Coming Attractions

My list of ideas for upcoming blog entries looks like this:

1. Pictures of the new city library.

2. A walk through our yard to show you our collection of birdhouses.

3. Photos of our home interior, decorated by my husband, a professional interior decorator.

4. A plug for the book I'm reading, A Man Called Outlaw by K.M. Weiland.

5. The outcome of the biathlon to be held this Saturday.

I don't know when and in what order, but I'll get to these sometime soon. This evening, I'm heading for my recliner to relax and read.

'Til next time,

Shaddy

[The flowers in the photo are my Mother's Day present; they're beautiful, aren't they?]

The Greatest Gift of All

When I was a little girl, my mother hung this picture on the wall in my bedroom, right over my bed. The inscription under the picture is "What Happened to Your Hand?" I was reminded of Jesus' love for me every day when I woke up and every night when I turned off the light.

My mother gave me more than I can possibly remember and more than I'll ever know. Of all that she did for me and all that she gave me, this is the greatest gift of all.

"I know that you and Dad are in that garden with Jesus. I send you my wishes that your Mother's Day is as blessed as you are to me. All five of us, Tom, Bob, Carl, John and I, miss you and Dad, but are at peace because we know exactly where you are."

What, Me Worry?

Things I Never Had to Worry About As A Kid:

1. If I'd go to bed hungry.

Mom fed us good, really good, every day without fail.

2. If she'd be there when I came home from play or school.

Mom was always there when we left the house and when we returned home.

3. If I'd have something nice to wear.

Mom sewed beautiful clothes for me while she wore simple dresses.

4. If I'd have something clean to wear each day.

My grandmother worried that Mom would wear our clothes out from washing them so often.

5. If we'd have lunch money for school.

Mom would put money for each of us five kids on the desk for school lunches every week.

6. If we'd get to church and Sunday School every week.

Every Sunday, Mom, Dad, Tom, Bob, Me, Carl and John, dressed in our best, would go to church and fill up a pew.

7. If we'd get together with our aunts, uncles, cousins and other relatives.

On holidays and many other occasions we gathered and had the best of times.

8. If my birthday would be remembered.

Mom made a birthday cake, threw a party and gave me presents every year.

9. If my shoes fit and looked nice.

I had play shoes, school shoes and Sunday shoes that were always clean and polished.

10. If I'd get a toothache.

Every six months, Mom would take all of us to the dentist, whether we liked it or not.

11. If there was anything for dessert.

Mom always made cookies, pies, cakes or some other delicious dessert for a treat after supper.

12. If I had a new dress when I needed one for a special occasion.

Mom and I would pick out a dress pattern and material. Like magic, poof, the dress would appear.

13. If the house would be clean and tidy.

Mom's greatest enemy was dirt so if it showed up, she scrubbed it away immediately.

14. If she cared about all of us kids, Dad, and all the other people in her life.

Mom gave all she had to give and then gave some more.

Mom's Rosemaling

With Mother's Day coming up on Sunday, my thoughts turn once again to my mother. Although she's no longer here to celebrate the day, she will be on my mind. After she raised my four brothers and me, she had time to learn how to do rosemaling at the local vocational school. My brothers and I have pieces of her beautiful work in our homes, as do many other relatives and friends of hers.

Rosemaling is the folk art of Norway, and the word itself means "rose painting" or "flower painting." My mother was a full-blooded Norwegian. I think she chose to learn this painting technique because it was a way for her to preserve an old tradition. That was the type of thing that was important to her.

Rosemaling isn't something a person can learn to do well without a good deal of practice. To achieve the desired colors, paints have to be blended on a palette. Burnt Sienna, Prussian Blue, Cadmium Yellow Light, Titanium White, Ivory Black and Golden Ochre are a few of the basic colors used to create the blended colors. The paint is applied using various sized brushes and a number of brush strokes. Rosemaling is done with free-flowing strokes; the pressure applied to the brush regulates the width of the stroke.

