered. Take away the accent and swap it with one of ours, and they'd blend right in.

Anyway, the comedian Jay Mohr is (somewhat inexplicably) a huge RHONJ (yes, it merits its own shorthand) fan, and this year Bravo (the network that airs the show) gave him space to write about it each week. I don't know if they're at all funny to anyone unfamiliar with the show, but if you do watch it, his entries will crack you up.

WATCHING:

Cougar Town, season 2
This show is so much better than its title would have you believe. Really. Not that it's, like, the greatest show on TV or anything, but the ensemble cast is really funny together, the stories are silly but entertaining, and it reminds me of those frothy procedural shows on the USA network that don't ask much of you, but that you can watch for four hours straight without losing interest.

Exporting Raymond
A documentary about the creator of Everybody Loves Raymond and his efforts to launch a Russian version of the show. It's not the weightiest doc in the world, but the inevitable culture clashes between the creative types were amusing ("this Raymond, in Russian culture he is like, how you say, a wussy man").

Doctor Who
The second half of the newest season started up a few weeks ago...it's cool to see it's finally catching on in America. Well, catching on a little, at least -- I don't think it's a household name just yet.

WWII in HD
If you get the chance to see this sometime, watch it. (I rented it from Netflix, but it still replays on the History Channel from time to time, too.) I loved it -- seeing things in color instead of black and white gives it so much more immediacy and impact, and the way they frame the miniseries around a dozen or so recurring people makes it really engaging. I wish this had been around back when I was in high school, I think I would've gotten a lot more out of our WWII unit in history class if we'd had something like this to soak up.

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency
I read the first of these books a few years ago and have always meant to go back and read the rest -- just haven't found the time yet. Finding this show has pushed the books back up toward the top of my to-read list -- it's beautifully done. The cast is wonderful, and it left me half-tempted to book a plane ticket to Botswana.

ETC.:

Listening to: Join Us by They Might Be Giants, Dirty Radio by Sallie Ford & the Sound Outside.

Making: crocheted baby hats, which has been a great way to use up some bits & pieces of yarn. Plus, I like anything that I can finish in a couple of hours, it suits my current attention span nicely. Next up: gotta start a couple of baby blankets, as a few of my friends have buns in their ovens.

Acquired: an iPod Touch, after my trusty old Creative mp3 player kicked the bucket (2005-2011, R.I.P.). I wasn't totally hip on hopping on the Apple bandwagon, but generally, I'm liking it so far -- the controls are taking some getting used to, and there are some things I think my old player did better (sometimes, less is more), but it's fun being able to go on the internet on it and being able to download games & crap might be fun, too. Next up: contemplating a new laptop purchase, as mine is almost seven years old and in addition to some structural issues (the missing "v" key that fat Toivo broke off that time he jumped on it, the CD/DVD tray door falling off occasionally), it's starting to have some runtime issues, too. Ever since we got new computers at work last winter, it's gotten jarring to go home at night and watch mine slowly start up and limp along. The back-to-school sales are all ending pretty soon, so if I don't decide quickly, I'll probably just hold off for another year. I hate to spend the money, but on the other hand, I guess I've gotten my money's worth out of this one by now...

Police blotter.

2011-09-12T23:48:00.004-05:00

Tuesday, 8:58 P.M.: Caller complained of ongoing noise problem, on one side it is the bear hunters with their dogs, and the other side is a man who blasts his stereo because he is irritated by the bear dogs.

Friday, 1:15 P.M.: Report of male lighting fireworks with caller adding, "he also sells drugs."

Friday, 3:27 P.M.: Report of male urinating in public.

Saturday, 12:52 A.M.: Report of woman lying on ground with a male near her. Update: Subjects were watching the northern lights.

Saturday, 1:53 A.M.: Report of car stuck in pond at casino.

Sunday, 2:34 P.M.: Report of kids throwing food all over the yard and a car.

Sunday, 7:20 P.M.: Report of two somewhat intoxicated women walking down road with open beers in their hands.

Sunday, 10:30 P.M.: Report of raccoon stuck in sewer grate.

Sunday, 10:41 P.M.: Report of graffiti outside apartment door. Update: Kids had been writing on sidewalk with chalk.

A perfect circle of acquaintances and friends.

2011-08-31T20:52:00.031-05:00

Today I found out that an online forum I've been a part of since 1998 is shutting down. To be honest, it's not a huge surprise -- activity there has dwindled significantly over the last few years, as people have migrated from places like that over to platforms like Facebook. Heck, I barely remember to stop by more than about once a month anymore, as my own interwebbing habits have changed over time (and I spend more time reading, and less time arguing with other people).

Still, it's bittersweet. I went into college right as e-mail and the internet came into bloom -- when I left for UMD in 1997, we had a computer at home but we didn't have the internet. Access to computers on campus was limited to a dingy room full of Apple IIe equivalents in the basement of my dorm, or slightly more modernized computer labs sprinkled sparingly throughout the busier parts of campus (unless you were lucky enough to be one of the rare people who brought one with you to college, and even then, almost no one had laptops). The people who had computers in their rooms got really sick of everyone always asking if they could come in and type up their papers on them, I'll bet ("I don't waaaaaanna walk all the way to the lab!").

Even by the time I graduated four years later, I still didn't own a computer, nor did most of my friends. We had the option of hooking up the internet in our on-campus apartment the two years I lived in there, but decided it wasn't worth the hassle. The last year, when I lived off-campus in a house, we just kept sucking it up and walking to the computer labs on campus if we needed to do something.

That's not to say I didn't spend a lot of time on the internet, though. I'm pretty sure the only reason I made it through my first year of college was e-mail. I was miserable that year, isolated and incredibly lonely and feeling like a total fish out of water -- I never really felt like I fit in at UMD -- but every day, I knew there'd be an e-mail in my inbox from Emily down at Gustavus Adolphus, and I knew she'd be waiting for me to write her back. And as my younger friends who were still in high school back in Ashland slowly got wired-up, I had more and more people to talk to. The loneliness got more bearable.

And somewhere in the midst of that, I found Murmurs.com. To make a long story short, I became an R.E.M. fanatic early in my second year of college -- I'd always liked the band, but that's really when I went off the deep end. Murmurs was an online community that talked about the band, their music, their tours...but the people there talked about so much more, too. As time went by, we talked about politics, relationships, families, books, movies, sports, everything. Nothing was off-limits, really. As time passed, you really got to know people -- having that cloak of anonymity (or as much anonymity as you wanted to maintain, anyway) helped people let down their guards and talk about things freely, things that maybe they weren't comfortable talking about in-person with others but which, having time to compose something in writing, they were able to articulate it the way they wanted to. I know that's how it was for me sometimes, anyway.

One of the days I remember most distinctly in relation to Murmurs was 9/11. When I showed up for work at my almost-brand-new VISTA position in Helena, Murmurs was where I found out what was happening in New York and D.C. The news websites in the U.S. were completely overloaded and couldn't keep up with the hits they were getting, pages were crashing left & right -- but Murmurs members from overseas were able to keep funneling us information on the boards, keeping us more up-to-date than our own online media sources could. In the midst of a horrible, unthinkable day, people from thousands of miles away were rallying around us and offering real, tangible comfort and support. When I think of that day and all the awfulness, I remind myself of that kindness and generosity and can convince myself that the world really is a good place.

There were inside jokes and memes, huge HUGE fights and disagreements (and flounces), voices of reason and voices of craziness, newbies and moderators and this huge cacophony of voices. Any time of the day or night, you could log on there and find something worth reading (or arguing about). I can think of at least three marriages that resulted directly from people "meeting" on Murmurs; I can also think of at least one person I became friends with who passed away. We followed along as we graduated from high school or college, got married, had babies, sent kids off to college, got divorced, changed careers...we all got older and we all kept evolving.

A few years ago, as activity on the forums started to die down, most of the people I talked with the most on Murmurs started migrating over to Facebook. And it was like the scene in The Wizard of Oz when it goes from black & white to Technicolor -- suddenly, there we all were, not just words on a messageboard, but people! Full, vibrant, multifaceted people! With pictures of kids and weddings and trips and pets and houses and jobs all splashed out for each other to see in real-time. I remember feeling a little awkward at first -- "will the 'me' they got to know on there seem phony now by comparison?" -- but in the blink of an eye, it was like I'd known these people forever. By sacrificing that anonymity, the last of the guards went down and people really, truly became friends. Now, I talk with some of these people more than I talk to people I know in "real life."

Murmurs taught me a lot. It taught me to be a better writer, and to choose my words carefully when I'm trying to make a point. It taught me to be more patient, and to "assume goodwill" when a disagreement sprouts up (something that the average Facebook user could use a lesson in). It taught me to be confident in what I had to say, and to not take myself so seriously sometimes, too. Most of all, it taught me to broaden my horizons -- to try new music, new movies, new books, new food, new places, and perhaps most importantly, new people. It's a great big world out there, but people are people, and we all just want the same thing -- a connection.

He's at it again.

2011-08-28T22:15:00.002-05:00

More cousins than you can shake a stick at.

2011-08-26T23:34:00.007-05:00

Another July, another Treba family reunion. Every three years, the tent goes up, the volleyball net gets staked into the ground, the bingo boards get dusted off, a port-a-potty gets parked next to the garage, and a roaster full of pig-in-a-blankets (not the sausage-wrapped-in-pancakes kind, those are heresy around here - we're talking pork wrapped in layers of cabbage, just like they made back in the Old Country) ensures that said port-a-potty sees plenty of action.

(Apparently, we were all supposed to wear red shirts. Some of us obviously didn't get the memo.)

It was a good time, as always. All of my grandma's surviving brothers and sisters were there -- ten in all, plus tons of first cousins, second cousins, third cousins...I gave up trying to keep track of all those a long time ago and just refer to everyone as my cousin at this point. Why split hairs? It would just distract me from the bingo.

Timber! (Revisited.)

2011-08-16T12:19:00.005-05:00

I know I mentioned this before, but here's some more pictures to show what a mess me & my mom came back to.

Some before & afters...

Of course, this all had to happen during the hottest week of the summer. Naturally.

And these pictures show what it looks like behind the house. Fortunately, this part's just beyond the edge of the slope behind our house, so we don't have to look at it.

We'll be picking up wood until, oh, July of next year? Something like that.

The attack flamingos are getting antsy and want to get back out on the driveway, ASAP.

Making stuff.

