Sad Snow Situation

Shadows of me and dogs 

(Dad, you were asking how much snow we've got.)

The birds are already displaying courtship behaviour, which is when they flit around showing off to each other and don't notice there's a window in their way.

Gorgeous days for walking, though.

The RM has made these snow ridges in the field to help keep the roads from blowing in. Not that there's been any danger of that so far this winter.

It's nearly one o'clock. Perhaps I should get dressed and think about what I'm going to do for the rest of the day. Have polished off several cups of black coffee and eaten toast with peanut butter. Emil slept in, too, and had a bowl or two of puffed wheat cereal for brunch. An hour ago Scott headed up north with his parents to visit his sister near Flin Flon so it's just me and my boy, who says he's happy to get me all to himself for a change. As if the two of us aren't usually here alone while Scott's off working somewhere, even on the weekends.

I was up late last night, watching TV. There was a one-hour program called A History of Scotland, and then I watched Marketplace, and then a Hercules Poirot mystery.

There's no Scottish blood in my ancestry that I'm aware of, but I still find myself drawn to the history of Scotland, as I am to that of England and Ireland. Perhaps there is Scots somewhere in the genes from way far back; who knows, right? You never really do. The gene pool we know of on both sides of my family contains English, Irish, Norwegian and Swedish. But you can never know for certain who else may have contributed way back in the generations and where they came from. And then there's reincarnation and unconscious memories from other lifetimes. Anything's possible.

Last night's Marketplace was about misleading labelling of food in the grocery stores here in Canada. None of it surprised me much; I already know that if I want to eat decently, I have to start from scratch in my own kitchen. For a long time I've walked down the aisles of the store in town and -- well -- not bothered. Cookies? I make my own or do without. Cereal? Make my own or buy only puffed wheat; most everything else, except maybe Muffets, is chockful of sugar and godknowswhatelse. Bread? I make my own. Juice? I buy fresh fruit instead, except for orange juice, because oranges are such a pain in the ass to eat. Meat? Scott raises his own beef and poultry and buys pork directly from a farmer. Flavoured yogurt? No more; it's full of sugar. Frozen french fries or pizza? Nope, make my own. Not that I "never" buy any of the above, but now it's only when weakness gets the best of me.

All of which requires more time in the kitchen, and I don't want to spend half my day feeding us, but there's no doubt that simple, plain homemade food is the best way to go. Now I only wish I had someone to cook for me, because I'm not all that interested in food, to be honest. I can pretty much live on toast, granola, and the odd egg.

As for the Poirot mystery, I knew who the murderers were right from the beginning, but still enjoyed watching him figure it out.

Shit Saskatchewanians Say

Only a few differences stand out ...  at my house we like Pilsner beer but don't buy it any longer because the brewery moved to Alberta. We now drink Great Western because it's the only beer made in Saskatchewan. We like to support local business as we're able.

And I don't give a shit about hockey or football.

The rest, though, is right on the money.

Food

Cooling

Ten minutes till my working day begins, and the oatmeal mixture above (oatmeal, vegetable water saved and frozen for breadmaking, salt, molasses and oil), is still too hot to mix with flour and yeast. Usually I cook the oatmeal the night before, then add warm water in the morning so the oatmeal's the  perfect temperature to add to the dry ingredients (yeast is like Goldilocks; fussy). I forget why I did things differently this time. It happens.

Last night I riffed on the recipe below for supper. I thought it was pretty tasty, but Scott took one look (and maybe a sample, not sure) and reheated some leftovers for himself.

Hoo's Hot Black Beans with Linguini

Sauté two cloves of garlic and one small finely
chopped onion in olive oil for five minutes.

Put on water to make one normal sized package of whole
wheat linguini. Start the linguini.

Add one can of black beans to the onion and garlic.
Salt and pepper to taste. Put the liquid from the
beans in the pan too.

Allow beans to cook down for 5-10 minutes (however
long it takes the linguini to cook).

Drain the linguini, toss in the beans with the pasta.
Serve with Frank's Hot Sauce.

