Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

Captain spent some time this summer fixing fence posts.  Couple of reasons for that.  First, the fence is close to 30 years old and needs maintenance every so often.  Second, if the fence isn’t working, steers get out, and I have to help chase.  This brings out the Rhino Woman in me, and it ain’t pretty.  

One night he was still working on it when I got done working, so I walked out to see his progress.  It gave me a chance to play Mrs. Farmer for once.  At one point, he couldn’t find something called a fencing tool and said it was in the shop on the work bench, could I please go get it.  Sure...if I knew what a fencing tool was.  He gave me a long, detailed description that sounded easy enough to spot, so off I went.  I stood at the bench and look at all the stuff.  I recognized all of the hand tools and most of the power tools, but I wasn’t seeing anything that looked like what he described.  Great.  

Luckily, he had also said there was a box of fencing staples next to it, and I know what those look like, so I found the tool--not on the work bench, by the way--and took it to him.  I told him the next time he wanted this particular tool he needed to tell me it was the one that looked like a parrot.  Mrs. Goodwrench, I am not.

 

In between fixing fence posts that particular night, Captain had supper going.  He’s taken over a lot of the cooking duties since he quit milking cows, which is a nice break for me.  We had smoked ribs and grilled sweet corn.  Memo to us:  buy your ribs at a meat market, not the grocery store.  The corn was good, though!

In between being Mrs. Farmer and eating supper, I toodled over to the neighbor’s because she had been to the Amish vegetable auction in Saint Charles and picked up some cabbage for us.  Captain wanted to try his hand at making sauerkraut.  Don’t ask me why because that stuff is nasty.  He tried a cheater method last year that was an epic fail, so he is going to try it the old fashioned way this year.  I told him good luck with that and keep it far, far away from me.  What do you suppose I ended up doing every day?  Helping skim the scum off the top of the crock.  Joy and rapture...NOT!  Sadly, he drained off too much of the brining liquid and had another epic fail on the sauerkraut.  Aw, gee, I’m all torn up about that!

After dinging around with the sauerkraut, which was in the furnace room in the basement, I went to the freezer to get something out for supper and realized it was getting bare...as in I could see the bottom of it, which hasn’t happened since we bought it 12 years ago!  I zipped in to the meat locker the next afternoon to get the last of the beef we’d had butchered a few months ago.  Uh oh.  No burger left.  All steaks (rib steak and sirloin) and roast.  I know, I know, I know...I should not complain about having nothing but steak to eat, but geezaloo, I just want a plain old burger most of the time, especially in the summer when we can grill them.  And I hate beef roasts.  H-A-T-E them.

We get our butchering done at Owen’s Locker in Pine Island, and while I had Rusty’s undivided attention while I was paying the locker rental fee, I asked him about ordering pork ribs or pork butt that Captain could put in the smoker.  After much discussion, his advice was to buy half a hog and have it processed to specific instructions.   Okie dokie, put me down for that.

Then I asked if they had open appointments for butchering a steer in the next six to eight weeks, since we were down to pretty much nothing in the freezer.  Affirmative on that, but when I got home and mentioned that to Captain, he claimed we didn’t have a steer ready.  

Excuse me?!  There were two dozen critters out there in that yard, and I know darn good and well at least six of them were market weight and would make good burgers!  Dude, what is wrong with you?!  Then I get the impish grin and the comment, “You’re so easy to rile up.”  Isn’t he precious?

I was right, and there was a perfectly good steer for butcher out there, and he went to the locker last week.  In the meantime, we had changed our hog order to a whole hog, which I picked up last week.  While we wait for the beef to be processed, we are enjoying bacon, pork chops, and ham.

Pork chops are hard to “spruce up” if you aren’t smoking or grilling them, but Captain’s mom has this awesome recipe that we like.  Maybe you’ll try it and also like it!

BAKED PORK CHOPS AND POTATOES

6 pork chops

6 to 8 russet or Yukon Gold potatoes, sliced thin

1 medium onion, sliced in thin rings

1 can cream of mushroom soup (or cream of chicken, up to you)

Milk

Salt and pepper

Heat oven to 375 degrees.  Season chops with salt and pepper and brown lightly in a skillet.  Grease a 9x13 oven safe baking dish.  Layer sliced potatoes in bottom of the baking dish.  Layer sliced onions over potatoes.  Empty soup into a small bowl, fill the soup can half full with milk and stir into the soup.  Pour soup mixture over the potatoes and onions.  Place chops on top of everything.  Bake uncovered until potatoes are tender, at least 1 hour and 15 minutes.

Enjoy, and let me know how you like it!!