2011-08-09T09:57:00.003-05:00

I've been on a crocheting kick again lately -- potholders, more monkeys, cat toys. I'm trying to live up to my New Year's resolution to burn through more of my ridiculously-gigantic yarn stash this year...making little putzy stuff like this doesn't consume vast quantities of said stash, but eh, at least it picks away at it a little.

Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape.

2011-08-02T14:21:00.014-05:00

My mother doesn't buy a lot of furniture, but when she gets a vision, watch out. "What we need is a microwave cart. That would free up the counter and solve all of our problems." "If I had a desk in my room, I could put all that stuff in there and it would solve all of my problems." "If we had wheels on the coffee table, we could move it out of the way and that would solve all our problems." (Let me tell you -- wheels on the coffee table was a stroke of genius. And making my hope chest -- or, as I like to refer to it, my hopeless chest -- into a mobile hope chest/coffee table hybrid was super genius. I can't believe we beat IKEA to the punch on that one.)

I don't remember what it was exactly that my mother was hunting for last fall when we went to the furniture store, but rest assured it was something we couldn't possibly go another day without. (Except we didn't buy anything that day, so I guess we could.) It was a slow day at the store, so the minute we walked in, the owner was on us like flies on honey.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Furniture Store Guy tried to sell us furniture -- pretty par for the course. My mom perused her options, but was ultimately uninspired by their offerings and unswayed by Furniture Store Guy's sales pitch.

Sensing that we were ready to leave made him desperate. "Let me tell you about the remodeling work we've done in here," he started, not really giving us the opportunity to "let" him do anything. Ten minutes later, when we saw an opening, we made a break for the stairs and got back down to the main showroom...only to be cornered a second time before we could make it to the door. "Hey, let me tell you about what's under the suspended ceiling in here..."

My family attracts these people. You know the type. The type that can't stop talking. And they don't want to talk with you, they want to talk at you. Wherever we go, the talkers find us. Grocery stores, bus stations, public restrooms. I don't know what it is that draws them to us -- do we look especially friendly? gullible? lonely? -- but once they pounce on us, they talk us into submission and we're too meek and polite to just walk away. We nod, smile, respond with variations on "that's interesting," and wait for it to be over.

So that's the tactic we took with Furniture Store Guy. Just let him spout off about the original light fixtures and the water damage from that rainstorm a few months ago until he's spent, then dash out the door. We knew the drill. It would all be over soon.

But then, my mother made a critical error.

Furniture Store Guy: "Hey, want to see my apartment in the back?"

Mom: "Oh, sure, that sounds interesting."

Apparently the hundreds of hours she's clocked watching Dateline: NBC and 48 Hours over the years have taught my mother nothing about the folly of following weirdos back to their apartments.

Grimacing all the way, I followed my mother as she followed Furniture Store Guy back into the bowels of the building, winding past the water cooler, the break room, and the teensy-weensy model rooms crammed with too many ottomans and davenports. Finally we came to a couple of rooms that had pretty clearly just been built in the last few months -- the place still smelled like drywall and fresh paint. "Yeah, me & my ol' lady are splitting up, so I'm spending some time here now," Furniture Store Guy told us as he led us around. The place was the very picture of a depressing, forty-something-guy-in-the-process-of-divorcing man cave: nothing on the walls but a Sports Illustrated poster of a chick in a bikini, an unmade king-sized bed in one corner, a drum set in another, a hastily-erected bar with empty pizza boxes on top and a mini fridge with a half-empty carton of beer cans next to it filling up the center of the main room.

It wasn't giving off a serial-killer vibe -- it was more like the loneliest dorm room ever.

Then things got weird.

"So, what do you do for fun?" Furniture Store Guy asked me. I knew he was asking me, and not my mom, because he was staring at me like Toivo the Wonder Cat stares at his food dish.

"Uh...not much," I responded, half out of not wanting to give away my general whereabouts, and half because my definition of "fun" probably didn't mesh up with his. "Hang out with friends, make stuff, nothing too exciting."

"What about the nightlife? Which bars are the best?"

"I honestly have no idea -- I don't really go out."

"Come on, a young thing like you -- you must go out!"

By this point, my skin was crawling and I was having a hard time suppressing a bad case of the giggles. I looked over at my still-somewhat-oblivious mom and made a big deal out of gesturing at my watch -- "Yeah, well, we should probably get going..."

"Well, if you're ever looking for something to do, I'm up late -- just knock on the front doors and hey, bring your friends by, we can hang out. I can play my drums for you!"

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." I headed for the door and my mom followed, still chattering away. We wove our way back out to the main showroom and had almost made it to the door before he got us again.

By this point, I just wanted out of there. He kept talking, and my mother kept letting him go on -- I kept inching toward the door. I looked down at my watch and we'd been trapped for an hour. An hour! This had gone on long enough.

And then: he put his hands on my shoulders.

OH SNAP.

I don't think he had ill intent -- I would hope he was just attempting to be friendly and not a perv, though the way he came at me, I think he was going for a faux-neck rub maneuver -- but holy shit, nobody touches me. Especially not random strangers in the furniture store. Anyone who's known me for a long time knows I'm not at all comfortable with that -- my personal bubble is the size of Montana and if I'm cool with you getting inside of it, I'll let you know. But there came Furniture Store Guy, barging in with his creepy hands and his creepy goatee. Not cool.

Finally, my mother caught on to what was happening and why I'd been acting so uncomfortable. "The expression on your face was priceless. PRICELESS!" she said after-the-fact. "I wish I'd had my camera along."

I wiggled out of his clutches and grabbed the door handle. "Oh, you're leaving? Well, if you need anything else, come back anytime!" he called after us.

Needless to say, I haven't needed anything else, and haven't gone back. Like I said in the beginning -- the furniture store is supposed to be a place where we solve problems, not a place where we acquire new ones.

Just say no.

2011-07-31T15:12:00.009-05:00

[After discussing the owner of a regional sandwich chain and his (alleged) fondness for the nose candy:]

Mom (sounding a lot like the secretary in Ferris Bueller's Day Off): Where do they get that cocaine?

Dewey: Drug mules.

Mom: Drug mules?

Dewey: Yeah, they come up from South America and they hide the drugs in balloons they shove up their butts.

Mom: Up their butts??

Me: Wow, you don't watch nearly enough Law & Order or Dateline, apparently.

Dewey: Uh-huh, that's how they sneak it around. And then they just hope that the balloons don't pop.

Mom: Oh my god!

Me: And if they get caught, the border patrol or airport security people have to give them body cavity searches.

Mom: Body cavity searches?

Dewey: Yup! They put on a glove, tell 'em to bend over and [mimes a hand going up someone's hinder].

Mom: Oh my god!! Like, right up their butt?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: [pause] Well, I suppose that job pays pretty well.

Me: Being a drug mule? I don't think so...

Dewey: Yeah, I think the drug mules are at the bottom of the food chain.

Mom: No, no -- the people who have to stick their hands up other people's butts. I'll bet that pays good.

Police blotter.

2011-07-29T22:10:00.003-05:00

Sunday, 4:18 P.M.: Report of wheelchair taken while owner was in tavern picking up his girlfriend.

Sunday, 4:55 P.M.: Report of subject in wheelchair on highway. Update: Subject advised he was in highway travel lane.

Monday, 10:05 A.M.: Neighbor dispute: Complaint of a pile of mattresses and bikes lying around in the yard.

Tuesday, 10:50 P.M.: Report of ATV riders stopping for a cigarette and being surrounded by people with flashlights and tiki torches. They left the area and later realized they had been chased for a while.

Friday, 1:13 A.M.: Report of unusual animal on kitchen floor. Caller said it looked like their puppy but she could hear the puppy barking outside. Update: Subjects called again saying that everything was fine at the residence. Both subjects sounded highly intoxicated.

Friday, 2:04 P.M.: Report of male lying in ditch. Update: Subject was fine, just needed a ride.

Saturday, 2:43 A.M.: Request for officer to check motel room that patron said had a fox in it.

Saturday, 3:56 A.M.: Request for officer to chase a bear up a tree so caller could leave for a funeral.

Art-O-Mat.

2011-07-26T15:16:00.009-05:00

I want to give a special shout-out to something Georgia & I bumped into while we were walking around the Chicago Cultural Center (next to Millennium Park, home of The Bean): The Art-O-Mat.

You buy a token.

You put it in the machine, and out pops the art of your choosing.

I chose a robot.

He is adorable and he has many brothers and sisters out there, if you want one of your own.

The time I went to Chicago for the weekend.

2011-07-26T13:12:00.007-05:00

Georgia's been after me (in a nice way) to visit her down in Chicago since...well, since she moved to Chicago. Before that, she was after me about visiting her in Milwaukee while we were in college, and before that, about visiting her in Eau Claire. The only time I've ever made it down there was for her wedding a few years ago -- and that, understandably, was a bit of a whirlwind, what with her being a little busy getting married. Given that she put in the considerable effort required to visit me in Montana back-in-the-day, I owed her.

Finally -- no, really, finally -- I got to Chicago.

We ate Greek food, we checked out The Bean, we hit up most of the Museum of Science & Industry (by the way, if you ever get the chance to see the touring BodyWorlds exhibit, go, it's awesome), we did the Sears Tower thing (I know it's not actually called the Sears Tower anymore, but c'mon, the new name just doesn't stick the same way), we visited her parents (my brother Nick says thanks for the tie pin, by the way)...we went everywhere, man.

We also paid tribute to the city's mighty overlord.

BOW BEFORE OPRAH (if you know what's good for you)!!!!!!!!!

More pictures & observations over here.

Timber!

2011-07-20T22:12:00.006-05:00

I went to Montana!

More on that later.

First: this is what the yard looked like before me & my mom left last week.

And this is what it looked like when we got home yesterday.

Tornado? Typhoon? Michael Bay movie? Nope -- my folks hired some loggers to clear out the dead and/or dying trees from their ten acres, a process which had started a few weeks before our trip. They worked their way down from the back woods and made their way into the yard last week while we were gone. Frankly, I'm glad I wasn't here -- me & my mom are more sentimental about crap like trees than my dad seems to be, and I think watching some of these big ol' jackpines and maples come down would have been traumatic. As it is, it looks like a war zone.

(Of course, the week we need to pick up massive piles of branches around the yard, it's 100 outside with 88% humidity. Of course.)