The photos above are of objects that Mom painted and which I have in my home. My father made all of the items that Mom decorated. Conveniently, woodworking was one of his hobbies. The birdhouse is designed in a Scandanavian style with several quaint details. Mom painted the roof and each surface of the house with a flower design. The round wall plaque was decorated by her with a flower design and she lettered "Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread" in Norwegian across the top edge. The napkin holder, the small round box and the square, hinged-lid box were all made by Dad and then painted by Mom.

I feel fortunate to have these keepsakes and blessed to have parents who took the time to create momentos that I can cherish. These handmade items help keep Mom and Dad close to me and I like that.

53,000 Square Feet of Books

I visited our brand-new city library today during my lunch break. It's huge. So huge that I asked a fellow at the check-out desk just how huge it is. That's when I heard the figure of 53,000 square feet.

In the title of this blog entry, I credited that number to books. I can explain my logic; listen up. A good story needs a hook; a writer has license to lie if by so doing he grabs the reader and drags him to his written page. I began to count the books so I could give you an honest square footage count of them, but at 1,000 books my lunch hour was already nearly over. Maybe the fellow at the check-out desk can tell me; yeah, that'd be a lot quicker than counting, but probably not as accurate. Besides, my back was getting tired from bending low to count books on the bottom shelves. Yeah, I'll ask for the check-out fellow how many books there are the next time I stop in. Once I have that number I'll have some calculating to do to come up with the square footage of books.

Besides books on shelves, several cozy sitting areas are scattered throughout the building. A periodical and quiet reading room has comfy chairs gathered in front of a fireplace. I never, even in my wildest dreams, imagined our city would relocate the library to such a splendid place. I'm also pleased because the new location is closer to my home and to work.

Good-sized tables and chairs occupy several areas including beside the large windows that look out over the surrounding grounds and on to the river. The over-sized windows fill nearly all the outside walls adding to the openness of the space. I noticed a small cafe just inside the main entrance. It made me think of a Barnes & Knoble bookstore; they always have a cafe. A counter and a few tables and chairs fills one area of the cafe while three vending machines selling soft drinks, coffee and snacks line up in an adjoining room. Although not comparable to a Barnes & Knoble cafe, it's a thoughtful addition.

The YMCA and the library are almost next door to each other. When winter comes, it's going to be tempting to pass by the Y and go to the quiet room in the library instead. You know what? If I walk around the inside perimeter of the library a couple times before I settle next to the fireplace with a book, I'll get my exercise for the day too. Ahhh, life is good.

-

[I wish I had some pictures of the new facility to show you. I promise that I'll take some real soon and I'll post them here. For now, I've included a picture of a few volumes in my own library.]

Eleven Days and Counting & E-Mailing Amy

May 16th is coming up fast. It's the day of the biathlon. I'm working pretty hard to build my stamina up for it.

When I left work at noon today, clouds were spitting rain on my windshield. I benched any hopes of biking and/or running this afternoon and went to the grocery store instead. It's been quite a while since I've grocery shopped and there were several items I needed. I rolled the cart down all the aisles, half filled it with more than what I needed (I hate when that happens), checked out, loaded the bags in the truck and drove home.

As I was putting the groceries away, the sun peeked out. I looked out the window and saw blue sky to the west. Huh. Maybe I can get in a two miles run while it's not raining, I thought. So I geared up and ran two miles. When I got home, half of the sky was cloudless. Rain is definitely expected tomorrow and the rest of the week so I figured I better take advantage of this unexpected nice day today.

I switched to my biking gear and rode fourteen miles. I finished the ride in about an hour. Around 3:00, I coasted in the driveway and into the garage. As long as I'd run two miles and biked more than the biathlon route of eleven miles, I talked myself into running another two miles. This time I didn't walk/run like I did in my previous training session; I ran the entire two miles. I actually felt good (relatively) when I finished.

If I can run two miles, bike eleven miles and run two more miles (the biathlon distance) two more times before the 16th, I should be ready. One more long training session would probably be enough but it the weather permits, I'll shoot for two. I take this stuff pretty seriously, can you tell?