My House Was Clean Last Week...Sorry You Missed It

I saw a wall hanging at Hobby Lobby one time that said, “My house was clean last week, sorry you missed it.”  This sums up my housecleaning creed.  Martha Stewart I am not.

Many of my friends have immaculate homes.  They move their furniture every week and vacuum under it.  Personally, I move my furniture to cover the dirt.  The only reasons for moving furniture are to locate a lost TV remote or to permanently vacate the premises.

I know people who wash their windows inside AND out—not biannually like I do—but quarterly.  Imagine that!  I try to claim that my windows are dirty because all the dust from the gravel road that runs past our house collects on the outside and just makes them look dirty.  Thankfully, no one ever questioned why there were little hand prints were on my windows back in the day.  

When someone (usually Captain) catches on to my evasion tactics and suggests I actually clean the outside of the windows, I can delay the chore indefinitely by 1) claiming it’s too cold outside or 2) claiming it’s too warm outside.  The second option always gave me the flexibility to claim parental quality time with my children because soon it would be too cold to play with them outside; or wash windows for that matter.

My sister-in-law is a cleaning fiend.  This woman vacuums her heat registers several times each year.  I had never heard of such a thing until I met her.  After I heard about it, I decided it was a waste of time because when the furnace is turned on, it will blow the dirt out of the register and into more easily accessible places to be sucked up by the vacuum cleaner.

An old, proud saying of many women is, “You could eat off my floor.”  I can shamefully say this too.  Princess used to sustain herself for two or three days with food she found on my floor.  When she was spending a lot of time in her walker, I would give her Cheerios on her walker tray.  She would get so excited and wave her hands so hard that Cheerios would fly everywhere.  Several days later, I’d see her on her tummy reaching under the couch, pulling out those Cheerios for a snack.

Captain does not nag or scold about my less-than-sterling housekeeping.  He is much more subtle than that.  When I recently had the time, energy, and inclination to dust my bookcase because I was on a summer vacation day, I found a message written in the dust:  January 17.  I thought this was a date he wanted to remember, so I decided not to disturb it, thereby freeing myself from another dreaded household chore.  I was quite deflated to learn that he had written that when he first noticed the dust piling up on the bookcase.

When well-intentioned people ask why I didn’t have my children help me do some cleaning, I quickly recited the Phyllis Diller quote that holds so much truth.  “Trying to clean your house while your children are growing is like trying to shovel your sidewalk while it’s still snowing.”  

Case in point:  When Young Man was about 5, I asked him to take his clean clothes upstairs and put them away.  Now, “away”—even to my dust-shrouded mind—means in the drawers.  Young Man interpreted “away” to mean “someplace else” and proceeded to transfer the clothes from the laundry room to the stairway.  When I suggested he actually take the clothes upstairs and put them “away,” he expanded his interpretation to mean “someplace else…where Mom can’t see them.”  I found them all piled on top of the dresser.  I didn’t belabor my point; at least they were out of MY sight.

You have heard about home that are decorated in an “early rustic” theme, right?  MY basement is decorated in early cobweb.  It would make a terrific spook house.  I can just imagine the visitors to our hot new tourist attraction ooohhhing and aaaahhhing over the authentic props we used.  This way I wouldn’t have to spend time cleaning the basement AND I could guarantee enough income from my authentic spook house to actually pay for a maid.  Of course, this would eliminate the income-generating spook house.

We have an open door policy around here, and we are happy to have company anytime...as long as you don’t care what state of cleanliness we are at.  I will always be able to find a clean coffee cup for you to use, and we’ll have a nice visit.  My policy has always been, and will always be:  If you are coming to see me, come anytime.  If you are coming to see my house, make an appointment.

Rural Rush Hour

Drivers are stupid.  Not the drivers I know, but all the other drivers.  The ones who are in such a stinking hurry that they choose to put not only their lives, but mine any everyone else's, in danger.  

Like the dork I saw today on West Circle Drive near the history center.  He was about three cars ahead of me in the left-hand south-bound lane.  He decided to pass the car ahead of him, not in the right-hand lane like a sane, rational person.  Nope, he crossed a double yellow line, on a hill, on a curve, into the northbound turn lane!  And guess what?  A mile later at the stop light...there he was, the same as the rest of us.  He gained nothing by making such a rash and idiotic maneuver.  

We've all seen it time and time again.  People passing in no passing zones.  People texting and driving.  People fiddling with the radio.  I saw a lady once putting on her make up driving on highway 52.  Yeah, that's intelligent.  You won't live long, but you'll look good dead!  Yeesh.

Given that drivers are stupid (present company excluded) on a good day we have to be doubly cautious of them now during what we like to call Rural Rush Hour.  This is when farmers are on the road--making an honest living, I might add--with tractors, trucks, and other large, slow moving equipment.  