Reading/Watching/Etc.: Girl Power Edition

2011-07-13T09:35:00.006-05:00

READING:

Unfamiliar Fishes by Sarah Vowell
Yeah, I'm still trying to finish this. I don't know what it is about it -- I love her writing, but every time I pick this one up, I'm having the damnedest time getting into it. It probably doesn't help that I've got so many other books stacked up on the nightstand right now, either -- flashy, shiny, syrupy books that require very little of me. This one's thicker and I have to actually pay attention. If my stack of books were a meal, those books would be hot, greasy tater tots, and this one would be a pile of cold peas I keep pushing around the plate. (That's not to say it isn't tasty, but I think I just need to wait for a craving to strike and not force it.)

A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
I liked it, but I didn't love it. I do wonder how they're going to make it into a TV series, though.

"The Tragedy of Sarah Palin" (The Atlantic)
I can't say that it made me change my mind about her, but it did give me some food for thought. Lots of fodder for "what-if?" scenarios.

"The Neverending Nightmare of Amanda Knox" (Rolling Stone)
Here's another one who I thought I had a pretty solid opinion of...but the details in article this about how the Italian justice system works are alarming. I guess it's comforting to know that America's not the only place with big, circus-y court trials. The Italians have got us beat!

WATCHING:

Easy A
Liked it quite a bit, though I did have a hard time buying the premise that someone who looks like Emma Stone would go unnoticed at her high school. C'mon, the girl's gorgeous! But it was fun -- snappy and cute. Liked all the digs it made at the Demi Moore-starring version of The Scarlet Letter that came out when I was in high school, too - "the one where she takes a bunch of baths." God, that one was ridiculous.

Whip It
If I'd seen this when I was a little younger, it might've convinced me to become a roller derby girl. As it stands, I'm 32, can't skate and have a poor sense of balance, so I think I'll leave it up to people more nimble than me. Anyway, this knocked my socks off. Great casting, and one of those coming-of-age stories that resonates no matter how old you are.

Drop Dead Diva
This show isn't out to set the world on fire, but it's a nice blend of a legal procedural, a soap, and a sitcom. It reminds me of those USA shows that give you just enough to puzzle-out so you don't feel brain-dead, but it goes down smooth and doesn't ask too much of you, either.

Saturday Night Live: The Best of Amy Poehler
I first saw Amy Poehler on Upright Citizens Brigade on Comedy Central back-in-the-day -- even then, she was like a force of nature. I haven't spent much time watching SNL in the last few years (especially since we got the satellite and I have more options on Saturday nights), but most of this was pretty amusing.

ETC.:

- Once again, I broke my solemn oath not to buy any more yarn until I'd used up what I already have...shame spiral!

- But, I have been crocheting more of those little amigurami critters lately, so at least I'm using some of it up.

- Later today, me & my mom are flying out for (almost) a week in Montana. I just passed the 10th anniversary of when I moved to Helena, and haven't been back out for a visit since the spring of '07, so this is LONG overdue and we're both very excited. Now if I can just keep track of my mom in the airport (this'll be her first time on a passenger jet) and keep from skidding off the road in Glacier (Going-to-the-Sun Road is opening TODAY, the latest it's ever opened in its history, and we'll be there tomorrow -- they had a thirty-foot snow pack up at Logan Pass they were still plowing through last week, whew!), we'll be sitting pretty!

- Last but not least: The Jon Hamm Emotions Challenge. You're welcome, ladies. (And gentlemen.)

Pop culture moments of my generation that I refused to take part in, pt. 2.

2011-07-08T22:26:00.054-05:00

(Part 2 in an ongoing series [that hasn't gone on for a while].)

It was the fall of 1998. Or maybe it was the spring of '99? It's gotten a little fuzzy. Whenever it was, I was in college, and I'd officially become an English major after a brief first-year detour in the communications department. (To this day, I don't know how I wound up there -- I came into my springtime orientation session undecided, but by the following autumn when I showed up for classes, I'd been shuffled onto the pre-communication track. Someone must have checked a box when I wasn't looking.)

Anyway. This may go without saying, but English majors read a lot. Like, a lot a lot. There were times I was reading five or six novels at once, plus keeping up with reading assignments for my non-English courses, and then there were the short stories and compilations for composition classes...if I hadn't already been wearing glasses when I got to UMD, I would've needed them by the time I left. It seemed like I spent the better part of my waking hours with my nose stuck in a book.

The thing is, I loved reading -- always had. From the time I was old enough to entertain myself, I was always reading, books stacked up in my room next to my stuffed animals and My Little Ponies. My mom took us to the library all the time, and I'd come home with heaps of books half as tall as I was, burn through them in a week or two, then head back for more. During junior high, I'd go through a book a day if I got my way, and even when I got to high school and got busier with extracurricular stuff (and an actual social life), I always had something on my nightstand that I couldn't wait to finish. Reading came easy -- it wasn't a chore.

But when I got to college, that changed. The pace and the sheer volume of information shooting into my brain on a daily basis really did a number on me. I mean, it just NEVER STOPPED. You try keeping track of five novels at a time (all of which you're reading in the span of a week or two)! And quite frankly, it didn't help that UMD switched from a quarter system to a semester system midway through my four years there. Suddenly, course credit values and graduation requirements were shifting, making it tough to stay on-track unless you managed to stay one step ahead of the school's trickery. Not only was I fighting to stay on-top of my schoolwork -- I was fighting to get out of there on-time in four years. Because I was HELL BENT on graduating in four years. Scheduling my classes was like something out of Patton -- I'd make meticulous charts in my notebooks, strategizing my schedule so every class I took not only wiped out an English course requirement, but one of my general liberal arts requirements, too. I was graduating in four years, OR ELSE.

Don't get me wrong -- honestly, I don't know what else I could've been other than an English major. I never questioned it or wavered in it, because it was the natural place for me to wind up. And as stressed-out as I'd make myself, even then I knew these were very much First World Problems -- "Oh, I'm so tired from reading all day." Boo-freakin'-hoo. Sure, I could've made life easier on myself if I'd taken some shortcuts here & there -- cripes, I only resorted to Cliffs Notes once (sorry, The Scarlet Letter) (and I still feel guilty about it) -- but really, it was the part I was born to play, baby.

Anyway. Right in the middle of this, the first Harry Potter book came out.

I was up to my eyeballs in ye olde British literature when I first heard of it. Like, old-timey British literature, the stuff written in Old English with all the thees and the thines that still make my brain go numb. "Have you read Harry Potter yet?" "Oh my god, you have to read Harry Potter!" "You read a lot, you must have read Harry Potter by now?"

No, I hadn't read it. I didn't have time to read it! I had the thees and the thines!

Someone well-meaning gave me a copy of it for my birthday. It sat on the shelf for months. When summer rolled around, it stayed there, because by that point I was so sick of hearing about it that not reading it seemed like an act of rebellion. (Nerdy, nerdy rebellion.)

And so it went. And so it continued with each new book's release.

I went to the first two movies in the theater, with friends who were really eager to see them. Not having anything personally invested in the books, I was lukewarm on the movies I saw -- they seemed long (I believe the technical term I used was "assbusters"), and even my Potter-obsessed friends Emily & Kevin had fun mocking the John Williams soundtracks. To this day, we compulsively sing "duh-duh-duh-PAAAAAAW-ter!" (to the tune of the Star Wars theme) every time someone mentions them.

Which brings me to now -- the summer that the last Harry Potter movie is being released. Suddenly, I find myself strangely drawn toward the franchise -- is it all worth a second look? By stubbornly ignoring it for all these years, am I missing out on some pop culture watershed moment?

Since I graduated from college, I haven't read novels the way I used to. I still read a lot, but after getting so burned-out, now I read more long-form magazines and blogs than book-length stuff. Really, I'm reading all day -- work stuff, online stuff -- but I don't sit down with books the way I used to. Should I give Harry Potter a try? Would reading them come easy, or would it turn into a chore? Stay tuned.

Only sixteen more months to go!

2011-06-30T15:27:00.003-05:00

I'm trying really hard not to get swept into the 2012 presidential election coverage, because seriously, people, there's sixteen more months of this freak show to look forward to. Case in point: remember when Donald Trump was a front runner? That was almost two months ago already. And doesn't it seem like a million years ago? Think of all the fresh crazy that's happened since then! It's too early for all this. I can't take it.

But: this is pretty hard to resist.

Laughter may very well be the only thing that gets us through this.

"Nobody's riding that deer, but it's somehow in the race!"

2011-06-27T10:31:00.002-05:00

Baptism swag for Elenore.

2011-06-26T22:23:00.003-05:00

Haven't been writing much lately (obviously, given the lack of postings on here over the past few weeks), but I have been farting around with lots of crafty stuff. Tops on my agenda was finishing these two things in time for my friends Elizabeth & Peter's daughter Elenore's baptism today. Mission accomplished!

Police blotter.

2011-06-26T21:00:00.003-05:00

Thursday, 10:35 P.M.: Report of water running out of washing machine with subject unable to stop the flow. Update: Washburn Public Works Department paged.

Friday, 5:20 P.M.: Request for officer to tell caller's brother to stop racing past her home.

Friday, 8:59 P.M.: Report of group ordering beer and fish fry at restaurant, then screaming it was the worst meal they ever had and walking out without paying for it. Update: Subjects were contacted at their motel and meals were paid for.

Saturday, 1:07 A.M.: Report of vehicle ramming porta-potty, pushing it into the woods.

Saturday, 7:34 P.M.: Report of turtles on roadway. Update: Deputy got turtles off roadway.

Saturday, 10:40 P.M.: Report of people dancing around in the street. Update: Subjects were three high school girls making a video for school project and caller was notified.

Sunday, 10:20 P.M.: Report of strong burning rubber smell by female who stated she was on vacation and did not come to the area to smell odors. Update: No fire located but what with the weather being dense and misty, odor could have been from outside the area.

Sunday, 11:17 P.M.: Request to shoo away mama bear and cub who were raiding a dumpster. Update: Later advised that bear had been "shooed."

“It ran perfectly and had tons of leg room.”

2011-06-24T15:54:00.005-05:00

I could go on and on about my longstanding love for The Adventures of Pete & Pete, but it's our first sunny day in a week so I feel like I should go outside and, like, be in the sun while I can. Who knows how long this'll last?

So for now, let me just say how hard I laughed when I re-watched "What We Did On Our Summer Vacation" a few years ago (when the show was in reruns on Noggin) and realized that the car they dig up on the beach is the same car I drove in high school.

