MARCH MADNESS and an ACE IN THE HOLE

Hello Minnesota Gopher fans and the rest of you. Well, they made it into the NCAA tournament. I am very glad. OMG Did you just read that? I am very glad. How subtle Minnesotan is that now, ay? Let's insert a golf clap here. Sheesh. I've been corrupted. Oh well, now we'll see if they can make it past the first round. I think so. They play Xavier on Friday. Schools that start with the letter 'X' rarely get too far I've found. In fact, when you think about it the letter 'X' itself is mysterious and well, to coin Ellen's DJ on her daytime show, Dodgey. Other than X-rated and X-Ray, 'X'words aren't even pronounced as 'X'-s. How sneaky is that? Xylophone uses the 'Zy' sound. Xavier whats-his-face who won the Oscar for No Country for Old Men uses the silent 'J or hah' sound to pronounce his name. What's up with the wacky 'X' anyways? Interesting. Wow, what a digression. Back on track now shall we? The Gophers play Friday and good luck to them. I have Kentucky versus Kansas in the final with Kentucky taking the title. Maybe they'll call them Xansas for an added boost.

Speaking of sneaky, I actually learned of a shenanigan today. Did you know, I mean did you realllllly know that those back room card games happen for real? Now I don't mean a bunch of guys pretending to be card sharps in somebody's garage on a Saturday night, or a bar sanctioned TeXas Hold 'Em contest at Champps(yawn). I mean the real McCoy. Now pronounced XCoy. Well they do and here's how I know. Tammy and I have joked for a couple of years now about the "man cave" I work in, and how I wasn't specific enough when I created more men being in my life. I've got mostly guy cavemen friends now. Anybody see the movie "Knocked Up"? If you have, add ten years on those guys and they are my co-workers to which I lovingly refer. OK, so my manager recently resigned and his last day is this Wednesday. He's moving to a new cave across town with some more modern cavemen (they carry golf clubs now - rimshot) to sell PDU harness cables in a regional territory (in case anyone cares to know and if you don't know what PDU cables are, you really don't care, trust me.) That means Friday night was his night where the office took him out to thank him and say goodbye and give the guys a reason to drink on the company's dime. Now, also please note that when I say guys, I literally mean all guys as I am the only woman on the sales team and there is only one other woman in the entire office, warehouse included, and she works up front, rarely seen. I did not attend the event however, I have been to a strip club before, but I was getting the scoop today. What to my wondering ears was I hearing? Two of my buds were in a BACKROOM POKER GAME. A real one. The place was a nearby watering hole which shall remain nameless, but "Tom" (wink-wink) was talking about already being fairly swacked when he joined the game in the back room and had to pay money literally under the table. Then the two guys that played in the game went on to relate how the game went, who won what, who was staring them down etc, all on the hush hush. Not that they were bragging about it, I think they were surprised these games went on as well. They accidentally stumbled upon it themselves, with the old, "where does this door lead" dealie. Why am I sharing? I don't know, I just thought it was interesting. It's 2010 and this stuff actually happens. It was all hushy hush and everything. Ok, maybe I am naive, but have YOU played in a backroom game with strangers and for real? I didn't think so.

Not too much is going on at Sodium Manor that plays out in this blog, though Sarah did make the 'A' 14U softball team for summer, and she has a shot at making the high school team as an 8th grader. Practice/tryouts are all this week. So that's cool! I won't keep you any longer for now. GO GOPHERS!!!!

Love,
Diane

My Special Purpose

Hey all. Whazzzup? Here is my...

INNOCUOUS ORTS OF SORTS: Some people search their whole lives to find a special purpose. Some do find one. Many others ultimately give up and settle into a routine of mundane predictability, or if you are King Henry II, married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, you may simply “blunder onto peace” while waiting for the King of France to grow up and fight or some such sort of thing. Me? I have blundered onto my own special purpose and I don’t mean like Steve Martin in his movie, “The Jerk”.


What is my special purpose, you may whisper aloud, eagerly inching forward in your chair, your nose mere inches from the screen? You’ll never guess it, especially not my own mother, since I showed no inclination toward any such talent as a child. It is…drum roll please… Official Toilet Paper Roll Changer of Sodium Manor. Ta-Dahhhhh! Yes, I have deduced my purpose with the sieve-like penetrating mind of a Sherlock Holmes, the seductive deductive reasoning of a Hercule Poirot, the, the, angelic visions of Bernadette. Too much? Ok, well, anyway, I AM the Roller Derby Queen. How else can one account for the fact that if I do not change the toilet paper roll on Sodium Manor, it will not get changed? I know it’s not rocket science, but I did just save a bunch of money on my car insurance. Are they related? Perhaps. All I know is I am the changer of the roll and I am the only one who is apparently able to touch the spare rolls from the hall closet. Or, if by some miracle, someone dons an Ove Glove and hot potatoes a roll onto the bathroom counter, well, making it on to the actual spindle is another epic tale indeed. It sits on the counter staring straight up like a Cyclops, never making the leap to the trapeze bar. I am fairly certain Tammy “could” do it, maybe, with some practice, but she does practically everything else in the house, so when would she ever have time to master an intricate process such as this? Time and time again I am struck dumb, staring at the holder, mesmerized into ogling the tiny cardboard chamber, hanging gloomily yet somehow taunting me, daring me to sit down anyway. It’s tiny bits of end roll scrap clinging to the tube like it cut itself shaving several times. At our house this is an almost daily occurrence, and yet am I the only one, through sheer timing and panache, who glimpses this intimate baring of the roll’s soul? It would seem so, since it is always I removing the spent tube and replacing it with a new double sized roll. Kind of like welcoming in Baby New Year at midnight; so long Father Time, Hello, Charmin. I now own my talent and brag of it often. It used to come out as a bellowed question to the sky, loud and exasperated, “Am I the only one who knows HOW to change the toilet paper rolls in this house?” To, “I AM the only one who knows how to change the toilet paper rolls in this house.” So there you go. I own it now, and may we never have a drip dry "incident" again.

Aside from the epiphany of yes, I am queen of the roll call, we finished up Jake’s birthday weekend Sunday. Saturday we were off to the Mall of America where other people change the rolls. He and two buddies played around at Nick Universe all day while we shopped for Sarah's confirmation dress. Found one. Yips.

This past Saturday we went down to Burnsville to see Cathy and Andrea and have dinner and play games. The dinner rocked! I even ate not only mine, but the rest of Tammy's asparagus. That chicken sauce is to faint over. Tammy made us all homemade chocolate brownies with walnuts, and they were frosted too. Score. Then it was a good old fashioned game of Monopoly, complete with old wooden houses and hotels and white one dollar bills. We had a blast. Tammy won, the land tycoon, but for the first time ever I actually had Boardwalk and Park Place and had a hotel on each. It was my eventual undoing of course, but still. I had Trump hair for the tiniest of bits.

In the meantime, I better get going to work today and then its Idol Tuesday. Enjoy your week everyone. I love you all!

Bald, Style or Guile?

Hi everybody! I am compelled to start this blog in the middle. So yesterday Tammy and I had Ken come over to do a little more electrical work before Nick starts putting the new ceiling up in the basement. As a thank you we took him to Serum's for wings where we hooked up with Nancy Dexter. I should have suspected the night would turn bizarre when Dexter's boyfriend Steve came along. It's not common. Let's put it this way, when I saw Steve walk in my first thought was, oh great, Steve poked his head up so there's going to be six more weeks of winter. He's usually a backgroundhog boyfriend, not a forefront. Anyway, during the course of the mega pans of wings we ingested we began to discuss a Spongebob episode, one where Spongebob is in the weeniehut talking to the nerds. The topic? Is bald a hairstyle? We had a blast discussing it. I mean, if someone purposely shaves their head is it a hairstyle? Do you need hair to have a hairstyle? What if you are genetically bald with no choice, is that no longer a style if in fact a shaved head is a style? I would be curious as to what you readers think. Is a bald head by choice a style? I say yes, but Ken says you have to have hair to have a style. The jury remains on the fence and my sides hurt from laughing.