I know that in this forum I am actually preaching to the choir.  You all know what I am talking about, but I ask you to please share this with everyone you know anyway.  If we can prevent one accident, or worse, through public awareness then our job is done.  

We have seen everything stupid when it comes to rural rush hour.  Captain doesn't lose his temper very often, although it is impressive when he does, but one time when I was riding with him to take a semi load of corn to Kasson, we turned at the bridge in Mantorville, which is on a hill/curve/no passing zone.  

The idiot driver behind us couldn't wait the five or ten seconds it would have taken to get to a passing zone...he passed us right there.  And into the path of an oncoming car.  Captain let loose a string of swears that turned the air blue, and he laid on the air horn.  

The idiot, of course, squeaked through and kept going.  The poor driver in the other car had to use part of the ditch to avoid the collision.  And I had to take a dozen deep breaths to get my heart rate back to normal.

We have had people pass us and we have been flipped off, yelled at, crowded onto the shoulder, and honked at.  I know there are those of you out there that have had the same things happen.  Don't you just want to hunt these fools down and stomp them stupid?  Or, stupider, I guess.  

Do farmers charge into board rooms on Wall Street and tell those yahoos to hurry it up?  Nope.  Then why does everyone else get to treat us so rudely as we go about our business?  I really want to know!

Okay, choir of mine, let's sing it to the rafters and let everyone know that the next few weeks may involve some traffic delays.  There is going to be some noise and dirt near towns and subdivisions.  There is going to be dirt and other agriculture debris on the roadways.  

But you know what?  There is going to be abundant food on the grocery store shelves, the milk coolers in every Kwik Trip are going to be full to bursting, and there is going to be the safest and cheapest food in the world at our doorsteps.  

I pray that this harvest season will be bountiful, but more, I pray that it will be a safe harvest.

I'll leave you with this parting thought that you can share with others if you wish.  

Don't Name Your Food

Having grown up on a dairy farm, I learned many, many moons ago to never, ever name an animal that might end up being your food someday.  There is nothing more devastating than sitting down to a steak dinner with your parents and having your dad say, “Yep, old Rollie sure makes good eating” when Rollie was my pet!  It put me off steaks for quite a few years, although I have gotten back on that wagon.

As the wife of a dairy farmer turned beef farmer, I have kept that lesson in the front of my mind.  Interestingly, I also learned that I have amazing powers that can control whether a calf will live or die.  All it takes is for me to look at a calf and say, “Ooooh, he is so cute!” and you can bet dollars to donuts that the calf will not survive longer than three more days.  After a few such incidents, I decided that all of our calves are ugly as a mud fence in the rain, and I refrain from comment.   

New lesson learned…not only don’t name your food, don’t comment on its looks or personality!

Animals that are allowed to be named on a farm are anything that won’t end up in the food supply.  Cats, dogs, birds, donkeys, horses all fall in this category.  Cats especially are hard to name even (or maybe especially) when they are outdoor cats.  We used to have the standard Whiskers, Purrty, Mama Kitty, and so on.  Those got boring, and I tried to get creative, such as with Oscar and Felix, our very own odd couple.  Sadly, Felix didn’t survive an especially harsh winter, and Oscar ended up part of an even odder couple…our lab-Rottweiler-dalmatian mix farm dog named Dipstick.  Either Oscar thought he was a dog, or Dipstick thought he was a cat.  Unfortunately, Oscar got into something that disagreed with him and passed away during the night about six months ago.  

On a side note, Dipstick lives up to (or down to, depending on your viewpoint) his name.  Young Man named him because his tail is white at the end…like someone dipped it in paint.  This poor creature was doomed from birth.  Having lost out on being cute or smart, he has only one redeeming trait and that is being able to maintain a speed of 40 mph for a quarter mile or more.  Not something to really write home about.  Captain insists if we had named him Einstein, he wouldn’t be dumb as dirt, but I’m not entirely sure I believe that.

Young Man and Princess had kittens when they were in elementary school.  Young Man named his Mashy (for mashed potatoes…his favorite food at the time) and Princess named hers Colonel (for unknown reasons).  They each met an untimely demise in vehicle-versus-cat incidents.  That was the end of indoor cats for us until just a year or so ago when Princess was gifted a kitten from some friends of ours, and she promptly named the kitty...Princess.  Feline Princess was kind of a pain in the butt, but at least she had the cute factor going for her.