I'd like to share another part of my day. I finished reading the book, Tethered, by Amy MacKinnon, last night. I noticed on the back book flap that Amy has a website. I went to it and saw that I could contact her by e-mail. I was unclear about a couple of things in her book so I e-mailed her last night with my questions. I didn't know how soon or if I would hear from her. Sure enough, when I got home today after getting groceries, there was an e-mail from her on my laptop. She thanked me for reading her book and for contacting her. In several sentences, she answered my questions thoroughly.

She signed her e-mail: Sincerely, Amy. I'm impressed and honored by her quick and sincere response. I suppose someone else may have sent it for her but I'm going to assume it was Amy. I've never communicated with a well-known author before now. I guess that deep down inside I'm beginning to feel like a full-fledged writer, unpublished, but still an earnest artist. I reckon I might as well start hob-nobbing and rubbing elbows with the best of 'em. What the heck, maybe some of their talent will rub off on me.

Twas Our First Camping Trip of the Year

Trailer camping at Yellowstone Lake State Park in 2009

(Any similarities between this narrative and the much beloved story, Twas the Night Before Christmas were intentional, although, no logical connection between camping and Christmas has been determined by either the author or anyone else).

Friday, May 1

We’re at Yellowstone Park and I’m sitting in our trailer at the table, using my new 2007 Microsoft Word program on my new laptop. New, new, everything’s new lately. I haven’t explored this program yet, instead, I’m jumping in and if I fall flat on my face then I’ll know I should have looked before I leaped. Impatience is my greatest virtue. Rather than reading the directions first, I’d rather get the ball rolling and then chase after it if it gets away from me. And so it goes, and so it goes.

Lon and I left home shortly after noon. About an hour later, we checked in at the park office. Soon we had the trailer all set up and we took a walk. Before we left our site, Lon popped his beer bottle top and I popped my wine bottle cork and we strolled along the winding park roads with nary a care in the world. Now, I’m back at the trailer. As I write this, the sun is shining, the temperature is about 60 degrees and I’d estimate winds to be between 10 and 15 mph.

Today is May Day, pretty early for camping. The trailers present in the park are few and far between. We prefer camping early in the season before school is out and hordes of families and mosquitoes infest the parks. We gamble with the possibility of having colder than desirable weather when we make reservations early in May, but we really can’t go wrong. We’re dry and warm inside the trailer if it rains and we can go into town if we want something to do. Lon will go fishing in a light rain and I’m content to read or write if I can’t be outside.

We’re getting hungry so Lon’s starting up our propane mini-grill so he can cook our smokie links. We’ll round out our meal with baked beans and potato chips. Not a nutritious meal, but oh-so good. Excuse me—it’s chow time.

Well, I’m not nearly as hungry as I was. In a few hours it’ll be treat time, that is, time for raspberries and ice cream. I know, I know, we had that very same meal and dessert earlier this week. Neither of us is into gourmet cooking; at this time of the year, if it can’t be grilled, we don’t eat it.

Backing up a bit, the drive here was great. Our route took us on winding roads and over rolling hills. The trees and grasses along the highway were all shades of green and tiny patches of violet and yellow wildflowers stood out boldly as we passed them by. Over every hill, a vast view of another farm or farms appeared. There is nothing monotonous about the scenery in this part of Wisconsin. Each farm with all its buildings, piece of land and animals is unique. Some are well-maintained and others are just a hodgepodge of run-down farm houses, collapsing barns, abandoned and broken-down tractors and muddy pastures for the cows.

Wisconsin is a beautiful state. I hate to admit it, but, I’ve taken it for granted most of my life. Now, I realize that it’s hard to beat the ever-changing scenery along the roads in the hilly area we traveled. Perhaps they seemed unusually breathtaking because we’ve been so confined during the winter months. I’ve heard there are people who grow up in big cities and never have the opportunity to see the beauty present in rural areas.