(The fun starts at the 2:50 mark.)

Me & the Petes' dad shared a similar amount of enthusiasm for our Cutlass Supremes: "I got a Cutlass Supreme! It's got a radio, doo-doo-doo, windows! Headlights!"

Of course, by the time I was driving my '78 Olds Cutlass Supreme in the late 90s, I wouldn't necessarily have selected words like "style, value and good gas mileage" to describe it. But to steal a line from Big Pete, "It ran perfectly and had tons of leg room." (Except for the part about it running perfectly.)

(Special thanks to the AV Club for reminding me about this.)

Police blotter.

2011-06-02T08:30:00.003-05:00

Sunday, 1:05 P.M.: Report of occupants of beverage stand being too loud.

Sunday, 5:01 P.M.: Report of small kids chasing cars and when the cars slow down, they wave at them and run off.

Tuesday, 2:16 A.M.: Disturbance: report that a male was beating himself up to try and frame his girlfriend for beating on him.

Tuesday, 10:01 P.M.: Report of a motion alarm going off. Update: keyholder stated there was no need to respond to the alarm because there are beetles that are setting off the alarm.

Thursday, 12:35 A.M.: Caller reported seeing a light on at house that shouldn't be on. Update: it was a reflection from a mirror causing it to look like a light is on.

Thursday, 8:44 A.M.: Suspicious vehicle report. Update: subject was waiting for rest of family to go to breakfast.

Saturday, 12:13 A.M.: Report of horse tied to lamppost.

Saturday, 1:06 A.M.: Report of possibly intoxicated female sitting in one of Family Video’s flower pots.

Saturday, 8:44 P.M.: Report of male being stalked. Update: "stalkers" were two eleven year-olds and an eight year-old who happened to be walking behind caller.

The time I almost went to Chicago for the weekend.

2011-05-30T22:37:00.009-05:00

Saturday, May 21st, 7:20 A.M.:
Standing in the security line at the airport in Duluth, I realize this is the first time I've ever flown out of here that there's been two flights leaving around the same time. Usually you just get to the top of the stairs (the escalator is out-of-order, ostensibly due to the remodeling project, yet I seem to recall it being out-of-order when I flew out of there last summer, too) and get in line, because there's only one line to get into. This morning, there's two -- one on each side of the Afterburner Cafe ("now serving pizza!").

Confusion! There's no signs labeling which flight is which, no announcements being made over the loudspeaker, no airport personnel to ask. No one in line seems to know which one they should be in. People flip a coin in their heads and pick one or the other, all willy-nilly. I don't find out I'm in the wrong one until I get to the x-ray machine, and a terribly cranky screener flips her bitch-switch on me. (To be fair, they did seem very understaffed that morning...maybe the two-flights-at-once thing threw them off, too.) I run across the platform to the other line, carrying my shoes, purse, and the contents of my pockets in a gray plastic bin, carry-on wheelie suitcase bouncing behind me. The screeners manning Line #2 are in a better mood.

7:50 A.M.: The passengers of Waiting Area #2 are getting restless. We're supposed to be flying out at 8:25, but we aren't on the plane yet and everyone's getting that pinched look that people get when they're waiting in airports. Ah, but a few minutes later, the First Class and Business Elite passengers are released (which is silly, ultimately, since we'll be flying on a glorified puddle-jumper to Minneapolis with too few seats to even have a First Class area, but whatever, let them call themselves "First Class" if it makes them feel special), followed by the rest of us huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.

And it turns out we'll be breathing very freely, indeed, because we're going to have to walk out onto the tarmac to board the plane. Which isn't so bad, really, except that to get to the ground, you have to wind down a narrow, concrete spiral staircase of DOOM. Good luck, octogenarians behind me! My able-bodied self can barely maneuver my little carry-on around the corners, it'll be fun to see how you negotiate the turns with your walkers!

7:55 A.M.: I have to admit, though, it does feel kind of glamorous to climb up the stairs to the plane. Cold & windy, but glamorous. I always picture the Beatles, or Jackie-O, waving back at their adoring fans as they duck through the door off to some sparkling new place. Of course, in reality, I'm usually stuck behind some fat guy from Chisholm or some cranky old lady who can barely make it up the stairs, but if you can't daydream your way out of this stuff, what fun is there?

7:56 A.M.: I plant my butt in Seat 9D after the nice lady in 9C stands up & lets me in. She's chatty and very blond. That's good, I like a chatty seatmate, especially on the short flights from Duluth to MSP. It's nice to have someone to talk to, without the commitment of trying to keep the conversation going for more than 30 minutes. She's heading out to San Francisco, she says, to house-sit for her friends for two weeks. She tells me she only packed five pairs of shoes. I tell her I'm pretty sure I only own five pairs of shoes.

7:58 A.M.: Me & 9C are talking about Golden Gate Park when the pilot comes on the loudspeaker and says something that makes everyone on the plane go, "Arrrrrrrgh!" "What, what?" 9C asks the elderly woman across the aisle. "We have to get off the plane," grumbles 9B. "Back up those rotten stairs!"

7:59 A.M.: 9C is trying to convince the flight attendant to let her leave her carry-ons on the plane. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, we just can't let you leave them, it's FAA policy." 9C is displeased. I offer to carry one of her carry-ons, and she is grateful (and a little sheepish for packing all those shoes).

8:03 A.M.: Back in Waiting Area #2, people are looking much more pinched than earlier. A harried-looking dude gets on the intercom and explains that they're experiencing some sort of power outage at the airport in Minneapolis, and that they've decided to ground all incoming flights (that hadn't already taken off) so they don't get stuck waiting indefinitely on the tarmac in the Twin Cities. Having been stuck on the tarmac several times, I applaud this decision, but most of my fellow travelers are less impressed. Not that I blame them -- who wants to be delayed? This marks the first of roughly fifty times I utter the phrase, "Eh, whattayagonnado?" throughout the course of the day.

We watch out the windows as the other flight that was leaving that morning takes off. "They're going to Detroit," the desk dude tells us wistfully. Never before has going to Detroit sounded so good.

8:25 A.M.: We're officially late. The guy on the intercom comes back on and tells us that they're having a hard time getting updated information about what's up in Minneapolis. Instances of heavy sighing and/or eye-rolling go up by about 200%.

8:34 A.M.: The first time someone in Waiting Room #2 brings up The Rapture. It will not be the last.

8:42 A.M.: No news. I have to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, like a lot of older, small-ish airports, the Duluth airport was built long before threat levels and shoe bombers and 3-1-1 and when they had to add all that security screening mumbo-jumbo, there was no way to do it without cutting off the waiting areas from the only bathroom on the 2nd floor. In other words, if you've gotta pee, you've gotta flee...through the security checkpoint. With all your junk. And then go through the screening again on your way back. It's a pain in the ass, but still, it's better than being stuck on a plane on the tarmac, waiting to go to the bathroom.

9:10 A.M.: Getting the sneaking suspicion that I'm going to miss my connecting flight at 10:10.

9:30 A.M.: Okay, I'm definitely missing my connection. I call my friend Georgia in Chicago to give her a heads-up and save her some waiting time at Midway Airport. Not knowing what's going on, I tell her I'll just call her when I get to Minneapolis and get my connection stuff sorted-out, and we'll take it from there. "Oh, it's starting to rain here," she says.

9:45 A.M.: 9C is sitting across from me, talking about how she always schedules at least two hours between her flights "because this crap happens every time I fly to Minneapolis." I must admit, every problem I've ever had flying into or out of Duluth has been due to something stupid/unforeseeable happening at MSP -- weather, power outages, etc. It's never been Duluth's "fault" (well, except for that time I inadvertently scheduled to fly out of Duluth the day of the air show, which was a nightmare that lives on in infamy).

10:00 A.M.: Most of the people in Waiting Area #2 seem to have accepted their fate. Again, "Eh, whattayagonnadoaboutit?" Five jets from the National Guard airbase next door roll out onto the runway and take off one at a time. The sound is crazy. The little kids in the room run to the windows and there is much oohing & ahhing.

10:08 A.M.: There's a huge, hulking angry guy sitting way in the back by himself who keeps making a big show of pulling out his phone & calling...family members? Friends? Business associates? I can't tell. I can't help but overhear all his conversations, though, because he seems to be suffering from Van Horton's Syndrome. The more I look at him, the more he looks like Jesse Ventura.

10:15 A.M.: A lady sitting near me & 9C pulls out her laptop and goes trolling around the interweb, looking for updated information. Apparently, the power's out only in sections of MSP, but no one's sure which concourses or how long it'll be until it gets fixed. Laptop Lady was on her way to New Orleans, with about three separate airport stops along the way...things aren't looking good for her. She gets Delta on the phone and starts trying to preemptively save her trip. 9C gets inspired and gets out her phone, too. I just sit back & wait.

10:25 A.M.: No more news. Laptop Lady and 9C are gazing into the computer like it's a crystal ball, waiting for a sign. Jesse Ventura guy is still yapping away at a billion decibels. Loudspeaker guy comes on again and tells us the power outage situation isn't getting any better, and that they don't know what caused it or how long it's going to take to fix it. Sighing and eye-rolling reach critical levels.

10:26 A.M.: I pull out my phone and call Georgia. "So it's not looking good, huh?" "No, looks like we're going to be waiting for a while." "Well, how about this -- how about you just come in two weeks, instead?" I thought I'd misheard her. "Yeah, just see if they'll let you come in two weeks -- it's raining here, and ever since a plane went off the runway in a rainstorm there a few years ago, they close it all the time. So just come in two weeks instead, if they'll let you."

10:27 A.M.: I wheel my suitcase up to the counter and wait for the frazzled desk dude to finish up a phone call. "I was just wondering --" "There's nothing I can do, ma'am, we're stuck." "Oh, no, I understand that. I was just going to ask if I could reschedule my trip for two weeks from now." Blank stare. "You want to what, now?" "Just go in two weeks, instead." Blink. "Let me get Shelley over here."

10:28 A.M.: Shelley arrives at the desk and he brings her up-to-speed. "Well, yeah! Sure! I've never had anybody ask me that before." Shelley types at her console for a minute or two. The other passengers of Waiting Area #2 have been eavesdropping on our conversation and there is much whispering. "Are you sure about this?" "Well, sure -- I'm just traveling for fun, and my friend in Chicago says they might wind up closing that airport anyway if it rains." "Ohhhh, yeah, Midway. Bunch of pansies. They get a drop of rain, they close." There is the whirring sound of a printer running, and Shelley hands me a receipt that says I'll be flying out on June 4th and back on the 6th. "You're good to go!"

