tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42036283588349852242024-03-05T13:28:29.157-06:00Shirley D. SmithUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-2820704041150058592020-06-17T11:47:00.006-05:002020-06-17T19:41:27.721-05:00The Mirror and the LightThe Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel<div>Book Review</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVV6MSy5Yemt5ndIm-ES2OKK55cfZJppf0WOeRZd64Y9jimEOyQXlq8z9WNUoOXoySZ81v3EStY24ddItWF3hOsX3P5EHFnGNPB9d1Uf1s98iz2YiecjW6sD3QWbK9CTNkbv14eI_bJg/s1800/03bookmantel1-mediumSquareAt3X.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1798" data-original-width="1800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVV6MSy5Yemt5ndIm-ES2OKK55cfZJppf0WOeRZd64Y9jimEOyQXlq8z9WNUoOXoySZ81v3EStY24ddItWF3hOsX3P5EHFnGNPB9d1Uf1s98iz2YiecjW6sD3QWbK9CTNkbv14eI_bJg/s320/03bookmantel1-mediumSquareAt3X.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Mirror and the Light received a lot of attention when it was published in March 2020, just as stay-at-home orders took effect. I decided to read Hilary Mantel's trilogy as a diversion, having meant to read Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies but never gotten around to it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm in awe of Hilary Mantel. She brings an influential man from Henry VIII's 16th century Tudor England, Thomas Cromwell, to life with conversation, aspirations, and thoughts we easily recognize from our own world, yet we would never mistake him for someone other than from his own time. He's especially good with the ladies, not as a suitor but because he notices them as people, and talks easily with them, to the bafflement of many blustering, strutting noblemen around him. </div><div><br /></div><div>For example, in The Mirror and the Light, Cromwell continues to work hard to preserve Henry's daughter (with Katherine of Aragon) Mary's life. She's stubborn, unlikeable, and a danger to herself because her devotion to her mother, to Catholicism, and her refusal to acknowledge her father as head of the Church is grounds for treason and execution. Cromwell knows what a public relations nightmare that would be, and also, one never knows who may be in power in the future. He offers her every opportunity to secretly hold her own counsel while officially supporting Henry. Meanwhile he can't help but despair of her physical clumsiness. When he finally engineers Mary's public acceptance of Henry, Cromwell hovers with her ladies in waiting as she ceremonially descends a staircase in an unattractive gown of her own choosing, Meg the train-bearer behind her.</div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Mary glances around, as if to check he is following. Meg gives her train a shake. She seems to steer her from behind, with clucks and murmurs, like a woman driving a cart. When Mary stops, Lady Meg stops. What if Mary panics? What if she thinks at this last moment, I cannot do it? But, he murmurs to Lady Shelton, my anxiety is not so much, will she change her mind--it's will she trip over her feet and land before her father in a heap. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>Mary's just one of the matters Cromwell oversees as the handful of years the book covers plays out before his own execution. Henry relies on him more and more, and Cromwell's power is known beyond the borders of England. Cromwell has loyal men in his household whom the king also comes to trust and rely on. Many, perhaps most, of the nobility are jealous and righteously convinced that low-born Cromwell is underserving of his elevated position as Lord Privy Seal, on the king's council, and other titles. They persuade the king that Cromwell's after the throne himself. Just look at his attachment to Mary.</div><div><br /></div><div>By about the last hundred pages, Cromwell, unsurprised, feels the current of danger. The new marriage he's achieved for Henry has failed because Henry, who believes in romantic love, is not attracted to his new bride. (Hilary Mantel imagines a florid, extremely overweight, unattractively old Henry--depicted otherwise in a painting shown to his prospective young queen--surprising her in her chambers and eliciting a reaction of distaste. Henry can never get over that.)</div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>At the next council meeting the Lord Chancellor says, 'If the king and queen are civil to each other by day, it will help counter the rumours. And I think we can rely on them for that.'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>'When he was with the other one,' Fitz says, 'and he couldn't tup her, he blamed witches.'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>'Superstition,' Cranmer says. 'He knows better now.'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>Norfolk says, 'Well, Cromwell? What to do?'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>He says, "I have done nothing, but for his safety and happiness.'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>He overhears a young courtier--it is a Howard of course, the young Culpepper: 'If the king cannot manage it with the new queen, Cromwell will do it for him. Why not? He does everything else.'</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>His friend laughs. What alarms him is not their mockery. It is that they take no care to keep their voices low.</div></blockquote><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>When the council meets they should, he feels, put down sand to soak up the blood. It is like the <i>champ clos</i> for a tournament, sturdily fenced to stop the spectators getting in or the combatants getting out. The king stands in a watchtower, judging every move. </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div></div></blockquote><div>Eventually the king is persuaded, and walks away from Cromwell. Cromwell ends up in the Tower before his execution, a place where he has sent and visited many people. He knows Henry will not change his mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>I read the last pages in stops and starts, out of order, because I didn't want to face the approaching horror of his execution. Cromwell was ruthless in doing the king's will, but I liked and respected Mantel's version of him, and through him vicariously living in the upper echelons of Tudor England power. I realized addiction to power is the same no matter where it falls in history. Mantel's depiction of Cromwell's last days is a meditation on a life and an acceptance of fate. This Cromwell will linger in my thoughts for a long, long time.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-13257788424980793592020-05-27T10:21:00.000-05:002020-05-28T14:01:25.970-05:00Digitalis Cardigan and Unselfish Knitting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwO3FBHs62YmzkttWO6b4jpi1uW8ZoIzD3FKi7yoPkiB8lCgV7WUMSliL16USetEF2lJKECSzAyc0d4xTS0Vi1v7PtDBuD6qATEMiXV3xlsYQEmfQmtQ9AWOMTubPry7V5wIg66I-41rg/s1600/Color_Front_Cover_256x320.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="256" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwO3FBHs62YmzkttWO6b4jpi1uW8ZoIzD3FKi7yoPkiB8lCgV7WUMSliL16USetEF2lJKECSzAyc0d4xTS0Vi1v7PtDBuD6qATEMiXV3xlsYQEmfQmtQ9AWOMTubPry7V5wIg66I-41rg/s200/Color_Front_Cover_256x320.webp" title="" width="161" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7aAvqq2WTVok3M-YcX7wN3O8kFsRAXs2ZEsEStkrtu-Fuyquq7_WG3MP3AJ0LrDIv2sXWeMXjN-ix-lM935LVdqZ-iVwIKQGqwL_e1Yeh-EM5N-0HeWnBn_HSaj7qPXl8wzFlMLRd3M/s1600/Blob_small2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="320" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7aAvqq2WTVok3M-YcX7wN3O8kFsRAXs2ZEsEStkrtu-Fuyquq7_WG3MP3AJ0LrDIv2sXWeMXjN-ix-lM935LVdqZ-iVwIKQGqwL_e1Yeh-EM5N-0HeWnBn_HSaj7qPXl8wzFlMLRd3M/s200/Blob_small2.jpg" width="200" /></a>I have one issue of <a href="https://makingzine.com/" target="_blank">Making</a> magazine, <a href="https://makingzine.com/collections/magazine-1/products/no-5-color" target="_blank">No. 5/Color</a>, which was published in 2018. In a burst of grandmotherliness, I bought it planning to make <a href="https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/sweet-bee-and-flower" target="_blank">Susan B. Anderson's Sweet Bee and Flower</a> for someone, and ordered the kit from her.<br />
<br />
The little bees and flowers have not been made, but I've looked through the magazine over and over, daydreaming of making several projects featured in its pages (behaving just as the publishers hoped!). I thought about subscribing, but no other issue has captivated me quite like this one.<br />
<br />
One of the sweaters is <a href="https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/digitalis-2" target="_blank">Digitalis Cardigan, designed by Amy Christoffers</a>. The more I looked at it, especially after making several other sweaters, the more I wanted to knit it, even though I already had plenty of projects lined up to knit for myself. For a cardigan, it had details I like, including a V neck, raglan shoulders, and some lace design--but not too much. And after knitting a ton of stockinette recently, but appreciating being able to do it on autopilot, I liked the reverse stockinette texture.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh5HqRUjLRqMmRjXSxtTGy1O-KcII5IK3N5VkgaZRSj1YSxg58u28bBggU2d0XWc5tUkQjnYg748wZHm3Zk9KBrcyxwkJBwgOkragTHUQSIdxGlg7hGOYyh0iFamW3-X6TXqieww8_HQ/s1600/Blob_small2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="214" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlh5HqRUjLRqMmRjXSxtTGy1O-KcII5IK3N5VkgaZRSj1YSxg58u28bBggU2d0XWc5tUkQjnYg748wZHm3Zk9KBrcyxwkJBwgOkragTHUQSIdxGlg7hGOYyh0iFamW3-X6TXqieww8_HQ/s200/Blob_small2-1.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<br />
I am at a stage in my knitting practice where I want to use the yarn the designer used if at all possible to help ensure a good result. (I'm a product knitter and started knitting because I longed for really great sweaters.) So in November, when I happened to see a colorway closeout of Berroco Summer Silk (the yarn Christoffers used) on sale online at WEBS, I bought it. It was a bonus that it seems to be the same color, which was also a reason I liked the sweater. On Instagram not too long ago someone posted that all they wanted to do was knit with mustard colors. I have had the same urge, recently purchasing the <a href="https://www.masondixonknitting.com/shop/mason-dixon-knitting-field-guide-no-14-refresh/" target="_blank">Mason Dixon Field Guide No. 14, Refresh</a>, to make Carol Feller's Trellis Top in her Nua Sport yarn in the colorway Rolling Bales.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FZy4Q13GG9_FA6ljvONu__0Ayp3M0G2DW3Kyt3bzZhML9op9wUKHNhZ5ofcwyX6a2Nd1EsuQqs6AcceL2bsido9-kqzcB1okOHMWJieoXvpVgWWWGraZ1miCo_jANDvRtoL7dAlMcqQ/s1600/IMG_4095.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FZy4Q13GG9_FA6ljvONu__0Ayp3M0G2DW3Kyt3bzZhML9op9wUKHNhZ5ofcwyX6a2Nd1EsuQqs6AcceL2bsido9-kqzcB1okOHMWJieoXvpVgWWWGraZ1miCo_jANDvRtoL7dAlMcqQ/s200/IMG_4095.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
It is, of course, still shelter at home because of the pandemic, and knitting has been a refuge. This sweater has been fast knitting and I will finish it in well under two months, unheard of for me. I am optimistic it's going to turn out well, and that started me thinking about wearing it.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbHQxgsc4AoVSux5HmLfVPz8VXirecQNXL1X2KIW9RQTZG1ugJICJgt6KydH74bYZtyZTba9qptaQgvu0b32gGC2rVCyGLyOwA2mraYdHYrD_6sV4CuIUdlK_eTHaPZppksb3zMd8958/s1600/IMG_4096.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbHQxgsc4AoVSux5HmLfVPz8VXirecQNXL1X2KIW9RQTZG1ugJICJgt6KydH74bYZtyZTba9qptaQgvu0b32gGC2rVCyGLyOwA2mraYdHYrD_6sV4CuIUdlK_eTHaPZppksb3zMd8958/s320/IMG_4096.jpeg" width="320" /></a>Which would be...where? It's not just the pandemic, it's that I no longer go to work every day. My wardrobe needs have changed. When I open my closet there are a lot of clothes just hanging there, going unworn, because like most people I tend to wear the same few things over and over again. That includes sweaters, especially cardigans, but I don't need this one.<br />