After such witty reparte we all went over to Ken's to play pool. He lives right on the Rum River with a super great view. Anyway, he has a pool table and a killer stereo with a rocking 80s dance mix so we had a ball. The Go-Gos, Wham!, Wang Chung. It was great! We were dancing and shooting pool. It was a lot of fun and different as we didn't plan it. Then Steve left in a huff and we aren't sure why but he can get that way sometimes. I think it has to do with his groundhog roots. He doesn't get out much. So Nancy came home with us and we three hung out on the couch watching an old Medium episode. She left this morning and we've just been hanging out and doing laundry. Well, actually Tammy is attempting to hang the new blinds above the sink but I can hear frustration coming from the kitchen so I'm staying in here and blogging. Works best for everyone, LOL. One little more bit of touch up and that kitchen is done done done. It 's super great.

The rest of the week was pretty much the same. Homework, running around, you know, the usual. Oh but Friday night we dropped off some stuff for Sarah at her dad's and then went over to Bruce and New Nancy's to see the new TV and flooring they have. We ended up chatting and laughing over there for quite a awhile. Great times.

Oh and this year I am closer than ever to actually seeing all the Oscar nominated movies prior to the Oscars. We watched Inglorious Basterds, District 9, and The Hurt Locker, all in the last week. That brings us to having seen five of the 10. So far for me it's Inglorious Basterds but I think that's becasue I really enjoy The cleverness of Tarantino's stories. District 9 was unusally good though. Interesting. I had a hard time connecting with any of the characters in the Hurt Locker, but I don't do war movies very well. I still like Battleground with Van Johnson as my favorite, so that tells you something about me.

I guess that's about all there is from Sodium Manor this past week. Jake turns 12 on Tuesday so this weekend we have his kid party and family party, so that means I better get cleaning... ahh well. That's what it's all about, NOT the hokey pokey. Take care everybody. I love you all.

-Diane

Friends, Romans, Canadians, Lent Me Your Ears

Hi there. A friend of mine posted this old softball picture on Facebook and I just had to share. It's 29, yes that is correct, 29 and older than Cathy, years old. I'm in the first row middle if you can't figure it out. Those were the days, my friend.

Well,well welcome to the blog, to the week that will mark the 2010 Olympics from that rogue country, oot and aboot, Canada. Minnesota has lots of people in this year's competition so the coverage will be lively. They are already waving Lindsey Vonn's SI photo all over the place. Puh-Lease. I'd roll my eyes but they might get stuck that way. Could someone tell these athletes, yes this also means you, Danica Patrick, to save the innuendo and scantily clad eye candy. Go Daddy, my foot! It takes away from your sport. Do you think the guys respect you more in the morning? Ok, no preaching today. One of these days I will offer up the preach blog, "Preaches and Gleen" but I'm giving up preaching for lent. Ok I'm lying. No matter how clean I try to get my jeans I always have lent in my pockets.

Now, the Superbowl is over and the super snow keeps coming, and we are hunkered down and waiting for spring, more than I can remember in winters’ past. I just watched an American Experience on PBS last night about the Donner party, snowbound in 1846. So I got that going for me, knowing we have plenty of frozen pizzas and peanut butter, so no human parts will be ingested at Sodium Manor this winter. Well, in an non-sacrificial way that is. I cannot speak to any secret ceremonies that may or may not take place in the dark recesses of the basement. You think we keep all these animals for sheer joy? Ok, enough Dan Brown secrets for now. I have said too much.


Speaking of basements, on Monday Nephew Nick cut the right stairwell wall down at a diagonal slant. It’s like cutting the cheese only bigger and much much louder. He’s not even finished and already the stairway down looks and feels so much better. It no longer feels like you are walking down a leaning elevator shaft, or mine adit (yes, I do love crossword puzzles, why do you ask?) We will finish that off in the next few days or weeks, and add a banister and railing, and it will seem like a whole new descent. The biggest problem I foresee is that for now, because that carpet is so worn and nasty, we force the dogs to trod upon it to get the mud and water off their paws. We send the dogs down those basement stairs as they come in from the garage as a quick fix. Once that carpet is replaced, oh, and it will be replaced, I will have to actually bend over and wipe their paws with a towel. Egads! That’s eight paws. (If they were cats would that make them an octopussy?) Aliens observing from above are taking notes that we as humans should respect. Who actually rules the planet when a human’s job is to follow our dogs around, pick up their poop, feed them, and then wash and dry their feet when they enter the house? Who’s the boss now? Um, yeah.

A big Happy Birthday shout out to Cathy, who celebrated last Saturday, and to my sister-in-law Christy, who will celebrating on Friday, to coincide with the Olympics. Awwwww. Nice. Happy birthday to you both. Oh and a kudos out to Amy who is blogging her grandmother's life through letters. It's pretty great. Give it a shot. www.athendrickson.blogspot.com

OH I could prattle on, and often do, but I think we are done for now. Kids made honor roll. Score! Tammy's well, score! Life is good. Trifecta score! Enjoy your week and I love you all. Fo real!

Diane

Sports Withdrawl - the in between weeks

Here is to another week, locked in the frozen grime laced snowy wastelands of Minnesota. We are nearing February and its the time of year I loathe. I'm over the super cold, over the short gray days, driving to work in the dark, and returning home in the same inky blue. I'm tired of using more windshield wiper fluid in one day than a dehydrated in-patient's IV holds. Did I mention I'm over it? Happens to me every year. Opposite of the polar bears waiting for the arctic freeze to return and seal meat to prosper, I'm waiting for green grass, bonfires, and 16 hours of daylight. Soon. Two more days until Puxatawny Phil peeps out from his groundhog hole to tell me if there will be six more weeks of winter. I heard he's on Twiiter now though I doubt he even leaves the hole. He has his PR groundhog assistants check I'm sure.

In the meantime, we've been getting caught up on movies. We saw Julie and Julia this weekend. What a sweet movie. We're halfway through the Hangover. Jury's still out on this one. Guy humor for sure. We have the Wrestler up next, followed by the Hurt Locker. I am hearing many things on Avatar, so I may have to actually venture into a theater soon.

I guess I'll say the big excitement for this past week was the bomb threat at the high school that closed the high school and junior high last Monday. Somebody didn't want to take that bugger of an algebra test, that's what I figure. Some goofball used yellow spray paint on the doors of the high school saying, "Mass bomb 1-25-10". Personally I thought they were talking about drunken communion but it was enough to shut down both the high school and junior high due to bussing issues etc. Nice. Um, did they not realize that these days schools have cameras all over the place? Dorks. Of course there was no bomb but it gave the police dogs a nice outing.

The kitchen is all but finished. The new window treatments are up and everything is touched up and painted except for the baseboards at the bottom of the cabinets at the floor. This weekend we finish that and move into the laundry room to peel wallpaper and paint those walls a Smoky Slate, to match the kitchen. At least our projects have helped the winter time pass. Tammy's nephew Nick was over last night to give us pricing on materials to start moving that basement bedroom wall out about a foot, finish the ceiling in sheet rock, getting rid of the drop ceiling, and cutting out a hole to open the stairway leading down there, where we'll add a banister. That will be the BIG project. We'll take our time and have fun.

Tonight is Sarah's band concert. Go clarinets! Jake's isn't until April. He's a baritone man. Right now the Gopher men's basketball team is being smoked by Ohio State. Bummer. Sports yes, but not the same. I was able to tape and watch Serena kick Henin's butt at the Australian Open. I guess there are some sports on worth watching, I must just have the football blues. Well, then again I am a Bears fan, so that is an on going condition. Twins and Bears. I'm ready.

That's about it for this week. I have no rants or raves to report. But I'm glad to be alive, healthy, working, and loved. So I got that going for me. And Jake's got a 12th birthday this month. Sweet. Here's a great week and yet another chance to win that Powerball! XOXO

A Happy Belated Birthday to You, Tammy Graham!

