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Sunday, June 7, 2015

It's June!

It has been an eclectic week here at the old homestead and points beyond.

We haven't had any snow for nearly two whole weeks and the old apple tree has blossoms!


The Cooker needed some foot surgery to relieve some nagging pain so I took her to the teeming metropolis of Duluth for said surgery. It's a few hours away so we went after work on Monday and stayed in a tall (by Duluth standards) hotel. Opening the curtains the next morning gave me the thrill of construction, ships in the harbor, and that iconic landmark, the lift bridge.
Then there is Stitch whose broken arm is healing nicely, but still in a cast from her tomato planting incident. If anyone saw all of us together in town yesterday they might think I am some kind of monster with two injured women and that I have a lot of nerve showing them in public. It's not like I tell people, "She ran into a door" or something. I certainly feel special having four functional limbs.
                                                                       Stitch's arm.
                                           

                                                            The Cooker's "Frankenboot."

So as long as we were in town I decided to go check out the annual Hot Rod and Classic Car Show again. Most of the vehicles come down here from the Thunder Bay, Ontario vicinity. I recognized some from previous years, but they are colorful and often nicely detailed. The best thing for them was that it didn't rain this year seeing as how there are some convertibles and open cars.

I really appreciate some of the details like this old Cadillac with the fuel filler cap under the tail light.

 My favorite detail was this valve stem cap and the effect it had. Note the photographer's reflection in the hubcap.
And before we had to do some more errands and get back to the farm I got to take in one of our local bands, The Splintertones, for a few songs. I have played with a couple of them in the past. They sounded very good even though they had chilly fingers. It was about 50F (or 10C), but the sun was warm and so was the crowd that was gathering.
It was even a pretty good week at work because no one spit on their money before handing it to me!

Click on the pics to embiggen.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Finger lickin'

Being a guy in rural America, living with a bunch of animals, having been in various health care settings including EMT and post-surgical, it takes a lot to disgust me. There is one thing that I really am squeamish about. Money. Not your plain everyday bills and coins, but in how it is handled. Yes, I know there are traces of cocaine on most denominations over $20, but there is one other thing. The other day a known customer and writer of the occasional column in the local fishwrap (newspaper) decided to pay cash for a small purchase.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a wad of bills, sticks out his tongue, slobbers on his thumb, counts out some bills with said thumb and hands them to me! I wanted to yell, "You spit on your money and then hand it to me?!?", but I didn't because this Minnesota and we're supposed to be nice.

He did this!



I wanted to barf ! Or better yet, pee on his change before giving it back! I really should have just to make a point. At least urine is sterile (usually)! There have been at least 500 types of bacteria  found in healthy human mouths, let alone a sick person. EEEEWW!





People with the habit of licking their fingers before giving their money to someone should be made to walk around like this:

Maybe I should stop whining and do something constructive. I should buy a bunch of various office products made for such purposes and distribute them freely among the businesses in this town. Then maybe on to Duluth and the Twin Cities! Yeah, this could be big! I could wear a mask and costume and do it for Truth, Justice, and the American Way! SuperTackyFingers!
 Leaving these wherever I go.

Or I could just put up some silly pictures on the internet and hope it helps curb this nasty habit, because this is Minnesota and we are supposed to be nice.

Monday, May 25, 2015

A Tricky Mind

A wasted mind is a terrible thing. Or something like that. Sometimes I wonder how mine works and every once in a while it will do something quite revealing, although like some avant-garde thing no one knows what it means. Including me.

I was up to my eyeballs in work at the office trying not to fall farther behind. It is often my job to stop whatever I am doing and help the people who walk in off the street. So this one guy comes in and I notice this "thing" in his ear and think, "My god that's a big hearing aid!" Of course I remember seeing them in airports when I travel, but they look uncomfortable and totally silly in an area like this where cell phone reception is iffy on a good day. Or if you are hiking in the woods and a spruce branch knocks it out of your ear. It does keep any biting insects out of that ear.
I wanted to talk louder to be sure he could hear me through his "good" ear. He was obviously in a hurry and the kind of person who couldn't stand to be out of touch with whoever was on the other end of that thing. Many people come to this area to escape all that kind of pressure and sensory assault. With spring bird migration and especially bears coming out of hibernation you would think he would want all his senses to be fully functioning. Somehow I doubt if he spends much time outdoors, though.