10:29 A.M.: I stop back to say goodbye to 9C and Laptop Lady. "You're going to what?" Their incredulity fails to mask their envy. "I just wanted to let you know what happened to me, so you didn't think I wandered out to the bathroom and never came back." I wish them good luck on their trips, and exit through the security area.

10:30 A.M.: First, a phone call to Georgia, to let her know she doesn't have to go to the airport today. Next, a phone call to my brother Nick, who drove me to the airport earlier this morning and who's been back in bed for three hours already. I head downstairs and to the benches out front for some fresh air and wait for my ride. I feel relieved.

10:40 A.M.: A lady I recognize from Waiting Room #2 walks out the doors and lights up a smoke. She gives me a weird look and asks what I'm doing out there. "You're what?" She looks jealous, too. Then she launches into a diatribe about how she's moving to Arizona because the cold weather's given her rheumatoid arthritis. "I've had three surgeries on my hands. Lousy Duluth. Take good care of your hands," she says, puffing away. Arthritis Lady is flying to Arizona, then driving back to Duluth (?), then driving a moving van back to Arizona (??). I'm not quite following her logic, but she's already agitated enough so I'm not keen on irritating her with pesky questions, I just nod & smile. As much as it sucks to be waylaid in an airport, it must suck a lot more to get stuck inside craving a cigarette.

10:45 A.M.: Still waiting for Nick. Another passenger I recognize from Waiting Room #2 comes out, for the season reasons as Arthritis Lady. This guy looks like one of those kids that went nuts at Columbine, all googily-eyed and pissy. "I paid $300 for this f'in ticket, damn it, and the service is terrible." I respond that it definitely sucks, but that it doesn't appear that anyone at the Duluth airport or Delta had anything to do with this delay, so it doesn't do any good to get mad at them. There's no pleasing this guy, though. "I'd better get some f'n peanuts on the plane." "I don't think they serve peanuts anymore, too many food allergies -- usually you get pretzels or a granola bar," I offer. "Three hundred dollars and no f'in peanuts, jesus." When I'm presented with people like this, my natural inclination is to do a 180 on them -- if they're super-negative, I go super-positive. I smile big and say, "Well, at least you got outside for a smoke before it starts to rain!" My mother's been doing this to me since I was a little kid and it drives me crazy, but hot damn, it does make irritating people go away more quickly.

11:00 A.M.: Still waiting. Arthritis Lady comes back. "You inspired me to reschedule my trip, too! My daughter's coming to get me." She puffs on another cigarette and looks happy. Apparently being stuck in Duluth for one more day isn't looking so bad.

11:15 A.M.: Passengers are arriving for the flights scheduled to leave around the noon hour. I wonder if Delta's informed these people about the MSP holdup, or if they're all going via Detroit. Arthritis Lady's daughter rolls up, and Arthritis Lady waves to me as she rolls away.

11:20 A.M.: My brother Nick finally shows up. We drive back to Superior and go to Target, where I find my brand of kitty litter is on sale for $8 a bag, plus there are $3 off coupons on each bag, and if you buy three bags, you get a $5 Target gift card.

It was pretty much the best possible outcome for a day like that.

10:02 P.M.: Watching the news at home, they show the power's still out in parts of MSP and that most flights that got grounded that morning never went anywhere. The End.

Stuff I've made lately, pt. 2.

2011-05-22T22:37:00.003-05:00

A monkey for Owen's 8th (!) birthday.

(How is Owen already eight years old?)

Stuff I've made lately.

2011-05-20T00:04:00.003-05:00

For my friend Regina's birthday:

For my friend Shannon's new(ish) apartment:

For my friend Emily, for Mother's Day:

For my friend Emily's daughter Aine, for her 5th birthday:

20 Days of Pictures: Day 19.

2011-05-17T08:16:00.001-05:00

Day Nineteen - A picture of a tradition you have.

Dumpster diving when all the kids move out of the dorms at UMD each May.

Speaking of which - anybody want to go dumpster diving on Friday?

20 Days of Pictures: Day 20.

2011-05-13T15:20:00.003-05:00

Day Twenty - A picture of the best part of your day.

Getting home from work and watching Flannery freak out, chasing the sunbeams around the room.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 18.

2011-05-11T09:47:00.002-05:00

Day Eighteen - A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.

My mom, The Jane, of course! Here she is with some coupons she got from General Mills when she wrote to tell them her Kix didn't taste right.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 17.

2011-05-10T12:52:00.010-05:00

Day Seventeen - A picture of a crazy night.

My friend Aaron's birthday, June 2002.

I can probably count the number of times I've been drunk in my lifetime on less than two hands. Well, maybe two and a half hands, but definitely less than three. Anyway, this was one of those times. This was taken at the start of our evening of carousing in downtown Helena, and before I'd been introduced to my first Long Island iced tea.

(One of the benefits of not being much of a drinker is that on the rare occasion I do want to get a little tipsy, it doesn't take much. Needless to say, my liver wasn't prepared for the alcoholic onslaught that is a Long Island iced tea and a little bit would've gone a long way. To this day, I'm amazed that I didn't blow chunks.)

We wound up at Bullwhackers, the closest thing to a "trendy" bar in Helena at the time (you know, the kind with lots of neon and those spinning lights & doohickies stacked en masse around the DJ's workstation). I remember feeling eons older than the college kids who were in there, even though I was only twenty-three and all of them could surely drink me under the table. (Heck, given that hardly anyone seems to graduate from college in four years anymore, most of them were probably the same age as me.) We loudly leaned around our table and discussed, well, a whole bunch of crap, I imagine. Loudly. For some reason, we'd always get going about politics when we were drinking. I'm sure many salient, erudite points were made. Loudly.

After the bar closed, we all walked back to our friend Stephanie's apartment (where this picture was taken), drunkenly stumbling through the Walking Mall up past the playground, probably being loud and obnoxious. Definitely being loud and obnoxious, actually.

In retrospect, I'm not sure why this night stands out in my memory bank - nothing particularly crazy happened, even, just your garden-variety drunken 20-somethings-out-on-the-town stuff. (And I don't think it's just a Long Island iced tea fog making me forget anything, either.) I think the reason I remember it so fondly was that it was just, well, fun. I'd been really shy my first six months in Helena, hiding out alone in my apartment a lot. So when I started to let my guard down that winter and got to know the other VISTAs in town, it was like the world went from black-and-white to Technicolor. My social universe kind of exploded in a way it hadn't since I was in high school. I never busted loose in college in the normal sense -- I didn't drink, my idea of crazy was hanging out in my apartment making movies about killer Furbies. I studied a lot and kept a pretty small circle of close friends. So maybe this little phase of very-intermittent drunken silliness in Helena was my way of playing catch-up? Whatever it was, it sure was fun.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 16.

2011-05-09T11:51:00.003-05:00

Day Sixteen - A picture of something you're afraid of.

I'm scared of the ice road.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 15.

2011-05-08T18:33:00.004-05:00

Day Fifteen - A picture of something you want to do before you die.

I would love to go to Germany & visit the Asbach Uralt brandy distillery and ride on their bitchin' cruise boat on the Rhine. I mean, look! It's got a slide!

20 Days of Pictures: Day 14.

2011-05-06T23:46:00.002-05:00

Day Fourteen - A picture of where you live.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 13.

2011-05-05T16:13:00.004-05:00

Day Thirteen - A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel.

I'd love to get out to Glacier National Park again.

And I will! Because I'm heading out to Montana in July for my first trip back since '07! Whee!

For fun, here's what Going-to-the-Sun Road looked like yesterday:

(See loads more awesome pictures at Glacier's Flickr stream.)

Suddenly, I feel like a bit of a tool for complaining about the sprinkling of snow we got on Monday...

"There was a genuine chance that my luggage may be about to get stolen by a bear."

2011-05-05T09:39:00.002-05:00

Jokes.com

John Oliver - Exactly Where I Need to Be

comedians.comedycentral.com

Jokes

Joke of the Day

Funny Jokes

20 Days of Pictures: Day 12.

2011-05-04T19:33:00.003-05:00

Day Twelve - A picture of your favorite place to eat.

This one's a toughie, because hey, I like to eat! I have a lot of favorites -- Jade Garden in Helena for Chinese food, Hugo's for Ashland pizza, Mackenzie River for Montana pizza, the Deep Water in Ashland for fish sandwiches, the Shack in Superior for taco salads, the No Sweat in Helena for breakfast -- but today, since I've been craving one of their burgers for two months, I'll go with the Pit Stop in Moquah, where I took this picture of a cardboard cutout of Dale Earnhardt, Jr. in the ladies' room (with a blindfold tastefully draped over his eyes).

20 Days of Pictures: Day 11.

2011-05-03T15:38:00.025-05:00

Day Eleven - A picture of your biggest insecurity.

Riding horses near Red Lodge, MT, May 2003.

I have many insecurities, but today, let's address my lack of physical coordination.

I can't seem to find any pictures of me being a klutz (maybe because I'm usually the one taking pictures when I'm out with a group, or because any friend that does have a picture of me falling over has been kind enough not to show it to me), but good lord, I'm tripping & falling & knocking things over all the time - stumpy little legs & Tyrannosaurus Rex arms flailing every which way.

The day this picture was taken, the horse I was riding suddenly decided it wanted to lay down....while I was riding it. As the ground got closer, the reptilian sliver of my brain that was supposed to be covering basic survival instincts must've been jostled awake from its midday siesta (after napping through the portion of the day where I was allowed to get on a horse in the first place), because without consciously processing what was happening, just before the horse rolled over onto its back (again, with me still sitting on it) I leapt off and all the horse managed to crush was one of my shoes as I rolled away. Mary - 1, Horse - 0 (well, or whatever a slightly crushed shoe is worth).

Except, well, "leapt" is too graceful a term to describe what went down. Basically, I happened to fall off the horse at the same time I was trying to kick my legs free from the stirrups, so maybe it kind-of, sort-of looked like I jumped? Doubtful. When I hit the ground, I followed my first instinct, which was to run away from the horse (to quote my friend Will, "I'm a runner, not a fighter"), leaving my sorry shoe behind. And when I got a little ways up the hill and looked back, the horse was blissfully rolling around on its back like a cat with a ball of yarn, and my riding companions (including our stoic, up-until-that-point-virtually-nonverbal cowboy guides) were laughing their asses off. "I've never seen one do that before."

