Velvet has the same insulating properties as thermal underwear

It's so cold I can't bring myself to wear anything but velvet. It's so warm and soft and surely more socially acceptable than wearing a flannel nightgown and slippers to a meeting. People have such high expectations. It's twenty below, for God's sake. Who cares what you look like?

The truth is I was at a meeting before Christmas and everyone had kicked off their shoes at the door. There was a pair of shoes there that looked like the woman who wore them in must have had her feet bound. I'm sure I stood there agog and stared at those shoes with their pointy toes and itty-bitty spikey heels. My shoes weigh about five pounds each and look like something an immigrant would wear on the Oregon trail.

I made French onion soup for dinner with big chunks of floating baguette and broiled Swiss cheese. A perfect meal for a cold night. This is Day #3 of my written-down menu campaign. It does eliminate some decision making on the ride home, that's for sure, but Regis and I have different views on that. I like to sit for a while and decide I want oatmeal and toast or popcorn for dinner. He likes to know about noon what's for dinner and he doesn't like surprises. Ha! I should post that joke about the guy who married the woman from Minnesota. I'm not an advocate for violence, but...

I'm looking around my living room. It would be a nightmare for What Not to Wear and HGTV. I have two pieces of red furniture, the drapes are red velvet (more like cheap velour), I'm sitting under a red microfiber blanket, and I'm wearing a merlot velvet tunic. Is that too much red? Oh, and red wine. A red phone. Two red checked chairs. A red scarf. A red shawl draped over the red checked chair.

Arctic

It's colder than hell here today, Miles. I mean heck. I shouldn't cuss in front of a baby but when the wind chill is 20 below, it's warranted. I was going to a K-12 legislative finances hearing tonight but you get a buy (or is that a bye, sports fans?) when it's this cold. Who cares.

We watched A Mighty Heart last night. The reviews were good (Roger Ebert) but we weren't too fond of it. It was a powerful and tragic story but not such a great movie. Tonight we have Amazing Grace. I'm famous for picking clinkers and both of these were my picks.

Amazing Grace is the story of William Wilberforce, an 18th-century English politician who fought for the abolition of slavery. It sounds boring but it's very good. Two thumbs up.

Sunday

I think I have my sleep mojo back. The last two nights I have slept hard...even had dreams and then trouble waking up to the alarm. That never happens. Usually my eyes pop open and I feel like I haven't been asleep at all. I took a nap today that was like being sedated. Let's hope it lasts.

Regis and I are back to our weekly cooking. Today we made soft pretzels (Martha Stewart's recipe) and white lasagna. The last one is a recipe the success of which remains to be seen. We left out the chicken and the dry white wine and anytime I make adjustments, I get confused. Regis said he'd take pictures so those will be posted later.

I'm going to try having a menu for the week and the groceries purchasing done on Sunday. We'll see how that goes since it seems to be in contrast to my random personality. One thing I enjoy is keeping binders of recipes and notes about what went well and what didn't. I think I can do it like that and it won't feel like a chore. Again, we'll see.

Reggie turns 30 this week on Thursday so we celebrated last night at their apartment. Amber made a delicious meal, her parents were there along with Bob and Emily and Ella, and Glen. We had a good time. Let's see...I'm married to a guy with a son who is 30 years old. That makes Regis an oooold guy. How did this happen? Where did my youth go? And who's that old lady in the mirror?

Books

The Summer He Didn't Die
Jim Harrison

Pretty Birds
Scott Simon

Safekeeping: Some True Stories from a Life
Abigail Thomas

The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems
Billy Collins

Parliament of Whores: A Lone Humorist Attempts to Explain the Entire U. S. Government
P. J. O'Rourke, Andrew Ferguson

Tracks
Louise Erdrich

The Grace of Grass and Water: Writing in Honor of Paul Gruchow
Thomas Dean (Editor), Carol Bly, Mark Vinz, Paul Gruchow, Bob Artley

A Thousand Years Over a Hot Stove: A History of American Women Told through Food, Recipes, and Remembrances
Laura Schenone

Regis bought me a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble again this year. I don't know of a present I enjoy more. I usually spend an afternoon after Christmas looking at the lists of award winners, new books by favorite authors, picks by staff at favorite bookstores, and online reviews. I have a list of about twenty books at the end and then I go to the store and spend an hour picking out what I want.

This year I got them online because I got irritated at the new Barnes and Noble store. I won't go into the reasons (see cranky post below). The list is above and I think it's one of my better years. I got some fiction, some non-fiction, some memoir, and a book of poems although I made a mistake and bought the paperback instead of the hard cover. That's my feeble attempt at supporting poetry and poets...buying one hard cover book a year.

Our neighbors Mike and Erin had a baby on New Year's Eve Day. They named her Katherine Nova, as in supernova. Cool name. Not like saddling a baby with a bizarre first name like Sandlot but a cool middle name.

My friend Jan Bjorling died last Friday night. I'm pretending that she hasn't passed, but is just busy somewhere else. I guess that's true in a way...anyway it's a nice way to think about her. She's reading at the library or looking for new stuff for the garden or tossing milkweed fluff off the deck into the wind or drinking tea at the River Rock...or Manhattans at Whiskey River. Any of those things. But not gone.

Regis is going out to blow the one inch of mucky snow we had today. It was pretty coming down but it didn't amount to much but a nuisance snow. He likes to blow snow especially in the dark. Our snow blower has a halogen headlight so it's a manly sort of task. Grab that thing by the horns and off you go.

Here I go...new books and a glass of wine and some of that Dark Chocolate with Intense Orange.