January Down on the Farm

Still problems with sewage system ...  

the walk

late afternoon from the tractor shed (where the cats live)

pretty, isn't it. and so peaceful.

can't go wrong with flowers. they make me happy.




On this day one year ago, I had pulled out my quilt in hopes of getting it finished. I have not succeeded. It's been folded and sat on a sewing basket since spring.

Come along on a trip down Memory Lane?


Jan 2010

Guess I disappeared from the planet in January 2009.

Jan 2008

Jan 2007

Jan 2006

Jan 2005

Jan 2004

Jan 2003

Babette

Babette

Lovely Lilac Tree in Winter

The most sweet-scented lilac bush, by the back step.

Homegrown Gal

Listen to her music here.

Belle Plaine's first CD was released yesterday.

Melanie Hankewich grew up near Fosston (about a half-hour north of here) and performed for a house concert in Wadena last year. Shadow House Concerts had secured the Good Luck Diner for a venue, and a few music lovers managed to squeeze in around Melanie's local family and friends who'd driven down for the evening's entertainment. Her bass player and a piano man accompanied her, and they too have connections in the area, so the place was packed.

We dined on delicacies smorgasbord-style, then tapped our toes while Melanie's sweet voice out-sugared the dessert.

http://www.belleplainemusic.com/

Music-loving Bird

If you're not a bluegrass fan (what's the matter with you?), stick it out anyway till around the three-minute mark for proof of my theory that birds appreciate our music as much as we love theirs.

Thanks to Marilyn at Nag on the Lake for bringing this video to my attention.

College Boy

Email from Gord, Everett's dad:
College Boy; see attached.

Return email:
Awwwww... he's so cute....
first haircut since August?
K.

Email from Gord:
Well about a week ago he cut his own hair . Looked like a total doufus. I should've taken a picture . You would have died laughing. So when I suggested to take him for a cut today there was no hesitation. Shoes and coat on in record time.

Email from Everett:
You asked about my classes a while ago, so here is me finally giving you a list of what I'm taking this semester.

Video Production Techniques
Cinematography
Visual Design Development
Audio Production Technology
Organizational Behaviour
Production Planning Process

Six classes. That is three less than I started off with in the first semester. It's going fine for the moment. Sorry I was late telling you about it, but I have work to do in between leisurely activities. Er, I mean, I have fun things to do in between doing work. Yeah, that's it.

-Everett-

Canine Courtship

Loverboy wears his courtin' coat

Jenna Doodle, 10 years old, not spayed, has never had pups or been pregnant, and appears to be in heat again. Let us hope she continues to remain infertile and that, in the event of a miracle, no male dogs wander over; pups, we don't need.

Ducky Doodle, who has been neutered, is serious about making whoopee with her anyway. He is keeping a close eye on her and currying her favour. Nothing can come of it, thank dog.

The photo above was taken several days ago, when the mercury was very low, maybe 30 below. Ducky was cold but didn't want to go inside.

Then yesterday I donned my ski pants, balaclava and layers of warm clothing, as I'd been doing for the past week, and set out down the road. Before I'd gone 10 minutes it was necessary to whip off the balaclava, unzip the jacket and remove my mitts. It's like spring. There's been rain.

Giving Thanks

An uplifting music video by Tamara Podemski, the younger sister of Canadian actor Jennifer Podemski. Jennifer appears in Sarah Polley's film Take This Waltz and has been in all kinds of stuff. Remember her in Moccasin Flats and The Rez?

Tamara is in a location where there is so much poverty and struggle, yet she appreciates the tree and the friendly faces and the plain old joy of walking down the street feeling great.

103-yr-old Lady and Bold Fox

103 candles would've set off the smoke alarm

After a nice visit and potluck supper at Scott's grandmother's with his immediate family, we swung back to Wadena to take Emil to the group home for his week's work. While passing the Co-op service station on the busiest corner in town, Scott spotted a red fox between the gas pumps and the front doors; it was stood looking through the glass at the people inside. Because of the darkness and distance I was unable to get a decent photo, but we did drive closer and watch it eat something it found in the parking lot next to the building before our approach finally scared it off.