Twas not so long ago (two weeks more or less) that Tammy became the first of this clan to turn 45. We May birthday girls will just have to wait our turn, right Dexter? Right New Nancy? Right MJ? Here on Sodium Manor I have been so pre-occupied with kitchens and internet modem blow ups and snafus that I was not able to properly acknowledge this milestone in this blog until now. So in honor of Ms. Graham's 45th birthday, she has given me permission to include this cheesy wheezy lemon squeezy, sweet in a goofball way, poem I wrote for her in honor of our life (well, and demonstrating for Sarah how easy it is to create a poem in less than an hour when money is tight and Xmas gifts are in demand and no, they don't all have to be romantic-ey and ewwwwy). So here goes.

Love in our house looks like this:

The sound of the washer at midnight
The buzz of the dryer at dawn
Cooking our eggs Sunday mornings
And John Deere mowing our lawn

The bellow of kids up the stairway
Loose sand from the dogs coating floors
Our TV too loud in the front room
The cat crying out near the door

Our house staying clean for a minute
Stray socks being flung in the hall
Making spaghetti for dinner
Nursing the tears from a fall

The laughter of kids being silly
They jump out and scare us for fun
Talking of homework and stories
Helping each other stay young

The paying of bills at the table
The projects that move up our list
Simply put our life is amazing
Each day is a wonderful gift

a-blee a-blee a-blee that's all folks. Until next week, another day another project.

Love,
DIane

How to get How to get to Sodium Street...

(To the tune of the Sesame Street song)



Sundberg Day

Sweepin' the clouds away

On my way

To where the air is sweet

Can you tell me how to get

How to get to Sodium Street?





As you can see by the photo it’s a Sundberg Family Christmas on Sodium Street (a.k.a Sodium Manor), with a few non-Sundbergs thrown in for good measure. Just to be clear Tammy's a (nee Sundberg). Ah, but is there a Grinch in this Sundberg clan? A Cindy Lou Who? It’s up to you to determine for yourselves and remember: Only YOU can prevent forest fires. Notice Jake and Sarah are almost as tall as their mom in the middle. Time flies. We had an excellent Christmas Eve gala at our place with plenty of great food and great people. I heard the Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day. Now it’s the new year and I’m calling forth a year of creation and wide-eyed wonderment. Um, yeah, so let’s blog all over this cat house.


Most of you already know that Tammy and I have been spending a lot of time at Home Depot. What you may not know is how different the experience is for each of us. Often times one of us will pop into a Depot (we have several in the area to choose from) on the fly to pick something up. That is where the similarity ends. Here is how the experience goes for Tammy when she enters a Home Depot alone, or with me bringing up the rear so to speak. In she walks and the aisles seem to part for her, everywhere she goes men are falling all over themselves asking her if she needs anything, can they help in any way? Heck, they place their orange aprons over melting snow puddles so she can cross the floor. Rose petals magically appear floating softly from above and angelic music coos all around. Only a small exaggeration, trust me. I’ve witnessed it with my own two peepers. It’s quite fascinating from a sociological standpoint. You’d think these guys just got off a deserted island or something. She says its creepy (I hear tell it’s one of the downsides of being hot. LOL). It’s kind of funny because Tammy is actually quite handy and can use practically all power tools and has done so numerous times including saw-like thingees, ratchety doohickees, and mega drills. She installed her own invisible fencing with Nancy Dexter’s help at her old house, and created and laid her own tiled fire pit another time, etc. So when she goes in Home Depot, she is no helpless Nell looking for Dudley Dooright to save her. Although the guys there seem to think that is exactly what she needs, or else as my theory says, they just want to get close enough to slip their telephone numbers into her coat pocket.

Cut to me. I AM Polly Purebread looking for Underdog to help me. Our new dishwasher came the other day and we needed a longer steel braided cable than what was used in the old one, so I agreed to stop at the Depot on my way home from work. When I enter a Home Depot alone? Picture this: The workers scatter like cockroaches. You can hear the echo of my boots as I wander toward the plumbing department. Crickets begin to chirp loudly in the background, and I think I can sometimes hear paint drying. My HelloOOooOOooos bounce off tiers of scaffolded product with no reply. I am the only human left on the planet. Well, it seems that way anyway. I keep looking around for the floating eyeball and Rod Serling to announce I just stepped into The Twilight Zone. This time, after wandering for a bit I found the plumbing department, desolate of course. I did espy a couple of worker bees near the flooring row but as soon as I saw them, they saw me and buzzed off to somewhere else. I found the aisle where I think the braided tubing loiters, and an old fuddy duddy worker meandered by in slo-mo, and saw me perusing the items, clearly concentrating and carrying a bit of trepidation. I glanced at him. He picked up his phone from his belt and made a personal call, walking away from me. Seriously, were my cooties showing? Annoyed at this point I think to myself, hey, I’m no dummy, I can figure this out. Let’s see, here’s the braided tubing, but I need at least 8 feet and these are only 6 feet long. Hmm, I must need a brass coupler, now where would those be? I was close. I could smell it. But close wasn’t going to cut it, so I left the aisle on a mission to find Grandpa Walton and force him to help me at pencil point. He was hiding (he claims picking up a loose screw) in the electrical wiring aisle. He saw me. I pounced. I dragged him by the ear to come and help me, and he got me squared away after I suggested a coupler to him and he agreed (eyeroll). Anyway, that’s how different our Home Depot lives appear.

Short story long, we spent NYE weekend sanding and painting the kitchen cupboards (Irish Mist- a white with gray undertone) in preparation of the new granite counter tops that will be arriving soon. We still have some cupboard doors to finish but everything else is done and new contact paper has been laid, and the kitchen put back together. By week’s end doors will all be back on and it will be looking good. We are picking up new handles and hinges tonight.

On a side note as many of you also know, it is colder than a fart in a dead polar bear up here right now, and yesterday we took Sarah and her friend shopping in Maple Grove as her Xmas gift cards weren’t getting any younger. So while we were waiting for them to meet us at Pot Belly’s, we enjoyed a sandwich and did some people watching. It was maybe 4 degrees outside, -11 with wind chill or something. What do we see? A woman in FLIP FLOPS. Not a girl. Not a teen or tween. A full grown 30-something woman sporting flip flops. I swear only in Minnesota. On the way home I bet we saw a total of about 15 snow mobiles tooling around. No flip flops on them however, just on the woman shopping. Seriously...

Guess that's it for now. This weekend we get to hang with Cathy and Andrea and I'm thinking there may be a lasagna in our future with garlic bread and salad. Hmm... Until next time, I love you all and Happy New Year to YOU!

I'm Your Number One Fan

So here we are in the land of 10,000 auger holes drilled into the ice with care, in the hopes that St. Walleye soon will be there. This year we will have a white Christmas to go with the white July we had, watching softball in mittens and blankets. I still shake my head at that craziness. 2009, the year without a summer pause. On the other hand we’ve only had the snow thrower out once thus far. The other snowfalls were dustings and ok to simply shovel. To all you non-Minnesotans it is indeed called a snow thrower, as a snow blower doesn’t cut it, they are too small. We can’t blow the snow around, we must throw it high and far, and hopefully throw it away from your face as when I do it, it inevitably gusts right back at me and I turn into Frosty the Snow Gal. We have the blower that has hand brakes and is a Harley handlebar mega snow thrower, one upgrade shy of the one that comes with its own heated seat and a street legal permit. We could drive that baby to the store. Tammy usually drives our red almost rider as I stay a safe distance behind, with visions of missing thumbs dancing in my head.

Speaking of thumbs as in I’m usually all thumbs, I hung my first ceiling fan by the window with care, right over the dining room table and chairs. I was so proud. I’m so butch now. Who knew? It really wasn’t even that hard. There was only mild panic when the drill dropped from the ladder and Tammy sprang up to see what was the matter. Oh blasted, Oh Rancid, Oh Friggin, Oh flitzen, you know the drill (pun intended) It looks awesome too.