So you don't think I'm cranky all the time: things that soothe me

1. My dog curled up on the couch. How a twenty-pound dog can curl into such a tight circle that you can hardly tell where he starts and ends is amazing. He's always happy to see me and even if I just took the garbage down to the curb, he acts like I've been gone for months.
2. The smell of garlic and onions on my hands. I've resisted the urge to buy an electric food chopper. Can't remember the name right now. I know it would be a time saver but there's something about the smell of onions, garlic, and all those other things that take time to mince and chop that I love.
3. Candles. We had our furnace ducts cleaned about ten years ago and the guy wrote on the receipt, "Burns candles"! Holy shit. Like we committed a mortal sin. I love the flicker and the smell and the gentle light.
4. Red wine and chocolate. I just discovered the Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate with Intense Orange with slivers of almonds. Oh my. With a small glass of red wine, it's heaven.
5. A good story. I reread Kent Haruf's books over Christmas vacation. I want to email Robert Redford and tell him that The Tie that Binds would make a great movie. It would. I cry every time I read it. Same with Giants in the Earth.
6. The smell of dirt. This is not something I experience in January but in May...it's heaven to get your hands right in there and scoop it up and breathe deeply. Tiny little bugs and spores and bits of earth go right up your nose and become part of you and who knows where they started out...maybe Russia. It connects you to everything that ever was and is and ever will be.

And that's enough for tonight.

Wednesday night and things that irritate me

1. Going to Patrick's for dinner and sitting back by the tree. A teacher couple that I know brought their two kids along with them for dinner and allowed them to rampage around the table in the back by the windows. Rampage, I tell you. Loud stomping and crashing into each other. We tried moving to a different table in the lounge area but they still annoyed us so we had to move to the other room. Good grief.
2. Regis eating these monster sourdough pretzels that sound like he's eating gravel with metal teeth. It can't be good for his enamel and it certainly isn't good for my nerve endings.
3. People at workshops who talk in loud voices while the speaker is talking. These people should get forty years of detention in hell.
4. People who are not dumb genetically but are dumb after being educated. There is no excuse.
5. Waking up in the middle of the night with that guy inside who drives the tricycle in tight circles on the threadbare green carpet. The closet of anxieties. Things that are not a big deal in the daylight loom large in the night.
6. Bad food like frozen pretend meatballs, Doritoes, bag cookies (except for Pepperidge Farms Milanos). I'm talking about fake Valentine cookies from WalMart and that meat that comes in bags that isn't really meat but meat product.
7. B.S. I just don't know how people can dish this out all day or sit and listen to it being dished out and keep a straight face without rolling their eyes. Maybe if they pay you a lot of money in the beginning and you think it won't be so bad if you do it for a little while but pretty soon it's years you've been dishing it out and you start to think it's true and real.

That's enough for today.

Insomnia: Awake at 1 a.m.

Insomnia
by Billy Collins

Even though the house is deeply silent

and the room, with no moon,

is perfectly dark,

even though the body is a sack of exhaustion

inert on the bed,

someone inside me will not

get off his tricycle,

will not stop tracing the same tight circle

on the same green threadbare carpet.

It makes no difference whether I lie

staring at the ceiling

or pace the living room floor,

he keeps on making his furious rounds,

little pedaler in his frenzy,

my own worst enemy, my oldest friend.

What is there to do but close my eyes

and watch him circling the night,

schoolboy in an ill-fitting jacket,

leaning forward, his cap on backwards,

wringing the handlebars,

maintaining a certain speed?

Does anything exist at this hour

in this nest of dark rooms

but the spectacle of him

and the hope that before dawn

I can lift out some curious detail

that will carry me off to sleep-

the watch that encircles his pale wrist,

the expandable band,

the tiny hands that keep pointing this way and that.

More on the pants

So Regis got a response from the green pants guy. He said he has a box of 96 Crayola crayons and when he wants to describe the color of something, he picks the color that's closest and that's the word he uses. And that's the color of Regis' pants right there in the second row. That must be green.

He paid fifteen dollars for them and is inclined to send them back but I think they will make great gag pants. Imagine stepping in the door at Reggie's apartment Saturday for the family birthday dinner in those green pants. Priceless. Or standing in front of Patrick's as the parade goes by on St. Patty's Day. Those are some great green pants.

My work day was frustrating and discouraging and made me wish they would strike oil in Stanley and I would become an oil baroness. Most of the time work is a drag and I only go there for the social interaction and the coffee. Well, that last part is a lie because the coffee is pretty bad. When we talk at work about becoming instantly rich, some people say they would continue to work. I would for about five minutes or just long enough to call the emergency telephone tree to gloat. This right here could be my oil well and my ticket to a life of leisure.

Leprechaun pants

Regis buys most of his wardrobe on eBay. They sell new clothes, too, so he doesn't buy used underwear. Today he got a nice pair of Orvis pants that had been 72 dollars. A very nice fabric, nice cut, and only fifteen dollars...but they are leprechaun green. I hooted and said he could wear them to the St. Patrick's Day parade or when he wanted to be camouflaged while mowing the grass. He sent the guy an email: Hey, dude. What's your return policy? I need sunglasses to look at these pants.

I walked out of South Elementary this morning, right after a little bit of rainy weather passed through. The sidewalk was icy so I was taking it easy but I did a slooooowwwww motion swan dive to my left knee. Kind of like they do in the Tour of Figure Skating Champions as they wrap up the free-style. One leg behind, one knee, arms raised. I'm sure it was lovely. If there were judges I would have scored a 10.

My reward

From www.etsy.com and here's the description:
I was thinking of St. Patrick’s Day when I put these vintage and new components together to make this theatrically evocative charm bracelet: old mother of pearl, glass, bone and metal buttons, a green enamel heart (once a post earring), ornamented with rhinestones, stunning green vintage glass sew-on jewels, green glass shamrock beads, an assortment of Czech glass beads and a great stylized Victorian novelty button. The charms are crammed onto two rows of sturdy brass chain; the hardware is a mix of black-toned, copper, old brass and new gold finishes and the bracelet closes with a lobster clasp. Please note that some of the items are vintage and are re-purposed from their original existences; they show a little wear but you’d have to look hard to see it.
Looks like a great place to shop!

Taking a break

I'm taking a short break from my manic workaholism (don't worry...it's short-lived) to read some blogs. Man, some of you people need to get back to the keyboard. I moved a few of you to the end of the blog list, right below the blog called Buster and Pinky: Superdogs of the Internet. That's Pinky, a French bulldog, to the left.

I also read This Goat's Life regularly. In fact, the other night I scanned through a slideshow and I knew the name of almost every goat pictured. (That blog is updated frequently and it keeps my interest hint hint.) Of course, the '08 kids will start showing up soon so the farmer won't have time to write. The farmer is a good writer and tells some great stories about the goats' adventures. I've learned a lot about goat farming, too, which you never know may come in handy one day.