<br />
I love the color--it's more brown than gold but not exactly. More like stone ground mustard than yellow mustard. There's someone else, a knit worthy family member, who also would love this color. I know because we've talked about what colors she likes. If it does turn out, and the fit seems right, I think I'll surprise her with it. I wouldn't say I'm a selfish person, exactly, but I'm not known for giving extravagant gifts. It would be a great joy giving this to her. Oh, there I go thinking about myself! But I think she'd find some joy in it, too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-47726035205382585892020-03-02T12:43:00.001-06:002020-03-02T17:28:14.651-06:00Nothing to See Here<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Nothing to See Here <span style="font-size: 12pt;">by Kevin Wilson</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Book Review</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDprM3pF83rBMO-YUqqtwJlos5fdR2zVka-z3LLBWf5JF0EzlwwIfI5fJUD3OC8zJ0bxSjc1rQfOep1cS1CPQHzFgg1IXxFRBo-eFcxPoXwvbIZ7og_WbxS1EP4MNx87HPBKQ_9_nABFA/s1600/nothing-to-see-here-book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDprM3pF83rBMO-YUqqtwJlos5fdR2zVka-z3LLBWf5JF0EzlwwIfI5fJUD3OC8zJ0bxSjc1rQfOep1cS1CPQHzFgg1IXxFRBo-eFcxPoXwvbIZ7og_WbxS1EP4MNx87HPBKQ_9_nABFA/s1600/nothing-to-see-here-book.jpg" title="" /></a></div>
As the grandmother of twins, I wanted to read this book as soon as I heard of it. <span style="font-size: 12pt;">I expected the book to be kind of a joke as I tried to imagine spontaneously combusting twins, but Nothing to See Here is a poignant story of children who have not been well cared for, including the narrator.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Lillian tells the story with her cool, painfully honest but don't-give-a-damn voice. She's 28, smoking a lot of weed, and living in the attic of her emotionally detached mother's house when her college friend Madison asks her to come live with her and her senator husband and his twins who will be moving in after their mother's (the senator's ex-wife) death. Lillian will be paid well to take care of them, and oh, there's one little important detail to be dealt with that Lillian isn't told until she gets there: they spontaneously combust when they're upset.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Lillian doesn't see many options for a better life and she's curious, so she agrees to come to their mansion in Franklin, Tennessee. She and Madison are friends but not in a confiding, companionable way. They keep in touch by letter (it's 1995) and Lillian knows nothing about Madison's interior life. At one time Lillian was ambitious and smart and pursuing a good college education without a drop of help from her single parent mother, but her relationship with Madison led to the destruction of that dream. Lillian wonders if there will be a reckoning between them, but soon realizes there won't be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Instead she decides to take advantage of living like a rich person--Madison's life instead of the life Lillian had wanted for herself. But it's awkward, starting with cucumber sandwiches that look like dollhouse food.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
We were, I understood, being polite. "But now you're here!" she [Madison] said. She poured sweet tea, and I drank it down in, like, two gulps. She didn't even look surprised, just filled my glass up again. I ate one of the sandwiches, and it was gross, but I was hungry. I ate two more. I didn't even realize that there were tiny plates stacked on the tray. I'd held the sandwiches in my dumb hands. I didn't even want to look down at my lap because I knew there were crumbs there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
When the twins move in, Lillian has to immediately invent a way to keep them from burning down the special house away from the mansion that's been built for them, which she does almost instinctively. She also invents a curriculum to occupy the days. Lillian has no idea what she's doing but hour by hour, day by day, she recognizes they share her feeling of belonging to no one and a kind of existential despair. They don't trust her at first and she doesn't blame them. She earns their trust by letting them see the truth about her loser self. And they share a growing mutual distrust of Madison; their father, Senator Jasper Roberts; the employee Carl who tries vainly to manage the three of them, and even Madison and Senator Roberts' three year old son (the twin's half-brother), Timothy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
It was a little harder to believe Lillian found her way with the twins so surely than it was to go along with the spontaneous combustion condition, yet I did love this book. The ending came together in a satisfying way. Kevin Wilson is a smart, funny writer. An extra little kick of delight for me was discovering he is a nephew of my husband's high school classmate, whom I'd just met this past summer. At that time I heard the story about how the horses were hidden during the Civil War from the Union Army by leading them up the stairs of his mansion. When that same thing showed up in this book I thought maybe all the mansion owners took their horses up the spiral staircase to be hidden from the Yankees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-50716920898948531722019-12-26T11:48:00.001-06:002019-12-26T15:10:04.433-06:00Hostile T-shirts at Odds<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tTL1Ka_Z_Kx4SdFb59dIN1fjeItzytkDJqDCMb7EZj-s-_c3ZsL9_XVCKiWwdxSjjBdkYsTx5UejN6WF3tRzkcZrlNOMY8ERj6vMP9_lpMsRqib8nzbgIyHfh-zS7u_DqmtL6bSmVX8/s1600/560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="142" data-original-width="120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tTL1Ka_Z_Kx4SdFb59dIN1fjeItzytkDJqDCMb7EZj-s-_c3ZsL9_XVCKiWwdxSjjBdkYsTx5UejN6WF3tRzkcZrlNOMY8ERj6vMP9_lpMsRqib8nzbgIyHfh-zS7u_DqmtL6bSmVX8/s200/560.jpg" width="168" /></a>I've been thinking about a family we saw at breakfast last week in our Minneapolis hotel. I noticed a skinny blond boy about 13 years old bouncing around in the breakfast bar, deciding what to put on his plate. I smiled, thinking about the energy some boys seem to radiate and how they just can't help it. Then I noticed the t-shirt he was wearing, pictured on top to the right, and my good feeling about him was gone. Why wear something with a hostile message like that? I watched him sit down with at the table I assumed was his family.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzML6Kf-BPbK2Ik2tORKaAHZKzStveMIP4Fiht-Ft-05xBZD-cEmT_OzhN48cf2oqpv8r0PPqxC329lc6BWup3zz7V3Y9UhnLHW1-3Fqf7rTvoIIxbAq84OpYrCOeBfYDr-bAP5Ax9AzE/s1600/Stomp-my-flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="1155" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzML6Kf-BPbK2Ik2tORKaAHZKzStveMIP4Fiht-Ft-05xBZD-cEmT_OzhN48cf2oqpv8r0PPqxC329lc6BWup3zz7V3Y9UhnLHW1-3Fqf7rTvoIIxbAq84OpYrCOeBfYDr-bAP5Ax9AzE/s200/Stomp-my-flag.jpg" width="200" /></a>There was another younger boy, maybe ten or 11 years old, with a striped rugby shirt on, spooning up cereal. Across from him sat their mom, her gaze unfocused, wearing a plain black shirt and black leggings, with longish blond hair that could use a wash, an empty plate in front of her. To her right was the dad, finishing a mound of eggs, potatoes, toast and sausage. He was wearing the t-shirt on the left.<br />
<br />
Nobody was talking. The dad looked like maybe life had been pretty disappointing and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't have been more than 40, but his face and body were puffy, skin mottled, and he was dealing with going bald with a comb over configuration. I figured my husband and I looked like the enemy to him, meaning the label "liberal elites:" retired, healthy, and, if our technical clothing gave away that we were there to cross country ski (Minneapolis has an amazing park system in case you don't know), his suspicions would be confirmed. I'm sure I had my judgey face all over him, if he had cared to look.<br />
<br />
Those t-shirts have been bothering me ever since, mostly trying to understand why that father and son wore them, but there was something else nagging at me. This morning I finally figured it out. I could have said to the dad, "I guess your feelings would be hurt if I stomped on the flag, but I have a right to do that."<br />
<br />
Then I thought of another thing I could have asked instead: "Are you a veteran?" Because that adds a layer I don't pretend to understand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-8679698988143312752019-10-23T14:52:00.001-05:002019-10-23T15:03:02.122-05:00HandywomanHandywoman by Kate Davies<br />
Book Review<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFyIzEoNa9wKuv3Idj0zGUzSXITcWabT99_8V7-Y_bl_zKaHHpot2D_8rth4BYETSBW-FQ1tWOnXeRWKSxdmWRvdw1-eTsRtcOrFopuSbkYUbIlTfVjiKpw9Q5tzAAPXImipw6Pks3TU/s1600/download-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFyIzEoNa9wKuv3Idj0zGUzSXITcWabT99_8V7-Y_bl_zKaHHpot2D_8rth4BYETSBW-FQ1tWOnXeRWKSxdmWRvdw1-eTsRtcOrFopuSbkYUbIlTfVjiKpw9Q5tzAAPXImipw6Pks3TU/s1600/download-1.jpg" /></a></div>
I like to knit, mostly sweaters. It's fun to find knitwear designers who have a look or style that pull me in over and over as I discover and research their creations. When that happens, I not only track down whatever I can find on the internet that they've made, I like to discover more about their lives. Where do they live? How'd they get into knitting and designing?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://kddandco.com/">Kate Davies</a> is a knitting designer I recently discovered and admire. I would make just about any of her sweaters. I was further enchanted when I learned she lives in Scotland near the gorgeous West Highland Way, a 95 mile hiking trail my husband and I backpacked in 2012, and that it inspires many of her designs.<br />
<br />
I also learned she became a professional knitwear designer after having a debilitating stroke several years ago while she was in her thirties. She's written a memoir, <a href="https://www.handywomanbook.com/">Handywoman</a>, an account of who she was before the brain injury, how she dealt with it, and how her life was changed afterwards. It's also an intelligent, thoughtful, methodical exploration of all facets of being in the physical world, and in communities. Davies was a maker and knitter before her brain injury, but an academic by profession. She turned her intellect to understanding precisely how her changed self interacted with the environment. Along the way she determined she would start a new profession: knitwear designer.<br />
<br />
The tone of the book is serious and thorough. For example, Davies' chapter "Raised" takes us through her experience and epiphany being assisted with the Etac turner, a non-motorized piece of equipment for transferring someone that leverages the weight of each person. She does so in explicit detail: its construction; each choreographed movement as the technician secures a brake, stabilizes the turner; each of Davies' own movements in response; and her elation at the realization her own body participates in the entire process, never surrendering to the complete trust of another person's physical effort.<br />
<br />