Christmas Eve will be at our house this year, but early, like at two in the afternoon. So what do you call that? Christmas pre-eve? If you do that twice is it a Re-prieve? Anyway, Tammy’s family will all be coming over, eleven in all I believe, plus us four. Quite a houseful of Sundbergs and Grahams, with one little ole Cannon. We’ll exchange token gifts and ingest huge amounts of food and sweets. Well, except for me who chooses to pass up on the sweets to celebrate the alternative holiday season also known as the Festival of Miller Lites. It should make for a very merry time. I’m making my not quite yet to be challenged to the Booby Flay throw down world famous pulled pork. Pearl's bringing the ham and we’ll have sweets and cookies and all that kind of stuff. Everyone will get to see our newly painted kitchen (and fan of course) before they dash away, dash away, dash away all, to other pastures and rooftops. The kids will be going to their dad’s for midnight mass and to spend the night but Santa will be filling the stockings at our place. It will probably be me with my round little belly, stuffing the socks with bowlfuls of Jelly…Beans. They’ll be back on Xmas day to see what Santa brought. I can tell you there will be no maids-a-milking or lords-a-leaping this year. There will be something though for everyone to enjoy, dogs and kitties included.

Once Christmas is over we don’t have to be to work until the next Wednesday so we are going to be sanding and painting the kitchen cabinets. At least that’s the rumor I read in the Ramsey Rag. Though lazy that I am the thought makes me bristle, and sticks in my craw like the thorns of a thistle. So we shall see… Actually it won’t be too bad.

That’s about it for this blog. Snowmobile safely everyone. This year for us, Christmas is especially about family and love. We are here and gone so quickly. The wink of the eye, a turn of the head, love is too special for us not to spread. So hear me exclaim as you click from this site, HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.

Drive Thru Live Nativity Scenes...Seriously...

Hey there comrades in alms. Bell ringers everywhere (well, except Target stores of course, though Christmas musak abounds EVERYWHERE, and there's the garland wrapping it's seaweed-like arms in a grip of death hanging all over everything and I don't mean garland as in Judy (from Minnesota doncha know). If she only had a brain... Must be that time of year. If you look closely though Valentine accoutrements are whispering out loud begging to be placed on end caps and in aisles..

So today took us once again to Home Depot. This is now a store that I actually know my way around. This was not a goal of mine, yet one I can add to my sash of unexpectedly earned merit badges. It will go next to the "I can get dried coffee stains out of a shirt" badge, but underneath the "I can dig a fence post hole" badge. It resides along side my newest badge called the "I can actually switch out electrical outlets without getting electrocuted" badge. I never woulda thought. I swear if I get a callous, heads will roll. Where are my millions? I know they are out there I just haven't found them yet. Darn you Captain Jack Sparrow. Darn you to heck.

Anyway, during our trek out to earn badges and collect paint cans that once empty will sit for years in the pole barn, garnering a "we really need to do something with those" every other spring or so, in the meantime we were out and about today and I saw at least seven different cars with Christmas trees tied to the top. Pardon me, but is that green? I get beat up daily with the GREEN monster. Save the planet this, emission that, my carbon footprints are leaving tread marks on the planet, no burping in the library, whatever (insert eyeroll here). I thought tree killing ranked up there with smoking in public these days. I hope penance is in the mind of all those choppers. Green penance too. And that's penance not green peace. I don't mind green peas in my salad but not in my ocean or up in my business. You can tune a piaono but you can't tune a fish. REO told me so. I am kiddng in case anyone is squirming.

OK, so what is my point? My point is I live in Anoka County. In Anoka County there is an on going fight between the city council and business owners over those rent-a-signs on trailers that are large and flourescently lettered that you can place near the road to advertise bands, or specials on meals at Zebra Pizza, french tip nails at You Got Nailed, or whatever. Business owners swear they are helpful and the council feels they are eyesores. Well, today while driving past all the tree killers there appeared before me a giant sign in pink letters informing me of the drive-thru LIVE nativity scene on December 12th at "X" church. Yes, a Lutheran one. What ones aren't up here? It's like advertising LIVE nude girls (yeah those dead ones? Borrring). LIVE fake Mary and Joseph complete with a donkey and freezing parent volunteered baby (stage mothers already? HMM). Oh, LIVE petting zoo extra I'm sure. I don't know. Struck me as very odd. I have a non-live nativity scene in my living room.

I guess that's all I have to say for today. I love Christmas as much as the next Judeo-Christian person, just sometimes the whole thing seems overdone by our pseudo capitalistic bent. I know I can drive-thru to get a Whopper or Filet-O-Fish, but Nativity? Am I just that Naive? Perhaps. Until next week. HAPPY ALMOST CHRISTMAS EVRYONE. GOD BLESS US EVERYONE (said Tiny Tim, doing his best Gregory House limp)

The Bears are Von Trapped...

In the words of Owen Meany, from the incredible book by John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany, I trust these words immensely. THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS. Such is my case in point when last night I watched the first half of, The Sound of Music, on DVD. I talk about the movie at times, I reference the movie occasionally, but when was the last time I actually sat and purposely watched the movie opening credits included? I do not recall. Like I said, I watched the first half last night while Jake and Tammy did something which now escapes me, and then he wanted to watch a comedy and Maria Von Trapp gave way to Uncle Buck with John Candy (hilarious by the way). But, since watching the first half of the movie and both halves of the Bears game that just ended in a lopsided blahdeeblah, it comes as no surprise that my head is full of new lyrics...

(To the tune of "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?")

How do you solve a problem like the Bears?
How do you catch a ball and bring it down?
How do you find the wins that mean a title?
A fumble dee bum, a will of the wrist, a bomb

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell them
Many a thing they ought to understand
But how do we make them play?
And listen to all we say?
How do we keep the wave up in the stands?

Oh, how do you solve a problem like the Bears?
How do you hold a football in your hand? (recall nun wooOOooOoooo voices here)

Ok, ok I'm done. Ugh. I lost two bets on that game, darn it. There goes two bucks and I don't mean deer up here.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I am thankful for everything I have and everything I don't have. I am blessed. Now, if only someone would bless the guy at Home Depot before I go there and poke his eyeballs out ala Larry Stooge. Why? Well, Tammy and I went to Home Depot last weekend to buy paint to paint all the ceilings upstairs (ick) and then paint for the living room, hallway, and basement stair way. Tim, the Depot dude, captured us and told us of the new Behr Ultra paint that has the primer right in it for the walls, and produced the sample board to prove you will only need one coat even if painting over red. Hmm...sound too good to be true? He assured us that in the long run we will save money by not buying primer. Cut to Thursday. Kids are with their dad. We are all set up for painting. Dogs are locked outside, music on the iPod speakers is filling the house with eclectic artists, including but not limited to Kitty Wells and Bob Dylan. We are ready to paint. The ceilings came and went no problem. Tammy rolled, I trimmed. Now we begin the living room walls in what they call Summer Moon, but to me known as truck stop butter pat yellow. Long story short this paint sucks. It runs, it's thick, it's the Log Cabin syrup of paint. It ran like a sprinter. We had to do three, count 'em three, coats. We used all the paint we bought just on the living room. I don't think I've ever heard Tammy swear as much since I've known her. It was George Thoroughgood, Baaaaaaad to the bone. B-b-b-b-ba-yud. The room looks fantastic though but never again will we use that paint. Nick's coming tomorrow to patch and mud and then we will do the kitchen and hallways this weekend most likely. It never ends...

We did get the tree up as you can see in the picture. You won't know but I do, that the walls are painted nicely. Tipsy the cat only has five lives left though since she likes to walk the room as close to the wet walls as she can get, but other than that...

Satruday we went to Tammy's sister's for the family Thanksgiving. It was super delicious and part of the reason I lost no weight this week. My weigh-in is on Sundays but today it registered no change. I'll take that as a positive since I packed in the turkey and dressing and all of that stuff and no change means no add-on. I'll take it.