For my next trick, I had to get back on the horse. To get some idea of what this looked like, picture a hobbit trying to mount the Trojan Horse. My fat little legs couldn't swing over the back of that damn horse to save my life, and my chubby little t-rex arms lacked anything approaching enough upper-body strength to hoist me up. Over and over I'd put one foot in a stirrup and try to flop myself up onto that horrible animal, only to wind up kicking the horse in the side or losing my balance and falling off again.

Eventually, one of the cowboys took pity on me and came over to help. As my friends laughed so hard they were nearly crying, the cowboy maneuvered us so I'd use the natural incline of the slope beside us to get a little vertical advantage. After a few minutes of watching me hopping around the stirrups like a deranged kangaroo, it was clear we still weren't getting anywhere. Finally, the poor guy had to literally boost me up like I was a blobby little toddler, getting me just high enough so I could get a leg over the saddle.

It was humiliating and, yes, hilarious. If I'd been watching, I would've been laughing, too. Heck, I was laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, unless my memory's just making that part up so I don't feel so stupid about the whole thing. The thing about being a klutz is, it's a lot easier to get over looking like an idiot if you learn to laugh it off.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 10.

2011-05-02T18:03:00.003-05:00

Day Ten - A picture of the person you do the most crazy things with.

I know way too many crazy people to limit my answer to one person.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 9.

2011-05-01T21:10:00.004-05:00

Day Nine - A picture of something you hate.

I hate the photocopier at work. HATE. It's a hunk of junk.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 8.

2011-04-30T19:46:00.004-05:00

Day Eight - A picture that makes you laugh.

My friend Sarah used to record a Mexican (we think?) game show called Mega Match Sensacional, and oh, how we loved it. It was kind of like Double Dare, only since we had only a rudimentary grasp on Spanish (not having practiced speaking it since we were in high school 10+ years ago), I think a lot was lost in translation. But, there was one game in particular where the kids answered trivia questions face-to-face (a la the faceoffs on Family Feud), and whichever one lost the round got a pie in the face...well, pie-in-the-face knows no language, now does it?

Anyway, this one particular girl's expression after getting pied always made us laugh ourselves silly, so one day Sarah took a picture of it and now we can cherish it forever.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 7.

2011-04-29T22:34:00.003-05:00

Day Seven - A picture of your most treasured item.

This is the hook I learned to crochet on when I was about seven years old,
and it's still the one I use the most.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 6.

2011-04-28T22:59:00.002-05:00

Day Six - A picture of your room.

Painted back in '06. Looks pretty much the same.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 5.

2011-04-27T20:50:00.003-05:00

Day Five - A picture of something you wish you were better at.

(February 2003: the bunny hill at Lost Trail Powder Mountain on the Montana-Idaho border.)

Our ski instructor that day looked like Jack Palance in City Slickers, and he acted like him, too. We called him Curly. (Not to his face.)

I don't think Curly liked us very much. Correction: I don't think he liked me very much. My nervous giggling frustrated him; my lack of core body strength infuriated him; and my Better Off Dead references seemed to fly right over his head, for some reason. Maybe because he was a seventy year-old grizzled mountain man? But seriously, if you were a skiing instructor and you saw me walking toward you with that dumb look on my face, would you be very enthusiastic about the hand the gods had dealt you that day? I mean, good lord, I showed up in wind pants, for god's sake.

To Curly's credit, though, by the end of the day (the entirety of which I spent on said bunny hill), I could ski to the bottom, stop without falling over, and shimmy my way to the tow rope to ride back up. (On the other hand, at one point I did manage to fall "the wrong way" off the tow rope, requiring the tow rope operator to turn the whole thing off and all the other skiers on the line - many of them under the age of five - to audibly heckle me for my ineptitude.)

20 Days of Pictures: Day 4.

2011-04-26T12:32:00.005-05:00

Day Four - A picture of you when you were little.

Modeling the flower girl's dress from my parents' wedding, the veil from my First Communion ensemble, and a New Year's sash while pushing around a cat precariously perched inside a makeshift cage (cardboard box + cooling racks + duct tape) on top of a toy shopping cart, 1987.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 3.

2011-04-25T16:30:00.003-05:00

Day Three - A picture of your night.

An alarming portion of my time each evening is allotted to Toivo maintenance and upkeep.

Feaster.

2011-04-24T17:46:00.003-05:00

My former favorite piece of Easter trim: a duck wearing bunny ears and a cape. (And a pair of lacy legwarmers. Because, y'know, why not?)

My new favorite piece of Easter trim: a creepy lady dressed as a bunny.

To me, the gesture reads something like, "Yeah, I'm going to kill you in your sleep. Sorry?"

20 Days of Pictures: Day 2.

2011-04-24T12:35:00.003-05:00

Day Two - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.

Martha catches a lot of flak for being uptight and too much of a perfectionist, but I wish I had a thimble's worth of her drive & ambition. I admire the way she just goes out & learns something and doesn't wait around for someone to do it for her...and as anyone who's ever seen her on Conan or Letterman can tell you, she's freakin' hilarious, too.

20 Days of Pictures: Day 1.

2011-04-23T16:31:00.005-05:00

I told myself I wasn't going to hop on this bandwagon (it's been all over my Facebook feed lately), but eh, what the heck. Been running low on blog inspiration lately, so at least this'll liven things up for a few days. (Plus, let's be honest, it's not too hard to convince me to post embarrassing pictures of myself. Oh, twist my arm!)

Day One - A picture of yourself with five facts.

This is what I looked like in the 7th grade.
I got my first perm that autumn at Cost Cutters. It was also the last perm I ever got.
Yes, it looked that bad every day. Actually, given that this was school picture day, it might've actually looked better than it usually did. The photographer probably had some of those free combs lying around, so I may have spruced it up a little before I parked my butt on the stool & smiled/grimaced.
Yes, I'm pretty sure that haircut technically qualifies as a mullet.
Last but not certainly least, yes, I'm wearing a glitter sweater.

Police blotter.

2011-04-14T22:24:00.002-05:00

Tuesday, 7:48 P.M: Anonymous caller reported a black Corvette outside with loud bass for the last 20 minutes.

Friday, 2:13 P.M.: Fraud attempt reported. Caller was told he'd won a Publisher's Clearing House jackpot and told to wire caller $900. When told he did not have that much, he was told that $500 would be fine.

Friday, 2:20 P.M.: Disturbance complaint about jacked-up Chevy "rapping" its pipes near complainant's house.

Friday, 10:31 P.M.: Report of wild turkey attempting to attack woman as she exited from vehicle.

Saturday, 2:16 A.M.: Report of two subjects undressed in middle of road.

Saturday, 10:01 A.M.: Report of subject drying his clothes on caller's quarters.

I've always longed for a title that makes me sound like a special on the Taco Bell menu!

2011-04-03T23:32:00.003-05:00

What won the judges over? Was it my fancy face? My glitzwear? My cupcake hands? Only my pal & fellow Toddlers & Tiaras "fan" Elizabeth knows for sure.

All I know is, I'm pretty sure this entitles me to ride in the back of a convertible waving at my subjects during the 4th of July parade.

(For the uninitiated: see below.)

Police blotter.

2011-04-01T09:14:00.002-05:00

Monday, 8:31 A.M.: 911 call reported a vehicle stopping and dumping garbage in the bins on Highway 2.

Tuesday, 6:11 P.M.: Caller reported finding a fish located in her yard.

Tuesday, 7:22 P.M.: Report of two males wearing all-white suits rushing at vehicle and pointing. Update: Subjects said they were protesting nuclear power and breaking no laws.

Thursday, 12:25 A.M.: Report of four-wheeler "whipping donuts" for 10-15 minutes.

Sunday, 3:51 P.M.: Report of youngsters threatening other children over a Kool-Aid stand.

Sunday, 4:27 P.M.: Report of tenant slamming doors and threatening to kill people. Update: subject was angry at flies in his apartment and was threatening to kill them.

Two things:

2011-03-31T22:05:00.003-05:00

First, I don't think I fit your target demographic, since I don't even own a gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack.

Second, and maybe this is shallow of me...but I can't vote for a guy who wears Dwight Schrute glasses. I just can't.

Before they find me buried alive under a mountain of string.

2011-03-31T20:33:00.008-05:00

I'm making a concerted effort lately to burn off some of my ridiculously large yarn stash. Seriously, it's embarrassing. An embarrassment of yarnly riches.

First up: some baby hats. The white one is the first I've ever attempted, and I decided it was worthy of my friends Elizabeth & Peter's new baby, Elenore. The second, I'm not as sold on...same pattern, but I used two yarns at once (mmm, creamsicle-y) and the end result proved a little stiff. Maybe a little too stiff. There's a charity bin for hats like these at one of the yarn shops in town, so I might drop it in there sometime.

Next: a bunny for my friend Emily's kiddo, Elliot, whose 2nd birthday was earlier this month.

I can't recall the last time I crocheted a stuffed animal like that...the last one might've been for the county fair when I was about seven or eight. I've got a pattern book for some amigurami critters, and a lot of little balls of leftover yarn from previous projects, so maybe I'll whip up some more of those, too.

Also coming up: baby sweaters! Granted, none of these projects is using up a particular large amount of the aforementioned yarn heap...but I figure baby steps, right? Start small, and then kick it into high gear. Sure, that's what'll happen.

I'd like to blame my inner ear problems, but I think it has more to do with a total lack of physical coordination.