Human Princess was a college student at the time, so feline Princess stayed with us while her master was away during school terms.  It then came to my attention that human Princess would not be taking feline Princess when she moved out of our house into her own apartment.  This didn’t bother me so much because I happened to like the cat, but Captain was not pleased.  In the end, it did not matter how we felt about it because feline Princess took an unprovoked swipe at Cubby at Christmastime, so she was re-gifted to a friend’s mother.  They are getting along nicely, by the way.  

Captain is more of a dog person, although he did complain when Young Man’s house dog stayed here for awhile after Young Man moved out.  However, in Captain’s defense, Young Man’s house dog was kind of a pain in the butt.  He was a mini Pomeranian named Chewy.  We first interpreted this as a reference to his resemblance to that lovable character from Star Wars…Chewbacca.  That theory lasted about two days until Chewy…chewed.  Everything.  Shoes, phone charger cords, Kleenexes, and scissor handles.  He was lucky he had the cute factor going for him or he would have been keeping company with the Odd Couple outside!  I am pleased to say that Chewy now lives with his rightful masters, Young Man and Mama Bear.  

This dilemma of not naming farm animals only came to mind this morning because we not only have a hog at the locker ready to pick up, but we loaded out a steer this morning for butcher.  Bottom line is to never, ever name something that is part of the food chain; never comment on an animal'

s looks or personality; and to apparently be mindful when naming farm pets so as not to doom them to not living up to their potential.

North Shore Trip Day 3

Good morning from Lake Superior!  It was a bittersweet morning, knowing we had to head back to reality.  The sunrise over the lake was epic to watch because there was a bank of clouds moving in, and there was only a thin band of clear sky between the lake and the cloud bank.  We watched the sun peek over the horizon, show itself just for a minute, and then disappear into the clouds.  Who would think that just a matter of seconds could be so breath taking?


When we were here last, a new and improved visitor center at Tettegouche had been under construction, so we wanted to drive up and see that before we went home.  Unfortunately, being early birds, the gift shop and interpretive center were not open yet when we were there.  Still, the new center was very impressive from what we were able to see in the lobby area before driving back to the cabin.

We got our stuff packed up and did the housekeeping thing...washed dishes, swept floors, emptied garbage cans.  One last sweep to make sure we didn't leave anything behind like a cell phone charger or a watch.  We've done that before, so we always double and triple check.

We stopped at the office to return the cabin keys and say goodbye to the resort owners, and their dog, JJ.  He is an Airedale, but when we had pulled in on Tuesday, I called him an Ayrshire....a dairy cow.  Shows what my background is apparently!

The drive down to Duluth was hampered by downpours off and on...the kind that make you think maybe you should pull onto the shoulder and wait it out.  Captain, however, is made of sterner stuff and continued driving.  I'm always glad to have a chauffeur in these situations!

Once we got parked in Duluth and checked the boat schedule, we found we had a little over an hour before its arrival.  Finding breakfast was somewhat of a challenge as it is the "off" season in Duluth and business open later.  We finally found a little cafe open and got breakfast, but due to slow service, we almost missed the boat's arrival and actually ran the last few yards to the lift bridge to see it.  Memo to me:  don't run on a full stomach...it hurts!

With not just a little regret, we waved goodbye to Duluth and the North Shore and headed south.  While stopping at a rest area later on, we saw that there were several state parks close by, and we decided to check a couple of them out.

Banning State Park had a lovely rapids area and an old quarry site, which we did not have time or energy to investigate this time around.  Perhaps another day.  Captain almost dropped in the drink when he was walking on some slippery rocks by the rapids, but he gained his footing and stayed dry.  Whew!

Back on the road we thought we would try for St. Croix State Park.  Little did we know, until it was too late to turn around, that it was WAY out in the boonies; nearly to the Minnesota-Wisconsin border.  Our visit there was mostly drive in and drive out again, but at least we can say we were there.  Our bucket list said "visit every state park" not actually explore each one.  We like to give ourselves wiggle room on these things!

Unfortunately, our little side trip to St. Croix put us behind in our schedule and we ended up hitting the cities at 4:00...just in time for rush hour.  Add to that the fact that the Highway 52 ramp at the Lafayette Bridge was closed and we missed the detour (who can read those signs fast enough to move three lanes in three seconds???) so we ended up going across town on I-35.  Friends, you could not pay me enough to live there and have to drive that every day (no offense, Big Brother).  No way in hell.

Usually Captain and I can navigate and travel fairly well together, but that particular section of the trip...not so much.  After much discussion and debate, we took the 494 exit off of 35 and then the Dodd Road/Highway 55 exit and fumbled our way back to Highway 52.  It's always a relief to me when we pass the Koch Refinery because I know, by cracky, I can find my way home from there!

Due to side trips, rush hour traffic, and general headache, we called Young Man on the Way home and ask him to feed Captain's one calf.  It was a burden, I know, but Young Man stepped up and helped us out.