I also like the blog called The Lope. It's named after an antelope figure that appears in a lot of the pictures. The person who writes it has a penchant for antique decorations and neon so it's fun to look at the pictures. They've been all over taking pictures of Christmas displays and some of them are pretty funky. It's worth a look.

This one is called Roadside Architecture. I don't know if the author works, but in any case she spends a lot of time on the road taking pictures of interesting architecture and neon signs. It's like traveling without leaving home. Kind of like when Regis had that dream that we would dress up in the costumes of different countries and then visit their websites. Lederhosen and www.germany.com. Ha!

Cure for the blues

Larry suggested that I streak around the block in the nude today, soaking up the rays, if I continued to struggle with the malaise. Thank God the sun isn't shining so I don't have to try. Ed Lee covers athletic events for the Herald, but this would not be one. I'm not even sure streak would be the correct verb.

I got up early and commenced cleaning and organizing. I did a load of dishes, Regis started the laundry (it helps my mood to see him busy), and finished the Christmas de-construction. I do feel better.

Now I'm going to tackle the paper mess. It's amazing how fast that stuff piles up.

The general malaise

I woke up at 4 this morning, made some coffee and sat in a chair in the living room until 8. That's a lot of time to squander. We went to Mankato for a while, I took a nap, but haven't done one constructive thing all day. Does this sound like a replay of my Christmas vacation? Right now, we're waiting for a pizza to be delivered while we watch Simon and Garfunkel in Central Park. I've had that awful song Delta Dawn going through my head all day and had to do something to wipe the slate clean. Really, tomorrow I'll do something.

At seven o'clock this morning, it was still black as night outside. At five o'clock this afternoon, it was dark as night again. This is not good for a person's mood. You can fight it with candles and Christmas tree lights and wine, but these are long and cold winter nights. Tiffany is leaving for Minneapolis after work tonight and I'm going to miss her. This could account for some of my dark mood, too, I guess.

If we win the lottery tonight, or if I become an oil baroness with the mineral rights to the land in Stanley, I'm going to remodel our house. My idea is to tear out the wall between the kitchen and the living room. I think it's called a great room although that might be a pretentious name for something in an 800 square foot rambler. Regis just wants a fireplace; one of those Ben Franklin stoves.

The pizza is here.

Poet Laureate

I've been waiting for news of the Minnesota Poet Laureate since Mom and I nominated Bob Bengtson. When I did a search for news this morning, I found the original bill introduced in the legislature last January, written in poem form.

H.F. No. 224, as introduced - 85th Legislative Session (2007-2008) Posted on Jan 18, 2007

1.1 A bill for an act

1.2 relating to the state; appointing a poet laureate; appropriating gift or grant money
1.3received; proposing coding for new law in Minnesota Statutes, chapter 138.
1.4 BE IT ENACTED BY THE LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF MINNESOTA:

1.5 Section 1. [138.99] POET LAUREATE.
1.6 Subdivision 1. Appointment.

1.7	The Gov' shall appoint a state poet laureate,
1.8	Who shall serve for a four-year term.
1.9	Because this appointment will always be great,
1.10	There's no need for the Senate to confirm.
1.11	In appointing a poet for the public good,
1.12	And to ensure there's no unjust omission,
1.13	The governor shall consider, if he would
1.14	Thoughts of the Humanities Commission.

1.15 Subd. 2. Removal.

1.16	The poet will be free to write rhyming lines,
1.17	With removal only for cause,
1.18	But we trust that the bard will promptly resign,
1.19	If the verse reads as badly as laws.

1.20 Subd. 3. Compensation.

1.21	'Twould be fair to provide some just recompense
1.22	As reward for the poet's tribulations,
1.23	But because at this time we haven't the cents
1.24	We're afraid there is no compensation.
1.25	But we ask as the poet travels the state,
1.26	And the people their ears they lend,
2.1	That our learned Commission take the position
2.2	To provide the poor poet a stipend.

2.3 Subd. 4. Gifts and grants.

2.4	To provide the support that needs to come
2.5	To support our new laureate,
2.6	Gifts and grants received of a generous sum,
2.7	We hereby appropriate.

Ella's 2nd Birthday

We celebrated Ella's 2nd birthday with her on New Year's Day. She seemed to have a good grasp of what that meant...presents, candles, and the birthday song. She loved her doll stroller and had Baby Powder strapped in it right away so they could motor around the house. She calls everybody sweetie now. Thanks, Sweetie. Bye-bye, Sweetie.

I went back to work Wednesday which made for a short week. It wasn't traumatic, in fact, probably good to get some structure back in my life and I've gotten more done since I went back to work. I miss the naps, though.

One of Ella's presents was a book called The Napping House. The review says: The misty blue artwork that chronicles the "dreaming child," "snoring granny" and a number of additional snoozers seems to bleed off the pages, until that "wakeful flea" disrupts the sleepers and the sunny colors signal the end of naptime. A perfect book for Ella and Nana.

What I’m thankful for as 2008 rolls around

1. iTunes, Barnes and Noble online, and Netflix. I used to spend a lot of time looking for books, music and movies with no idea what I wanted. I made a lot of mistakes. Now with modern technology, my tastes can be compared to others and recommendations made for me based on our similarities. I may never have to watch a movie like Joe Versus the Volcano again, read a book like Echoes by Danielle Steele or buy a CD that ends up being a coaster. I’m not saying it’s never going to happen, just that the risk is minimized. And I won't have to wear that button that says DO NOT RENT VIDEOS TO THIS WOMAN to the video store again.
   