She dissects why that is, and begins to look at designed objects with new eyes. She says, "I now think of the habit of attentiveness I began to develop during the time I spent on the neurology ward as a form of <i>material engagement</i>. Material engagement is both reflective and participatory. . . After my stroke, I came to understand that, in the processes of their making and their potential for creative accomplishment, tools and objects possessed a wisdom that was far greater than my individual mind and body."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ueV8L9Io-epo4z_YXnMHnMIwRvWcu7tsjbROXdaTSp1ny-2GxW0DoKa9QOeZDLZlFC44GscMBKLoHY0JBgCvX-DPdSCuv8PQw96IJyz8mYL7oV2SZab8J4o9OzwO9X9uuXxyYvONHE/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ueV8L9Io-epo4z_YXnMHnMIwRvWcu7tsjbROXdaTSp1ny-2GxW0DoKa9QOeZDLZlFC44GscMBKLoHY0JBgCvX-DPdSCuv8PQw96IJyz8mYL7oV2SZab8J4o9OzwO9X9uuXxyYvONHE/s1600/download.jpg" /></a>But Handywoman is not all about the physical and social experience of brain injury. There are plenty of fascinating stories about her interactions with textile making communities. My favorite was her journey to the Shetland Islands and developing a deep connection and relationship with the woman and culture of knitting there.<br />
<br />
I'll probably read this one again because her thoughtfulness about the dailyness of life is inspiring. Meanwhile, I've decided which of Kate Davies' designs is on <a href="https://www.ravelry.com/people/shirleydsmith">my project list</a>: the <a href="https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/carbeth-cardigan">Carbeth Cardigan</a>. Davies is well known and beloved: over 1,800 people on Ravelry have made, or want to make, this sweater, too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-9172313209660781982019-09-02T11:48:00.000-05:002019-09-04T09:54:20.526-05:00The Lager Queen of MinnesotaThe Lager Queen of Minnesota by J. Ryan Stradal<br />
Book Review<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrCcWqWdsaCOeKmWslMSI0ZsvYmU_sRLvDQTUvDI8BDmRN8zMWX_E0smma1o1daA8BIopl-4wbTA6rYlEQToC0sI6Ji05WMMRqIhlhfz1pwjipqghdGP6CYtR8hSPWt9_7iCi-M_FU7ZU/s1600/Lager_Queen_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrCcWqWdsaCOeKmWslMSI0ZsvYmU_sRLvDQTUvDI8BDmRN8zMWX_E0smma1o1daA8BIopl-4wbTA6rYlEQToC0sI6Ji05WMMRqIhlhfz1pwjipqghdGP6CYtR8hSPWt9_7iCi-M_FU7ZU/s320/Lager_Queen_cover.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
Edith and Helen are sisters who grew up on a farm in north central Minnesota in the 1940s to the early sixties. They become estranged when their father leaves the farm to Helen, the younger, at his death some time in the 1960s.<br />
<br />
Before that, Edith and her new husband, Stanley, leave their roles as caretaker and hired hand to move to the small city where's he's been offered a job. Stanley's no farmer and Edith's dad is not well, but this decision surprises Helen because Edith is loyal, hard-working, and lives to help people.<br />
<br />
Helen hasn't paid attention to what's happening at the farm since she left for college three years ago, much less to Edith, but she sees how to turn this event to her advantage. Helen fell obsessively in love with the taste of beer and the process of brewing it when she was 15, and has been spending her college years learning everything she can about it. Her fiance, Orval, is from a beer-making family whose brewery has failed. Helen and Orval are trying to revive the business, but they need money.<br />
<br />
Helen persuades her father, who is clearly not going to last much longer, to leave the farm to her. She promises she will give Edith her share when the brewery is making money. She and Edith never speak after Helen breaks the news, and the sharing plan falls aside.<br />
<br />
Edith is not the kind of person to dwell on financial misfortune; she's much more sad to have no parents and an estranged sister. Edith and Stanley never have much money, and neither does anyone else they know. Edith resolutely, sometimes even cheerfully, shrugs off never owning a home, having no savings, and working well past the age she is when the book starts. (She's 63 and working in the kitchen of a nursing home.) Helen is ambitious, driven, and lonely (though she has Orval) but she doesn't care. Success is what she wants at all costs.<br />
<br />
Edith's granddaughter Diana becomes the third major character in the story. A mixture of Edith's Minnesotan unpretentiousness and morality, and Helen's shrewd assessment of how to profit from all she encounters, she's the catalyst for Edith and Helen to find the end of their stories.<br />
<br />
We know the setting of a book often works as a character in its own right. In The Lager Queen, it's not quite so much the rural landscape of north central Minnesota as it is the sturdy, unassuming civility of Edith and her friends. They judge people who don't play by their rules: don't swear, don't ask personal questions, be friendly and honest--but they keep it to themselves. Emotions are sublimated. But once in a while they'll make a subtle, insider joke about someone with people they trust.<br />
<br />
My dad grew up just like that in the same area, and I recognize my cousins' way of talking in this book. Stradal, who's from Minnesota, has captured the personality of the region in a laugh-out-loud, entertaining, yet respectful, way. He also must love beer. I don't drink it, but this book is saturated with detailed descriptions of hops, brewing facilities, types of beer and their taste. I started to want a cold bottle.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-56166618723969490412019-01-04T08:25:00.001-06:002019-10-21T16:35:55.406-05:00The Ice Cream Pails Have to Go<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vZJVyT_QleGH_t2RRUBHAFGqbqvhH_6d0Csn74B9w3LW7lDbzXb-hXOjgklYWfdvkOvX0XjCcPAyKe2TV3IbqCQ3lWeewNl4cyGBGanMW15IZ83MdfJeavaphNxw2Zlh76RTfy1FBBg/s1600/Ice_cream_pails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vZJVyT_QleGH_t2RRUBHAFGqbqvhH_6d0Csn74B9w3LW7lDbzXb-hXOjgklYWfdvkOvX0XjCcPAyKe2TV3IbqCQ3lWeewNl4cyGBGanMW15IZ83MdfJeavaphNxw2Zlh76RTfy1FBBg/s320/Ice_cream_pails.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thankfully I'm not buying this much ice cream anymore.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It seems everyone is decluttering these days, no matter what their age. I babysat yesterday for my daughter and her husband so they could sort through their storage room without one-year-old Nolan insisting on being involved. I've been working on paring down my own considerable amount of stuff, and see echoes of my sentimentality in my daughter's reluctance to let go of old dance costumes and art projects (thank goodness those managed to find their way to her house, not mine!).<br />
<br />
In the past months since I've retired, my husband and I have sent bags and boxes and piles of unwanted or broken things to Goodwill or the landfill. Some of it was easy to get rid of, but a lot of it felt like throwing important parts of my own life away.<br />
<br />
I don't want to forget past lives and experiences, yet I understand there's a cloying, heavy atmosphere pressing down when you surround yourself with your history instead of what's happening and important now. My husband and I often remind each other that we don't want to live in a museum. We've found we can let go of things that are sitting around out of sight, yet represent cornerstones to our identities, if we give ourselves time to get used to the idea. Terry, a former newspaper editor, finally gave away his lifetime collection of important newspaper headlines.<br />
<br />
"Do you think my kids are actually going to pick this up someday to read about Barack Obama's election in 2008?" he asked, holding up a copy of the Wisconsin State Journal. Wordlessly, we both shook our heads, and he flipped it back on top of the stack.<br />
<br />
I have given away hundreds of my books over the past years, first the disintegrating paperbacks, then the outdated nonfiction, then the novels I didn't enjoy that much, and finally all that I don't plan to read again, or fail to admire with a five star rating. It was hard, and I could do it only by not thinking about it too much (the "spark joy" Marie Kondo talks about, perhaps?), but it is stimulating to see only the books that matter most when I look at my shelves (there are still plenty, and now I'm trying to be a lot more discerning in purchasing ebooks).<br />
<br />
Our basement laundry room is also a storage room, and every day I see what's on those shelves, which have been culled several times over the years, without noticing any particular items. But today my gaze fell on three gallon size ice cream pails taking up prime space on a shelf within easy reach. They're perfect for picking raspberries, strawberries, or children playing with water, or any other number of things. They're substantial, handy buckets with their handles and lids.<br />
<br />
But we no longer grow raspberries or strawberries, and if the grandchildren want to play with water, there are many other options. We haven't found a use for them for two years, and I carried those pails to the recycling bin with a feeling of accomplishment.<br />
<br />
After I did that, I remembered I should take out the trash, so I removed it from the kitchen. I went through the storage room with my plastic bag where, perhaps predictably, the large plastic bags we were issued one of the last times we skied the American Birkebeiner race caught my attention (while you ski for hours, your belongings are transported to the finish line so you can change into dry, warm clothes). Completing that race several times in my mid and late fifties is one of the most important things I've ever done in terms of meeting a challenge I set for myself. How could I simply throw those bags away? Or use them for trash? They are badges of honor! It's <i>energizing</i> to remember skiing all those kilometers through the Chequamegon Forest, not an oppressive weight!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RNpD8BYTZjSh7x1KpF4pzKjaQ0PGu3dDg31lrU_H_p_CUqib44qlSZsVOXKh5gCr4nn4ejfXZqFJfldB4OxVV6OVzLjLP18Q6y4P5Iia8qQjjxls5F_z7MKE3M4QNzLE9J7chwWTICs/s1600/Birkie_bags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1536" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4RNpD8BYTZjSh7x1KpF4pzKjaQ0PGu3dDg31lrU_H_p_CUqib44qlSZsVOXKh5gCr4nn4ejfXZqFJfldB4OxVV6OVzLjLP18Q6y4P5Iia8qQjjxls5F_z7MKE3M4QNzLE9J7chwWTICs/s320/Birkie_bags.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm sure some other items on these shelves will show up in future posts.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Like the ice cream pails, no pressing or worthy use for the bags had turned up in the past four years. But they are, in the end, ugly, nondegradable plastic bags that the Birkie people don't even use anymore.<br />
<br />
I moved them upstairs to live with the roll of kitchen trash bags, awaiting their turn to hold our garbage. Okay, I'll come clean: I <i>will</i> move them there after I finish this post. It just takes a little time and processing to say goodbye.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-41757310154114893522016-10-14T19:45:00.004-05:002016-10-17T15:29:37.625-05:00Dad's Badger Honor Flight, September 24, 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
This post is for everyone who wrote a letter for my dad, Lewie Smith, to read on the way home from the September 24 Badger Honor Flight. Your letters were handed out as part of Mail Call, an Honor Flight tradition that volunteers told me was "the worst-kept secret."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFmeHP8J2IvaTchwLBTpjYWCQB0C7LK58FOzPbU8JVigsdDdlkORUN5xURXr1w7XMm3pjS2di9nWq6oCg65yLngoP3hdIxDuv383RpEHnERriJ73f2rZD-ZKMyXgkBm2-fvhTXnrY9HI/s1600/IMG_1565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFmeHP8J2IvaTchwLBTpjYWCQB0C7LK58FOzPbU8JVigsdDdlkORUN5xURXr1w7XMm3pjS2di9nWq6oCg65yLngoP3hdIxDuv383RpEHnERriJ73f2rZD-ZKMyXgkBm2-fvhTXnrY9HI/s320/IMG_1565.JPG" width="240" /></a>We hid our letter-writing well; Dad had no idea they were coming. Once that fat envelope was put in his hands, he didn't sleep a minute on the way home after an exhausting 15 hour day. He read letter after letter from family and friends telling him what his military service as a Korean War veteran meant to them, and we both had to keep brushing away tears.<br />
<br />
I wish I could include them all here. Dozens of expressions of thanks and respect like "We are all in debt for the years you gave up for your country," and "What must it have been like for your mom to see all three of her sons serve during wartime," had Dad shaking his head, saying "This is for all the guys that didn't make it back, we're all just standing in for them."<br />