2011-03-31T13:18:00.003-05:00

Or, a chronological list of things I've fallen off of/down/out of, or been knocked over by in spectacular fashion:

walked in front of big brother on the swing set and got kicked in the head, age 1
went too close to the dog house and the dog wrapped its chain around my neck, age 2
off the arms of a chair and down onto the sharp metal edge of a canister when big brother threw a pillow at me, age 2 (my parents being of the "oh, you don't need stitches for that" school of parenting, I've still got a scar by my eye from that one)
down the basement stairs when I tripped on my blankie and rolled head-first into a cement wall, age 3
off the deck stairs on my tricycle, age 3
while playing in the wading pool, obeyed big brother's command to go change the record on our record player and got electrocuted, age 4
shoved into the gym wall in kindergarten, age 6
down a hill too fast on my sled and straight into a tree, age 8
my next-door neighbor running me over with his bike, age 9
off my bike into a bramble of thorn bushes & barbed wire on my first successful ride down my driveway, age 10 (I was a late bloomer with the bike riding - maybe the tricycle-off-the-deck incident and/or getting run over by one had something to do with it)
tripped over a curb walking into the homecoming football game, sprained my ankle, and had to call my mom to come pick me up, age 12
off my bike (over the handlebars & everything) in my friend Melissa's driveway the day I got my first pair of glasses, age 13
down a ski hill into a barbed wire fence on the 8th grade ski trip to Mt. Ashwabay, age 13
during a play rehearsal, had a tri-folding wall fall down on top of me, wrapping me up like I was in a wall burrito with only my feet left kicking freely, age 16
during yet another play rehearsal, had a moon fall on top of me, age 17
and during yet another play rehearsal, had someone drop a box of Milk Duds on my head from the catwalk above the stage and the sharp pointy corner of the box stabbed me in the scalp, age 17
off my chair in band class one morning for no discernible reason, age 18
down the stairs in Kirby Student Center at UMD one morning during my freshman year while walking to class, age 18 (I shredded the leg of my pants and had to hobble back to my dorm looking like I'd been mauled by a enraged ferret, but dagnabbit, I went to class first!)
tripped over nothing and fell flat on my face outside of the student recreational center while walking back to my apartment with my roommate Laura, age 19 (Laura: "it was like the ground had reached up an invisible arm and yanked you down by the neck")
blacked-out and fainted during the Methods of Literary Study final, fell out of my desk, came to about five seconds later to complete chaos in the classroom ("the test was too hard, it killed her!," "call an ambulance!", "get her some Sprite!"), age 20 (all because I'd stayed up too late the night before going to the first Star Wars prequel when it opened at midnight...but I got back in my chair and finished, and I got an A which I was assured was "NOT a sympathy A")
down my friend Andy's basement stairs the night of our big Y2K party, age 20
off a horse in Red Lodge, Montana, when it suddenly decided to lay down on its back & tried to crush me, age 24

I don't know if these technically qualify as "urban" legends, but...

2011-03-31T11:19:00.006-05:00

Legends that I heard about first-or-second-or thirdhand whilst growing up in Ashland (aka, things I haven't bothered to actually research but which I'm going to write about anyway):

There are tunnels underneath Main Street and between some of the older buildings downtown.

FACT OR FICTION: Fact. I think. Maybe I'm half-imagining this, but I recall there being a summer school class offered once or twice when I was still at Beaser Elementary where kids got to go downtown and tour some of the subterranean "tunnels." I'm not sure if they were literally tunnels, per se, or just some passages between buildings (did they actually go underneath the street?), but I do think that they existed (and maybe some continue to exist?).
If you jump into the diamonds out on the oredock, they'll suck you down to the bottom of the lake and you'll drown.

FACT OR FICTION: Fiction. (I hope.) The diamonds, as they're referred to, have something to do with the engineering of the dock...but I don't think falling into one would mean an automatic trip down to Davy Jones' locker. (I've seen too many beer cans floating in them over the years to believe otherwise.)
A former mayor had...relations...with his livestock.

FACT OR FICTION: I lean toward fiction on this one, but then again, maybe I don't really want to know. It's ultimately a case of he-said, sheep-said.
When they run out of meat at the Chinese buffet, they serve seagull and turtle, according to the senior citizens in my grandma's apartment building.

FACT OR FICTION: Fiction. I mean, the buffet's right next to the grocery store - if they were in a bind, it would be easier to just walk over and buy some chicken than it would be to drive out, find some secluded spot along the lakeshore, and go to the trouble of hunting turtles & seagulls. Right? Right.
One time, Chubby Checker was supposed to come & perform at the Supergold Sock Hop during Bay Days, but he drank so much during the limo ride from the Duluth airport to Ashland that by the time they got him to the civic center, he was too drunk to get out of the car.

FACT OR FICTION: Fact. I wasn't there, but I distinctly remember this rumor going around (and heard it from a number of reliable sources) because it was right around the time "Kokomo" was popular and my 4th grade class was forced to perform an elaborately-staged lip-synch performance to it at a school board meeting. Which, admittedly, is a story I'm bringing up just so I can post this unfortunate picture of me in my poodle skirt:
During a Halloween haunted house in the old Ashland High School building on Ellis Avenue, a kid ran into a nail and impaled himself (and/or died).

FACT OR FICTION: Although the version of this story I heard as a little kid varied depending on who was doing the telling - sometimes, it was embellished to the point where the kid's brains were falling out of his head in gruesome fashion, other times he was being chased by Freddy or Jason or Chuckie or Michael Myers or gremlins - it wouldn't surprise me if some kid did run into a nail at one point, but I don't think he, like, died or anything.
In other old-high-school-building and tunnel-related gossip, there was a tunnel that ran between the former high school building (torn down in the early 90s) and the "new" building (now known as the Latimer Building, the three-story one in the middle of the complex).

FACT OR FICTION: Fact! I saw it with me own two eyes, I did, the summer I worked for the school district, cleaning classrooms & such. It's off-limits nowadays, but when we did some cleaning in the basement area underneath the stage in the gym, the janitors let us walk back there to take a look.
The Pizza Pub used to employ a little person as their pizza delivery guy.

FACT OR FICTION: Fact. He worked there in the mid-90s, and I remember seeing him driving around town like a bat out of hell.
Santa used to fly in for the Christmas parade.

FACT OR FICTION: Fact. Santa and his "elves" would come in on a little prop plane, make a few loops around the airport, then land. Then, after a short meet & greet and candy cane distribution, he'd be escorted down to Main Street where he'd mount his majestic sleigh-shaped float. I don't know why he quit doing that - maybe fuel got too expensive, so he went back to just using his reindeer & sleigh to get here?

"P.S. Pianos don't spontaneously combust."

2011-03-31T10:14:00.006-05:00

Round Two:

Highlights from "Ferrets: The Pursuit of Excellence."

2011-03-22T20:01:00.006-05:00

"‎They smell like corn chips when they're sleeping. And their tails smell like grape Kool-Aid."

"Ferrets do a happy dance. It's a sheer dance of joy. I call it the 'Weasel War Dance.'"

"It seemed like as my children got older and grew up and moved out that I sort of replaced them with ferrets."

"There's a line of shampoos for women based on their hair color. I bought the blonde one for my lighter ferrets, and the brunette one for my darker ferrets. I'm very careful not to get it in their eyes or anything."

"We'll have Japanese judges at the show, because ferrets are huge in Japan."

"You're proud that your kid got an A in school. You're proud that your ferret won a ribbon. It's a pride thing."

"Ferrets accept whatever is happening in the moment. They accept whatever there is to play with, they accept whatever there is to eat. They accept it if they're sick, they accept it if they die."

"If a ferret nips or bites a judge, they can disqualify them. And you can't really blame 'em."

"Anybody should know not to put their pet up to somebody else's face. I just can't believe how much blood comes out of someone's nose."

‎"She's a sweet girl. She doesn't realize what she did. We're trying to decide if I need a stitch or two...it might just be my battle scar."

"327 ferrets attended the show. 400 ribbons were awarded."

In closing:

Reading/Watching/Etc.

2011-03-22T11:30:00.006-05:00

READING:

And Here's the Kicker: Conversations with 21 Top Humor Writers on Their Craft by Mike Sacks - Not as "laugh-out-loud funny!" as some of the reviewers on Amazon made it out to be, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I bought it because I recognized names like Bob Odenkirk and Stephen Merchant on the cover, but found myself particularly enjoying the interviews with some of the older writers who got their start in the golden age of TV - Larry Gelbart's and Irving Brecher's, especially.

Let's Panic About Babies! - I'm childless and single but this cracks me up. Check out this parody of that whole Battle-Hymn-of-the-Tiger-Mother kerfuffle that was all the rage a few weeks ago.

Yogabeans! - Plastic action figures demonstrate yoga poses, with silly results.

Fake Criterions - Pretty much exactly what it sounds like.

WATCHING:

Soap: The Complete First Season - I've caught reruns of this here & there over the years on Comedy Central (and maybe Nick at Nite at one point?), but never more than an episode at a time so I really didn't remember much about it. It started off a little slowly, but got rolling by the end of the first disc and I'll be moving on to season two shortly. I wish I'd watched this when I was in high school -- it would've given me good fodder for one-act play season.

An Idiot Abroad - Instant favorite. I go back and forth between laughing at Karl, and sympathizing with him when he gets overwhelmed by all the "new" stuff. I've definitely hit that wall a few times when I've been traveling...the novelty can wear off and sometimes it gets pretty hard to stay open-minded when all you want is a sandwich and a quiet place to take a nap. Here, Karl talks about dolphins.

Next on my Netflix queue: The Ricky Gervais Show. Which I think I probably should've watched first, but oh well.

A Town Called Panic - As one reviewer put it, "Toy Story on absinthe." Another instant favorite.

Sarah Vowell on The Daily Show - Two of my favorite things, together!

ETC.:

- It's a good thing I got that cross stitching done last week, because on Friday, little Elenore got impatient and insisted on coming out a few weeks early. She & her parents are over in Duluth, waiting for her to gain a little weight before she comes out of the NICU, but it's looking like she'll be released in the next day or two. Not enough time for me to finish the baby blanket I'd started crocheting a while back, but well, she's just going to have to learn to be more patient!

Police blotter.

2011-03-17T09:05:00.000-05:00

Sunday, 6:19 P.M.: Report of woman locked out of house with food cooking unattended.

Monday, 7:53 A.M.: Report of woman driver striking snowplow on Stuntz Avenue.

Tuesday, 10:56 A.M.: Report of female receiving "mean" phone calls concerning her past.

Wednesday, 12:59 A.M.: Caller reported a gas or onion smell coming from resident, said the dog also smelled. Update: officer determined it was the smell from a wood stove.

Thursday, 4:51 P.M.: Report of teens on top of shed, urinating on compost pile.

Saturday, 10:36 P.M.: Report of hockey team kids from Eau Claire area being unruly.

Sunday, 6:14 P.M.: Report of large pieces of asphalt in lane of traffic. Update: Chunks were actually packed snow which did resemble asphalt.

Bonus: extra credit to my friend Nick for finding this one.

Welcome, tiny overlord.