We always eagerly anticipate the annual trip "up nort" and we always thoroughly enjoy our R&R.  But it is still awfully nice to come home again and sleep in our own bed!

Thank you, friends, for joining us on our trip this year.  I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed sharing it with you!  Until next year...

North Shore Trip.. Part 2

This was the beginning of our second day, and what an awesome way to start the day!  We enjoyed our coffee on the deck watching the sun come up over the lake and listening to the waves crash on the rocky shoreline just below the deck.  We got cleaned up and dressed and spent some time exploring the shoreline.  I finally, finally, finally got a picture of a wave actually crashing on the rocks!  Been trying for that for five years.

After exploring the shoreline by the cabin, we headed out for a day of being tourists.  First stop was Betty's Pies for breakfast (no pie, though).  The original cafe had to move when the highway was rerouted/reconstructed, but they kept the original design and layout.  There was a history written on the back of the menu, and in high summer season, they go through 350 to 400 handmade pies per DAY!

From Betty's Pies we headed back into Duluth to take a harbor cruise on the Vista Fleet...also something we have never ever done in all the years we have been going to the North Shore.  We just did the narrated tour (versus a pizza cruise or a dinner cruise) which lasted a little over an hour.  We went out into the lake for a bit, got some history about the lake front area, and then cruised back under the lift bridge and around to where the boats load and unload.  We saw taconite being loaded, limestone, and we saw the CHS terminal which is huge.  They can load 35,000 bushels of corn per hour into a boat, and it takes about 11 hours to load a boat full.  Do the math...that's a lot of stinking corn!  We stayed on the top (open) deck and ended up standing next to another couple and got to chatting.  Turns out they were from Lake City and on their first trip to the North Shore.  We dispensed some sage advice on places to go, things to see of do, and places to eat.  Like we are experts or something?!?!

After deboarding the boat, we headed south on 35 just a little bit to Jay Cooke State Park.  I really can't believe we never did any of this stuff on our other trips.  What an amazing place!  JCSP was one of President Roosevelt's CCC projects, including a suspension bridge across the St. Louis River.  Due to severe flooding over the years, they have had to rebuild the bridge now four different times, but have stayed true to the original CCC construction with stone and logs.  The rock formations were what got to me the way these massive pieces of slate or granite or whatever they were just got stacked up like playing cards or something.  Awesome!  We stopped at the park's information center and ended up having the nicest conversation with a couple from Minneapolis.  We chatted with them about camping, kids, farming, and life in general for about a half an hour.  I love meeting new people!

Jumped back in the car and headed back to Duluth to drive the Scenic Byway way up above Duluth.  There were incredible scenic overlooks and one park with a 5-story tower that was donated by royalty from Sweden, I believe.  Seriously cool stuff.

By now our breakfast at Betty's Pie's was worn off and we were hungry and getting tired, so we headed north out of Duluth to Two Harbors.  We found the pizza place our friendly neighborhood barkeep had recommended the night before--Do North Pizza.  Just a little hole in the wall place, but amazing pizza!  There was a kids' birthday party going on so we didn't hang out longer than we needed to.

Back at the cabin, we were enjoying a beverage on the deck, and I saw lights out on the lake.  The boat we had seen departing Duluth when were in that 5-story tower was cruising past!  I can't take a decent night time picture to save my soul, so I can't share that, but trust me, it was cool.

I was pretty much wiped out by 8:30 and went to bed.  Again, the window was open to the crash of waves and I drifted off to dreamland for the night.

North Shore Trip...Day 1

For the last several years, we have gone to the North Shore in September to celebrate our anniversary.  I am not sure exactly what it is about Lake Superior and its shoreline that is so soothing.  Is it the constant sound of the waves?  Is it how the vastness of the lake makes any stress/worry/problem in my life seem inconsequential?  Is it the pervasive smell of seagull poop?  I don't know, and I really don't care.  All I know is that it is something that I need for my inner self every year.

Most years we have reservations at a small resort in Little Marais about halfway up the Shore called Superior Lakeside Cabins.  This year...we had nothing.  Part of that was because my vacation request at work wasn't finalized until the very last minute and part of it was we just weren't sure what the crop was going to be doing and if Captain might be picking beans.

So Tuesday morning, we loaded up and headed out on a wing and a prayer that we wouldn't be sleeping in the truck for two nights.  We sailed through the Cities just fine, but I am always glad Captain does the driving because I just can't handle interstate traffic through Saint Paul.  It was truly a beautiful day for a drive with just a couple of stops at rest areas on I-35 and a lunch break at a KFC that offered a lunch buffet.  Before we knew it, we were pulling into the rest area/information center just outside and above Duluth.  That first look at the harbor and the lake always, always takes my breath away.  After picking up some informational brochures, we headed into Duluth.