<br />
He smiled in wonder at "Thank you for always taking time for me," "You taught me to be a good, honest, and fair man," and "I always admired you," to name just a few from family members a generation or two younger. He laughed out loud at friends' notes like "Don't think this honor gives you an advantage playing cards" and "I've always been impressed with your story about the Commander who turned wine into hydraulic fluid."<br />
<br />
For me, reading each person's perspective on Dad's service was one more gift of the privilege of accompanying him that day. Every single person had something unique to say.<br />
<br />
There are a few photos on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=8638648">Facebook</a>, but here's another collection from beginning to end of the September 24 Badger Honor Flight from Madison, Wisconsin to Washington, DC..<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
We were at the airport at 4:30 am, and by no means the first people there. It was crawling with volunteers, veterans, guardians, and family members.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgd29hE_quMjPES4sv9D0agmwDEyRztSABo2AkINkKelwrcpq_HWCWo7phlDX30oV1zY1NviWy_1KnDnxgXShvHAl4JEJq2XmxzfAlYiWfvK4QcvXHdlB7sCDgV1j7KlUdoWfXKEBtloo/s1600/Leaving_dane_co_airport_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgd29hE_quMjPES4sv9D0agmwDEyRztSABo2AkINkKelwrcpq_HWCWo7phlDX30oV1zY1NviWy_1KnDnxgXShvHAl4JEJq2XmxzfAlYiWfvK4QcvXHdlB7sCDgV1j7KlUdoWfXKEBtloo/s400/Leaving_dane_co_airport_web.jpg" width="388" /></a></div>
<br />
When our plane pulled into the gate area at Reagan airport, we got a taste of the celebration waiting for us. The tarmac staff were waving flags, the baggage cart had a flag on it, a water cannon saluted us, and a crane held a giant flag over everything. We unloaded into the gate area and a blast of cheering, waving people met us, lined up from the first steps off the plan all the way to our buses. I think we were all stunned.<br />
<br />
All day, wherever we went, people went up to Dad and all the other veterans, shook their hands, and said "Thank you for your service."<br />
<br />
The first place we went was Arlington National Cemetery, for the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We were told they do something special when they know veterans are in the audience. Their shoes are like tap shoes, with metal plates on them, and it turns out the special thing is a kind of dragging step on the turn.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlyiWySM8nxajccJ26n0Lt_EgoUYUPjvaGy9KJyKeYfLyCitxUbkKNZ4Zlk4LBMcqxE-y6CLPC4c7gIZWSS9j-qMRWoTKBdE6ZhIsi3bcZLKVy1F2kmjruZVDl8c7FpI32-UWrIW0VBY/s1600/changing_guard_arlington_web.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlyiWySM8nxajccJ26n0Lt_EgoUYUPjvaGy9KJyKeYfLyCitxUbkKNZ4Zlk4LBMcqxE-y6CLPC4c7gIZWSS9j-qMRWoTKBdE6ZhIsi3bcZLKVy1F2kmjruZVDl8c7FpI32-UWrIW0VBY/s400/changing_guard_arlington_web.jpg" width="382" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIi58iXo9OCvftgVH7dp9KxY_zrI81VNIluqbBdNc4ypmDkB3VKPnSlBUDkkxRw-9W4dmWzFFaYzMV0joavOocfXoVQUcZDYrSiIuksqLVak1xfUjFHIToudkJfujc9VOIQlrbDyDk0Y/s1600/changing_guard_inspect_weapon_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIi58iXo9OCvftgVH7dp9KxY_zrI81VNIluqbBdNc4ypmDkB3VKPnSlBUDkkxRw-9W4dmWzFFaYzMV0joavOocfXoVQUcZDYrSiIuksqLVak1xfUjFHIToudkJfujc9VOIQlrbDyDk0Y/s400/changing_guard_inspect_weapon_web.jpg" width="355" /></a></div>
<br />
The next stop was the Marine Corps War Memorial, which included a group photo and lunch on the agenda. Every one of the 85 veterans had a guardian (in blue shirts) with him; we had strict orders to stay by our vet's side every minute. There were only male veterans on this flight; most were Korean or Viet Nam War veterans, but ten served during World War II.<br />
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhFcBkmwZSxRl0moK-sm_USp4komIHqRPL7eVw39hUwFpiIMraBuLhdr_bDX90289H3YF_vguisMcijpkWC6xkg50CzzXCSKfaufloGKJfGcSGabu3SoWPS0Y7QqXrBrupJfEwN2R2_w/s1600/guardians_getting_group_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhFcBkmwZSxRl0moK-sm_USp4komIHqRPL7eVw39hUwFpiIMraBuLhdr_bDX90289H3YF_vguisMcijpkWC6xkg50CzzXCSKfaufloGKJfGcSGabu3SoWPS0Y7QqXrBrupJfEwN2R2_w/s400/guardians_getting_group_photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk4JJbdcbaWl4pdFy8_ZyG_1gPgTfKW6hIrNxy9IGvoV4eQVRQi1iAFKxsQ94fc0ralP75AoAUH9INS72amyJt1PUJ7prSY3X6ZszuoHtLam0ltJqpMRlbjhDWkCc0JJHZMHjW5eTVpM/s1600/group_photo_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk4JJbdcbaWl4pdFy8_ZyG_1gPgTfKW6hIrNxy9IGvoV4eQVRQi1iAFKxsQ94fc0ralP75AoAUH9INS72amyJt1PUJ7prSY3X6ZszuoHtLam0ltJqpMRlbjhDWkCc0JJHZMHjW5eTVpM/s400/group_photo_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I had no idea how large the Marine memorial was.<br />
<br />
We went to the National World War II Memorial next. It is one of the visual anchors of the National Mall: huge and beautiful. JoAnn Mezei, my mom's cousin, joined us for a couple of hours, which made the day extra fun. JoAnn lives in the area but it was still a drive and a subway ride for her to get there--and she told us we'd picked one of the busiest, high security days ever with the opening of the African American Museum.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4BEe1wyDG4y5lmrMPi3NJPaO20uvWpIfXmv1JSbZfd8B0NGeFw2fE7UQiMnnqUHjAXGGdkeYPgyKstTtOX9Rxm9NORXrkvqMOQshlQbOcFraRtYtl94XoymDOOqOQ74Fjge3xm5SbfyY/s1600/WWII_Memorial_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4BEe1wyDG4y5lmrMPi3NJPaO20uvWpIfXmv1JSbZfd8B0NGeFw2fE7UQiMnnqUHjAXGGdkeYPgyKstTtOX9Rxm9NORXrkvqMOQshlQbOcFraRtYtl94XoymDOOqOQ74Fjge3xm5SbfyY/s400/WWII_Memorial_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
JoAnn grabbed the camera and took this one of me and Dad in front of the 4,000+ gold stars, each representing 100 military deaths in WWII.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJF8YGDCc8-ZCzzB0nU2ZS_hz56Fj_nAK85puSTj01S6WEveqcEUlJwcSkoIKLtrFOb89Fq4Y9SoWoLECjwqUJe85ECz136Pnd-hFw6GB8strISAfT-KLDlkpVts2fjBR-X5ZD1dKdIA4/s1600/gold_stars_WWII_Shirley_Dad_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJF8YGDCc8-ZCzzB0nU2ZS_hz56Fj_nAK85puSTj01S6WEveqcEUlJwcSkoIKLtrFOb89Fq4Y9SoWoLECjwqUJe85ECz136Pnd-hFw6GB8strISAfT-KLDlkpVts2fjBR-X5ZD1dKdIA4/s400/gold_stars_WWII_Shirley_Dad_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After that it was back on the bus and further down the Mall where we found the Korean War Veterans Memorial. Dad said one of the guys who fought told him it was hell--you didn't know who the enemy was. Dad was a jet engine mechanic and feels humble about his role in the war...but it was an essential one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk48cSnO-3DGloUSHSiR6lNll9z_lA8dUZ_8iCeX8Hge6SGn6mfJEMliGEqZVnmKc-LQOgGBEQnKXmTp7-tLFJ5yqGdccoJCfMYi3lW4QVydFMJSIBmOAv-alZReV_E2gLSc4QEVQYBws/s1600/Korean_monument_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk48cSnO-3DGloUSHSiR6lNll9z_lA8dUZ_8iCeX8Hge6SGn6mfJEMliGEqZVnmKc-LQOgGBEQnKXmTp7-tLFJ5yqGdccoJCfMYi3lW4QVydFMJSIBmOAv-alZReV_E2gLSc4QEVQYBws/s400/Korean_monument_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We walked across to the Vietnam Veterans War Memorial and looked for the name of a young man from Marshall who lost his life early in that war, James Shepherd. Dad knew his father. We found the name with the help of a Park Ranger who had a thick catalog with the key to finding the right panel and the number of lines down. One of the Honor Flight volunteers was helping people, too, with an app on her phone.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbeeoJZ0o0Y-fBpBk6QO2MtuW3P7DGz51q3tS3vnwOpelbYGVkB6Q5XeW_JRxjifh58wjMe1F7r_e0ekZuBhyphenhyphenNVm7Seg5MInv6UdADb_b9O5faAJnzuon7EmCm0QaVViempzgX4FVKZ8/s1600/vietnam_memorial_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbeeoJZ0o0Y-fBpBk6QO2MtuW3P7DGz51q3tS3vnwOpelbYGVkB6Q5XeW_JRxjifh58wjMe1F7r_e0ekZuBhyphenhyphenNVm7Seg5MInv6UdADb_b9O5faAJnzuon7EmCm0QaVViempzgX4FVKZ8/s400/vietnam_memorial_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Then it was back on the buses for one more stop before going back to the airport: the Air Force Memorial. Each bus had a tour guide. Ours was Niki Sollinger, a young woman from Madison now living in DC, very involved as a Badger Honor Flight volunteer.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8s9FbanfbFDkMDGoF0xfmddG_WdAudvwgSI653qA4ehi6LEucHnjf8LiwhcNAxPRhyphenhyphenlaBRWCvKpKU_DhgVhdkimXCfLWPAy2dHq5I40XsOUlcbOTureNs4Ira2vFJfxKveRzfZnEMf6o/s1600/back_to_the_bus_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8s9FbanfbFDkMDGoF0xfmddG_WdAudvwgSI653qA4ehi6LEucHnjf8LiwhcNAxPRhyphenhyphenlaBRWCvKpKU_DhgVhdkimXCfLWPAy2dHq5I40XsOUlcbOTureNs4Ira2vFJfxKveRzfZnEMf6o/s400/back_to_the_bus_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Dad said the Air Force Memorial was his favorite, I'm guessing because he was in the Air Force. The soaring pillars represent the missing man formation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1R2OP0G-MnBzmS7_Q_D3kxDXCZPJr6Aen4UKUfbe5RMQSs9xkPsdNqdhhFhik1WB3F2B7BhuYCqFLgn5xu7pO-3HpAOsYP452V8IfgvWgy_r2upQ8QzTXGG5JdMZzRKyqES9lOpfV3IU/s1600/air_force_memorial_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1R2OP0G-MnBzmS7_Q_D3kxDXCZPJr6Aen4UKUfbe5RMQSs9xkPsdNqdhhFhik1WB3F2B7BhuYCqFLgn5xu7pO-3HpAOsYP452V8IfgvWgy_r2upQ8QzTXGG5JdMZzRKyqES9lOpfV3IU/s400/air_force_memorial_web.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7I7Z_RZ2ucZ_CMm_J21TUXsBFV6A6Gf6OaYO6wl0BP-9MiCnE48p56PCTkdaUNFR4R52XnhDo0dkq_xQ52wn6W1y_Z8Wl748JKmV5sd4hNE2YCcRebofKuZ0sl6R99ceDh5nor1woL8/s1600/Dad_reads_wall_Air_Force_Memorial_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7I7Z_RZ2ucZ_CMm_J21TUXsBFV6A6Gf6OaYO6wl0BP-9MiCnE48p56PCTkdaUNFR4R52XnhDo0dkq_xQ52wn6W1y_Z8Wl748JKmV5sd4hNE2YCcRebofKuZ0sl6R99ceDh5nor1woL8/s400/Dad_reads_wall_Air_Force_Memorial_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It was hard to see Dad in a wheel chair all day, but we were both grateful to have it. He couldn't have done it otherwise. The Honor Flight organization has dozens of them, donated by businesses. Every dollar spent on the Honor Flights is a donation. There are no paid employees. For this particular one, and the one scheduled for October 22, the cities of Sauk City and Prairie du Sac raised ALL the money, which is $200,000 plus. That was a story in itself, told at our orientation a couple of months ago.<br />
<br />
At the Washington Reagan National Airport, we were met with lines of cheering people again, including a group dancing to Big Band music as we waited to get on the plane. They tried to get some of the vets to dance with them, but there weren't any takers. One of the tour guides took them up on it.<br />
<br />
Back at the Dane County Airport, we were met with the most enthusiastic crowd of all--friends and family and Badger Honor Flight supports. You cannot imagine what it felt like to come home to that. Thank you all so much.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPuWKC7kaqbLxcrNUzxabiMXlgayscQfoGTVba3TEUG-KutT8NYmGooDQO0bHbP2gKKqzytWHu-Wdz3z6EhEovcU3_A2xAuSVCWXzJWB7bokh-cmVmH2EHSDLX8SHCIR2E31JEIwCPho/s1600/sign_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPuWKC7kaqbLxcrNUzxabiMXlgayscQfoGTVba3TEUG-KutT8NYmGooDQO0bHbP2gKKqzytWHu-Wdz3z6EhEovcU3_A2xAuSVCWXzJWB7bokh-cmVmH2EHSDLX8SHCIR2E31JEIwCPho/s320/sign_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAjSkfJkHO_9QqH1EvPUi1N1Qa1UhmpQqNcikxa50OWvgfAAnZeKYYoS-SmeuHPR4XHooL4i31w-iiTb48iW1mQiNWVsEy89WFpXB2PAep6tTvtcy4JOZGNGf9708I0UowULpFo9RBzU/s1600/family_airport_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAjSkfJkHO_9QqH1EvPUi1N1Qa1UhmpQqNcikxa50OWvgfAAnZeKYYoS-SmeuHPR4XHooL4i31w-iiTb48iW1mQiNWVsEy89WFpXB2PAep6tTvtcy4JOZGNGf9708I0UowULpFo9RBzU/s320/family_airport_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-20938678244791245252015-06-16T19:09:00.000-05:002015-06-16T19:09:40.207-05:00Baby clothes sewing project<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKAxRGv_a-4wZyM8QZAFbL1x9_neOxS2YHGJONH0FZ0eut7_PJugpb3KXEoe5r4ZnzpDWFNCPAgbO5UxoYlGNG1eIIq-b7ya2XoJf1sA92mjEyRmeO7wDDD9Yh_Nd9mA40Y-t0OkZcCY/s1600/sewing_baby_outfits_Julius_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKAxRGv_a-4wZyM8QZAFbL1x9_neOxS2YHGJONH0FZ0eut7_PJugpb3KXEoe5r4ZnzpDWFNCPAgbO5UxoYlGNG1eIIq-b7ya2XoJf1sA92mjEyRmeO7wDDD9Yh_Nd9mA40Y-t0OkZcCY/s400/sewing_baby_outfits_Julius_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
