Mpls Misc

After arriving at at the MSP airport, I made a quick trip to the Mall of America (half hour!) and then started to head north through the city. My 200 mile drive would take me up I-35 through Duluth and then east for an hour or so to Washburn, Wisconsin. By the time I hit the road, rush hour was getting into full swing.

Boy, I had forgotten how icky rush hour is in the Twin Cities. I thought Seattle-Tacoma was bad, (and it is) but after being away for so many years, I had underestimated the Twin Cities’ “slow and go” freeway crawl. I was on the south end of town and had to head north across the entire metro. Because of rush hour, and since I had a rental car and was not at the mercy of anyone else’s transportation, I stayed off the freeways as much as possible. My route took some nostalgic turns through old neighborhoods where Frank and I lived.

Here are some miscellaneous pictures of my journey through town:

This is the first apartment that Frank and I rented together.

We have a fifteen year old at home who eventually will move out and set up her own Christmas tree in her own home. My own tree has several ornaments I got on trips or as gifts from dear friends, and they're all part of my own heirloom Christmas tree ornaments. Even the plastic Santa selling ice cream cones that I got on a road trip to Florida is one of my heirlooms, not because of the quality, but because of the memories surrounding it.

When my kiddo was a teeny baby, I knew she would need some of her own ornaments when she set up her very first Christmas tree (she can't have my plastic ice cream selling Santa, it's MINE), and so we started a cherished family tradition that she loves.

Here's a fun Frugal Nesting tip you can use to start a family tradition with any little ones in your family: start a collection of future Christmas or holiday heirlooms for your children to have when they set up their own homes.

GOLDEN AGE CHRISTMAS TREE ORNAMENTS, originally uploaded by David Zellaby.

On our daughter's first Christmas, she was a 2 month old preemie, only about 4 pounds, and still dwarfed by her preemie jammies. One of this tiny baby's gifts was an ornament that showed a teeny tiny baby teddy bear and the words "Baby's First Christmas."

Every year since, Santa has given her one or more ornaments that represent something significant from that year. By the time she sets up her first Christmas tree in her own place, she'll have a collection of heirloom ornaments to place on the tree. Each one will have a story that she can eventually tell to her kids and grandkids.

Christmas Ornaments 3, originally uploaded by Randy Son Of Robert.

The pictures in this post are borrowed from flickr users, but Rachel's ornaments include:

A pelican - from when her dad lived and worked 90 miles from home (boy did we miss him!) right on the beach at a restaurant called The Pelican Pub. We loved visiting him and climbing the big 300 foot tall sand dune just yards from the pub.

A sewing machine - when she was in third grade, her class sewed aprons as a class project. She was especially proud of hers and I still wear it when making cookies.

A truck - a few summers ago she visited G-ma and G-pa on the farm in Wisconsin. She was only 10 but that summer she learned how to drive the old farm truck. (In the field.) Later, when she returned home, she offered to drive my car for me, since she already knew how to drive. Thank goodness logic prevailed and she understood "no license-no driving."

When she started playing the cello in orchestra my sister Tina came to the rescue with a cello ornament. G-ma Donna also sent a music stand ornament the same year.

The past few years things have changed a little with Christmas. She approaches me and asks, "Are you giving me another ornament this year?"

I told her, "Yes, of course Santa will give you another one."

She raised one eyebrow. (I wish I could do that!) "Yeah, whatever."

Before she could stick her ipod headphones back into her ears I quickly asked, "Do you want to pick one out or be surprised?"

She smiled. "I want to be surprised. I love the ornaments."

Old Time-y memories, getting zapped, and a cure for what ails ya

When I was a kid in the mid 70's, old time-y decorations from the turn of the century were all the rage. A popular clothing store had decorated its changing rooms with wallpaper that looked like old Sears catalog ads.

A few years later, mom took me to a big flea market in town where she had a booth. I got to wander around looking at all the antiques and misc crap (there was a lot of misc crap.) I was fascinated by the old medicine bottles. At about the same time, at home we had a bottle of some curious liquid that smelled terrible. The label said "Sloan's Liniment." Not sure where it came from, but I was amazed that people used that stuff... even more amazed that it seemed to work. Mom used it as a decoration and brought it out to show people when they came over to visit.

This is unrelated, but somehow whenever I remember the old medicine bottles, these memories merge with a day in the bathroom of our little old house in Washburn when I reached up to the wall sconce turn on the light. It was an old house with bizarre construction and weird nooks and crannies... and I'm sure it had several wiring and other code violations. Maybe it's because the house was kind of old time-y? Maybe it's because we lived there when old time-y things were so popular.

Maybe it's because that's where I lived when I developed my fascination with "all things old time-y?" I'm really not sure.
Anyway, when I touched the metal knob on the wall sconce, I got a huge ZAP! on my fingers that still hurts to this day when I think about it.