I'm thinking this is all I'll write for now. My Bears are done for the playoff picture. Vikes are looking good I have to say. I think we need to rename the Timberwolves the Twigpuppies for now and the Wild, the kinda rowdy but not missing curfew guys. Let's hope Tubby Smith can get some wins from his felons!

Take care everybody. Happy Thanksgiving to all and to all a good night!

Deer me, it's a Wild life

Greetings and salutations fellow blog travelers. I have been remiss in keeping my weekly updates weekly. In life we either have results or reasons. I have many reasons why I am behind and the results speak for themselves. One reason being the basment has been torn up and my computer lives there, and had to be covered daily to keep the sheet rock dust from infiltrating the be-bopper-thingees that make computers go hmmmm. We had a water leak, well, actually the hose was left on a trickle by a mysterious physical phenomena (since no one will own using the hose, it must've been magic) for close to a week, and it leaked into the wall between the foundation and basement wall, so Tammy's nephew got it all fixed up and we purchased the paint today to cover the "new" spot, yadda badda bing. Of course that led to discussion of what we want to do with the house in general since we are not moving for a while (we looked at the possibility of going north the 7 miles into the kids' school district but that's not feasible right now since all the foreclosures and short sales have diluted the market prices, etc.) and what to do with the basement and kitchen, and that led to more paint being purchased, currently scheduled to be applied this week and weekend. And THAT led to discussion on painting the kitchen cabinets and buying new counter tops. And THAT led to discussion of remodeling the basement and turning the bedroom down there into a master bedroom for us, expanding the bathroom down there and adding a walk-in closet. And THAT led to me popping this beer and starting my blog... I can't take it...... bwahahaha

Long story short (too late I know), Tammy and I took her mom and brother Dan to the NHL Wild game a couple of weeks ago. I scored the tickets from my work since all the guys were tied up with deer opener. You know, going unshaven for days, dipping the Skoal or Copenhagen, drinking beer, guy bonding chest pounding tall tale telling; my co-workers live for it, and you get my drift. Minnesota goes crazy for its hunting, that's for sure, and most of the guys I work with hunt. Well, except Kenny, but he trolls the happy hours for all the hunter widows during the season so in a sense he's a hunter too. That said, we had a ball at the hockey game. Great seats and a good game and we won against the Dallas Stars, which were formerly the Minnesota North Stars. Sarah opted not to go becuase she is crazy (my opinion lol) and Jake did not go because he was hunting (of course) with his dad down near Winona. Andy got a deer this year, a 13-pointer. The term, "Nice rack," has a different meaning up here you know. Hence the photo of Jake with a decapitated deer head in his hands. How sweet.

Right now I just got done on the treadmill, or the hampster wheel, as I call it. I'm up for losing a few pounds this winter and fitting into some older jeans I remember fondly. Wish me luck. I'll either get there or not; results or reasons that's for sure.

Tonight the Bears take on the Eagles for the late game. Jake loves the Eagles. McNabb is even his screen saver. So I'm about to embark on making jambalaya from scratch and donning my Urlacher jersey to settle in and watch. I'll also have my autographed Gayle Sayers mini-helmet on display and my Bears koozie and...ok, that's enough. He'll sport his McNabb jersey (that I bought him by the way - hope he remembers that if the Eagles are thumping them - lol)and use his Eagles drinking glass. Oh how I wish the Bears were playing better this year. Oh well, it should be fun anyway. Let the taunting begin.

I guess that's about it for this week. Take care everyone. I love you all. GO BEARS!

Love,
Diane

Knock it off

Another Halloween has come to pass. Wow. My dad even called to see what I created for costumes this year. There was a time Halloween was my favorite holiday. It was so primal and rough. So, so early scrapbooking. Now it's as commercial as Christmas so I'm not so anxious to, "get my pumpkin on". I still appreciate my Oingo Boingo theme song, "Dead Man's Party" and like to carve pumpkins and all of that but I don't get all het up for it. Now I just watch old Roseanne halloween episodes. I think that surprised my dad. But that's life, the evolution of it. It's like my Grandma Jane still putting out green onions for me as a snack because I loved them when I was five and she thought that was so cute. I was like, Grandma! I'm 18. I kiss people now. She never did get it. Or maybe she did. Heh heh heh. She always was a sly one, my grandma.

We pause this blog for a Special Report: Here's an interesting tidbit for you all. A recent study from a controversial unaccredited school shows that telling someone to, "just calm down" when they are extremely agitated or angry only works about nine percent of the time. "Knock it off" doesn't work at all and there is no proof that "hey, settle down" works and in fact, "take a deep breath" and "sit down and relax" work even less. And if you want to get punched in the forhead try telling someone irate to, "just mellow out". Hey, I read it in The Onion so it must be true. It was right next to the article by the woman claiming that if God had intended her to love and tolerate gay people he would have given her the warmth and compassion to do so and that he works in mysterious ways. I love The Onion.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

I myself never did fall victim to the over hyped H1N1, being impervious to such infections by a steady influx of Miller Lite. However, I have been battling a cold and cough for over two weeks now. In fact we had to cancel our long planned outing with Cathy and Andrea last Friday night. I was bummed, bummed I tellya. And Saturday we had no trick-or-treaters at all. What the? We are "a little rural" but still. So we watched a movie instead. "The Painted Veil", with Ed Norton and Naomi Watts. Two thumbs up. Good heavy drama. Segue alert - bam - On Tuesday I am going for my annual physical, so I got that going for me. Yeah, now I have five days to worry she's going to find that hidden festering globule that's been slowly growing deep inside my torso since the day after my last physical. That used to be kind of funny until I realized I am now in my mid 40s and that stuff really happens. Oh well. If she does find a grapefruit or some other kind of fruit, maybe an ugli fruit or pear, I'm sure I can sell it to Ringling Bros. or on eBay.

Sunday we went to Tammy's sister's house to surprise her for her 50th birthday. She sure was surprised since she's only 39. That was awkward. We'd always been told she was the oldest. Actually, it was a super nice surprise and about 20 or so people were there and we think she was genuinely surprised. We came early and decorated while they were at church and her daughter even came to town and surprised her from North Dakota. Yeah, it was a surprise all right. She didn't know she had a daughter. I told her to "just mellow out". The doctor said the goose egg on my forehead should fade in about a week. Go figure.

I better end this now. Bears won. Vikes won. Phillies on TV now, losing the series 3-2. Come on Utley. Have a great weekend everyone. Until next time.

Love,
Diane





Back to our reg

Shepherd's Pie Anyone?

Here we sit at Sodium Manor, with a light drizzle tapping against the windows, enjoying the warmth of our home on a quiet Sunday October morning. Jake's next to me here at the computer and Tammy's upstairs making a breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns. Sarah's at her friend Mariah's and all is well. It's going to be an all sports day today with the Vikings playing at noon, the Bears, ON TV baby, at 3, and then the Yanks and Angels tonight. Hence, the blog cometh early today. This is the season that I live for, Fall. Sweatshirt weather and lots of sports and the blessings of a roof over my head and a family to share it with. Let's not forget all the animals too... They are now for sale by the way. See Fido's List for details.

Speaking of animals, Jake got another fish to replace McNabb, the world's largest beta (seriously a big fish in a little pond. That sucker was HUGE) who passed away from old age a few months ago. Before you judge me as I swore off any new animals and have kept the hampster conversation at bay thus far, I washed my hands of the whole thing. It's his fish and his alone. His reward for surviving H1N1 I guess. There will be no tank cleaning or feeding from this chica. Well, I'll feed him if Jake is gone, but if the tank turns black from lack of attention it will not be my deal. (Uh, yeah, right. I'm so mean that way.) His new red beta has been named Yoshi after the Mario charcter who's butt I kicked over and over in Mario Kart, oh yeah! I have all gold's and one silver, but alas, I digress.