These two little overalls turned out great--with a lot of study of the directions and slow, careful sewing. I've never used a Burda pattern before.<br />
<br />
They are for grandson Julius in Houston...this is the nine month size and I'm crossing my fingers that they fit. He's nine months right now. I meant to get them done in May but it took longer than I thought...it took me a while to figure out how the bib front and back attached to the body.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEham2oSHCIeJ1sNs0QETU-22qvo-ZWIeuK2yoTwDvNoRcT-ECkemTGHw8xkDeUNEI59wdqjLHdcm5FdE81n4T1Hs5L6J_FG0lmNbFTEjOY0xiTr2pHyLkoNuHlqKWfxTkSuUJ3agh5V0-s/s1600/sewing_burda_baby_pattern_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEham2oSHCIeJ1sNs0QETU-22qvo-ZWIeuK2yoTwDvNoRcT-ECkemTGHw8xkDeUNEI59wdqjLHdcm5FdE81n4T1Hs5L6J_FG0lmNbFTEjOY0xiTr2pHyLkoNuHlqKWfxTkSuUJ3agh5V0-s/s320/sewing_burda_baby_pattern_web.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
Buttonholes! Always tricky. I must have made a dozen before committing to sewing on the overalls.<br />
<br />
And snaps! I was so glad my mom--80 and still sewing as best she can with macular degeneration--came up with her Dritz gripper snap pliers I could use. She had it neatly organized, directions attached, in a plastic bag with all her supplies.<br />
<br />
I've always wanted to try sewing two of the same thing at once, and use one color of thread in the machine. It didn't feel like that great of a timesaver, except now that I'm done I have two to show for my work instead of one!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-11937765938023954052013-08-27T09:30:00.001-05:002013-08-27T09:30:43.835-05:00Gardens Don't Read Books<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Every once in a while I read a book
that changes my life. That happened to me a few years ago when I read Barbara
Kingsolver’s </span><i style="line-height: 150%;">Animal, Vegetable, Miracle</i><span style="line-height: 150%;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Barbara Kingsolver’s a biologist by education and
in her early career, but really, she was a writer, and has written bestselling
novels of fiction and nonfiction with a strong component of environmental
conservation and social justice. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of
my friends say she’s too preachy, but I find her writing to be funny, human and
inspiring.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Animal,
Vegetable, Miracle </i>is about her and her family’s move from Arizona to her
husband’s family farm in Southern Appalachia in Virgina, and their attempt to
eat only food that was grown so locally that they actually knew the producers.
In many cases, it was <i>them</i> as they grew vegetables and raised livestock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
I was completely captivated and
wanted to do the same thing. We would eat like royalty all summer, then can and
freeze and dry our huge bounty of vegetables! They would taste delicious
instead of the bland and poisonous stuff shipped into the grocery store from
around the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
My husband read the book,too, and it
wasn’t hard for me to talk him, a life long gardener, into digging and planting
a huge garden, and plan to grow as much of our food as we possibly could. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM9ELSJYRvROQ4W3O7LgsmQfDKWDauszyCMCynmgblBFUDPp3nLzfcnwnkVkkpYk7v96uzwz-O1367rOAwoEdrDupNrfH0Nm-Y1eTAD47KcxFKyncMFB9Ndie0THjFrMrL1LcypK1ffM/s1600/shirley-terry-american-gothic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQM9ELSJYRvROQ4W3O7LgsmQfDKWDauszyCMCynmgblBFUDPp3nLzfcnwnkVkkpYk7v96uzwz-O1367rOAwoEdrDupNrfH0Nm-Y1eTAD47KcxFKyncMFB9Ndie0THjFrMrL1LcypK1ffM/s400/shirley-terry-american-gothic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
So we did. And immediately
discovered a few things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="line-height: 150%;">The lot had very little topsoil,
and lots and lots of thick, heavy clay.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 150%;">You can’t work full time, bike,
hike, go camping AND expect a weed-free, healthy garden during the summer.</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 150%;">Everything ripens at once, and it
happens when you’re busiest at work, just want to come home and relax, it’s
about 95 degrees out.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="line-height: 150%;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpodILL2Nu2Qs3fH4VNvWGgrvaTH7NBxq2443hbR0Wo6w25n2q9-4OaLl43Qpw1l3kBbQX409s5YBoYVvRMcv-a-B7hye0PE-IGZWyw8aT7fcHvaenU2jNZprKpQMleKSeFibOcfOXBbQ/s1600/big-garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpodILL2Nu2Qs3fH4VNvWGgrvaTH7NBxq2443hbR0Wo6w25n2q9-4OaLl43Qpw1l3kBbQX409s5YBoYVvRMcv-a-B7hye0PE-IGZWyw8aT7fcHvaenU2jNZprKpQMleKSeFibOcfOXBbQ/s640/big-garden.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 150%;">
<div>
<br /></div>
Many things didn’t grow: the peas
just couldn’t get started, the lima beans were missing in action, the onions
were the same size when we harvested as when we planted. The urban deer herd
ate all our lettuce, chard, and spinach, and nibbled the tops of everything
else. Something took huge, messy, chomps out of each ear of sweet corn the
night before we were going to pick it.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
However. We persevered, and enjoyed
a Technicolor harvest of zucchini, green beans, cucumbers, pumpkins, broccoli,
Brussels sprouts, tomatoes—and more tomatoes. I took picture after picture and
we ate like field hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
I sweated through the late summer
evenings and weekends, canning jars and jars of tomatoes, which were delicious.
We froze everything else…and it all tasted…not as good as what’s available in
the grocery store.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
That winter was a time to regroup
and rethink the purpose of the garden. Aside from the hard work, we loved
planning it, looking at it, talking about it, harvesting from it—even the work,
if it wasn’t too hot and buggy and we weren’t already exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t explain how therapeutic it was to
simply go out and work in. One beautifully sunny, cool day, when I couldn’t
make up my mind which competing chore I should do—I thought, “what if this were
the last day of my life? What would I pick?” That made it easy: work in the
garden.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
At the same time, I was pretty
disillusioned with our ability and circumstances to grow our own food. The
garden not only didn’t read the book, it had its own program, called “nature.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Since then, we’ve struck a compromise
with the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We won’t hold it
completely responsible for feeding us, and in return it offers what it can.
That means I have free therapy, and we have plenty of stories to tell; every
year is different as to what foods we harvest. But what we mostly plant now are
rows and rows of flowers: zinnias, marigolds, cosmos, bachelor buttons. Just
because we like them, and we feel rich when we go outside and cut baskets full
of them whenever—and if!—we want.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JdnKHBuFv1gZo6YtMsIKDjYUXiJstpfIl0UvpxFfIuqH9cIWBhn-boibE0xab0flgH-TPrewCGC4i8jnDCqv8Ych1w1cbk_CzpFL7ec68sYe9Q50y-lsJuHxonxB1CtftMwZto4sDPc/s1600/flower-instead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JdnKHBuFv1gZo6YtMsIKDjYUXiJstpfIl0UvpxFfIuqH9cIWBhn-boibE0xab0flgH-TPrewCGC4i8jnDCqv8Ych1w1cbk_CzpFL7ec68sYe9Q50y-lsJuHxonxB1CtftMwZto4sDPc/s640/flower-instead.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>566</o:Words>
<o:Characters>3230</o:Characters>
<o:Company>University of Wisconsin-Madison</o:Company>
<o:Lines>26</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>7</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>3789</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-572652203869528982013-03-07T08:00:00.001-06:002013-03-20T07:18:43.672-05:00Highlights from Classic Wave 5 at the 2013 Birkie<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>362</o:Words>
<o:Characters>2070</o:Characters>
<o:Company>University of Wisconsin-Madison</o:Company>
<o:Lines>17</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>4</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>2428</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>The cute young man skiing past as I tried to surreptitiously (and safely) slow down at the bottom of a hill and turn to see if my husband was still
behind me. He said “Your dude fell,” then gave me a smiling, sly little
sideways glance. “I know you didn’t want him to.”</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>The man off his skis, posing at the 13K maker, taking his
own picture of his face right next to the sign. I wished I had the generosity
to hop off my own skis and do it for him. But I didn’t.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Skiing next to Jacque Lindskoog and seeing the look of
determined concentration on her face. I wanted to yell “I love you, Jacque
Lindskoog!” but couldn’t bear to bother her.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>The music booming out over the slope where the 39K club
hangs out. It lifted me up and carried me and I had tears. I vowed to remember
the song but of course I’d forgotten it by the next hill. You know which one it
is.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>The woman dressed as a leprechaun, dancing in the middle of
Bitch Hill, and the woman handing out pins who laughed as she chased us to zip
them right into our pockets.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Skiing up Main Street, side by side with my husband, the
sidewalks lined with people cheering us on, me smiling so hard, having no idea
how I was managing to do that and keep moving without falling down.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Crossing the finish line and skiing up to the tall and
skinny young man, with clouds of hair and beard, who stapled our 4
year pins on our bibs and told us “Congratulations!” with <br />whole-hearted
sincerity</span>.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fmxYFV5xaD82oduQLA2AeUwsOPzElnjOoXQWcgNIpIJQuFbzIV0ie8YW4GNLsoNiOg3ymT9uD-nZjefl74hYtoJoqtzcpZE4HTTJ3TuaC3HC5hubbqVN0qb895RUqaeHu4kQoaOHtW8/s1600/shirley-terry-birkie2013067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fmxYFV5xaD82oduQLA2AeUwsOPzElnjOoXQWcgNIpIJQuFbzIV0ie8YW4GNLsoNiOg3ymT9uD-nZjefl74hYtoJoqtzcpZE4HTTJ3TuaC3HC5hubbqVN0qb895RUqaeHu4kQoaOHtW8/s320/shirley-terry-birkie2013067.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2013 finishers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>The young man working at the bag pick-up who expertly
watched people approach, dazed, wearing their Birkie bibs, looking around,
trying to make sense of a sea of numbers and white bags. He came up and put our
bags in our hands, calling out our numbers with the authority of a professional
announcer but the face of a high school sophomore.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Walking unsteadily into the changing tent, knowing I could
never manage getting out of my wet clothes without a chair to sit on, but
seeing they were all in use. Just standing there, trying to make my brain work,
when a young woman in the corner gestured me over. She said “Ma’am, you can
have my chair!”