Some background information is needed here.  Normally we would cruise through Duluth and head much further north where we would day trip from our cabin to the many state parks...Tettegouche, Cascade, Temperance River, Gooseberry Falls, and Split Rock.  Sometimes we would get really adventurous and go all the way to the Canadian border with a stop in Grand Marais.  One of these years we will get passports so we can actually go into Canada instead of just look at it from a distance.  Anyhoo, this year, we approached the whole trip differently and decided to do the south end of the North Shore.

So, in all the years we have been to the North Shore, we have only ever seen a boat come in off the lake once, and that was 15 years ago.  So many times we were just blowing through on our way further north and didn't have time to stop, or conversely, we were blowing through on our way home and didn't want to take the time to stop.  Silly us!

So back to this year's trip.  Captain had checked out the Duluth shipping news website and found that there would be a multitude of boats coming and going in  Duluth during the three days that we would be there.  As we were walking around at the Information Center, they had those telescope/binocular things that you pay a quarter to see way far away.  Our investment of 25 cents showed us that, by cracky, there was a boat out in the lake headed for the canal.

So we boogied back to the truck and headed for Canal Park.  Parking is always easy by the Canal, so we snagged a spot close to the Army Corps of Engineer Museum on the Canal.  We had some time to walk clear out to the lighthouse at the end of the pier before the boat was getting close enough that they raised the lift bridge (plus a little sailboat was headed out to the lake).  We walked halfway back down the pier for a good vantage point to watch the boat come in.

Folks, those things are HUGE!  The one coming in on this particular day was in the upper 700-foot range, which is actually quite a bit smaller than the 1000-footers the often come in.  But, it was still massive!

With that excitement behind us, we jumped back in the truck and headed out of town.  We decided to take the old Scenic Highway between Duluth and Two Harbors instead of our normal choice of the Expressway.  Yeah, bad idea.  There was construction going on, and I am pretty sure we were driving in an area where the road was actually closed.  But we made it to Two Harbors just fine.  We saw that the tourist info office was open for business, so we pulled in to ask about lodging options.

The very nice lady working in the office told us that she had just taken calls from two resorts near Gooseberry Falls that they had openings, one reasonable and one sort of high-end.  She very kindly starred their names in the guidebook she gave us.  She also had helpful information on dining choices within a 20-minute drive.  We thanked her and headed back on the road.

This particular point of the trip is fairly typical of showcasing how polar opposite Captain and I are in our approach to things.  I like to KNOW stuff; Captain is more of a wait-and-see kinda guy.  His choice was let's just drive and see what we see.  My choice was (because that sleeping in the back of the truck thing was lurking in my mind) hey, let's use this new fangled contraption called the cell phone and call these people! 

We sort of compromised.  When we got to the turn off for the less expensive of the two options, their sign said "no vacancy."  This seemed quite odd to me since it hadn't been a full half hour since they had called the tourist info office and told them they had an opening.  So we pulled on the frontage road and called them to double check.

Why yes, they did have a cabin available for the next two nights!  Seeing as how we were about 45 seconds away, this worked out well.  While I was jumping up and down in my seat with excitement because I wouldn't have to sleep in the truck, Captain asks what the price was.  Huhn...I never asked because--hey--I didn't care!  Again, a spotlight on our oppositeness.  Captain never seems to grasp the concept that I plan for these trips and set money aside every payday to cover the cost, and I try very hard to figure expenses on the high side so that I am sure we have enough funds.  Thus, it didn't matter what it cost (and I was pretty sure it was going to be in our budget) AND it would save me from sleeping in the truck.

I probably shouldn't keep saying we'd sleep in the truck, as I am quite positive that there would have been motel choices further up the road, but I didn't want to stay in a dang hotel.  I wanted to be ON THE LAKE, and I was willing to pay a little extra money for that luxury.  So there!

Regardless, we had the cabin and it was just the cutest little thing ever!  Please see the photos I posted on Facebook for those; I don't want to take up space on this post with too many pictures.  The only drawback of the cabin is that there was no TV.  This is somewhat of a crisis for Captain, as (a) he is a newshound and starts jonesing if he goes more than 12 hours without a news broadcast and (b) he likes to fall asleep to the TV.  Suck it up Bunky, you'll live.