2. The realization that I’m not going to have a clean and organized house. It’s really taken a burden off to know this and to say it out loud. Kathy’s tried to help and we did make some progress but the stress is overwhelming. Regis and I are not good at getting all like things in one place. Say socks, for example. It’s really not a bad thing to be disorganized and I think we’ll live a rich and happy life in our slovenly ways.
3. The Minnesota Board of Teaching. I forget about my anger over the inequity of the secondary principal job market and stop ranting about it toward the end of every year, then I get the letter from the BOT reminding me that I haven’t paid the 75 dollar licensing fee (authorized by the MN legislature and in addition to the regular license fee) since I hold a principal’s license BUT NOT A JOB. I read the letter and it starts the fire all over again: 70% of high school teachers are women, more than 50% of students in ed leadership programs are women, and yet only 10% of secondary principals are women. Some dude at the school board association tells me that by law, school boards are required to hire the most qualified candidate and therefore it must be true. No need to say more.
4. Technology. I love podcasts, my blog, digital photos, Picassa, and the Google/Picassa website. Think of what the internet will do for human intelligence. Ten years ago, if you had an idea, you could tell a few friends or write an article for a newspaper but very few people had much of an audience. Now I can send pictures or rants clear across the country in a matter of seconds. Even goofballs can have a national audience.
5. Babies. Just when you think you’re too cynical to live, someone you know has a baby and adults who used to be reasonable sit around for hours and stare at it and think that everything it does is fascinating. We’re in the grandbaby age now and not only are these grandbabies, ours and those of our friends, the smartest and the cutest but we don’t have to be awake all night when they’re teething. All the joy and none of the responsibility.
6. Sleep. I listen to people who talk with a sense of shame about sleeping in until ten, or better yet noon. If I sleep until 5 o’clock, I’m grateful. Most nights I wake up at 3 and have trouble going back to sleep. I’ve always been a champion napper, but now I get my best sleep during the day. Not at work, of course.
7. Brain development. I read an article in Newsweek about how the human brain develops slower than what was previously assumed to be true. Right about that time, my son who had given me fits through his teen years, expressed a desire to go to school, moved in with his grandma, got a job where he is admired and respected, and became helpful and social. Yes! If that ain’t proof…

I might come back occasionally and add to my list but that’s enough for now. Of course, I’m also thankful for the usual things: my kids and grandbaby, my husband, friends, my dog, a warm place to live, enough to eat, enough to drink, and pants with elastic waists.

Danger! Danger!

We went to see Sweeney Todd this afternoon. I read a review in Rolling Stone that made it sound so good even though it's violent. I knew it had been a Broadway play so how bad could it be, right? Let me tell you how bad and violent it could be. I spent the last hour with my head completely under my coat and even at that, thought I would have to walk out. The reviews said the violence was "stylistic". My ass. It was graphic and gratuitous and way more than a person needs to see. There was not one redeeming thing about this movie....not Johnny Depp, not the music, not the sets, nothing. Call me unsophisticated but it was horrible.

She stumbles out the door

Today, the third day after Christmas, I finally pulled myself together and stumbled out the door. I had my little canvas bag of errands...grocery store for eggs and milk, hardware store for a power strip, post office to mail a pair of mittens back to L.L. Bean and a letter to Peter, city finance office for a rebate on Christmas tree lights, school for a basket of CDs, Bob and Emily's house to drop off the things they left here on Christmas Eve. I had to come home and take a nap after all of that. I tell you, the holidays are murder on a guy.

I have completed the journey from Mac to PC. All the files are transferred and the old computer has been scrubbed clean and registered to Lazlo Purdue. Tiffany might want it and if it gets ripped off in the big city, I don't want some ne'er-do-well getting my recipe for krumkakke. I threw away a few things that I wanted but that's life. I guess I'll learn to live without them.

We watched the movie Hairspray last night. At the end, Regis popped it back into its little envelope and said to mail it immediately in order to get it as far away from the house as possible. I don't think he's a fan. It was weird but I was too tired to have much of an opinion. There were a few funny parts, John Travolta was in drag, and I'll leave it at that.

Regis stopped to see Ella tonight. When he left, she blew him a kiss and said, "Bye bye, sweetie!"

The day after

I woke up at 3 to sit on the love seat and watch the snow. We had about five inches of fluffy snow that fell straight down so every branch and chair and bird feeder has a thick layer of snow icing.

Kramer kept an eye on me from the front window. He had an attack of pancreatitis during the night. Regis thinks he knows it's Christmas and that he wants to enjoy Chex Mix and cookies and ham like we do. He doesn't know and he doesn't care but he will eat it if you give it to him. Yesterday he barfed Chex Mix in the living room. It was a hint.


It looks like a Christmas card outside. There's a wind chime hanging to the left of the flag. Can you see the snow piles on each bell?


The view down 4th Street. There's light fluffy snow on everything. No wind even yet and still the snow is falling.


In the garden, every cone flower and milkweed has a snow hat. We rarely get this much snow without wind to whip it around.

This is Peter with my niece's daughter, Evynne. She took quite a shine to him and called him "the helper". He was very helpful when we were there, too...jumping up to grab dirty dishes and fill coffee cups.

I was a complete load yesterday. I walked past boxes of wrapping paper that should have gone to the trash, I walked past pop cans and gift bags and plates of cookies, and I took two naps. The only constructive thing I did all day was to fry a pan of krubs and ham. It was a very relaxing day but today I better get back to the land of the living.

Christmas Eve 2007

We had a good time and here are the pictures to prove it. Jill, the chairs might look familiar. After spending a few months on the porch, they came into the living room for Christmas Eve. Tiffany, it was nice to have you and Eric here with us. Peter, we missed you! Reggie says a new flashlight photo will be coming today as he added four new flashlights to his collection. My favorite is the red headlamp that actually looks like tail lights on a car. Amber suggested putting the clear ones on the front of his head and the red ones on the back. Ella and I passed out presents and that worked fine except that after you opened one, she might take it back and give it to someone else.

Click here to see the pictures in a larger size.

December 24th

Busy night. See you tomorrow!

December 23rd, 2007

We made a harrowing trip to Canby yesterday on icy roads and an equally harrowing trip back today in zero visibility. I was terrified and even covered my face with my hands a couple times. Not when I was driving although I don't think it would have impaired me much. We had a wonderful time with Mom and Peter, and Pat and his family, so we were glad to be able to go but very relieved to be home.
Regis got a very cool barbecue apron from Mom. You can see all the tools and even the S&P shakers are loaded up in the pockets. Reggie came over this afternoon when we got home and he was greatly amused so he modeled it. He said if you bent over to pick something up, you'd poke your eye out with the fork. He said it's not an apron for fat guys and sort of resembles a bullet-proof vest. We decided you could walk around the hood in this apron and nobody would mess with you.