<br /><br />I was so grateful, and tried to think of what to say. “So
you skied the Birkie!” is what came out. She lit up and said “Yes! My first
one!” I said “Were you happy with your time?” and she looked at me,
uncomprehending. “I’m just happy I skied it!” Which is exactly how I felt the
first time. I was so tired I forgot about the point of the whole thing.</li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-58059353745982165422012-12-27T08:18:00.000-06:002013-01-01T08:22:08.301-06:00Unemployment FugueI'm cleaning out file drawers...I've finished my last day of work and am officially unemployed, so I'm taking advantage of this time to get some chores done that I've been putting off for a while.<br />
<br />
Like about ten years.<br />
<br />
I have a file called "Job Search" that I started in 2004 when I began work on my associate degree in graphic design. It's stuffed with Help Wanted ads from the<i> newspaper</i>.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-89569185909802974262012-12-07T08:04:00.004-06:002013-01-01T08:23:03.812-06:00Population ExplosionLast night I went with Mom and Dad and Terry to a funeral visitation in Marshall, the small town where my mother grew up. I grew up there, too, and my parents lived there for many more years after that. We all still live close by in Sun Prairie and Madison.<br />
<br />
On the way home, we were talking about seeing old friends, and laughing about some of the memories we shared about small town life. I said "Marshall has really grown! The population sign said 3800."<br />
<br />
"You're kidding! It's that big? I remember the sign saying 750!" Dad was really surprised.<br />
<br />
Mom came back with "I remember the sign saying 440!"<br />
<br />
I had my own memory. "I remember knowing the population was 998, and being at high school cheerleading camp with all these girls from giant schools in cities like Eau Claire and Milwaukee. Someone asked us how big Marshall was, and we looked at each other and said '998. Oh, wait! Sherrie Kay had twins!'"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-13495419651735948722011-09-12T20:14:00.006-05:002011-09-12T20:35:45.353-05:00Every Single Thing Went in the DumpsterOur elderly neighbor died and her sons are cleaning out her house, filling three dumpsters so far. They seem to be throwing out everything she owned: clothing, pots and pans, furniture, tools, old bank records, Christmas wrap, suitcases...everything.<br /><br />Terry had to walk by the latest dumpster and couldn't resist peeking in. He brought home a brand new bushel basket and two new rolls of paper towels. So of course I had to run over and look, too.<br /><br />I saw immediately that their goal must be to expend no energy or money on sorting, saving, or selling, which I said I could understand, but then was horrified when I saw a library book lying there. I fished it out, of course.<br /><br />As long as I was at it, I claimed some other things, too, including a brand new electric frying pan that had never been opened, some retro aluminum canisters, a few canning things, a perfect aluminum muffin tin, a depression era quilt, and (Terry took this) a bowling bowl personalized with the neighbor's name, Harriet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPdxmyKCCadyol1VDjkpvkicPsGsqouwZiLoknfbYkMz8yHlNmYfptImF-26XgYZ-l0Ztt3E7kgiMNq01pFJ2_oB4pjk-Q9rBh-C-igLWrE65T8mnQhy6dJLhepMiUPstnmLHacjRAEY/s1600/101_4616.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXPdxmyKCCadyol1VDjkpvkicPsGsqouwZiLoknfbYkMz8yHlNmYfptImF-26XgYZ-l0Ztt3E7kgiMNq01pFJ2_oB4pjk-Q9rBh-C-igLWrE65T8mnQhy6dJLhepMiUPstnmLHacjRAEY/s400/101_4616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651649490725711746" border="0" /></a><br />I think we got an early start on some Christmas shopping.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-90923434210084191852011-09-10T09:47:00.002-05:002011-09-10T09:52:28.100-05:00Dinner InvitationWhile I was figuring out what to have for dinner last night, and wondering where Terry was, he called to say Bridget was giving him a ride home and they were on their way.<br /><br />After I hung up and thought about it for a minute, I called him back.<br /><br />Me: Hey, let's ask Bridget if she wants to have dinner with us.<br /><br />Terry: Great! Whaddya got?<br /><br />Me: Pork chops with parsley/basil sauce, and we have a ton of peppers. I'll think of something.<br /><br />Terry: Bridget--stay for dinner!<br /><br />I hear muffled talking.<br /><br />Terry: Bridget says thanks, but she has a turkey leg in her purse.<div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-44410032775030490192011-08-03T05:46:00.011-05:002011-09-10T10:01:36.112-05:00Cyndi's Bird Story<div>Cyndi told us about birds making a nest in one of her plants.</div> <p></p><div>"I was watering my hanging flowers on the porch and a bird, one of those little red finches, flew out of one of them. I thought oh no, that's not good. Cute, but they ruin plants and this one was expensive, plus I'd had one like it in Alaska and had been looking for one like it for years. So I didn't want to sacrifice it for a bird's nesting spot."</div><p></p><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9L947sXvciQOCykyRG0Sd7p4h6ZBSRVSxwfEM_tblL3hFhM7EdeBsDPGTByoBiBQcCnfbMW1J_eDc-09X46Ixl_6_CTKK54qXyjcBb2LfQWdxfh12MGpc1Dn6tf4nV8-AiSzeOmzNE4/s1600/101_4463.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9L947sXvciQOCykyRG0Sd7p4h6ZBSRVSxwfEM_tblL3hFhM7EdeBsDPGTByoBiBQcCnfbMW1J_eDc-09X46Ixl_6_CTKK54qXyjcBb2LfQWdxfh12MGpc1Dn6tf4nV8-AiSzeOmzNE4/s400/101_4463.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636583821061615042" /></a></div><p></p><br /><div>"I took the plant down and looked at it. There was the most perfect little compact nest. On the bottom there was a price tag, $13.99, neatly molded to the round bottom of the nest. There were grasses, plus a couple of cigarette butts, all fluffed up, but fit smoothly into the sides. You could see vermiculite from potting soil poked in here and there."</div><p></p><div>"I felt bad, but I took it out because I really did not want that plant ruined!"</div><p></p><div>"Later I noticed a pair of finches sitting on the trellis by the plant. They were just sitting, side by side, facing the nest for the longest time. It was exactly like they were talking it over. 'No more nest! What'll we do? I don't know, what do you think?' Except they weren't making any noise, just sitting there, looking and looking."</div><p></p><div>"That evening I looked in the plant. There were two eggs where the nest had been. And I haven't seen them since. I guess they decided, well, it's too late for anything else, you'll just have to lay them there."</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-12710847814093689282011-07-23T14:58:00.015-05:002011-07-23T16:08:18.166-05:00Dear David and CathyCathy, you sent the best card and letter at Christmas with a photo of your horse, and David's old show bridle, which I loved. I hope we get to see your place and meet all of your animals some day...of course I understand that now is a bad time but please let us know if and when you'd ever consider it. We like to have a project to help with instead of being entertained so maybe that will trick you into letting us come visit.<br /><br />And I thought maybe if I did this electronically a letter would actually get sent instead of just rattling around in my head. I started this blog a while ago but only my sister has read it, and Terry. It's just for practice.<br /><br />So it has been too hot everywhere, even up here in Wisconsin (especially up here?), but when the weekend comes and the garden is in danger of disappearing under the weeds, we get out there anyway. By "we" I mean Terry, of course.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuqYwsPw25mgz29DEIYhq3pzcymhMPVzXq1a8P-2TK2LUzP5IIRA9iXUDRzDx5Bx6k-Y_IycjSQN6RAiW4LpjcVqQMahbTiaC6atBC0_yhdbmIiXacHq_9TrJOctVQKPLi83lmy5Xcbg/s1600/101_4407.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuqYwsPw25mgz29DEIYhq3pzcymhMPVzXq1a8P-2TK2LUzP5IIRA9iXUDRzDx5Bx6k-Y_IycjSQN6RAiW4LpjcVqQMahbTiaC6atBC0_yhdbmIiXacHq_9TrJOctVQKPLi83lmy5Xcbg/s400/101_4407.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632641956291850338" border="0" /></a>And it happens eventually, like today...but first we have to walk around holding cups of coffee, looking at things. It was easy to decide to pick some raspberries first, because those are my favorite things to eat (except strawberries, which did NOTHING this year so no point even mentioning them).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGSlEf60P-1SruPros4-mh2kyirGM2wZ1vnh0kKMfnxMOKsH4tF0WmrdLleakKajKQdj46Mor-vk7m2U3qs_rGoY7x97QXP5TXQqtM1OY7oAtpcrmrGeL_WdqXyrEI4smFigV_-PUbeo/s1600/101_4419.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGSlEf60P-1SruPros4-mh2kyirGM2wZ1vnh0kKMfnxMOKsH4tF0WmrdLleakKajKQdj46Mor-vk7m2U3qs_rGoY7x97QXP5TXQqtM1OY7oAtpcrmrGeL_WdqXyrEI4smFigV_-PUbeo/s400/101_4419.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632642955053365586" border="0" /></a>Then we needed a break so I hung some clothes out, Terry made a list for the grocery store, and we went to buy groceries including garden produce because Terry gave Cully and Laura all the ripe stuff we had from the garden when we went up Thursday night to help them move the last couple of things from Laura's apartment into Cully's.<br /><br />When we came back from the store I had visions of making a really good lunch but we had leftover pizza instead. Then it was time to look at the garden again and really decide what to tackle. But instead of doing that I looked at all the flowers I planted. I always wanted bunches and bunches of tall annuals to cut however many I wanted for bouquets in the house and this year I have them.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJ0RbFNXZeR0SwMS_03b_-dZ3NQWyYUjAPzEEND7QAqON_TKqEYG-9bzjDoj1Nhc0qv4lJ7HMJVqmMVknzz-XLduyzGC-7mdw7JoQycJiJ4Ijh3htBGAIA5gFb1M09r-xfc2GtBLIqVw/s1600/101_4420.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJ0RbFNXZeR0SwMS_03b_-dZ3NQWyYUjAPzEEND7QAqON_TKqEYG-9bzjDoj1Nhc0qv4lJ7HMJVqmMVknzz-XLduyzGC-7mdw7JoQycJiJ4Ijh3htBGAIA5gFb1M09r-xfc2GtBLIqVw/s400/101_4420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632645735961682146" border="0" /></a>I also love the scent of lavender and grow that. I snip the flowers and then dry them in the living room window because it's so hot and sunny there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz1D-H0vdS8yykTWC4J7G39bryhJRVMqwr9KIybiERSXFN0ouQ334LqoECB4tTUK8TtFipnpDeQCsr2eK65-aojFv9c7KpeISwpHfT9KTGjnQ8GskPSGSVqP8o0Yj2vTmP0vkLH7_dW0/s1600/101_4397.