(On the upside, that little dose of electrical medicine taught me it's ok to pee in the dark.)

The other day I got an email full of old time-y pictures that made my fingers burn and ache, reminding me of the big shock I got from the light switch.

Maybe if I had been on one or more of these medicines, I wouldn't have minded the electric shock quite so much.

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A bottle of Bayer's heroin. Between 1890 and 1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive substitute for morphine. It was also used to treat children with strong cough. ----------

Metcalf Coca Wine was one of a huge variety of wines with cocaine on the market. Everybody used to say that it would make you happy and it would also work as a medicinal treatment. ----------

Mariani wine (1875) was the most famous Coca wine of its time. Pope Leo XIII used to carry one bottle with him all the time. He awarded Angelo Mariani (the producer) with aVatican gold medal.

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A paper weight promoting C.F. Boehringer & Soehne ( Mannheim , Germany ). They were proud of being the biggest producers in the world of products containing Quinine and Cocaine.

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Produced by Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York . It was suggested that you should take a full glass with or after every meal. Children should take half a glass.
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Cocaine tablets (1900)
All stage actors, singers teachers and preachers had to have them for a maximum performance. Great to "smooth" the voice.

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Opium for Asthma

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Cocaine drops for toothache

Very popular for children in 1885. Not only they relieved the pain, they made the children happy!

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Opium for new-borns

I'm sure this would make them sleep well (not only the Opium, but 46% alcohol!!!!!)

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PS: To this day, I still love old bottles.

Camping bribe?

I was chatting online with my friend Michelle, who lives back in the midwest. She and her hubby had bought a camper and we were talking about different things to do while camping and relaxing. Sadly, I have no clue how to relax. There's always a house to clean or laundry to fold or dishes to wash or paperwork to sort or....

One of the things she said they do is cook and eat. Well, heck, I can do that. In the conversation I mentioned Tonka Toasters, which I used over many many summers at 4-H camp. Michelle hadn't heard of these things, so a little Googling came up with the same concept: Pie Irons.

These classic campfire cooking tools have their own website and gosh-- a blog, and check out these recipes! I had only really known about the standard Wonder bread and pie filling recipe. Wow! I may have to get a pair of these when we get our camping gear.

Let's backtrack about 11+ months for a second so I can bring you up to speed. No, let's start about 30 years ago.

When I was a kid, my dad took me on a camping trip from Wisconsin to California. We cruised down the road in his little red Mazda RX-4 (with black leather or vinyl seats - wearing shorts - in the summer - yow! burnt thighs!) and camped in a pup tent near Mt. Rushmore, Lake Jenny at The Grand Tetons, and probably a few more camping spots that slip my mind.
It was a while ago.

During that trip, and subsequent camping trips with Dad, 4H groups, and other friends, I learned that I'm a hotel and cabin kind of gal. I don't relish sleeping on rocks, i hate waking up to a flooded tent during some rare stateside monsoon, I'm not so big on having a group of snickering Canadian boys collapse my dew-covered tent at 6am and then trying to claw my way out to daylight along with a dozen other screaming 14-year old girls, and I have un-pleasant memories losing my pillow and waking up stiff and sore. Besides, camping is cold.

Ok, so about 23 months ago, I tried to talk Frank into getting camping gear so we have more vacation freedom. At that point we had spent 95% of our time over the last 6 years in the Willamette Valley or on the central Oregon Coast. Frank always scoffed and said, "Yeah, we'll see if you do go camping." He says he's game to do it but knows I'd complain way too much.

When he had the musty little Lincoln City apartment when he was working in Pacific City at the Pelican Pub, we'd visit him and sleep on air mattresses. I don't recall complaining. Did I complain? Ok, maybe I grumped a little because the air mattress leaked and I woke up with my butt on the floor. Frank and Rachel complain that I complain all the time. Ironic, isn't it?

This year I'm bringing up the subject of camping gear again. Frank is laughing at me again. Rachel is rolling her eyes at me again. I vow to not complain.

Gonna have to get some Tonka Toasters (ahem, Pie Irons) to charm the sandals off my campmates.

In case I feel the urge to complain.

About Pam... part II

Oh yah, here's the Ticky Tacky Tavern. Or the Plywood Palace, depending upon which side of the road you live.

I lived in Moquah when the tavern burned down in the 80's. Of course, the owner still had his liquor permit, so he rebuilt with whatever scraps he could find.

It wasn't insulated, so you had to keep your coat on in the winter, but in the summer it featured 100% natural air conditioning. Or at least 100% natural air. There was no glass or plastic over the windows.

At some point, he bought some red vinyl booths and they sat outside under a tarp for a couple of years before he installed them. I think leaning them outside was a good idea, because by the time he finally got around to installing them, they were as weathered as the building, and they matched the rest of the decor.