I had yet another misfiling episode at work. Sometimes I don't get around to filing everything I am supposed to because several other things come up and I forget until later. Or I get through the pile far enough to say to myself, "Hey! I better get this thing filed!"  So the boss was looking for something in the file I had ordered for a guy named Dave Burns. (Not his real name, but the same initials.) Boss says, "Did you file an order for Dave Burns?" It was last week so I said, "I think so, but I will print up a new one from the numbers on the purchase order," which I did. A few minutes later the boss says, "I found that order under "C". I said, "Well, I must have averaged his first and last initials and compromised by putting it in C."   It seemed like a reasonable explanation at the time. Now we know where else to look next time.

In other exciting news I decided to play "appliance repairman"  yesterday. The dryer hasn't been drying very thoroughly as of late and we were trying to figure out what to do. Last weekend we took the dryer apart to clean out the lint and see if there were any blockages.  I did watch the obligatory YouTube video of how to first so as to lessen any possible damage I might do. So after 8 or 9 years there was a bit of lint on the inside. Not enough to replace all those socks that disappeared, though.
  After reassembly I realized that it was still doing the same thing so I ordered a heating element. Yesterday's project (one of) was replacing the heating element. I am currently doing laundry as I write this (my version of multitasking) and will find out if it worked. So far I do not smell any smoke. Oh! I forgot to tell you there was a bonus. Stitch (alias the one armed bandit with her arm in a cast) and I found nearly a dollar in loose change in the bottom of the dryer when it was all apart!  We look like this now.

Life is good! Albeit mundane.
   

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Did you miss me? Did you know I was gone?



Wow! So my knee hurt and I got a new one. It is a match for the other one and now I am symmetrical again. At least as symmetrical as I ever was. Physically. Eight weeks after surgery, according to my Fitbit, I did well over 10,000 steps yesterday which is about five miles. That was just a normal Saturday, so I guess I am cured now.


I know this might sound like an old geezer thing, but I got a metal detector to look around the old farm house and a few old sites in the neighborhood. Now I always used to picture Richard Milhous Nixon walking on the beach at San Clemente with his big ol’ shorts on, humming to himself out of tune, and swinging a metal detector. I’ll do my best not to look like that. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting. The farmhouse is 100 years old this year and is in rough shape, but the roof doesn't leak. Well maybe a little around the chimney.
UPDATE:

I have done three searches on the ground in that picture and have come up with at least one coin each time. However, Most of what I find is junk or garbage, especially the old aluminum pull tabs from beer cans. They must be the scourge of detectors everywhere. I can discriminate them out with the detector, but I hate them enough to want to see them gone. I think it will be a losing battle. They were around in the 1960's and 1970's mostly. I have found at least two dozen.
I have found coin(s) each time I search, but they are all modern. The residents of this farm have always been of modest means or less so I don't expect much in that department.

Meanwhile, Spring has sprung. It went from this:
 To this:
 To this:
in just a few weeks.

The neighbors got their feeder pigs. Another sure sign of spring.


 

I think a lot of things have happened, but I never write them down and forget most of them. I need to change that habit because, you won't believe this, I sometimes have good ideas. They just don't last very long.

It was our anniversary a couple of weeks ago and the Cooker made a lovely card for me. She removed the gray from my beard and I really don't own a blue suit, but otherwise it is me. Sort of.
Yesterday was somewhat eventful. It was garage sale opener (the fishing opener was last weekend) and I just had to go see if there was anything I couldn't live without or flip to feed my own hobby habits. I spent a buck, so it was a bit of a letdown. OTOH I didn't have much more $ to spend anyway, sigh. It was, however, a beautiful sunny day on the farm. When I got down by the lake (2 miles and a 600 foot loss in elevation) I found this:
taken from about the same place as picture #5 of the harbor.

Later in the day I was cleaning up my mess in the garage and I heard Stitch call my name. She had been furiously gardening and was about to transfer some tomato plants into the ground (risky this early in the season). She had tripped and fallen. Apparently, the landing wasn't so good as she landed on a piece of cement block used for anchoring things in the wind. The Cooker took her to the local Emergency Room to do what they could for her broken wrist and cracked ribs. As much as she loves to garden, I think she should maybe look for a safer sport. Gardening and growing food has some built in dangers that shouldn't be taken lightly. Since she is good with horses maybe rodeo is something she should look into.

A new statement I picked up from a forum I follow. Something to keep in mind should you get a bit frustrated.
 
“A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.”


Saturday, April 4, 2015

I'll Be Back Soon. Really!