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz1D-H0vdS8yykTWC4J7G39bryhJRVMqwr9KIybiERSXFN0ouQ334LqoECB4tTUK8TtFipnpDeQCsr2eK65-aojFv9c7KpeISwpHfT9KTGjnQ8GskPSGSVqP8o0Yj2vTmP0vkLH7_dW0/s400/101_4397.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632647006693733154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-dqsDp0UwWbnBZaGIzKm7WayFVWn6jKCOLE_SJi5j-VtHNgHsw3_GftQlM-oG972ibb_vKs49O9KPlY8uF4Kj2vJJpCfxc3umLgoLBvIR7HqoDLIGue1bNJhScCF9FQWLHQrBz0sLs0/s1600/101_4400.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-dqsDp0UwWbnBZaGIzKm7WayFVWn6jKCOLE_SJi5j-VtHNgHsw3_GftQlM-oG972ibb_vKs49O9KPlY8uF4Kj2vJJpCfxc3umLgoLBvIR7HqoDLIGue1bNJhScCF9FQWLHQrBz0sLs0/s400/101_4400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632647464824510898" border="0" /></a>I have experimented with sewing little sachets for them for putting in dresser drawers so your clothes smell good.<br /><br />Almost every single time I go out and snip the lavender flowers our next door neighbor Virginia, who lives to garden and take care of her huge lawn, comes out and asks what I'm doing.<br /><br />I also wanted to mention the animals we have. Here's where one of them lives.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONvyioY3IIN1qcYZNFP-IW-JEEGaik0sL0cenvlz4dS29r9dQd1c37Iose-W7b1gfwslK6M02tYFM4uzebya3rVbcWHzLiDZ7JepEVN6t9NgfESQClF13a8xdepy6G8Ks9gww1em-FjI/s1600/101_4418.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONvyioY3IIN1qcYZNFP-IW-JEEGaik0sL0cenvlz4dS29r9dQd1c37Iose-W7b1gfwslK6M02tYFM4uzebya3rVbcWHzLiDZ7JepEVN6t9NgfESQClF13a8xdepy6G8Ks9gww1em-FjI/s400/101_4418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632648242262856114" border="0" /></a>Terry likes to greet him or her with a shovel whenever he can. But this family of groundhogs has a real survival instinct.<br /><br />We also have raccoons who love to visit with us. We take them for a ride out to the fancy neighborhood on Lake Mendota and let them go so they can get to know other people, too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIg5B8vApCQ-smT9nM5Ehqk5AQPCMUwepW84B0vgy981K877nooAAcCvZm_9IQHDihoKiEdwFU6slcNCVgRx4DVT4uZqGaTlyxmnkJR0xTvFmJeJzVxZUvOLr2y87-BG74RgkA9S3Z4Y/s1600/101_4396.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIg5B8vApCQ-smT9nM5Ehqk5AQPCMUwepW84B0vgy981K877nooAAcCvZm_9IQHDihoKiEdwFU6slcNCVgRx4DVT4uZqGaTlyxmnkJR0xTvFmJeJzVxZUvOLr2y87-BG74RgkA9S3Z4Y/s400/101_4396.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632649106905250690" border="0" /></a>So I guess that's plenty of our garden tour for now. I'm inside in the air conditioning writing this while Terry finishes weeding the worst spots, which happened to be the leeks and onions. In a while we're headed to my parents to help them with hanging a quilt thing mom made for above their staircase and then to their neighbors' for a cook-out.<br /><br />We think of you all the time and treasure the notes you both send. You guys are terrific writers and have a beautiful optimistic and can-do spirit of handling whatever comes your way, which is inspiring. I know you draw strength from each other, your faith and, I hope, from the support and love of your extended family.<br />ShirleyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-29661180797092270222010-12-21T07:42:00.004-06:002010-12-21T07:51:19.083-06:00I Didn't Know They Came From Eggs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRENmviu10bINa9OUT8npDauNp7cLputog2WIZBNJ-4Z23LeM5HpFUQ1o0rZ2W8hcYJKiZzE6c6i3rqsiojFSApuuQH5DTub1h3Ps6q5ixIkUY1g6AqkGTLauO4Tcf7MXndmMeohO1HA8/s1600/laying_doe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553131481422264658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRENmviu10bINa9OUT8npDauNp7cLputog2WIZBNJ-4Z23LeM5HpFUQ1o0rZ2W8hcYJKiZzE6c6i3rqsiojFSApuuQH5DTub1h3Ps6q5ixIkUY1g6AqkGTLauO4Tcf7MXndmMeohO1HA8/s400/laying_doe.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Sometimes I have to side with the authorities when it comes to reporting grammar crimes, even though I have a record myself. This one was just asking to be reported!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-71607690393093026262010-08-02T16:21:00.008-05:002010-10-28T21:07:08.854-05:00AmbushA few weekends ago a stranger rang the doorbell and I answered. It was a thirty-something white woman with a long braid down her back who, when I opened the door, looked me earnestly in the eye while clutching a construction paper-covered tin can with both hands, took a deep breath, and said "I'm an unemployed, funny mom who wrote a 15 second comedy song to the tune of O Holy Night. Would you like to hear it?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCVP9IaUukfz2DcT0qvFt4uM_C80JTEu6_9frmcgrImWhXniAoLQZoXFh2F1ANWAlz6oaz3j63R8I-7CKy1GCzf0tAqKqvhCeZfF-zRhePj1bwva2Pwz695PKZVAYTkPq1Va-9SDCaB8/s1600/dime.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCVP9IaUukfz2DcT0qvFt4uM_C80JTEu6_9frmcgrImWhXniAoLQZoXFh2F1ANWAlz6oaz3j63R8I-7CKy1GCzf0tAqKqvhCeZfF-zRhePj1bwva2Pwz695PKZVAYTkPq1Va-9SDCaB8/s400/dime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533277805114811410" border="0" /></a>I froze, trying to comprehend what was happening. She had a tin can...for money? She was knocking on doors, asking for money in a creative way? Wow...but now I was supposed to say "sure," politely listen, then pay her what I thought the song was worth? Or what I thought she should have? Or...I couldn't think what to do! I was so intensely uncomfortable that after a few seconds I finally managed to get out a "no thanks" and shut the door.<br /><br />I've been second-guessing myself ever since, mostly about being a Scrooge.<br /><br />Then last week there was another encounter with a different person. My adult daughter and I drove up to my house after dark, waiting for a pedestrian to continue walking past the opening of the driveway. Instead she waited as we pulled in, got out, then walked towards us. It was a young black woman in a stylish leather jacket, saying "Hi, I'm Amy, don't worry, I'm not a killer! I'm just wondering if you can loan me bus fare so I can meet my son! I feel really stupid asking, but I'm broke until payday and I could pay you back next week!"<br /><br />"Um, we could just give you a ride there, I mean my husband and I could," I said, hesitantly...he was pulling up behind us in a second car.<br /><br />"Well, no, I can take the bus," Amy said heartily. "I just need a few dollars for bus fare."<br /><br />After a few minutes conversation including an offer of three dollars, Amy walked away with five dollars--"how about just an extra dollar or two for a pop."<br /><br />I am sorry for anyone who feels they need to ask strangers for money, straight up or disguised in a ruse...but both of those times left me feeling like the loser, and I keep trying to figure out why.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-91163771856981467972010-06-27T09:43:00.006-05:002010-06-27T20:04:36.482-05:00Parade of Chicken Homes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ryUJICFGzCY5E712HU4VFUw8u41HwDgHA-amnFZ7eNe07KW6oBTcZ86-7Zb_H9U7CcBRGM7JeBJQLBcBddtBnGI6O513oKPGh8Uga8HBERv0oI0QlVqlmNfT5Kn6tHkr1vwxITfInV8/s1600/chickens.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ryUJICFGzCY5E712HU4VFUw8u41HwDgHA-amnFZ7eNe07KW6oBTcZ86-7Zb_H9U7CcBRGM7JeBJQLBcBddtBnGI6O513oKPGh8Uga8HBERv0oI0QlVqlmNfT5Kn6tHkr1vwxITfInV8/s200/chickens.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487507338654733298" border="0" /></a>Terry is yearning to build a chicken coop and keep a few hens. I'm intrigued by the idea, too, but stymied by the problem of finding chicken-sitters when we leave town for a few days. It's a lot to ask of neighbors when it's fifteen degrees below zero or raining nonstop.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdw9MRQpsNKNJaFjg66hwpGL63OU4FizcJ2a0Y1K_w-GyjxUydP0KqUUI0Md_htKcW1yP4jtsTVXtjAouVV-8Bu81zT5mpiTMNiOjclVZ9aplOnkT5hovBhoL_TcFB8mja3okATfzPUUo/s1600/chickens.jpg"><br /></a>That might not be an issue if we lived in the Tenney-Lapham neighborhood, which held the Tour des (Chicken) Coops yesterday--a se<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrawyza7CUlqmDR96yqTXgu-xf5ZeS__zQeypzqmrmlTUv6bbWwYmywDvvVDe7VK2Hh8BPtYl6-4VL9nfQkIpfRh0JdjuKw5BAyuW-B7H8SRK9lZix52dwnTZAEJyFFItsTtOBbxo0lo/s1600/mifflin_st_sign.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrawyza7CUlqmDR96yqTXgu-xf5ZeS__zQeypzqmrmlTUv6bbWwYmywDvvVDe7VK2Hh8BPtYl6-4VL9nfQkIpfRh0JdjuKw5BAyuW-B7H8SRK9lZix52dwnTZAEJyFFItsTtOBbxo0lo/s200/mifflin_st_sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487507480833400626" border="0" /></a>lf-guided walking tour of family chicken-keeping operations in the heart of the city. Dozens of people, including us, took them up on the invitation on a hot, sunny June afternoon.<br /><br />The gently eccentric mentali<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oQIQALzsPG_R5XP8OpbT_ksfEe72G6je5j8SDWudqeNHHk1UrlC85kA5uCaEF-Eh4pngXGQ1ynMlKHSUu3MZdg3y6DyPE27JLluMFmffUdQOI4a2FvugymKlj4TqCCl82Ksozh_e9FE/s1600/glass_top_table.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oQIQALzsPG_R5XP8OpbT_ksfEe72G6je5j8SDWudqeNHHk1UrlC85kA5uCaEF-Eh4pngXGQ1ynMlKHSUu3MZdg3y6DyPE27JLluMFmffUdQOI4a2FvugymKlj4TqCCl82Ksozh_e9FE/s200/glass_top_table.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487508075675671138" border="0" /></a>ty of Madison's near east side translated into glimpses past perimeters of deeply shaded sidewalks and shared driveways into hidden, miniature, complicated backyards, with murals painted on sheds, walkways dotted with blooms, creative landscaping with scavenged materials, and--of course--chicken coops tucked away in a corner, or featured as the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYX8v-TcT2EMRMItba_Z6aBRxZLXaedXAjhyr2o311g3AQS2G3jXNMUC0XBrxOrAi_NEJWR9zLqNt0qYP2uSLxO1iwnUbVZJ9PA8jyhNnjHCgRe5GFT-cFjBxl8EDRQVz2WCH0TNu8bsk/s1600/coop.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYX8v-TcT2EMRMItba_Z6aBRxZLXaedXAjhyr2o311g3AQS2G3jXNMUC0XBrxOrAi_NEJWR9zLqNt0qYP2uSLxO1iwnUbVZJ9PA8jyhNnjHCgRe5GFT-cFjBxl8EDRQVz2WCH0TNu8bsk/s200/coop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487507818743759266" border="0" /></a>focal point of the whole space.<br /><br />We were delighted to find one man's tiny yard contained not only a spacious chicken coop, but an espaliered apple tree (bought from Shopko 15 years ago),<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGFqwmUHaQFaUzDaGnziihcLjWEgJyzp4S0W40yLMYpLbdKKxT2RcM_Pxf-zKE3sHzUbSA6h8Q-WowovM1VgM4r4YRziTh3ecOaZkASWatMCyf6ObblFznjjzLnCQlrlERJA43Uu5U78/s1600/101_2843.