The Plywood Palace is one of two bars in teen tiny unincorporated Moquah. The other bar is called Nep's, and I remember going in there as a kid. John (my step dad) would walk behind the bar and get us two glass bottles of pop from the fridge and two candy bars, then we'd sit at the bar, enjoy our treats, and hang out. But that's another story.




Thank you to Moeview is Aaron Molina for permission to use this photo. Aaron, I love your work. Dear readers, please check out Aaron's photos. Especially this one. Wow.

About Pam... part I

Bathtub shrine, originally uploaded by Boyce Duprey.

I grew up in a small town way at the tippy top of Wisconsin, near Lake Superior.
At the time, we had a Catholic Church (big surprise) a cheese factory (again, big surprise) and a bar. (What? A bar?? In Wisconsin???)

The perfect balance of priorities for any sensible Wisconsinite.
Actually there were two bars.

Our (unofficial) big town motto was Eat, Drink and Be Saved.

The phrase "Blink and you'll miss it" didn't apply due to the 90 degree curve in the road. Driving eastbound, you couldn't blink or you'd run directly into a bar we affectionately called the Plywood Palace. If you were coming from Ashland and heading west, you didn't dare blink to miss the town or you'd drive smack into the wall of the cheese factory and knock over the Virgin Mary's blue bathtub.

If you grew up in the upper Midwest, you know exactly why Mary needs a bathtub and what shade of blue it is.

bathtub shrine, originally uploaded by zoe.stonyk.

Of course I was an outcast there because we went to the Lutheran Church...
...which was located in the next town, across the street from our rival high school.

We were rebels, I tell ya.

Stay tuned for the next post where I'll show you the Plywood Palace.
You're not going to believe it.

Well, you might, if you're from Wisconsin, eh.

Wordle, part I

When I was about 8 years old, my mom joined the local theatre group and I spent the rest of my growing-up years backstage, on stage, or involved in a theatrical production one way or another. Part of the fun was learning how to take on the characteristics of the people portrayed on stage. Even as a props girl or running a follow spot light, it was fun to pretend to be someone else (and the other back stage personnel was my only audience.)

One year, Mom directed the Rogers and Hammerstein musical "Oklahoma!" and the title song required nearly all the members of the cast to take turns and sing one solo line. Some people could sing very well; others couldn't carry a tune if you put it in a bucket for them. I learned how to mimic the singing voices of the entire cast. (What can I say? I was bored one evening at rehearsal.) With an operatic old lady voice I would belt out "Flowers on the prairie where the June bugs zoom," then I'd change my voice to a soft and gravelly gentleman's voice "Plenty of air and plenty of room." For a week or two I kept it to myself, then one day I sang the whole song with all the voices for my mom. She was dumbfounded as I began, then burst into fits of laughter as I sang the line from the one guy who could not sing no matter how much coaching he had. I warbled out his line just like he did and Mom just lost it. From then on, I loved learning how to mimic voices and accents. I only do phrases that I've practiced, but it's a lot of fun.

A little footnote here: In 2005, Mom was cast as the Old Woman in an indie horror film, "Harvest."

Have you ever seen the ad on tv for the Magic Bullet blender? At one point the Australian guy exclaims that you can blend and serve smoothies "Right in it's own frosty mug!" We make smoothies for breakfast at least once a week and when I serve them, the Aussie guy's exclamation comes out of my mouth. And my too cool for words 12 year old daughter rolls her eyes, takes the smoothie, and exits the room. (I secretly think she's impressed.)

In fact, most of the time I like to embarrass my very hip 12 year old daughter by not acting my age or demographic. At home, I keep the voices alive by using a fake French accent, a fake Indian accent (which Indian? Both feathers and dots; I'm lousy at both,) as well as talking like I'm from the 'hood, Marlon Brando, Casablanca, you name it. Poor embarrassed Rachel nearly blanches when I refer to her friends as her homies (and I say that in my best suburban-mom-goody-two-shoes accent) and when she questions my authority, I give her my little speech about 'respecting the mom' and end it with "Word."

Why so I do this to my tortured middle schooler? Control. I can threaten to talk like this in front of her friends if she "disses" (disrespects) me. No, I don't threaten-threaten her; we have a strict rule at home about treating people with respect, regardless of the situation at hand. But she does know that I can break out in Valley Girl if she's with her friends and things get out of hand. I know she doesn't want any funny talking from me and she knows I don't want any back talking from her. One snotty comment out of her, especially in front of her friends and it's "OMG! Gag me with a spoon!" She's very polite after my outburst.

On the other hand, she's just as goofy as I am, talking like a German Chancellor while making spaghetti with me, or her latest: "LOL Speak" via email to me while I'm at work. What's LOL speak? A sample email from her would go like this.