We took another walk after dinner and found that the majority of the sites are still vacant. It’s cooling off and I’m glad I had a hood and a warm jacket. I’m in for the day while Lon is by the campfire, listening to a ball game on the radio.

Saturday, May 2

We woke up, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. We were surrounded by sunshine and blue skies. (The weather man was right for a change). We ground coffee beans, brewed a pot and filled our mugs. With Papa in his kerchief and me in my cap, we took an early morning walk through the campground where not a creature was stirring, not even the louse. (I’m referring to the idiot who set up his popup trailer in the site next to ours late last night after we’d gone to bed). What to our wondering eyes should appear, but a vibrant red cardinal--singing his heart out while, not far away, a dead turkey hung silently by his feet under a hunter’s tiny camper. (See top left photo). Six empty beer cans strewn on the ground beside the campfire were evidence that the hunter had celebrated his kill. (I thought it seemed a brutal and unnecessary death).

Lon in his fuzzy bunny slippers and I in my bright orange clogs danced and pranced back to the trailer. We made not a sound, but went right to work. Lon opened the gas stove on the side of the trailer and cooked up bacon and eggs while visions of bass and pan fish danced through his head. Meanwhile, I set the table and got the toaster out. I took the orange juice, green grapes, and cheese slices out of the refrigerator and poured us each another cup of coffee (chocolate covered cherry flavored).

When all was ready, our slippers were hung by the screen door with care and we settled down for a long (not really) breakfast. We raced to see who could build his bacon, egg and cheese McMuffin the quickest. I won. After that, we focused on eating slowly. I let Lon finish his two McMuffins before I finished mine. So Lon won in that category. We licked off the dishes so lively and quick for we knew in a moment we wouldn’t want to wash ‘em.

I dressed in my running gear, Lon gathered up his fishing gear and we drove down the hill to the lake. The area where the camping sites are is quite hilly and I wanted to avoid that at all costs . While Lon fished, I ran. After a half hour run, I walked up the steep hill to our trailer while Lon stayed at the lake. I showered and here I sit recording it all.

I left my laptop to take a short nap; Lon hunkered down first on the sofa, so it’s his fault. Soon we were up again. We jumped in the Avalanche and drove to a nearby resort (what they call a resort around here is a far cry from what most of us consider to be one) to get some paper towels in their store. This particular “resort” looked more like a junk yard than anything. Basically, it was a private campground with all the hellish accommodations they typically offer. I’ll try to snap a photo of it tomorrow so you’ll see for yourself. (It's above at the very top. Click to make it bigger and you'll read the name "Four Seasons Resort.")

We stopped and I took several pictures of the lake and other objects of interest. Lon had dinner on his mind so our next stop was back at the trailer. Steak, fried potatoes with onion, and bread with peanut butter filled our heavy duty paper plates. We ate until our stomachs shook like a bowl full of jelly. I dragged myself to the sink to wash the frying pan—they don’t make disposable ones, yet; Lon made a quick exit after dinner. He’s settled by his campfire; yes, he’s a happy camper listening to a yet another ball game on the radio.

It’s nice and quiet. Our only encounter with other campers was when a woman asked if she could borrow our salt shaker. I counted out 55 granules in a baggie and told her she could have them all. She seemed extremely surprised. I suspect she wasn’t accustomed to such generosity.

It’s 7:05. I’ve had enough writing for today so I’m closing the lid on this marvelous contraption and will settle on the couch with a book. I’m reading a book I pulled off the New Book shelf at the library. It’s a novel: Tethered by Amy MacKinnon. This is her first novel. I give her a thumbs up.

Sunday, May 3

We woke up to another beautiful day. We started a pot of coffee brewing and dressed for our walk. Coffee and a walk are the quickest way to boot-up in the morning. Ten minutes into our stroll, we both had all our systems in functioning mode. We fixed and ate the same breakfast as yesterday and then got the trailer ready to pull home.

As Lon drove, I took a slew of photos through the window. I’ll include some here.

We were home by noon. It was a good weekend away.