Regis was so intrigued with the last krumkakke we made that he talked about them at work. One of his co-workers shared a recipe she said has been in her family for a hundred years. They were delicious. Here it is:

Beat 1 cup whipping cream and set aside.
Beat 4 eggs
Add 1 and 1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup melted butter
1 cup buttermilk
Add whipped cream
Add 2 and 1/2 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
Drop by teaspoonful onto to iron. (We tried a measuring teaspoon...way too small. More like a tablespoon worked better.)
Remove, roll, and cool.
Dust with powdered sugar.

I'm going to have to use the scoop shovel cleaning technique tomorrow...throw anything sitting around into laundry baskets and hide the baskets in the shower. Holidays are almost beyond my ability to cope. Regis had been very helpful this year but I still feel like I've been dragged through a knot-hole butt-first. That's a lovely image, eh?

Tomorrow it's off to the races so probably no post. I'll be back Christmas Day with stories and pictures.

Genetic or Gender?

Thursday, on his day off, young Regis assembled his flashlight collection and took a picture of it. I see a few similarities but the headlight is a nice touch. The guy that collected only mag lights seemed to have taken it to an art form but the Fritsch flashlights are functional. I don't know if the need to collect flashlights (or knives) is a man thing or a Fritsch thing.
See the poll on the right. There wasn't a way to add demographic data to this poll but I bet I can guess gender!

Pffththt

I slept more last night so I only cried once today. There's some improvement for you. We were invited to a soiree tonight but we opted to not attend. I couldn't bear the thought of dressing up and making nice with people from work. We had hot beef sandwiches and a cold beer for dinner and now we're watching Tony Soprano.

There's a house on the corner that I can see from where I sit on the couch. We drove by there the other night and Regis said it made his fillings squeal like he's bringing in Tokyo on a short wave radio. It's hideous. Then you come around the corner and see the tasteful lights on our railings. Yeah, that's a good one.

My brains have left me

I was sitting at my computer checking blogs, saw mine in the list and thought, "I better check to see if there's a new post." Well, if there had been and I didn't know, that would be weird.

I've had some bad insomnia the last few weeks. I fall asleep fine but wake up at 3 which makes for a long day especially if it happens several days in a row. I was at a party last night and all the women of my vintage had the same complaint. I slept until five this morning, so things look better.

Christmas Letter Hit Parade

One more letter from the hit parade. This one from 2004.

December 12, 2004
Merry Christmas,

A week ago, we were ready for forego our annual collaborative effort toward a Christmas letter. Since I’ve been taking two night classes, things have progressed from bad to worse around the homestead. I’m done tomorrow night, though, and all the papers and PowerPoint presentations and other academic debris are in a pile by the door, ready to be turned in. Now, I can start thinking about putting up a real tree since Regis didn’t think the string of lights I threw in the hibiscus tree was very artistic. (Regis notes: Yup, it looked a little like the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy train made a stop in old Petticoat Junction.) Once again, we’re going to let Garrison Keillor help us with the letter. All the stuff in red is his.
I believe in looking reality straight in the eye and denying it.

Regis is still working at Slumberland but he moved from the Clearance Center to the main store. About a week after he moved, the economy went in the toilet so he’s been regretting that decision ever since. (Regis notes: I do get one weekend a month off however, which the owners of Slumberland consider adequate recompense for my lack of income.) He volunteers at the library once a week and enjoys the peace and quiet…and the dumb questions.
Librarians possess a vast store of politeness. These are people who get asked regularly the dumbest questions on God's green earth. These people tolerate every kind of crank and eccentric and mouth-breather there is.

I am still with the St. Peter Public Schools. This past spring I received an invitation to a reception where I would receive, along with several other teachers, a twenty-five year plague. No mention of whether it was locusts or boils. I did call the person who was coordinating the event and say that twenty-five years of teaching EBD kids was about all the plague I needed, thank you very much.
Age does not always bring wisdom. Sometimes age comes alone.

A quick update on the offspring. Bob and Emily were married in September in a beautiful ceremony in her mom’s Victorian house in Fairmont. I cried through the whole thing. What a surprise. Our new daughter-in-law is a massage therapist and manager at the Liv Aveda Spa in Mankato. Reggie and Bob are working at Ameripride, covering parts of southern Minnesota and northern Iowa. They keep in touch by cell phone when they’re driving the back roads. (Regis notes: I see that Teresa forgot to mention that I performed the marriage ceremony. It was my second of the year.)
English is the perfect language for preachers because it allows you to talk until you think of what to say.

Tiffany is living and working in Uptown (Minneapolis). She works two part-time jobs: one at Kowalski’s and one at Burch Pharmacy. It’s a lot of work for not much money. Her boyfriend, Connor, cooks at Lee Ann Chin’s just down the street from where they live.
Nothing you do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes, and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted.

Peter, our transient student, is back in Mankato, this time at East High School. He continues to cause us a fair amount of anxiety but we are reassured from time-to-time by well-meaning friends, that he will grow up and stop asking for money.
Selective ignorance is a cornerstone of child rearing. You don't put kids under surveillance: it might frighten you. Parents should sit tall in the saddle and look upon their troops with a noble and benevolent and extremely nearsighted gaze.

After a long illness, my dad died in July. We got through it all, illness and death, with the help of good neighbors and family, a bottle of wine now and then, and the wonderful folks of Hospice. (Regis notes: There are some voids that can never be filled. Estle will be missed.)
It's a shallow life that doesn't give a person a few scars.

Like every other year we’ve written a Christmas letter, I’ll email this to Regis, he’ll say it’s too sappy and change a few things. I tend to be nostalgic and sentimental at Christmas time; he tends to be a little cynical and wise-ass, but only on the outside. (Regis notes: Right, I’m just a barrel of freakin’ benevolence and compassion on the inside.)
Humor is not a trick, not jokes. Humor is a presence in the world — like grace — and shines on everybody.

That’s about it for this year. We wish you a happy holiday and some humor and grace in the New Year. (Regis notes: Everybody needs someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for. If you are lacking in any of these three areas get your butt in gear and find it this New Year! Bless you all.)
Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough.