"OH HAI, MOMMEH. DO U KNOE WER I CAN FIND MAH BLU HAT? IF U DOAN KNOE, I CAN HAS UR BLU SCARF? LET ME KNOE, K?"

(Hi, mom. Do you know where I can find my blue hat? If you don't know, can I have your blue scarf? Let me know, ok?)

At home we love words. A few years ago, Mr. Pass It On Plates and I built a ten foot wide by six foot tall wooden bookcase to hold all our books. (Problem is, it doesn't hold them all.) Words are interesting in print and interesting when spoken. The funny thing is that even though we're fascinated by words, Mr. Pass It On Plates is Deaf and we communicate at home in sign language. Yes, I have a fascination with signs and that's a whole 'nother blog post.

That said... (*sigh* ok you have just been exposed to my innate weirdness. I had been holding it back for several months now. Yes, I agree - I think it is hereditary. Maybe the last 9 paragraphs were just TMI - Too Much Information?)

Here's a 180-degree turn from what I just told you but ... (and BTW, I love the name of this website and my have to work it into my various languages with my 12 year old punk.)

Wordle

What the heck is Wordle? It's a super-nifty bit of programming that takes text that you type in OR it takes text from a URL that you provide and pulls out words. Wordle then arranges the words into a word cloud. You can choose from a long list of interesting fonts that I (the "font queen" at home) have never heard of, and you also get to mold the shape of the words. You also control the color.

I absolutely love this. I think I'm going to have to put this on a shirt or tote bag.

Click here for Wordle, part II
You'll see what I'm talking about. I bet you'll love it too.

FW: Ondossagon HS 1985

Pam's note: Ahhh, memories... Here's another book all about me. This will probably explain a lot of things...
Can't wait to see your answers!
---------------------------------------------
Fill this out about your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!!

FORWARD with name of your High School and graduating year in the subject box.
As you send this on, don't forget to send it back to me.

1. Did you date someone from your school?
Never, I was a traitor and dated guys from rival high schools

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?
nope

3. Did you car pool to school?
Sometimes car pooled (I drove) or sometimes took the bus. I lived 10 miles away from school.

4. What kind of car did you have?
1981 Honda Accord named Beatrice

5. What kind of car do you have now?
2007 Chevy HHR named Guido

6. It is Friday night...where are you now?
Work, then home

7. It is Friday night...where were you then?
Movies, cruising back and forth down main street* or having friends over to play ping pong basketball (the table was in our unfinished basement and you can score 2 pts if the ball lands in the sump pump hole), sometimes we'd rent a vcr and some movies and have everyone over (this was in 1984-85, ok?) or go to a basketball game, or at a community theatre rehearsal/show.

* Ok, Miss Dork here and her friends wore sunglasses, rolled the windows down, and blared classical music just to see who would turn their heads and stare at the losers in the tan Honda hatchback named Beatrice. (Probably the most un-cool thing to do in the most un-cool car on the road, so at least we all matched.)

8.What kind of job did you have in high school?
I worked on our dairy farm when I didn't have school or 4H stuff going on. I really didn't do a heck of a lot except drive the tractor in circles around the field at hay baling time.

9. What kind of job do you have now?
Customer service rep. Kind of the same thing, when you think about it.

10. Who was your best friend in high school?
Depends on what I was doing. My best friends during school extracurricular stuff were Kristin, Pauline, and Amy.

My friend Michelle's family owned a restaurant and she had to work every night and couldn't do a lot of extracurricular stuff, so she was my best friend on the bus, on band trips, and we hung out at each others' houses all the time. Especially every year when the Sound Of Music came on, I happened to be having dinner at her house. Ham with mashed potatoes and corn. Mmmm.

She's still one of my best friends. I'm forwarding this to her. She's probably smacking herself on the forehead and saying, "What an idiot."

11. Were you considered a flirt?
Maybe? I really don't know.

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
I was a Band geek (bells) and I joined Choir because I couldn't have two study halls in a row. It was boring because I memorized my part (alto) while the teacher struggled to teach the sopranos their part. I thought they were incredible stupid because they had the melody, but whatever. Only a few of us could read music, so I'm sure that made it hard for the rest of the group to know what they were supposed to do. To kill the boredom, I'd hum along with the sopranos, purposely off key. The teacher could never figure out which soprano was singing off key, so she made the whole group sing their part over and over until they got it right. (They never did, thanks to me.)