After we got settled in, we realized we were going to need some supplies, such as coffee for morning.  If I don't have coffee in the morning, people can get hurt.  Plus, we needed some supper.  We hit the grocery store in Silver Bay (20 miles north) for munchies, coffee, and beverages.  Quick stop back at the cabin to unload those and then headed to Two Harbors to find food.  As we were heading back that way, we were passed by The Little Old Lady From Pasadena.  I kid you not!  This woman had to be 90 years old, and she was INTENSE.  Steering wheel gripped at 10 and 2, eyes straight ahead, and gas pedal smashed to the floor.  She FLEW by us!  Made me laugh right out loud.

By luck and happenstance, when we were driving around in Two Harbors, we stumbled across the Castle Danger Brewery.  Captain is always up for trying new beer so we stopped in.  We had the nicest conversation with the bartender/owner!  I am not a beer drinker by nature so I wasn't sure this was going to be fun for me, but I explained that to the barkeep and he recommended one of their more mild lagers for me.  Good choice!  I would actually drink that again, but probably not any time soon.  Captain, on the other hand, likes the darker beers such as Guinness.  First he tried the second strongest lager they had, which he liked.  Then the bartender talked him into trying their stout, which he said put Guinness to shame.  All I remember from the description on the menu was that there was a hint of licorice in it.  That just doesn't sound good to me, and I like licorice!

He pulled the tap to fill the glass, and it was black as pitch, my friends, with a lot of foam.  He set the glass in front of Captain, who instantly went to take a drink.  Barkeep and I both told him to wait for the foam to settle down a little bit first.  A few seconds later, he took his sip and completely agreed with that it was superior to Guinness.  I tried a sip of it and let me tell you, I wouldn't drink that unless I hadn't had anything else to drink for days and was on the point of death.  And then I would still probably think twice.  Give me top shelf whiskey any day!  But Captain liked it so all was well.

On to supper, and on the advice of our friendly neighborhood barkeep, we tried the Irish Pub down the street.  We always try to eat local versus chain when we are vacationing, and this place fit the bill nicely.  I should have taken pictures of the interior, but I was too busy watching the Twins game on TV.  It had a beautiful, old, hammered copper ceiling, exposed duct work, and brick walls...just amazing character.  But better than that was the clientele.  You could tell that this was THE neighborhood bar [insert "Cheers" theme song] because as we were sitting there, a couple came in and before they even got to their bar stools, the bartender had their drinks out and in front of them!  Captain can relate to this because when he goes to our local saloon in Mantorville, they know he is going to want a mug o'Mich, please (kudos to Scott and Corrine).  Love that kind of personal service!

There was one guy who came in who had to be at least 80 years old, walking with a cane, snow white beard down to his chest.  He nursed his one beer, commiserated with his stool mates about the day's happenings, and meandered back out the door for home.  Kinda cute, actually.  I could picture him doing this every day, just getting out and mingling instead of moping at home.  You go, my elderly friend!

So, with full tummies and happy hearts, we headed back to our home away from home to enjoy some adult beverages on the deck for an hour or so before heading to bed.  We opened the window facing the lake and drifted to sleep listening to the crash of the waves.  It was the perfect ending to a pretty awesome day!

Stay tune for tomorrow's installment of Day 2!

Crazy Crochet Lady

I love September.  It is my absolute favorite month of the year.  Not just because Captain’s birthday is that month, or our anniversary, or Cubby’s birthday.  I just love the way it looks, smells, and feels.  In September I can enjoy being outdoors without it being too hot or cold.  September is when harvest is gearing up, both in the garden and in the fields.  Captain is busy outside with machine repair and maintenance, so he is a happy camper which makes me a happy camper.  

Mostly I like September because the humidity is finally low enough that I can get back to my crochet projects.  Trust me when I tell you that crocheting in July and August is not comfortable!  

Crochet is another one of those things I sort of stumbled onto years ago.  I used to do counted cross stitch until my eyesight finally got bad enough that it was hard to read the patterns and/or see the fabric well enough to do good work.  I moved on to crochet because I knew knitting was out.  Tried that as a kid and failed miserably.  My grandma tried to teach me to tat when I was a kid, and that was a complete disaster.  I did do macrame for a 4-H project when I was a kid, but there just isn’t much call for macrame plant hangers anymore.  That sort of went out in the 70s.  

But who doesn’t like a cozy blanket to curl up with on cold Minnesota winter nights?!

Doing crochet occupies my time in the evenings when I am watching TV while letting me create homemade gifts for all those fun, fun milestone events like graduations, weddings, and babies.  Plus, the best part is, if I make a mistake in the crochet pattern (and I do, invariably), no one is going to know unless I tell them because it is easy to mask by either adding or subtracting a stitch in the next row.  

The first afghan I made was for our bed.  The end result would have been the equivalent of a queen size comforter.  I was maybe a dozen rows short of finishing it when, unfortunately, it went up in smoke when our house burned down.  Tough luck.  I have yet to make us a new blanket, now that I think about it.  Huhn.  