Yes, and speaking of animals part two, we are having shepherd's pie tonight and it will include Neka, the American shepherd as the main ingredient. Work that Iron Chef Mosimoto. I'm going to skin and cook her up along with Buck the golden, also known as "the doorknob". He was the one holding the door when God was passing out dog brains. Don't get me wrong he is a sweetie-pie (which will fit nicely in my shepherd's pie), but he is a dim bulb. He is also food obsessed. So much so that when I got home from work on Friday the first thing I noticed was Jake's fish food container lying open and empty in the hallway. Jake prefers to use the beta balls for his fish and as soon as I walked in Neka plopped herself down to guard the mess, licking the carpet to get the deep down balls of brown. Nice. So I gingerly advanced into Sarah's room like a big busted floozy in a horror film, and no surprise, could not find her yellow plastic container of fish flakes. I found one trace that it had been there at all. On the floor was a small chewed up piece of yellow plastic. Oh look, he left a crumb I thought. There was no container to be found. I even looked under the bed knowing it wouldn't be there but I did find a live cat napping, so that was a bonus. That is, until Jake found the evidence in our bedroom, a yellow chewed on tube lying amongst the now red stain of artifically colored fish food that they had licked into the beige carpet. Anyone want a 65 pound shepherd and 70 pound golden? We just had the carpet cleaned in August and now the bedroom looks like a murder scene from CSI. Billy Mays where are you? I need my OxyClean. Sans the coke please.

Last night we finally got our Serum's fix with Bruce and New Nancy and Dexter and "Bob". When you don't go to Serum's for awhile it is a treat, no trick. I love that place in all it's grimy goodness. Since Anoka IS the Halloween capital of the world (Google it if you don't believe me), Serum's is all decked out with spooky decorations and cobwebs, some of them are even fake unlike a normal day, and they put up all these old time photos that if you look at directly are like regular old brooch wearing ladies and collar stay sporting guys of olde, but from an angle are ghosts and skeletons and such. It's pretty cool. My wings were delicious and I brought home the leftovers to nosh on during all the sports today. Life is good. Tammy's still coughing though and has a sore throat, so her illness is not completely gone. That's a bummer, but she is still breathing so that's a good thing.

Guess that's about it. Oh, but if someone could explain to me cross multiplication of fractions in easy to interpret language so I can explain it to Jake, that would be helpful. Sufi? Heinsohn? Anyone? In the meantime, I have to go sharpen my utensils to begin my shepherd's pie. Neka? Buck? Come here please...

Love,
Diane

PS. Is Jake's costume from 2007 the coolest or what? Oh yeah.....

Cliches Cause My Nose to Wrinkle

Unfortunately for us, the "Takes One to Know One" virus did indeed turn into H1N1. Ugh, so cliche. For so long I have embraced the unique and in the end we get the massive fear mongered virus. Boo and hiss I say. How convenient though I had just received my new load of vacation from my work. It is added to my time bank every year at the end of September, my anniversary date for donning the golden handcuffs. Oh Andrea, the devil doesn't only wear Prada, sometimes the devil wears Wranglers and Red Wing boots, ah but that is a discussion for another day. In any case once Sarah was officially diagnosed (this conspiracy theorist IS still skeptical, just sayin...) last Monday morning I took vacation the rest of the week to prepare. Jake came home from school on Tuesday with a 102.5 and Wednesday Tammy went down with a 102 and a cough hoarse enough to make Brenda Vaccaro blush. Me? I had a bad cold this whole time but never did get the H1N1. Since I was the best of the worst I did my best to meet everybody's needs. It was tough and we were self quarantined. Luckily I always have my cataclysmic "just in case" beer supply on hand and Butterfingers. Everybody at one time or another was pretty much reduced to a puddle of goo and the weepys hit each at different times. Boy, did we watch a lot of movies too. That is not a complaint as I have always thought I should be paid to watch movies anyway and in a sense I was. Guess we joined Netflix at just the right time. What an unusual "vacation". Anne Frank and two whole families were in that small attic for two years and a month and we barely made it a week in a four bedroom house with a finished basement. I was about to call the SS myself, anonymously of course. Any bald spots you might notice are from pulling my hair out at various points but I have been told it will either grow back or you all can call me Bozo. The kids go back to school on Tuesday and all are back to healthy. What a weird weird week. One for the books. I was jonsin for some Serums wings by Wednesday and Dexter did offer to do a drive by and toss them in the driveway but I passed. We'll go this weekend.

Today was actually gorgeous outside and I just finished some grilling of T-Bones. We had T-Bones and steak fries tonight. My best grill of the season I think. Yes, I am tooting my own horn. It's taken me a couple full summers to master the art of charcoal grilling versus gas. Am OWN my Weber now. Carcinogens for everyone!!

Oops, I better go. BEARS ARE ON IN FIVE MINUTES!!!

Love,
Diane

Takes One to Know One

I moved to Minnesota in September of 2000. Since I have been up here we have had our share of cold snaps and spells, of below zeros and snow drifts aplenty. But never, in my 9 years of being embedded, have I seen this much snow accumulating this early in October. What a crazy year. The first week of July we had long johns on at softball games. I thought for sure summer would just come later but it appears I blinked and missed it. Last year at this time I was lying in bed bargaining with God regarding my pneumonia (God? Seriously. This is how I’m going down? Dude, come on. This? Bogus!) and as a result simply stopped smoking after 28 years (I wasn’t a heavy smoker so it wasn’t that big of a deal). This year I have the sniffles right now. No fever, no aches, just the sniffles and sneezes. Let’s keep it that way. Sarah went on a church youth retreat “up north” where two kids had to be picked up early due to illness and she arrived back at Sodium Manor last evening very ill. Symptoms indicate it could be H1N1 according to the doctor Tammy spoke with this morning. I’m going more for the TOKO strain of it, known as the “Takes One to Know One”, illness myself. So we’re keeping her home from school and will power wash Jake when he walks in the door tonight. I call it the Silkwood. Tammy’s bleaching all the doorknobs and handles and things. No fun that’s for sure. Sarah is a pet cuddler too so I better Silkwood the dogs and cats. Might as well do the fish while I’m at it, sorry Charlie. We don't want fish with good taste. We want fish that tastes good.

The bright side to all of this, yes, there is a bright side, is that it is chilly, wet, and cold outside and that means…MINNESOTA HOT DISH! WOO. You can say casserole all you want but it is hot dish up here and since I’m embedded like Donny Brasco, I say it now too. Tammy made this hamburger rice hot dish thing-a-ma-jig yesterday in the crock pot that is to die for. She’s doing a chicken thingee today since she is home with the germ monkey. And may I just mention how much I love that Tammy bakes? She is such a good baker, it’s like she went to military school at Pillsbury, was taught by General Mills, and roomed with her good friend Betty Crocker. I just finished my second oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. A couple weeks ago it was homemade banana bread. She says the secret to that one is using sour milk. I say, too much information, just slice it up please. If I want to get grossed out we can talk Lutefisk and Haggis, just don’t rain on my banana bread woman! Me? Oh I can cook too. I make a mighty mean meatloaf and I am a breakfast cooking Goddess, and as most of you know and have tasted, I AM the Grill Master (I’m waiting for Bobby Flay to throw me down, but for baking its Tammy Graham, no question)

The highlight of the weekend was that we finally joined Net Flix. Now Cathy has nothing to pester me about. Bwahahaha. Actually now I can sit and watch Joan Crawford in “Straight jacket” instantly. How cool is that? Jake’s already found the TV show place so has been watching Drake and Josh like a crazy man.

My Twins lost in three straight, sigh. Yanks took 'em down. Um, yeah, when you leave ducks on base every single inning to the total of 17 you aren't going to win. 17 men left Friday night. No team has left men on base in every single inning since 1912 and no, that's not a typo. 1912. Boo. Oh well, they tried. Bears were off this week. Vikes won. Big whoop. Their "real" schedule is about to start. You know the one where they actually play decent teams, not the soft underbelly of the NFL. (eyeroll - hee hee)

As for me this week, I'm going to drink plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest and stay away from Sarah's cooties. Poor kid. No school tomorrow either for her. Guess that's about it from here. Take care.