13. Were you a nerd?
YES!!! Still am one too. See above (and below) for proof.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?
Surprisingly, no. I was an absolute angel throughout HS and never even had a detention. I managed to get all my shenanigans blamed on other people. Or if I was the suspect in anything, I turned on the charm and played innocent until they left me alone. School was in a really old building, (c. 1900?) and it had open stairwells from the ground floor up to the 4th floor attic. One time a couple of us theater geeks were cleaning out the costumes and we came across an old fake pearl necklace that had broken. Somehow all the pearls ended up bouncing down all four flights of stairs… I think someone was were trying to see if we could shoot them straight down between the 12" gap in the railing so they would freefall directly to the first floor.

Eventually Chrome Dome (the principal) came upstairs and demanded some answers. We just lied and told him the necklace broke and some pieces must have fallen downstairs. He seemed to buy it because we didn't get in trouble for that (or any other er… "self-appointed extracurricular activity") but I got the impression he didn't like me very much.

Hey, it's not my fault the wall between his outer office and inner office was only 8 feet high and the room had 12 foot ceilings… and the outer office was usually unattended… and he always had misc crap thrown over the wall onto his desk… right?

15. Can you sing the fight song?
Yes, still. I never understood why our teeny little school in the tippy top of Wisconsin would use "Illinois Loyalty" as their tune, though.

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher?
Reino Hill. I did get sent to Chrome Dome's office for calling him Drano. To his face. Actually, I wrote it on the back of a test. Mr. Hill would wear Packers colors on game days and if they won he'd wear a Packers pin or something extra the next day.

I also really liked Mr. Hnath, who looked like Gabe Kaplan (Mr. Kotter) - Each summer Mr. Hnath would go on some huge trip across the globe and decorate his room with pictures from the trip: Easter Island, the Great Pyramid, Great Wall of China… When we didn't want his lecture on any given day, we'd ask him about the pictures and he'd spend the majority of class talking about his most recent trip.

17. Where did you sit during lunch?
There was a table at the back of the cafeteria. I called it the Back-teria.

18. What was your school's full name?
Ondossagon Public School. Our cheerleaders had to spell it at basketball games. Can you pronounce it? Some of the other schools' cheerleaders struggled with the name now and then.

19. When did you graduate?
Sunday 5/26/85, 2pm.

20. What was your school mascot?
A royal blue bull with gold horns. We were the Aggies.

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
Maybe, but that's moot because the school was closed and now the campus is a horse training facility for disabled people, or something like that. There is an all-school reunion coming up that I'm hoping to attend, so while I can't go back to the school, I can go back and reunite with my conspirators.

I am a Superior 1930's Wife.

Ok, I am guilty of cooking while wearing pajamas, but I do keep my husband's dresser drawers tidy!

After you take the test, leave a comment here with your results -

70 As a 1930s wife, I am Superior Take the test!

Count 'em

I remember 13. But I don't think of that as "old," I think of that more in the same category as "Laugh lines" or "Battle scars."
-Pam

Count all the ones that you remember, NOT the ones you were told about !

1. Blackjack chewing gum
2. Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water
3. Candy cigarettes
4. Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles
5. Coffee shops or diners with tableside juke boxes
6. Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers
7. Party lines
8. Newsreels before the movie
9. P.F. Flyers
10. Butch wax
11. Telephone numbers with a word prefix (OLive-6933)
12. Peashooters
13. Howdy Doody
14. 45 RPM records
15. S&H Green Stamps
16. Hi-fi's
17. Metal ice trays with lever
18. Mimeograph paper
19. Blue flashbulb
20. Packards
21. Roller skate keys
22. Cork popguns
23. Drive-ins
24. Studebakers
25. Wash tub wringers

If you remembered 0-5 = You're still young
If you remembered 6-10 = You are getting older
If you remembered 11-15 = Don't tell your age,
If you remembered 16-25 = You're older than dirt !

Lutefisk

My mom sent me the lyrics to this old Christmas favorite.
Her comment, above the lyrics were "Enjoy!"
I'm not sure if she was referring to the lyrics or the subject matter...
-Pam

PS: Be sure to sing it out loud, off key, nearly drunk, and vit yer best
Norveegan accent, ja der hey.
________________________________

Sung to the tune of O Tannunbaum

Lutefisk... 0 Lutefisk... how fragrant your aroma
0 Lutefisk... 0 Lutefisk... You put me, in a coma
You smell so strong... You look like glue
You taste yust like an overshoe
but Lutefisk ... come Saturday
I tink I'll eat you anyway.

Lutefisk ... 0 Lutefisk ... I put you by the doorway
I vanted you to ripen up ... yust like dey do in Norway
A dog came by and sprinkled you ... I hit him vit an army shoe
0 Lutefisk ... now I suppose
I'll eat you as I hold my nose.

Lutefisk ... 0 Lutefisk ... how well I do remember
On Christmas Eve how we'd receive ... our big treat of December
It vasn't turkey or fried ham ... it vasn't even pickled spam
My mudder knew dere vas no risk ...
In serving buttered lutefisk.