As you can see, I have oodles of resources for crochet stitches and patterns.  However, being a creature of habit, I usually go to one of four of five favorite stitch patterns.  

I like patterns that keep it interesting such as the climbing shells stitch shown here.  If I don’t keep the pattern interesting, I will get bored with it about six rows in and rip it all out to start over.  

My second most favorite go-to stitch pattern is the chevron stitch, also known as a ripple stitch.  This stitch looks great in multi-color yarns, one solid color yarn, or three or four rows of several different solid colors.

I tend to stick with an I-size hook because it is comfortable for my hand, and makes a nice, loose stitch.  However, if I want to use a different size hook, I can do that because when Mike’s Grandma Brogan passed on, I was given her collection of crochet hooks.  It is nice to think that maybe some of his grandma’s talent is transferring to me through the hooks.  Or at least she knows that someone is carrying on with the craft that she enjoyed so much.  

I also have, as you can see, WAY too much yarn.  I am at the point where I almost need to install those shelves like they have in the yarn section at Hobby Lobby!  Or maybe invest in more clear totes and dedicate one or two colors to each tote.  Who knows?!

I love, love, love multi-color yarns because it gives me a unique color palette without my having to switch colors every so many rows, which is a pain in the patoot.  Sometimes I buy specific yarns for a particular recipient in mind and sometimes I buy yarn just because it calls to me at Hobby Lobby.  

I only buy the Hobby Lobby store brand, I Love This Yarn after the Great Unravel Incident of 2013.  When a nephew got married a few years back, I ordered an afghan kit online which included that store brand yarn.  I spent six months making their afghan, a lovely pattern of dark and light purple, dark and light olive green, and cream in a ripple pattern.  

I always wash the afghans I make before I give them because I have been known to spill coffee or food on a project.  When I washed the afghan for our nephew, two separate areas of the afghan unraveled in the washer leaving two monster size holes.  Panic!  This was just two or three weeks before their wedding which did not give me much time to make a different blanket, but I got it done.  Different colors and different pattern, but still.  Captain took the unraveled blanket because he liked the fact it covered him up but he could stick his feet out the two holes and not get too hot.  Never mind that I have made at least three different afghans specifically for him to curl up with that did not fall apart in the washer!

All I know is that with fall upon us, I am looking forward to several months of enjoyment wielding my crochet hook!

National Pride

If you ever, for some odd reason, want to make me cry...play Taps.  Just a couple of notes will do it.  Every. Single. Time.

If I want to make you cry, I bet I could by telling you to You Tube “Taps history told by John Wayne.”  Go ahead, see if you can get through it dry-eyed.  

Patriotism and national pride were big in our family when I was growing up.  Dad served in the military as did two or three uncles and Big Brother.  We always flew a flag during the day.  Dad would raise the flag when he went out to milk in the morning, and at night when dusk approached, one of us would help him lower it and fold it.  Pretty sure we can all, to this day, fold a flag in military precision.  Guess whose job it was to run and lower the flag when a thunderstorm came up.  Gee, Dad, thanks for making me grab this metal pole amid flashes of lightning!!

We were raised to stand for the flag during parades.  There was never a question that during the national anthem we would face the flag with hands on our hearts, hats off, and sing the words.  

What happened to that kind of respect?  I have watched professional sports events, on television and in person, and many of those players don’t sing or even mouth the words.  They don’t remove their hats.  I just want to slap them.  As much as they are getting paid, they can take two minutes and take their stupid hats off to respect the flag.  

Do you remember where you were in on this day in 2001?  Do you remember every single detail of how you heard about the airplanes flying into the Twin Towers?  I was driving to work on Highway 14 from Byron to Rochester.  I was on the phone with Captain telling him the guy at the elevator had been extremely rude to me when I dropped off our payment on my way to work.  I heard the radio deejay say there was  news report that a plane hit the first tower.  

I hung up with Captain, and listened in a jaded manner...thinking it was a spoof on some late night TV show skit from the night before.  Then the deejay said a second plane hit the second tower, and I knew in that instant that there was something very serious going on.  And I was scared.

As the details unfolded over the following days, there was a unity in this country that was unprecedented.  What happened to that unity?  

As we stop today to remember, I’m sure I am not the only one who will shed a tear or two or many for all those who lost their lives on 9/11.  More, I hope I am not the only one who will say a prayer for all those who gave their lives to help.  Military, law enforcement, firefighters, emergency medical staff, or ordinary people on a plane.  And to all those who continue to serve our country to protect us, Thank you, may God Bless You always and keep you safe.  Amen.