It's not that unusual to see wild animals in town; we hear reports of deer and coyotes, and Emil and I were once close up to a moose (man they've got long legs!). But this little guy's moxie was a bit unnerving, mostly because rabid animals are brave this way, thus possibly dangerous.

Whipped Shortbread

Before

Yesterday I made a batch of whole wheat cake doughnuts. Not many left, as you can see. I had two for breakfast, with my coffee. They're 75% healthy, if you don't count the oil they were fried in. Right? Oh, all right, but once in a blue moon ... anything's allowed.

Scott is going to see his friend Floyd tomorrow. Floyd lives in a nursing home in Yorkton; they've been buddies since their high school days. Last time I took whipped shortbread to Floyd, he said they were "the best thing I've tasted in my life." That was a few years ago, when he still lived in Wadena.

I make them small, a scant teaspoonful of dough, so you can pop them in your mouth and there won't be another crumbly half to make a mess. Also, Floyd has only one hand to use; not that it makes any difference I suppose. However, here's where I'm looking for ideas from all you experienced cooks out there. I'd like these cookies to look nice as well as melt in your mouth. Do you think a pastry cone would work? Would the dough be soft enough to go through it?

After

Books are Dangerous

Another link from Everett, who says, "Ian's mom is a pretty great character. Don't you agree?"

Yes, I do agree. Mwa ha ha ha ha! POOF!

I have been watching these two characters, Anthony and Ian, fairly regularly since Everett discovered their little vignettes. It is one of the many sacrifices a mother must make to keep the lines of communication open with her teenagers. Sigh.

Is anyone else who knows my niece Danielle reminded of her when they see Anthony? I think it's his haircut; she has the same one.

Phone Calls

Waves, frozen

We've got a friend we call Rick, and my sister Karen is married to a gentleman we call Dick. Both men's given names are actually Richard, and this has had Emil puzzled. It is plausible to him that Rick is derived from Richard, but Dick? That just didn't make sense, and I couldn't explain it to his satisfaction.

Emil phones me every night now for a chat.
"Did anyone come over today?"
No.
"Have you had any company this week?"
No.
"Rick and Faye came over to your place on Saturday."
That's right. They came for supper.
"Did you have a nice time when they came over?"
Yes, very.
"Rick's real name is Richard."
That's right.
"Dick is also a short form of Richard."
Mm hm; that's true.
Then he reels off the following, so fast the words run together:
"R-I-C-K spells Rick and that's a short form of Richard and you can just take the R away and put the D there and you have Dick, so that works! That's what Auntie Karen told me and she's right!"
He repeats this speedy spiel a couple times in spite of my acknowledgement and agreement, till finally I get exasperated and say I heard you the first three times!
He's coming out this weekend; Scott will pick him up when his working day near town is done. Emil is looking forward to the new Lorax movie that is being made. He still loves Dr Seuss.

Scott just phoned.
"Have you ever heard of blood oranges?"
I pause; the words "blood diamond" flash through my mind, but no. Why?
"I picked up oranges at the store and just opened one up; it's red inside."
We know nothing more but he says it tastes fine.
"Did Jenna go outside again?" he asks.
Jenna is our border collie/shepherd cross; she is 10 years old, and although she has long thick fur and an insulated doghouse with a flap of carpet over the door, we've invited her into the porch the last few nights because it's been so cold.
"The first thing she did when I let her out this morning was roll in the snow," he says.
For the past three days before rising (Scott gets up long before me and lets her out) she's sat on the south side of the house, howling.

This Balaclava Was Made for Walkin'

My response to Sheena's balaclava photo on her blog

I'm not the only one out there in this weather; check out the Treaty Walks blog, where a Ft Qu'Appelle teacher is hoofin' it to school every morning: click here. Have a look at some of her "popular posts." Here's a good one. And here.

One of the hardest things about my walks was getting out there regularly in the first place; I'd always enjoyed walks, but only when I felt like it, and the walks were leisurely, not brisk, and there was no minimum time requirement. Now that I've got myself relatively disciplined — I'm going, and that's that for that — the hurdle du jour is that I sometimes get a bit bored while walking. My route varies between the same two every second day because I can turn either north or south at the end of the driveway; but one thing I don't like is going a mile, then re-tracing my steps. Wish I could go in a circle. But I'll have to walk through fields (hard on the ankles) or walk six miles, if I do. Not ready for that yet.