Lutefisk ... 0 Lutefisk ... now everyone discovers
Dat Lutefisk and lefse makes-Norweigians better lovers
Now all da vorld can have a ball ... you're better dan dat Yeritol
0 Lutefisk ... vit brennevin
You make me feel like Errol Flynn.

My Mother's Xmas Tree

(Sorry Mom, just had to share!)

For those of you who haven't been to the farm, my mom and step dad live at the edge of a large forest, and have 40 wooded acres. Among other trees, there are thousands of spruce, balsam, pine, birch and maple trees covering the back 40. Ever since we moved out there at Xmas 1978, we've tromped through the woods to cut down our Christmas tree. (See my Xmas Survey for a story about Pastor Hanson's "lovely" tree we cut down from back there one year.) Yes, there's a big hill going down to the creek on the back 40, and trees growing on the hillside have a curve in the trunk which has taught us of the importance to wire the Xmas tree to the wall so it won't fall over during dinner (see my Xmas survey for a story about that, too.)

I have to say that part of the fun involved in tromping through the back 40 is taking giant steps to walk through last week's snowfall. The snow is just deep enough to creep over the tops of your mid-calf-high boots and drip down past your ankles...not to mention the snow rash you get when walking across snow crust that you think is thick enough to support your weight - only to find out that six steps into the crust, your right foot sinks down, again about mid-calf. The crust is just strong enough to tug your pants out from your boot, exposing your toasty leg to anything under the crust. In an amazing balancing feat, (you don't want to fall over and make the situation worse*) you lift your right foot to get it out of the snow to discover the crust is also strong enough to hold your right boot hostage. You have also discovered the wonderful science of weight displacement, or whatever it is, that caused the crust to break through when you shifted all your weight to the left foot. Now you're standing on one leg, waving a sock covered right foot in the air, trying to decide if you will be able to slide your foot back in the boot if you poke your foot back into the same hole you just made in the snow crust. Did I mention that you're developing a nice case of snow rash on your left leg? Of course you are, and it's getting numb and starting to bleed. You poke your right foot back into the hole in the snow, and snag your toes on the edge of the boot as your foot slips back into place. At the same time, it occurs to you that all the loose snow between the crust and the top of your boot was pushed into the boot when you stuck your foot back in there. It is starting to melt and your sock is soaking wet and coOoOoOold. You stand there, grumbling. "Any tree is fine. Just cut one down and let's go.” But nooooo, everyone else wants to go deeper into the woods and keep looking for the perfect tree. One that is guaranteed to fall over no matter how securely you wire it to the wall.

*At least you maintained your balance while standing around on your left leg. The other scenario is that as you pull your right foot out of the stuck boot, you fall over onto and into the crust. Your warm butt, which is not clad in a waterproof snowmobile suit, melts the soft snow under the crust, and cold seeps up your spine. That gap between the top of your pants and the bottom of your shirt, which wasn't quite long enough to tuck in, has allowed a trickle of cold melted snow to go down your crack. You feel snow rash start to develop on the small of your back. You try to stand up and everyone laughs at you. The crust is just strong enough to with stand the weight of your legs, and kicking the crust does nothing to crack the icy layer on top of the snow, and so your feet and shoulders are a good 18" higher than your butt, which is now developing a nice case of frostbite. Is that a rock or an exposed tree root bruising your tailbone and left butt cheek? One person in your party stops laughing at you long enough to stick their hand out and help you get up. (That's only because they're the only one afraid of you when you're mad.) Forgetting that your right boot is not on your foot but is still buried somewhere in the crust, you stand up. You stagger from the shock of the cold all over your foot and the jagged snow crust scrapes an angry red mark across your right shin. You teach your Christmas tree hunting companions some new words: &%@#*!! and &^$*#@&!!! Unless of course, you've invited the church pastor and his family out to hunt for Christmas trees with you. Then you tell them the trees near the edge of the woods are usually the nicest. And the flat side will make it set up against the wall much better than if the tree was perfectly round. But nooooo, they're throwing snowballs (at you) and having a great time, singing Christmas songs and eating the pristine snow off their mittens, and they want to forge onward.

Oh, hunting for the perfect Christmas tree in the woods is such a joy and the perfect way to start the Christmas season.

My parents also have a big wood furnace that supplies most of the heat to their home each winter. In addition to the big outdoor wood-burning furnace, there's a cast iron wood stove in the living room, and every time I think of the words "cozy" or "winter" or "fireplace" I mentally smell the wood smoke from the wood stove, and hear the quiet roar of the fire, the soft whoosh of air being sucked into the stove through the little vent dials on the door of the stove, the clank of the door being opened, and the hiss of water evaporating from the old tea kettle to add a little humidity to the normally dry air. By the way, did you know that a spark from their big outdoor furnace ignited the woodpile this fall? The fire dept sent a truck and saved a good a portion of this winter's fuel, so they'll be ok. I hope.