2011-03-16T13:50:00.003-05:00

Made for my friends Elizabeth & Peter from a pattern by Subversive Cross Stitch, in anticipation of their impending bambino/bambina.

Also made for Elizabeth & Peter, as an homage to our favorite "Real Housewife"-performed "song":

Castle Greyskull is under new management.

2011-03-15T15:56:00.008-05:00

Last summer, me & my brothers helped our parents sort through our stash of old toys out in the garage. It was, as I said at the time, funny and bittersweet and wonderful and exhausting.

Of the three of us, I have the hardest time letting go of things. I'm sentimental, almost paralyzingly so. I can stand there and rationally know it's just stuff -- stuff I haven't had any practical use for in twenty-odd years. But it was really, really difficult to be rational about what came out of those boxes. My brain knew it was pieces of molded plastic; my heart recognized them as objects that I used to make come to life. I lived vicariously through those toys & books -- they were never "alive," but for me, at the times and ages I needed them, they were friends. The thought of sending some of them scattering out into the unknown felt like a betrayal, as idiotic as that sounds coming out of a thirty-one year-old.

So when we started making the "discard" pile, oh, that was hard. Sometimes, a little prodding from my brothers or my mom would be enough to convince me to let something go. The baby buggy & shopping cart we used to race around the house when Dad wasn't home? Those went without any fuss. Our (well, okay, primarily my brother Nick's) collection of Ninja Turtles? Those went to a nice guy we found on Craigslist just before Christmas. Overall, I'd say we shrunk our heap by roughly 45%.

On the other hand, I wouldn't (and may never) budge on the Fisher Price stash, nor the My Little Ponies, and I feel better knowing that my Babysitter's Club books are currently resting comfortably inside a waterproof Rubbermaid bin next to the Playmobil people.

One casualty of our epic cleaning binge was the big pile of He-Man action figures and playsets (or, as my mother referred to Castle Greyskull, "the He-Man dollhouse") that had been taking up valuable garage shelf space since about 1990. I think all three of us agreed pretty quickly to letting those go, but I was immediately concerned with where they might go. Sure, we could give them to the local thrift shop, but would kids nowadays even know who He-Man was? Would our meticulously-archived collection (okay, not all that meticulously, since we had multiple Skeletors and quite a few broken bits & pieces) be sold off in 25¢ increments at a rummage sale? It seemed a shame to break up the band (so to speak). It also seemed a shame to wonder if they'd ever actually get played with again.

And then: a solution.

I'm happy to report that Castle Greyskull is under new management out in Helena, Montana, where my friend Emily's kids have given our old toys a bonafide Toy Story 3-style ending.

Save Service in America

2011-02-25T00:41:00.003-06:00

I don't make a practice of mass e-mailing people, but a program that I hold very near & dear to my heart is facing a very real threat to its existence, and I'd like to ask for a moment of your time. I'll keep it (semi-)short, I promise.

A bill recently passed through the U.S. House of Representatives (H.R. 1) that proposes to strip the Corporation for National and Community Service of all its federal funding. (You may have heard about this bill in the news, as it's the same bill that proposes cuts to PBS, Pell Grants, community health centers, and many other worthy programs.) The Corporation for National and Community Service (CNCS) was formed to engage Americans of all ages and backgrounds in service to meet community needs through a wide array of volunteer opportunities (educational, environmental, public health & safety, homeland security, etc.), and it's the umbrella organization for AmeriCorps, Senior Corps (Foster Grandparents, Retired Senior Volunteer Program), and Learn & Serve America. Basically, what they all do is match up volunteers with local organizations that need help, and enable those organizations to meet specific community needs that they might otherwise not be able to fulfill.

I served as an AmeriCorps VISTA in Helena, Montana for two years right after I got out of college, as I think you all know (heck, I served with a lot of you!). I worked with an extraordinary group of people from all across the country, ranging in age from 18 to 75, helping local organizations build so many crucial things around the state - literacy tutoring programs, health programs for at-risk kids, computer literacy projects, legal services centers for the poor...the list goes on and on. Despite our many differences in age, background, political preferences and ideologies, what we all had in common was that we wanted to help make America a better place by rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands a little dirty. The pay was terrible, but the experience was priceless.

And the coolest part is, my experiences in Montana are replicated in every state in the country, every day. Right here in my hometown, there are AmeriCorps members creating a mentoring program in the local schools...AmeriCorps VISTAs building a sustainable community garden on the Bad River Indian Reservation...Foster Grandparents and RSVP members donating their time at the Ashland Senior Center. I'll bet if you look around your town, you'll find people and organizations benefiting from CNCS, too!

These proposed cuts to the CNCS budget would be devastating to AmeriCorps and its sister programs. More troubling is the fact that the federal investment made in faith-based and community organizations through CNCS leverages approximately $799 million in matching funds from companies, foundations and other sources...so if these national service programs are defunded, whole organizations may be forced to shut down. Given the current economic crisis, some of those may not be able to stay open, at the very time record numbers of people are relying on them for food, shelter, health care and other services. I understand that this is a time when belts must be tightened, but I truly feel that this is a worthwhile, cost-effective use of federal dollars and would much rather see it face budget cuts than total eradication.

Friends of national service are banding together for a "Save Service Day" on Friday, February 25th, and if you're interested in showing support for AmeriCorps and the other programs under the knife, here are three easy things you can do to help:

1. Sign the Save AmeriCorps petition;

2. Contact your Senator to tell them restore funding for CNCS in their version of H.R. 1; and

3. Check out how these cuts would specifically impact your state in terms of dollars and services lost - you can even personalize those handouts and mail them in to your representatives.

Thank you so much for your time, and I promise not to send out another one of these for a loooooong time.

Mary

Let's forget our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream.

2011-02-22T09:18:00.003-06:00

It's been a stressful week. Things I love are being threatened...all hell's broken loose in Madison...senators are on the lam...my friends out in Montana are under siege from their own local tea party nutbags...it's one thing after another.

There's really only one cure for all this. Thom Yorke, spaz dancing.

Well, maybe there are two cures.

Police blotter.

2011-02-19T16:32:00.004-06:00

Thursday, 2:20 P.M.: Report of sound of person in distress. Update: Noise was a seagull.

Friday, 4:34 P.M.: Traffic hazard: caller reported a suitcase in the middle of the road on Lake Shore Drive East.

Saturday, 12:42 A.M.: Report of harassing texts received. Update: It was friends playing a joke on subject.

Saturday, 7:26 A.M.: Report of person at party threatening to "beat up a car."

Saturday, 11:37 A.M.: Report of male confronting neighbor about feeding deer. The feeder later exposed himself to complainant.

Sunday, 3:20 P.M.: Report of woman arguing with tavern owner over disposal of dog poop.

Tuesday, 9:06 P.M.: Caller reported her car stolen, then called back to say she had parked it behind a big snow bank and just didn't see it.

Happy Love Day!

2011-02-14T16:55:00.005-06:00

Not a Valentine's Day goes by that I don't think of these two scenes from The Simpsons.

"Well, it's kind of a love song...all the monsters, enjoying each other's company, you know,
dancing, holding their evil in check."

"They didn't have Lord Huggington?"

Protecting AmeriCorps.

2011-02-13T23:43:00.003-06:00

Dear Congressman Duffy:

I understand that tomorrow, the U.S. House will begin consideration of a Continuing Resolution that will fund the last seven months of Fiscal Year 2011, and that deep cuts are being proposed to the Corporation for National and Community Service's budget. I'm writing to encourage you to vote no on any proposal to eliminate funding for AmeriCorps or the Corporation for National and Community Service (CNCS).

AmeriCorps is a cause that's extremely near and dear to my heart. I grew up in Ashland and after graduating from college in 2001, I felt called to give something back. I moved to Montana and served two years as an AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America); it was the most valuable life experience I've had to date. I worked with an extraordinary group of people from all across the country, ranging in age from 18 to 75 years old, building so many crucial things around the state - literacy tutoring programs for children, legal services centers for the poor, developing health programs for at-risk kids...the list goes on and on. Despite our many differences in age, background, political preferences and ideologies, what we all had in common was that we wanted to help make America a better place by rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands dirty.

My experiences in Montana are replicated across the entire country every day, even right here in the Chequamegon Bay area, thanks to the opportunities that AmeriCorps and the Corporation for National and Community Service help to provide.

What troubles me most about the possibility of CNCS/AmeriCorps' defunding is that the federal investment made in faith-based and community organizations through CNCS leverages $799 million in matching funds from companies, foundations and other sources. If national service programs are defunded, whole organizations may be forced to shut down and given the current economic crisis, most will not be able to reopen again even if funding is restored. The loss of these organizations will decimate vital services in our communities, at the very time that record numbers of people are seeking assistance from food shelves, shelters, low-income healthcare facilities, and job training centers.

I think our federal government gets a good return on its investment in the Corporation for National and Community Service. Cutting the funding to CNCS will have a terrible impact on AmeriCorps, RSVP, Foster Grandparents, Learn & Serve, and the thousands of community organizations that rely on those programs to fulfill their own local needs.

A lot of people pay lip service to volunteerism in this country; preserving AmeriCorps and the Corporation for National and Community Service's other programs will ensure that a significant number of Americans do more than just talk the talk - they'll keep on walking the walk.

Thank you very much for your time and for your consideration.

(If you'd like to learn more about the proposed cuts to AmeriCorps and other Corporation for National and Community Service programs, or if you'd like to find out how you can contact your Congressional representatives, check this out.)

The Packer Parade.

2011-02-10T23:57:00.003-06:00

Ashland had a parade in honor of the Green Bay Packers last Saturday (the day before the Superbowl)...it's not the first Packer Parade we've ever had, but I think it was the best.

Many more pictures over here.

Game day was equally momentous. We gathered at my friends Elizabeth & Peter's house for deep-fried cheese curds, a six-foot party sub, gluten-free cupcakes (for the gluten-intolerant among us), and a coconut (which, unfortunately, we never got around to fashioning into a bra).

Making the pregnant lady work the fryer; Nick hacks into the coconut;
Sarah has an adverse reaction to Fergie; Packers win!

Once more, with feeling.

2011-02-06T23:34:00.005-06:00

In light of tonight's events, I am legally obligated as a resident of Upper Cheeseland
(and an MST3K fan) to re-post this.

"Please, if you would all just go back to your drinkin'--"
"GO PACKERS!!!"