Regis and Teresa

Flashlights and Wildlife

I encouraged Regis to locate his flashlights and line them up for a blog photo. He took a picture, then remembered another flashlight, then took another picture. It got to be quite a project. I think the only one missing in this photo is the one with the multi-directional head that you can use underwater. The tall one in the back row in a mag light that you can grip near the light then use it to whack a bad guy who might be approaching. A very useful tool in the modern rural home. He realized as he perused his complete collection, that he is woefully short of flashlights. A guy can never have too many. Apparently. (Christmas present hint!)

We had a wildlife bonanza in our front yard today. This is the male cardinal. The picture was taken through the front window which is clean as a whistle and there is no reason for the foggy condition of this print. Must be in the camera.
The squirrel really likes the corn cob although he'll throw it to the ground and eat sunflower seeds, too.



The male cardinal was at the feeder, too, but we didn't get a good picture of him. They're awfully skittish.







This fat guy really likes the feeder.









Regis is making a prime rib roast and Yorkshire pudding for dinner. He's a great cook and I don't know why he kept it such a secret for so long. He made me a great omelet for breakfast this morning. I could get used to this pretty quickly.

The holidays are hard on people. I've probably been in tears five times today...it's a combination of no sleep, hormones, over-stimulation, lack of preparation, mess, and nerves. Tiffany told me she isn't coming home for Christmas, but actually she is leaving the night of the 23rd after work so she is deliberately leaving before Christmas. There is a difference between: I can't come home and I won't be home. It's breaking my heart and I'm sorry if you thought my blog was all laughs. Life isn't like that.

Speaking of holidays, I have a CD on with a song by Andy Williams. Remember how he used to have those smarmy Christmas specials in the 60's with the whole family around the fireplace and they all had matching sweaters (there's my Martha Stewart fantasy again...) and then his little French wife Claudine had an affair with the skier Spyder Sabich and Claudine shot Spider with a gun and killed him? That's how life can be. Brutal.

Regis, internet sleuth that he is, snuffed out this story: Olympic skier/playboy Spyder Sabich entered the bathroom of his Aspen home to take a shower after a day of skiing. His live-in girlfriend, French singer/actress Claudine Longet, estranged wife of entertainer Andy Williams, asked Sabich how to use his .22-caliber pistol. Longet claims that Sabich postponed his shower to demonstrate use of the weapon, which accidentally discharged a couple of rounds into him. Throughout the trial and ensuing media circus, Williams stood steadfastly by his lovely wife. It's a shame that the guy who gave us Born Free and Moon River was such a cuckold.

Anyway, the cops bungled the investigation, and lovely Claudine spent 30 days incarcerated in a tastefully appointed apartment set up just for her in the Aspen courthouse. The happy ending to this sordid tale is that Williams eventually came to his senses, divorced Longet, remarried, and has assumed his rightful place as one of the all-time legends of American entertainment. What makes Williams so totally cool is that he was an excellent skier. Longet lives in obscurity. Sabich did not survive the shower.

You would postpone a shower (I wonder what state of undress he was in at the time) to show your wife how to use a pistol and then she accidentally pumps two shots into your naked torso. Uh huh. A likely story. I also wonder why this story continues to have legs almost forty years after it happened. Kooks like me, I suppose.

On a slightly different note, I have a new glass-top stove. I've gotten freaky about how clean it is, which isn't characteristic of me at all. I bought a special cleaner, then I bought a special cleaning kit made my Dow or somebody. I polish it, I make sure all the spills are cleaned up, I use Windex to shine it, I don't keep anything on it when I'm not cooking. When Regis cooks, I peer around his shoulder to see what kind of pan he has and if he's shaking it. I even read on the internet about how to remove stains. It's very weird and scary.

Ok, before someone moves to have me before a commitment judge. My fur is still messed up but I'm not nuts. Adios for the night.

3 a.m.

What does a guy do at this hour? It's too early to turn on the kitchen lights and start baking cookies. Yesterday, Regis and I were both up by 5 so we left by 6:15 to do the last of our shopping in Mankato. It was a trick to find places that were open that early. Herbergers was but they had some door buster event and the place was full of blue hairs trying to get a good deal. After a while, it got crowded and I got crazy and we had to leave. That's how you buy stuff you don't really want...spend an hour in a store where they hand you a coupon every time you turn around.

We went to C&S Supply on our way out of town. It's a farm store, I guess. They have a great selection of stuff: medical uniforms, thermal-lined hooded sweatshirts, boot scrapers, flannel pajama pants, cow feeders, beef jerky, cowboy shirts with pearly buttons, flashlights. It's one of our favorite places to shop.

Speaking of flashlights. I made fun of Regis' flashlights a couple posts ago. Son Regis found a blog called Candlepowerforums, where this guy (I'm assuming) has flashlights in wooden display boxes on the walls. He calls it the Wall O' Maglights. If you check it out, you'll find this is a blog for people who collect mini-mag flashlights. In different colors. And sizes. Now, that is a flashlight collection.

End of the week

Yesterday I was talking to friends at work, I said my life is too complicated. They asked a few questions: Is it kids? Is it home? Is it work? I thought about it on my way home and it's this: My fur isn't all going in the right direction. Nothing is all wrong but everything is a little bit wrong. It's the Martha Stewart fantasy again. Work is very busy and stressful, the house is a mess, lots of things are waiting to be finished for Christmas, I can't sleep at night. Don't worry. It will all get better with time and my fur will smooth out.

It has been very busy. We baked a couple times this week so I could get cookies in the mail to Peter. Last night we delivered cookies to the big boys and their families and I stayed up late (10:00) wrapping presents. the pile of shipping boxes and bags in the living room was getting on my nerves. The rest of my shopping I'm going to do in St. Peter so they'll wrap the stuff. One store even writes tags for you. Another one will mail things. Now that's service.

Cookies and outdoor decorating

We baked a few cookies tonight and made some fudge. It was a busy night and we ran out of time to do much outdoor decorating. What do you think?

Eggnog and Krumkake

The plan for tonight is eggnog and krumkake, if I can last that long. I woke up at 3:30 this morning with the door to the closet of anxieties banging in the wind. What makes that weird shit go through your head in the middle of the night? Brain moles? The burrowing kind, I mean.