In turning on the computer after a couple of weeks and looking at the gobs of junk mail and overwhelming amounts of blog reading I have neglected, I realize that the planet has still turned on its axis without my presence! The nerve!

There are all my favorite blogs to catch up on, books that have been published without my knowledge, and so many other things that don't take me into account. Can you believe it?

I have an excuse, though. I got the other knee replaced a couple of weeks ago and am still shaking off the anesthesia (and blood thinners, pain meds, etc.) and am barely conscious enough to write this, but I thought I had better. If it sounds funny just blame the drugs. Going to PT (pain and torture) 3 times a week plus the recommended, at home, masochistic behaviors I indulge in daily has turned me into less than a pleasant conversationalist. The Cooker has been hauling my sorry carcass around to these appointments and Stitch has been taking care of the farm. Between the two of them I have been allowed to be completely useless. While that sounds pleasant it has actually become rather annoying.

My Kindle crapped out a few days ago, so I am more in charge of my own brief moments of entertainment. While fixing it is probably a relatively simple soldering job I still need to be fairly lucid in order to do it. I figure an hour of 90% consciousness should do it. I have yet to have that big a moment though.  I hope to start catching up on all the brilliant, entertaining, an insightful posts I am so used to reading from all of you, but I think it's time for another nap.

And down I go.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Summertime in Norway


    From the time we were born, mother took us to the country, Lonevaag on Osterøy (an island), where we spent the summers. First we stayed at Magne Grønaas, he was a butcher and also had a small farm. His wife Brita was mother's aunt. When I was about five, we stayed with the Natlands at Ramburgstølen. The place, Lonevaag, was where my grandfather Mons Andersen grew up. Apparently, he was born at Mele, a little further to the south also on the island. His fatherbought a small farm in Lonevaag on a place called Fossen, and he was called Anders paa (on) Fossen. At Rambergstølen, there was a farmer Mr. Natland, his wife Emte and their three children: Asbjørn, Karl and Alma. We had a small room on the second floor, one bed for mother and tante Ovidia who would come every weekend and for her vacation. Audun and I would sleep on a straw mattress on the floor. They were good summers. After we got a little older we would go with Asbjørn to feed the pigs and Alma who made a corn meal for the chickens.

                                 Otto and Audun on the boar with Alma standing by, circa 1926.


   Most of the cows were in the pasture and Emte would go to milk them every morning and evening. One or two would be up in the mountains. Audun and I would go with Asbjørn to pick them up. Asbjørn had to talk to everybody on the way, and we didn't think we would ever get there. One time we had to go to find a cow who had just calved. Beautiful weather in the morning when we left. Found the cow, but no calf which she had hidden. It started to rain and we took shelter in the cellar of one of the saeter (chalet) huts and had our lunch. When we came back out, there was the cow feeding her newborn. Then back to the farm. The "baby" only a few days old did fine, Asbjørn carried her down some of the rough paths. We were soaked to the bone, but mother dried us up, put us in bed and treated us to fish balls and boiled potatoes with white gravy. That is one of the meals I'll always remember.

    As little kids, we had several chores. One was going with the "hesjestreng". We had to carry the wire to make his "hesje", that is long rows where you hang the hay so it would dry.


One other job was to pack down the dry hay on the wagon. Old "Lydia" (the fjord horse)then carried it up to the barn where we also had to distribute it and pack it down.
Another job was to turn the "slipestein" (the grinding stone) every evening for the boys to sharpen their scythes.

    Dinner time, called "nons" was the main meal of the day, 12 o'clock noon. The main dish would be stew or fish with potatoes, and almost always rhubarb soup for dessert. On Sunday it was usually beef with gravy.  In the late afternoon we had coffee and bread with syrup often eaten out in the field.

    Both of our grandfathers were dead. Our father's father Anders Olsen Algerøy was shipwrecked with his crew off the coast of north Iceland in 1898. Mons Andersen, mother's father  died from TB about 1915. So we had no grandfather, except Audun. He adopted Mr. Natlund, and went to see him on the farm the winter before he started school, all by himself.