Love,
Diane

Crazy as a Soup Sandwich

Please take note of the wonderful sunset from the front window of Sodium Manor Sunday night. Sarah took this photograph with her phone. Yes, with her phone. Technology still never ceases to amaze me. When I was a kid the coolest thing ever was snapping a photo with a Polaroid, ripping it out of the side of the camera, wafting your arm pit with it while counting off the 30 seconds before peeling the back off. If you peeled too soon it was ruined. If you peeled too late it was ruined. Oh what a game it was. Now, you snap and download and viola. Yes, that is pretty cool too, but with no risk it lessens the drama. How many photos do I have with stripes down the middle and blurry faces resembling Sasquatch all because I just couldn’t wait the full 30 seconds? Kind of like now, when I testily drive five miles out of my way and take 15 extra minutes rather than sit in traffic for 8 watching the driver next to me pick his nose. Oh I’m a smart one I am. They’ll never call me green and I’m glad, so there. What’s so good about green anyway? Green with envy, green-eyed monsters, green in the gills, greenhorn. There is no good green. (Green M&Ms are just slutty) Ask Kermit. He knows it ain’t easy being green. He sings that damn song for goodness sakes and we all shake our heads and give a knowing aww. So that’s what I think about green. Personal responsibility for my space and planet? Absolutely. Color of the day, flavor of the month? Never. Bush senior once drilled it into me through the media that Mohmar Khadaffi was as crazy as a soup sandwich yet he’s still running Libya decades later? What the?? And Elian Gonzalez seems just fine in Cuba last I heard. Next week it will be a new color. Well, unless we all die from H1N1. All we must ask ourselves is: What would Woodsy do? Hoot Hoot.


Speaking of hoots, we had one Friday night at Mama G’s with Deana, Donna and Maureen. You know, just when you think you know your friends they’ll up and surprise you. I had no idea Deana is obsessed with the game show, The Price is Right. No, there are no typos in that statement. THE PRICE IS RIGHT! She tapes it daily. Seriously. She even tried out for the show when they held auditions at Mall Of America last year. I had no idea. What’s even more surprising is she didn’t make the cut. If you met Deana you would be shocked she didn’t make the cut. SHOCKED I say. If anyone is PIR material, she is. All that could have been missing in my opinion were the 48DDs bouncing around. Isn’t that what you always see when you tune in? Some extra large woman bustling down the aisle when Johnny Olson shouts for her to COME ON DOWN! Ba-da-boom ba-da-boom. I believe buxom is the word. Seems like it anyway. So anyway, she didn’t make it but that woman can cite you the cost of a jar of Gold Bond Medicated Cream and a Zippo twin pack without even blinking. So of course we were all doing the Price is Right Yodel music remembering that Swiss Alps mountain climber guy. Deana says now it’s all about the Plink-O. Whatever. Life just never ceases to amaze me. Ever. Deana, my wish for you is to make the next try out. We’ll come and support you and I’ll stuff your bra with melons if that’s what it takes. GO GIRL. What a night we had. Then there was the skinny meth-head fuzzy-faced pony tail guy trying to lure Maureen outside as he was weaving past us on his way outside to smoke, and wanted her to come sit on his lap and keep him warm. Yeah, now that’s a winning pick up line. The creep factor on that guy was a 10 (insert Price Is Right yodel music here).



The rest of the weekend was spent watching the Twins and Bears. Twins tied it all up!!!! One game playoff TODAY at 4pm CST against Detroit to determine the AL Central champs. How cool is that? They’ve won 16 out of their last 20. I think they will do it too. GO TWINS. And of course my Bears won. YES!!!!! Tonight is Vikings versus Packers. VIKES WON! What a great sports time it is in the Twin Cities.


Guess that’s it for this week. Until next time….. GO BEARS

HEY! I love that barrette...

There I was, a Sunday afternoon in, "Up Dere" Minnesota, watching Jake's 12U baseball double header. It started out warm and sunny, and within minutes turned into a grey, cold, and uber blustery day. No unoccupied lawn chair was safe from flight and yet the game played on. Now, I'm not sure because there was a lot of sand and leaves flying around, but at one point the ump called a time out and I think I caught a brief glimpse of a pigtailed young girl, in a blue and white checkered jumper, appearing on home plate, frantically clicking her ruby red slippers and yelling something to the sky about this not being Kansas either. When I looked closer though she was gone, replaced by a chubby kid in catcher's gear named Kyler chomping gum. Weird.

Speaking of weird, normally I am the weirdo magnet in this bunch. I think it's because, much to my chagrin, I actually make eye contact with fellow human beings. I know. It's old fashioned etiquette in an age of anonymity and self-importance but old habits die hard. Anyway, during this marathon afternoon of ball, at some point I had to go make water. Tammy said she would go with me, so we tied the chairs down with shoelaces and headed to the concession stand bathrooms. Turns out they had one for women with only one stall. Um, I'm not sure but I'm guessing Frank Lloyd Wright was not involved in this architectural marvel. So in line we stood. Lo and behold a woman approaches, dressed all in brown, looking Sunday sporty in her headband and matching slacks, and she instantly gloms on to Tammy, who's in line behind me by the way, stating loudly, "Leave it to some dumbass man to design a ball park with only one stall for women!" Being the last two in line ahead of her we nodded politely and I turned away. Tammy made the eye contact. HUGE SNAFU. The woman repeats it again just as loudly and I detect an inflection I hadn't noticed before. Hmm....something's off. Then she goes on to talk about her nephew playing and boy isn't she sure glad to be out on a day like this. NOT! It was soon evident she had some challenges. I nodded and turned away, wanting to be polite but not comfortable with her sailor's language near all the children. Save that for the crowd at the bar where Brandy's serving whiskey and wine, or at night when the bars close down and Brandy walks through a silent town, did you know she loves a man who's not around? Wait I digress. At this point I'm next in line and Tammy's gently tease poking me in the back while this woman is droning on and then I hear loudly, "Hey. I really like your barrette." I know Tammy's wearing one across the back of her hair, layering her curls. I stifled a giggle. Then I hear it again preceded with a louder, "Hey! I SAID I like your barrette!" I glanced just in time to see Tammy half turn and mutter, "Thank you," Just then the woman starts petting her head and barrette. Seriously, Tammy got petted. Right about then the door opened and I walked into the restroom and as I turned to close the door, Tammy pushes right through, slams the door and says, "You're not leaving me out there with her!" Of course I was mortified yelling, "Excuse me! I don't even know you ma'am. LADY! What are you DOING in here?" It was pretty funny and Tammy was saved.

So that was Sunday so we didn't get to see the Favre game winner with :02 left on the clock, or the Twins loss to Kansas City, OR the Bears, but they're rarely on here anyway. But we did get to share a stall that actually still had toilet paper, and watch dirt devils form at shortstop and second base. Jake's team won the first and lost the second.

Saturday was Pearl's 71st birthday (Tammy's mom) so we went to the party at Tammy's sister's house in Fridley. She always makes a feast. I'm still full. Some of the kids, including Pearl, went and shagged balls at the baseball field behind the house but my back is all kinked up so I refrained. I always knew I was kinky but I didn't know it would hurt so much. Such is life and ibuprofin is underrated. I may need to visit the chiropractor but I never have liked going to the doctor.

Friday night we dropped the kids off at the St. Francis homecoming game and went up to Billy's pub to watch the Twins and wait for the call for the pick up. Then Tammy gets a text from Sarah. "STREAKER!" We were cracking up and just as Tammy was texting back, don't look, Sarah texted, "OMG! I just saw grossness!" We laughed so hard. St. Francis lost the homecoming game again for the 28th year in a row and the streaker was subdued by the St. Francis police officer, so all was well.

And that, ladies and germs, was my weekend in a nutshell. Take care. Until next time. Love you!

If the shoe fits are you an alien?