I had a busy and productive day for being a few brain cells short. I'll post an update later with a picture of he krumkake and the eggnog. After tonight, I'm done with fussy little cookies. It's on to fudge and giant molasses crinkles.

The krumkake were amazingly easy to make with an electric iron that I borrowed from a friend. She told me not to use the old-fashioned kind on my glass-top stove. Hers has a teflon top and made two at a time. Slick. We had one major egg disaster and a few mishaps. Regis dropped egg shells into the first batter, broke an egg in the carton, and then dropped an egg on the floor on his way to clean that up. I said, "Back away from the eggs!" I fried and he rolled and we ended up with about three dozen.

A German and a Norwegian cook Italian

I would say the manicotti was a success. The cannoli, not so much. I have discovered a great tool when you're cooking something you haven't ever eaten or seen before. Youtube. I put cannoli in the search tool and here comes this little video of some dude in a chef's coat making cannoli with his Aunt Grace. I should have watched it before making the cannoli because ours turned out like lumberjack cannoli...not crisp and delicate but doughy and thick like pancakes. Not so good. Regis says the filling is delicious...it's ricotta cheese and powdered sugar.What's not to like?

Last week, I used Emeril's gumbo recipe and made a gumbo that had the consistency of wallpaper paste. Later, I looked for gumbo on Youtube and there was this hilarious guy from the bayou making gumbo in avacodo Tupperware bowls. His was more like soup that slow-curing cement. It didn't appeal to me but Regis liked it. A lot of times, the things I cook don't appeal to me much by the time they're done.

No lottery winnings so I suppose we have to go to work tomorrow.

Ahh-chooo!

I can feel a cold coming. I've been around enough people with diseases lately, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Maybe I'll try to activate my endorphins today and fend it off.

This has been a working weekend not a relaxing weekend. Yesterday, Regis and I went to the grocery store at 7 and bought baking supplies. It wasn't crowded at that hour...no giant zamboni floor waxers...just sock boys everywhere you turned. They were all very helpful and friendly. (Regis packed our groceries into our canvas bags. We love them. So much nicer than having a stock pile of plastic under the sink.) I came home to clean the house, make barley mushroom soup and hot beef sandwiches, and mix up a batch of Swedish butter cookies. At 5:00, we took Bob and Ella to the Christmas cantata at Emily's church. Today will be busy, too.

I went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and got distracted by the paper, then a piece of lefse, then a nap. It's two hours later than when I started this post.

Christmas Letter Hit Parade 2002

“A good newsletter is never nearly good enough but a lousy newsletter is a joy forever.” -Garrison Keillor

Don’t write “Christmas letters about your grandkids and your prostate, with snapshots of yourselves at your condo overlooking the golf course at Plaid Pants Village.”
-Garrison Keillor

Merry 2002 Christmas Friends and Family!

Basically, life is good at our house. Regis and I are at the same jobs, the children who are of an age where they can legally be employed, are… and anyone who is legally required to be in school, is. We’re going to take Garrison Keillor’s advice again and spare you the darker details. We will, however let him help us tell about the other stuff. He writes better than both of us do.
“A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.” -Garrison Keillor

Tiffany is a senior this year. She’s making plans to go to college next fall… at least she’s planning to buy a car for college. A CD player and a sunroof seem to be top priorities. She is thinking about MSU in Mankato and we’re all happy about that. We don’t want her to go too far from home right away. She keeps busy now with work at Econofoods, choir, photography, and Connor (the boyfriend). Whoops. Spoke too soon about MSU. Now she’s added UMD (Duluth) to the equation.
"Beauty isn't worth thinking about; what's important is your mind. You don't want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head."-Garrison Keillor

Peter transferred to Mankato West this fall. I’m not sure the experiment was a success as he wants to come back at the end of the semester. If they would only offer a class on skateboarding! He’ll be 16 in the spring so he’s looking forward to a driver’s license and a job. Well, he isn’t really looking forward to a job but his sister reminds him daily that she was cut off from the allowance gravy train when she turned sixteen and she expects the same to happen to him.
“Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known.” -Garrison Keillor

Our grown children have jobs (Bob at Target and Regis at Ameripride in Mankato) and girlfriends (Emily and Shana) and lives that don’t involve us much. They come around when we need help with heavy lifting, cleaning out the garage, digging raspberry canes, and cutting Bert’s claws. They also come around for family birthday parties and holiday cook-outs…pretty much anything that involves a good meal.
“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting their eyes, and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted.”
-Garrison Keillor

I’m still teaching at the Hoffmann Learning Center. Most days are fine…some days I would rather be the Avon lady in New Sweden. The last few summers, I have been doing staff development on writing with my friend, Jill. We have a gig lined up in Thief River Falls in July and I just realized how far that is up north. Regis says it will take three days and two crying jags for me to get there. If you have ever traveled with me, you know it’s true.
“Don't mess with a writer as he can immortalize you in ways you might not find pleasant.” -Garrison Keillor

Regis enjoys his job at Slumberland in Mankato. He sells a lot of beds, gets a kick out of the customers, and brings home a good deal once in a while. We had a near disaster this fall when he almost took a job with Mattress Giant. He spent an hour on the phone with his boss while I nervously bid on cream pitchers on eBay. He stayed with Slumberland but the cream pitchers arrived daily for the next two weeks.
“They say such nice things about people at their funerals that it makes me sad to realize that I'm going to miss mine by just a few days.” - Garrison Keillor


Regis’s choice for the Garrison Keillor conclusion to the Christmas letter…
"Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function."

And Teresa’s choice…
“Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.”
Merry Christmas all!

The black cloud has lifted

The black cloud of my mood has lifted. I actually did some things at work today rather than staring out the window, head in hands, looking at the snow. I didn't feel sick exactly, just listless, but it lasted for three days. I had that mean streak, too, the one that made me threaten my neighbor with buckshot. It's good to feel human again but he did deserve it. Still does for that matter. Regis said he would warn him that if he blew dirt on our house again, I would kick his ass.

I finished Any Bitter Thing last night which means I am bookless except for The Last Word: The New York Times Book of Obituaries and Farewells : A Celebration of Unusual Lives and Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo. I like the obit book but I'm ready for a story. I like Richard Russo but this is a new hardcover book and very large and heavy. Since I almost always read in bed, that is a problem. If that book fell on your head, it could cause some serious brain damage. I might have to renew it until Christmas break when I can read in a vertical position.