Thinkin' maybe an Mp3 player or iPod might be a nice change once in a while from my own thoughts.

When I get back into the house, there are a few moments of claustrophobia when I can't get all this extra clothing off fast enough.

What If?

Yesterday the sky was blue at the beginning of my walk, and darkening by the time I got back to our yard.

Everyone's talking about the cold snap; finally we've got "real" winter, with 35-below on the thermometer and the weatherfolks on the radio saying "Feels like 45 below, with the wind chill. Exposed skin will freeze in five minutes."

I haven't found it so terrible as they're saying, though it's crisp all right. I walked my usual two miles yesterday, and cut it down to slightly more than a mile today because it was windier. Yesterday I walked backwards quite a ways to reduce the biting wind in my face. Balaclava or no, the air can still sting.

Scott and I went to a lunch seminar this week to get information about retirement investing. The presentation projected possible income over the long term; and of course it would be easy to make investment decisions if you knew when you were going to die. I thought, "How would I handle my money if I knew exactly how long I had to live? What if I could know that I had, say, only five years left? What would I do differently?"

It would be wise to ponder that question seriously and not let it go till I've answered it. More likely I'll forget about it in a day or two. What about you? Do you take stock of your life in a serious way or do such thoughts flit through your head for a short time and simply disappear?

Vintage Photo at Pavilion Beach

From left to right: Julius Bohl, Elmer Braaten, Marion Otterdahl, Evelyn Bohl, Alvin Stenbeck, Laura Stenbeck, Edna Johnson, John Johnson. 

What Joanne remembers and has told her daughter Tammy:

“This picture would have been taken in probably 1958 or thereabouts. It was taken at a lake, so probably was at the Pavilion Beach. Aunt Laura and Edna Johnson had bathing suits on. My mom had her purse on her arm as always (like Sophia from the Golden Girls!). There would have been a wiener roast for supper."

 Grandpa Otterdahl took the picture: Dad says that was probably the day there is footage on my dad's home movies of Grandpa Bohl in my dad's boat. Grandpa Bohl did not like water and he seems pretty stiff on the video!”

My grandparents are Edna and John, on the far right. I'm said to be Edna's spittin' image, and in this picture I can almost see it, except for her darker hair. - K., a.k.a. Stubblejumpin' Gal

Thanks  for  posting  the  picture  on  your  blog ..... You  really  are  a  lot  like  Edna...even  moreso  in  your  "ways " !!! Very  special  ladies .

     Joanne

Joanne,

I don't have many memories of her since I was only 6 when she died, but of the few, there is one of her doing her hair while seated in front of one of those fancy little dressers with the mirrors that all the ladies had. Grandma's bedroom was in the middle of their house, which I still remember of course in a lot of detail, as I spent so many winter afternoons there, playing cards with Grandpa and drinking hot chocolate.

Looking forward to the next one,

Kathy

Men are from Sears: Women are from Bloomingdale's

Paintings by Louise M., which I somehow did not save in a decent size.  

Fantastic program today on Under the Influence; if you didn't catch this, I hope you get a chance to listen to it:

The item is called "Men are from Sears: Women are from Bloomingdale's."
Click below to go to the page; you can subscribe to the podcast free.

http://www.cbc.ca/undertheinfluence/season-1/2012/01/14/men-are-from-sears-women-are-from-bloomingdales/

Their entry into the subject is a description of the way shopping styles differ between men and women, but the show goes far beyond that into the ways men and women perceive and organize the world they live in. "When you take evolution into consideration, when you account for biology, and when you analyze those differences, it really does demystify the behaviour." It goes deeper than simply stereotyping gender behaviour; it digs into the territory of understanding, respecting and valuing it.

I cranked the radio up loud so it could easily be heard in every room of the house as I dusted, moved furniture, swept and tidied.

Cat on a Cold Shake Roof

Yippee ... snow! NOW it looks like winter out there.