But I digress.

I mention these things to establish that my parents have trees and they also have tools with which to chop down trees. Imagine my horror when Mom sent back the Xmas survey to me with this answer to the Christmas Tree Question:

2. Real tree or Artificial?
NEIGHBOR BOUGHT ME AN ARTIFICIAL TREE AFTER C-MAS BECAUSE OUR TREE FROM OUT BACK WAS SO UGLY ONE YEAR

Hm. She must have lost her boot or fallen over in the snow.

Xmas thingy - at long last

Welcome to the 'Christmas Edition' of getting to know your friends. Okay, here's what you're supposed to do and try not to be a SCROOGE!!! Just copy this entire email and paste into a new blank e-mail that you can send. Change all the answers so they apply to you. Then, send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person who sent it to you. It's the e season to be cheerful!!! 1) Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper with all kinds of frou-frou Martha Stewart-like accoutrements attached through the miracle of the almighty glue gun. Otherwise, after wrapping it in paper, I like to go nuts with the curly ribbon, wrapping it around and around and around the box so it takes 20 minutes to open the dam thing. 2) Tree real or artificial?
For economic reasons we've been stuck with the same fakey the last 7 years or so. I'd like to get a pre-lit fakey. Actually, a pre-lit real tree would be great but if I went out and got a real tree, my hubby would never pre-light it for me before I start in on my work. Unless I allowed him to pre-light it with his Zippo. (That's a cigarette lighter, you know.) I grew up on a farm with a forested, hilly back 40, and we always had a real tree. Most of the time the tree had grown on the hillside and we had to wire it to the wall because the trunk was crooked. We often invited the pastor and his intern out to tromp through the woods and cut down a Christmas tree. One year Pastor Hanson pointed skyward and says, "I want that one, there." So John felled an entire 50 ft pine tree and cut 6 feet off the top for the Pastor. It was beautiful, but the worst tree they ever had. Sap dripped all over their living room floor.
So I guess I don't mind my fakey tree. It's sap-less.3) When do you put the tree up?
Usually by Christmas. It's December 10 today, and the Christmas boxes have been sitting in the spot where the tree will go for the last 8 days. We finally got the thing put together last night, but no lights or ornaments are on it yet. We'll see how long it takes me… 4) When do you take the tree down?
When Rachel was a baby, the tree came down during Christmas dinner. I mean, it literally came down on the dining room table. But as for when we intend for the tree to come down, there was one year when I was a teenager we took the tree down on Valentines day. Well, the needles took themselves down long before that, but we took off the ornaments and hauled out the spruce skeleton as a fun(?) Valentines activity. Disposing of that carcass was an act of love. 5) Like eggnog?
By itself, in my coffee, with brandy, sure!
(Is there butter in it? See #15)6) Do you have a nativity scene?
It was a simple triptych (a 3-piece hinged fold-out thing) but it broke and never replaced it. All the new ones don't compare to the one I grew up with, and I just don't like them. It's just little plastic figures a la 1972 in a shoebox lined with tan velvet for the straw floor and brown velvet for the night sky. One of the three kings has a facial expression like he had just sucked on a sour kiwifruit. Another king's face looks like a victim in a painting by Goya. (Look it up.) I love those little guys. 7) Favorite gift received as a child?
Butter. (See #15)
No really, it was when I was seven. I received a tape recorder and the book "And Now, Miguel" with a set of tapes of my dad reading the book out loud to me. He played acoustic guitar as bumper music between chapters and sections. The book is long gone, but I still have the tapes.8) Hardest person to buy for?
My Dad and my Step dad John. They either have everything they need or are happy with what they've got. So I always fallback on food gifts whenever possible. Guy's gotta eat.
(Maybe butter would be good. See #15)9) Easiest person to buy for?
Frank and Rachel. I pay attention through the year when they unconsciously make out their wish lists for this 'n' that. 10) Worst Christmas gift ever received?
Three Yahtzee games from various relatives. Santa brought me extra Yahtzee scorecards that year. I am an only child. Who am I going to play all the Yahtzee with? Helloooo!
This may have been the first year I recognized the genius of careful re-gifting. 11) Mail or email a Christmas card?
Mail. My favorite is still the Xmas card I sent out with all the lampooned songs. That was fun. Still trying to top that. (Xmas Haiku was funny, though.) I lampooned about 7 or 8 songs to tell the story of what we did that past year. Later my mom told me she showed it to my H.S. English teacher at some community party and he and his brother sang my entire Christmas card - in harmony. 12) Favorite Christmas movie?
It's a tie between Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story. I can quote both. quote both. Can you?13) When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Depends on when the paydays fall. One year I had it done by Halloween. I have failed to achieve that accomplishment ever since. As for supplies, every 5-7 years I stock up on paper and cards in January. (Whoops - the secret's out!)14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Of course. But I'll never tell what, or to whom. (Or how often!) I figure if the gift is perfect and my recipient loves it, then it doesn't really matter. The point is to make people happy, right?15) Favorite food to eat on Christmas?
Mainly butter, I guess.
Smörgåsbord: Sandbakkels (it's a Norwegian butter cookie shell), fattigmann (another Norwegian cookie), Swedish meatballs, Potato sausage, lutefisk in butter sauce, lefse with butter, hard tack with butter and pickled herring (wine sauce, not sour cream) (I didn't see the butter theme until just now. Hm.) And of course, there's all of Frank's ethnic stuff: wild rice, fry bread, fish…