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGFqwmUHaQFaUzDaGnziihcLjWEgJyzp4S0W40yLMYpLbdKKxT2RcM_Pxf-zKE3sHzUbSA6h8Q-WowovM1VgM4r4YRziTh3ecOaZkASWatMCyf6ObblFznjjzLnCQlrlERJA43Uu5U78/s200/101_2843.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487473474309395106" border="0" /></a> and a beehive--with plenty of greenery and space shielding it all from view as well as containing paths of hay leading to other, undiscovered features and an iron bed installed for climbing plants.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-53075006214093682632010-06-11T07:36:00.015-05:002010-06-27T20:02:10.711-05:00Is this what it means to eat locally?<div>I've had strawberry shortcake for breakfast or dinner every day this week. </div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-Maftn8akj-S2nklm_9-8ULDTsQ1I0vv3TGewKw-QwddcCvnzoPkuq1zJcmsYImEXgcpYE8tNih4ZV2i2ybCOzNqTqzM2yyEPYbVBztdYliB3ohjQ1yv8bk89TcUc-LQUXScT8xlOZM/s1600/redberries_greenspat.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-Maftn8akj-S2nklm_9-8ULDTsQ1I0vv3TGewKw-QwddcCvnzoPkuq1zJcmsYImEXgcpYE8tNih4ZV2i2ybCOzNqTqzM2yyEPYbVBztdYliB3ohjQ1yv8bk89TcUc-LQUXScT8xlOZM/s400/redberries_greenspat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481504106861247426" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I made too much last Sunday because I didn't know who was and wasn't coming over: might be no one, could be six or seven more people. I picked two quarts of strawberries, marinating each in its own experiment of sugar quantity, sent Terry for extra whipping cream which I whipped with confectioner's sugar (because it tastes good and keeps the cream from becoming watery if it has to sit for a few days), and baked two whole wheat shortbreads.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKgo_qJbKKyQWf6MyUudPPvnL00rpmCxIdCsXam9T4O61i8vmEVt74S5P6lZgU6d8Px-VtZ8x0cY-9CaMyCD4dvhWkcNowML0BCvI5FhCsTlZXp_UMbe4oO8da6f8WbmSFdItc0L6zkE/s1600/ww_shortcake.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKgo_qJbKKyQWf6MyUudPPvnL00rpmCxIdCsXam9T4O61i8vmEVt74S5P6lZgU6d8Px-VtZ8x0cY-9CaMyCD4dvhWkcNowML0BCvI5FhCsTlZXp_UMbe4oO8da6f8WbmSFdItc0L6zkE/s200/ww_shortcake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481505464924931298" border="0" /></a>Alas, one batch would have been enough. But I couldn't bear to throw out all that goodness. I love my own strawberry shortcake--I think it may be one of my top ten favorite things to eat--and I really did wait all year for it, especially with garden-grown berries.<br /><div></div><div>So I decided to forget about the usual inescapable realities like calories, fat, sodium, protein, and fiber, and eat exactly what I wanted, not even skimping on the whipped cream. It was the high point of each day, but by last night (Thursday) I was glad to finish it and not have it again for a while.</div><div><br /></div><div>The really weird thing is, I lost one pound. And I am not overweight, just your average physically active, menopausal baby boomer. I always wish a couple of pounds of squishiness would disappear from my middle, but it's not a high priority.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think I know what both <a href="http://www.kingsolver.com/">Barbara Kingsolver</a> and <a href="http://www.geneenroth.com/">Geneen Roth</a> would say.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-68056561875017897092010-06-06T10:16:00.007-05:002010-06-11T08:40:54.926-05:00Primal Picking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02waX7t54_T6P58tqc6IJOt3x2bsCyLg2aLDK9LjssN1hkJKW8jZEsTCBkJVm-W-KRdKVhlRaBhbpntSl99tRg_sZkqWrWebWHx24Lkfe0kowWO6MA7_P96wT2eJ4L_DiDpb4bgOV794/s1600/101_2705.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479681871498340738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02waX7t54_T6P58tqc6IJOt3x2bsCyLg2aLDK9LjssN1hkJKW8jZEsTCBkJVm-W-KRdKVhlRaBhbpntSl99tRg_sZkqWrWebWHx24Lkfe0kowWO6MA7_P96wT2eJ4L_DiDpb4bgOV794/s320/101_2705.JPG" border="0" /></a>I once read that women tend to be more sensitive to variations of color than men are. It was theorized it's an evolutionary thing because over the past few thousand years women honed their skill at selecting the ripest, sweetest berries.<br /><br />Hunter/gatherer theories about men and women resonate with me, and this one sprang to mind because I'm so blissfully happy when picking strawberries from my own patch. It's like searching for little brilliant red jewels hidden among the green leaves.<br /><br />But I'm pretty sure the bliss factor crept up to consciousness level because of what's missing: I'm not swatting away at mosquitoes--in our yard the hatch is minimal. At least for now.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-7878927613448005372010-05-24T20:08:00.010-05:002010-05-25T19:02:24.139-05:00First Long Ride of the Year<p>There've been a couple of Thursday night Bombay Bicycle Club rides after work, about 25 miles or so, with the main point of the excursion socializing after touring the rural roads. I was tired at the end of those rides. But the one we took yesterday was what I consider the first long (50 miles) one of the season.</p>Terry and I had fun deciding on a route leaving directly from the house. We chose a published bike map that was round trip to Columbus, and decided to find a shortcut to keep it around 40 miles. The map showed Bristol Road cutting directly across the middle of the loop, so we turned off early onto it. But...what the map showed was different than what the road actually did, so we had some false starts and concentrated reckoning of where we were in relation to the sun when Bristol Road suddenly ended. (I cheated and used the GPS on my iPhone to double check.) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvb0HKPWJitpqtNt3K-KkCxyj2fTga6IgWHyRPxMH0Sx697gxHiluWxNUH-M7yWU-xzYzA3KNheOGbMxCXKbuCeZSlT8UwKVVZI1mMuIQ1sIj9JitbUvEAVkGiWAm8Jb2w0rI1uWfVg8/s1600/101_2681.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvb0HKPWJitpqtNt3K-KkCxyj2fTga6IgWHyRPxMH0Sx697gxHiluWxNUH-M7yWU-xzYzA3KNheOGbMxCXKbuCeZSlT8UwKVVZI1mMuIQ1sIj9JitbUvEAVkGiWAm8Jb2w0rI1uWfVg8/s400/101_2681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475017065805842930" border="0" /></a><p>Meanwhile, we were delighted to come upon the Sassy Cow Creamery surrounded by pasture and fields, and were sorry we were too early to pay it a visit as customers.</p>By the time we figured out our shortcut and were counting down the last ten miles home on our odometers, the temperature had risen to the high eighties and we were running on fumes, depleted, both hungry and thirsty, and soaked with perspiration. But that didn't stop me from waving wildly from my bike on the River Road overpass as it crosses Interstate 90/04 to all the people trapped in cars below. I thought I was hearing appreciative honks from envious drivers above the roar of the stream of traffic down there, but then realized I was blocking impatient drivers behind me as I veered in and out from the side of the road with my waving.<br /><br />When we got home, I couldn't get out of my wet clothes and wash off the greasy, bug-crusted sunscreen covering my face, arms and legs fast enough, and rushed into the shower. Terry was starving and shaky, and headed for the kitchen. When I emerged just a few minutes later, he was standing by the counter looking a little dazed. Wrappers from bread and cheese lay scattered, and the container that had held cut up watermelon was lying on its side. He was holding a bag of chips. "I guess I was hungry...that was about as far as I wanted to ride," he said, looking around.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-78665405296291374542010-03-17T16:38:00.004-05:002010-03-17T16:41:09.082-05:00Gig PostersOn the kiosk at Memorial Union:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Jedi Mind Tricks<br />Black Lips<br />'Pert Near Sandstone<br />The Clientele<br />Need to Breathe<br />The Catalog Babies<br />Trampled by Turtles<br />Field Music<br />Leslie and the Ly's<br />Umphreys McGee<br />Heatbox<br /></span>The Kissers</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203628358834985224.post-4716814575366169622010-03-15T19:33:00.009-05:002010-03-16T07:54:02.690-05:00CSA Decision<p>The people of Madison LOVE community supported agriculture (CSA) farms--all the booths at Monona Terrace yesterday were mobbed. True to my talent for getting involved in a trend at its peak, I was there as well, along with my husband and 79 year old dad, who farmed for a good many years.</p>We stood like rocks in a whitewater stream, trying to decide where to strike out for first. Luckily a volunteer came by with delicious samples of an asian-style coleslaw from the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EBh0_LdVYVU3mw0yLjJV21wZTqG9YNI1-KPdfxRkEQxJGdNnmY0uHGt3U4SSPQ7NO1EGVcszpVzA9DKKLefiI1-TIg4qEhbPz7dKrKyZ1ZxBj0MZL88_oicKYtAviz9oJOMWKruRvsk/s1600-h/asparagus.JPG.jpeg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449032767564769170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EBh0_LdVYVU3mw0yLjJV21wZTqG9YNI1-KPdfxRkEQxJGdNnmY0uHGt3U4SSPQ7NO1EGVcszpVzA9DKKLefiI1-TIg4qEhbPz7dKrKyZ1ZxBj0MZL88_oicKYtAviz9oJOMWKruRvsk/s400/asparagus.JPG.jpeg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.macsac.org/atoz.html">Madison Area Community Supported Agriculture Coalition cookbook</a>. One taste and we shoved off to find the best farm to join so we could start picking up produce each week to make things just like that.<br /><br />What a different type of farming the people there were doing compared to what my dad had done! The farmers we talked to were mostly people in their thirties or even twenties, thoroughly at ease discussing the nutritional value of the food they were growing, sustainable farming methods, and lifestyle choices. Besides farmers, they were sales people, promoters, educators, merchandisers, employers, distributors, and graphic designers.<br /><br /><p>Having struggled mightily to grow an array of vegetables in our garden, which is composed of dense clay soil, creeping charlie, and a favorite spot of deer, rabbits, groundhogs and Japanese beetles, I wanted to know about things like tractors and other mechanical help. I thought Dad would, too, especially since he spent a good bit of his retirement restoring John Deere tractors, but no. I followed him to hear the answers to his favorite question "Do you have working shares?"</p><p>We didn't make a decision on which CSA to join...I'm still sorting out pick-up locations and times, prices, and just what's in the weekly box. How lucky to have so many great places to choose from.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0