    Around 7 o'clock in the evening the steamer would come from town. My mother's uncle Johan was the one who took care of the goods. "No kjeme dampen" (steam monster) he would say walking down to the pier. He was quite a guy having been on the big sailships when he was young. Would tell us stories: "then we sailed from Buenos Aires to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil". Somebody would get ice from the ice house. The ice had been cut off the lake in the winter and covered with dirt in the ice house where it lasted all summer. It was taken to the dairy to keep the milk cold till the morning when it went back to town on the steamer. One fascinating item was the milk coming from the valley west of us. They had rigged up a cable lift from the top of their mountain down to Lonevaag. It was fascinating for us to watch the milk containers moving down the cable.

 

    In the afternoon we would go swimming with the other kids, Audun and I were the only city boys. We learned to swim here. We would also go fishing when we got older, either from a row boat or fishing off the rocks using a long bamboo pole. For bait we used worms or mussels. We would also fish with my mother's cousin Bjarne Kalleklev. He fished with lines or nets in the fjord. He would catch some nice fish. As of this writing there are no fish left, except for perhaps some trout and salmon. The Lone was in those days a fine river for the sportsfishers, and it was rented to the sportsfishers from Bergen. Bjarne, he was at least a little crooked. When I was about 13 we would set the nets in the fjord, never caught much. But late in summer when it was dark for 4-5 hourshe would take nets up the river. We would climb up the hill above the fishermen and set nets across the river where it was calm. An accomplice would be on the other side and Bjarne would throw him a line and he would pull the net across. Then we would set a few more.In a few hours we would have about 20 fine salmon about 8-12 pounds each. We carried our loot back, making sure nobody saw us. Then a few hours sleep and out  in the fjord to fish the nets. He gave me a few and we would have a delicious Sunday dinner. He would put the salmon on ice and send it to town to be sold there. I think that he finally got caught.  (NOTE: setting nets in the river was illegal, but in the fjord was okay.)

    When we got back from the country at the end of summer the circus was in town.The kids who had spent the summer in town were bringing us up on all that had transpired during the summer. We went back of the circus and there was a little shack with the letters "PISSOIR". We called it "pissaren".  One year the Hagen-beck circus came from Germany. That was a great circus, brought a whole zoo with them. Remember going to see the animals with our class at school.


 
    The circus was only two blocks from our home and the people at the circus all lived in our neighborhood. Two of the girls lived in our apartment house and I remember waking up early Sunday morning to beautiful music. The whole orchestra was there serenading them.






    In 1928 we had the big country fair in Bergen. That was a great place to visit. We just walked around, having no money to spend on rides, etc., but we picked up a lot of circulars. Our father was home this summer, must have been home in the spring as well, since Kaare was born the next winter. He had a job there and was able to get me in for free. Uncle Johan came to visit from Lonevaag. He was on the roller coaster when he lost his cap. "Det bar saa snøgt ut føre" (It went so fast downhill). Cost him one krone to get his cap back. You can read more about the fair in the Bergen book: "Bergen i Mellomkrigstiden". 

-From Otto's autobiography.

 


Sunday, March 8, 2015

Winter's last gasp

Finally! We are getting a break from the relentlessness of winter. Thursday morning was -15F when I went out to feed the horses. At least there wasn't much wind to make it feel really cold. This weekend both days got above freezing for the first time since that warm day in early January. Somehow we get through it all and we have to remember that this climate keeps the riffraff out and the mosquitoes down for a few months. Through this annual joy we still have to take care of things. We got a load of hay a couple of weeks ago. 230 bales needed to be put away into two places. That's about 7 tons, but with a few strong young people we can get it done in less than an hour.


Yesterday I got another hundred bales and got those put away around lunch time today. My neighbors, R and H, helped me. It was H's horse's birthday today. His name is Timmy (Intimidating Class) and he turned the big Three O. I gave him an Altoid which he really liked. H has had him for 25 years.
Here is Timmy last fall with his roommate Frisky who is 29 years old. Timmy is the tall one.
The winter had a grip on our nearby town. The harbor was frozen and the sailboats are lined up on shore next to North House Folk School.
The Lighthouse and Coast Guard Station are keeping their quiet sentinel over the harbor.
The late winter winds blow in from the east and south pushing the ice sheets around and into the North Shore. The thinner ice is crushed against the rock and the windblown beaches (I use the term loosely) are nearly cleared of snow. The noises can be eerie if you hear them above the wind, but when it calms down you can see the changes.


These pics are taken on the way home from work. It's a nice drive and sometimes there will be a couple of other vehicles as it is rush hour. Highway 61 is to the right of the this shot taken looking back toward town. It's a nice feeling to have the sun at your back for the ride home.
Click on the pic to embiggen (love that non-word!).