Pass the butter! 16) Clear or colored tree lights?
I prefer clear, but if I can talk someone into putting the lights on the dang tree for me, I'll let them decide what color to use. 17) Favorite Christmas song?
Lo How A Rose … and Christmas Dragnet by Stan Freberg18) Travel during Christmas or stay home?
If I can't load a ton of stuff into my suitcase and hit the road to visit folks during Christmas, then I like to have everyone over. It doesn't matter, just as long as there are lots of happy people.19) Can you name Santa's reindeer?
Is this a test? By the way, it's Donder, not Donner. Did you know that?20) Angel or Star on tree top?
I have a retro 1930's glass ball with a pointy thing on top of my tree. You know what I mean? It's red and gold.21) Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning?
One on Christmas eve the rest on Christmas morning, and more when we get together with the rest of the family.22) Most annoying thing about this time of year?
Musical Christmas toys in the stores in September, Christmas Muzak in the stores on Nov 1… When I was a kid, all the Christmas festivities began the day after Thanksgiving. Now it's already in your face while you're swerving home from your drunken Halloween bash. I love Christmas, but my God, two whole months is a lot. It's like eating a whole box of chocolates instead of treating your self with one or two. Or three. With butter.23) Favorite tradition?
Butter. No, really, it's butter. I love the traditional food that my Norwegian Grandma made, the traditional Ojibwe food from Frank's side, getting together with all my friends and relatives, and trying to re-create all the Christmas memories from my childhood. Pass the butter.

Small Towns

Those who grew up in small towns will laugh when they read this.

Those who didn't will be in disbelief and won't understand how true it is.

1) You can name everyone you graduated with.

2) You know what 4-H means.

3) You went to parties at a pasture, barn, gravel pit, or in the middle of a dirt road. On Monday, you could always tell who was at the party because of the scratches on their legs from running through the woods when the party was busted. (See #6.)

4) You used to 'drag' Main.

5) You whispered the 'F' word and your parents knew within the hour.

6) You scheduled parties around the schedules of different police officers, because you knew which ones would bust you and which ones wouldn't.

7) You could never buy cigarettes because all the store clerks knew how old you were (and if you were old enough, they'd tell your parents anyhow.) Besides, where would you get the money?

8) When you did find somebody old enough and brave enough to buy cigarettes, you still had to go out into the country and drive on back roads to smoke them.

9) You knew which section of the ditch you would find the beer your buyer dropped off.

10) It was cool to date somebody from the neighboring town.

11) The whole school went to the same party after graduation.

12) You didn't give directions by street names but rather by references. Turn by Nelson's house, go 2 blocks to Anderson's, and it's four houses left of the track field.

13) The golf course had only 9 holes.

14) You couldn't help but date a friend's ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.

15) Your car stayed filthy because of the dirt roads, and you will never own a dark vehicle for this reason.

16) The town next to you was considered 'trashy' or 'snooty,' but was actually just like your town.

17) You referred to anyone with a house newer then 1955 as the 'rich' people.

18) The people in the 'big city' dressed funny, and then you picked up the trend 2 years later.

19) Anyone you wanted could be found at the local gas station or the Dairy Queen.

20) You saw at least one friend a week driving a tractor through town or one of your friends driving a grain truck to school occasionally.

21) The gym teacher suggested you haul hay for the summer to get stronger.

22) Directions were given using THE stop light as a reference.

23) When you decided to walk somewhere for exercise, 5 people would pull over and ask if you wanted a ride.

24) Your teachers called you by your older siblings' names.

25) Your teachers remembered when they taught your parents.

26) You could charge at any local store or write checks without any ID.

27) There was no McDonald's.

28) The closest mall was over an hour away.

29) It was normal to see an old man riding through town on a riding lawn mower.

30) You've pee'd in a cornfield.

31) Most people went by a nickname.

32) You laughed your butt off reading this because you know it is true, and you forward it to everyone who may have lived in a small town.

I would not have wanted to have been raised any other way!