There I was, driving to work as I have done at least 6,600 times to date. Wow. That's a lot of gas. Anyway, as I passed the Holiday Station store at Xkimo and 169, bragging about its stupid $2.33 per gallon gas prices, somehow mocking me and knowing I had just paid $2.39 at Bill's Superette down the street (who exactly is "Bill" anyway?), I happened to notice a dark lump of something lying right in the middle of the road. Literally right in the middle, balanced on the center line. Assuming it was the usual skunk or squirrel road kill so popular around here I barely slowed from my 60 mph personal min. speed or glanced up from phone texting my novel (texting a novel while driving is often referred to as drivel) when something caught my eye. It was a shoe. No, it was a galosh. Singular for galoshes, this galosh was missing it's right foot. Not that Christy Brown would ever notice. Apparently his left foot was enough, the Irish braggart.

Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?

I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.

The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.

I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....

Tommy Guns, Gangster Molls and More...

Machine Gun Kelly had a wife. E-I-E-I-O
And with his wife there came a gun. E-I-E-I-O
With a rat-a-tat here
and a rat-a-tat there
Here a tat, there a tat, everywhere a tat-a-tat
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife E-I-E-I-O



Huh? Ok, so the Tam and I went on the St. Paul gangster bus tour with Cathy and Andrea on Saturday afternoon. First of all, yes I am coming to grips with the fact that a bus tour would actually light me up. I age before my own eyes. They often call them cotton tours because when the miked up leader gazes down the seat filled rows, all they see are fields of white cotton tops. Yesterday was no exception. I think we were the youngest foursome on the two hour adventure.

You probably didn't know this but during prohibition, St. Paul was THE hot spot for gangsters due to the O'Connor layover law. This law, started by the St. Paul police chief, sumptin sumptin O'Connor, stated if you were a wanted criminal you could come to St. Paul any time with no hassels, but there were three rules that had to be followed. One, you could not commit any crimes while you were there (speakeasy partying not included). B. You had to sign in and out with the police so they would know who's where. And three, you had to make a donation to the policeman's retirement fund. Anyone following those rules could hang out in St. Paul with no fear of arrest. And hang out they did. It was a pretty cool tour and our leader, her photo is included, did a fabulous job. Her real name is Dawn Brody and she was leading as Catherine "Kitty" Kelly, Machine Gun Kelly's wife. Turns out she purchased her first Tommy gun from the Sears and Robuck mail order catalog. Once prohibition ended they all went into bank robbing and kidnapping and those tommy guns worked great. Anyway, we had a great time, saw parts of St. Paul's history and had a great fun time.

BEARS WIN! BEARS WIN! OMG. We looked good today. I had the game taped because Jake had fall ball at 10 and 2 today (who thinks up these schedules, I ask?) I'm beginning to think taping is not so bad after all. Fast Forwards rock. I'm just in time for the Emmy's, broadcasting in the background as I blog. Blog. It really is an onomatopoeia isn't it? Blog. Written vomit. But who will hold my fingers?

Here is yet one more example of a Minnesota moment. So the Twins are still in the AL Central hunt, so the games are getting more intense and anxious to watch, etc. Well, Friday night we packed a cooler and headed over to Bruce and New Nancy's to hang out. [Insert bad segue here] If you couldn't tell this was the weekend the kids went to their dad's until today. [Back to topic at hand] We didn't know what the evening would look like, we just knew we were going to get together. So we get over there and they have chairs set up on the deck. Oh and let me tell you this is a nice deck. It's an upper level deck that overlooks the ten heavily wooded acres they dwell on. If you are quiet you can hear the brook babbling in the background. Kind of like if you sat near my table in a bar. Babbling away... So Bruce had already hooked up a nice sized TV out on the deck, complete with cable hook up so we could all watch the game while hanging out. It was great. It got dark out and the weather was perfect light jacket weather, not too windy, not stagnant or mosquito infested. What a blast. I mean, we only have so many weekends left before the snow flies and up here it can get bad, so when it is nice out you want to be outside no matter what. Even some of the restaurants and bars up here will do whatever it takes to claim themselves as having outdoor seating. They'll knock out a wall with a sledge hammer, throw a card table out there and viola, outdoor seating. Many come complete with a view of the non-moving rusty semi trailer, usually parked next door to a place like Mike's Fish, or the local retention plant. You get the picture.

I guess that's about it for this week. We've been hanging out and having fun learning Facebook. I'm back in algebra, pretty much daily now. Sarah's in 8th grade "enriched" algebra so that means lots of homework. Enriched. So what, I found the yellow cake Uranium or something? Ugh. Or should I say I mean Ugh = Y + NYAH / BOO. It's actually been kind of fun. Sarah starts Confirmation classes on Wednesday so there's a whole new flashback of trauma for me to look forward to.

Take care everyone! I love you all!
-DIane

It's Bears versus Packers. WELCOME NFL 2009

I'm sitting here on my blog-a-lizer counting the ticks until kick off 2009. Bears Vs. Packers, the Sunday night game. What a way to begin the season. Wait. What's a blog-a-lizer you ask? A blog-a-lizer is a contraption that takes all of the energy required for blog creation and turns it into a total calorie and fat burning barc-o-lounger, complete with a television remote control built into the arm. It's very Star Trek. Whattya mean you want to see it to believe it? Call QVC for goodness sakes. You think I make this stuff up? I'm asking you sugar, would I lie to you?

In the meantime you will notice the photo I have added this week. It should appear to your right facing the page. That is my 16 year-old niece Taylor (no relation to Taylor Swift or Jonathon Taylor-Thomas. Oh, and where is he Mr. Lance Kerwin?) sitting in her 1976 re-furbished Chevy Camaro. It is cherry red. Although all I can see when I look at it is sour apple green but maybe that's the jealousy raging. Is that the coolest teen car or what? Seriously. That car has been in the Bruce-Christy life since Christy got it in 1976 when she turned old enough to drive. Justin's had it since. Kirby had the opportunity for it and now Taylor. They just gave it a new paint job and tires and wheels. How sweet is that? A '76 Camaro. Sweet. Reminds me of Rose Hartman and softball in my youth but hey, that's just me. Tay lives in Oklahoma, is a junior, and has no trouble filling that passenger seat.

Poor Jake. What a weekend he had this weekend. First of all on Thursday I scored my company's tickets to the Twins for Friday night. Second of all he was supposed to get his musical instrument in band class on Friday. Thirdly, his fall baseball season started this morning with a double header against Andover. Or Bendover as my friend Ken likes to say. So what happens? The poor guy wakes up with a fever Friday morning. A fever. Lord knows what that might do with all the H1N1 fear mongoring going on. So no school, no Twins, and he tried to go to his games today as his fever is gone, but he felt like crap. After warm ups he just didn't feel good. It is hot and super humid here today. In July we are in blankets seeing our voices and now it's like 90 in Mid-September. The seasons are changing but the calendar is not, that's what I say. Anyway, none of it happend for him. We gave the Twins tickets to Tammy's nephew which was cool because he really likes the Twins and the seats I scored were prime. I'm sure he had fun, though we watched and the Twins got thumped pretty badly by the A's. How do you even get beat by a team that is only a letter? What is this, Sesame Street? Tonight we thump you. Brought to you by the letter A.

Sarah spent the weekend with her friend Mariah (they have horses of course) and I have been reminding them all week that all homework MUST be done prior to kickoff Sunday night. Think it will happen? Last text I got she has 28 math problems and her dad is dropping her here at 5. I hope once we get those problems going she'll pick it up as she's in "enriched" algebra this year. Enriched. When I was in school it was called advanced or honors math. Enriched. What is this a milk supplement? Milk it does a body good. Maybe I'll just have her sit in the blog-a-lizer for a bit. Enriched. I used all my phone-a-friends last week on math help for her. You think I remember this stuff? Yikes. It is kind of fun though. You know I love learning. I'm better now then when I was trying to learn it the first time, thank goodness.

Anyway, not much else to repot. Hanging out. GO BEARS. Take care all. Until next week. I love you all.

Love,
Diane