When I came home from work, I walked into the kitchen and saw this little black thing about the size of a pencil eraser suspended in mid-air about 18 inches from the floor. I looked close and saw it was a spider dangling from a thread that came from the light. I ran to get the camera and tried to take a picture but he was fast and as I tried to focus on him, he scrambled up to the light and disappeared. I watched as I ate my pizza and he walked around the ceiling light, dropped down once or twice, then disappeared again. We have a new pet.

Peter called me today. He had walked up to church to donate blood at the Red Cross bloodmobile where his Grandma was working. He had some funny comments about the cheese sandwiches but other than that, it was a nice thing to do. On the way home, he stopped at the public library and got a library card. It tickles me that he'll be reading from the same library where I learned to love reading beside the fact that these are two things I would not have expected from him in the past. He's quite a boy.

Ho Ho Ho

I've got a pretty good grump going today. I came home at noon and my neighbor had borrowed our snow blower. He ran the damn thing through the dirt the entire length of my house with the auger going and...get this...blew fine black dirt against the house and through the screens of two windows. I know that black dirt on a driveway is a little bit white trash but you can't tell me he didn't hear the dirt pummeling the side of the house. The snow is black, the screens are black, and the sills are full of dirt. If I had a BB gun I'd fill his backside with buckshot. Merry Christmas, Paul.

Ella loves the Christmas tree

Ella came over tonight while Emily went to choir practice. She loved the tree and spent lots of time taking ornaments off and putting them back on. She loved one so much it went home with her. She was so gentle with them and would bat at them with her fingers so they would sway on the branch. What's that? What's that? What's that? It was so sweet.

Tuesday weather

We've had bits of snow all day, Miles. Nice fluffy flakes that require just a gentle sweep off the car. Joanne said it was not fun driving to LeSueur after school though...hard to see and the snow was that greasy kind that makes it slippery. We didn't get any ice or sleet.

I tried to stop at the grocery store after school but couldn't even get a parking place so I just drove on home. It must be senior citizen day or something. Maybe chickens are on sale. There isn't anything that would make me park a half block from the door and wait in a line like that. We have left-over soup in the refrigerator, a loaf of nice Italian bread, sharp cheddar cheese, and a nice box wine. Gourmet cooking, I'd say.

I bought two strings of snowflakes lights at Lowe's a few weeks ago and strung them across the front window. Now I see that five of the damn flakes aren't lit. Not the whole string but about half of one of them. Grrrr. Christmas lights are crap and the landfills must be full of them. I think two weeks is not much of a life expectancy for lights.

It's hard to maintain a pleasant disposition when the days are eight hours long. (Even Kramer is morose. He's hanging his head off the leather sofa like Snoopy off the dog house.) It seems like I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark and it's gray and gloomy in between. Where are those bright December days? Things that help: red wine in crystal glasses, Vince Giraldi, A Christmas Story, dark beer, cheeseburgers with fried onions, Tony Soprano, the smell of bread baking. Jill and I have decided that blog posting is therapeutic, too. We aren't sure why. It's kind of like a writer's notebook we used to teach about...a random collection of thoughts on lots of different subjects. With the added benefit of instant publication!

Isn't food interesting? Regis and I have been talking about Campbell's chicken noodle soup, frozen pizza, and box mac and cheese. You'd never mistake them for real, homemade foods of the same genre, but they're good. Regis opened a can of soup for lunch the other day at work and he said a whole conversation ensued about chicken soup and memories of lunches back in the day, and what you might be served with noodle soup, and if you liked your crackers soggy or crisp. I was hungry for frozen pizza the other night. It's not even the same food but still something comforting about it.

Monday

Regis and I are off to a fine Christmas season. Last night we went to the Bothy to see Pop Wagner and Dakota Dave Hull. It was freezing cold and icy on the way over, freezing cold in the Eagle's Club, and the bar person was rude and not interested in helping us thaw out at all. The music was great, though.

Tonight we went over to Bob's extensive video library and checked out A Christmas Story. We're having a hot brandy and watching a goofy Christmas movie in the middle of a mess of boxes of holiday stuff and a few Halloween items. It's never like Martha Stewart makes you feel it should be. No eyelet pinafores or pine cone place cards here. No dog poop under the Christmas tree either, though, and for that we are grateful.

We decided after our ethnic cooking extravaganza this past weekend, to try Italian dishes this coming weekend. We're planning manicotti and cannoli. Cannolis require a tube form to fry them and I wasn't sure you could find such a thing in Minnesota. Joanne called from the mall after school and she found them at the kitchen store. I thought we could just put that filling into a krumkake.

Oh, funny story about the gumbo. My gumbo was pretty pale and not very spicy because I didn't watch the gumbo youtube episode until after I attempted to cook it and I made my own creole spice mix. Kind of what you'd expect Norwegian gumbo to be like. Regis works with a woman who came to Minnesota from New Orleans after Katrina so he took a bowl of gumbo to Jamella today. She looked at it and said, "It could be gumbo." Ha. What the hell. I'd like to see her make lefse.

The Scotch broth was fine but I could barely overcome my gagging aversion to lamb. I smelled it for hours and decided it's like the telltale heart. You eat lamb, you never get the smell to leave your nostrils. Regis said next time he'd make it with beef.

Saturday

This is our new Christmas tree. Doesn't it look happy here?

This is another picture with the flash.

Kramer can't wait until we go to work so he can either pee on the tree skirt
or chew up a couple ornaments.

Saturday Weather Updates for Miles

5 a.m.
Nothing coming down yet but it's early. It could start about 7 with snow. Check back often for the latest! On days like this, Miles, we make soup and bake bread and sit around in our pajamas until noon looking out the window. Maybe put up the Christmas tree (it's December today so it's ok to do it) or read a book. Nothing too productive, though. Be a lazy baby today!

7:45 a.m.
We just opened the curtains and snow is coming down in St. Peter! Tiny flakes but lots of 'em. The wind is between 8 and 10 mph. Temperature is 20 degrees. Regis says he'll take pictures throughout the day so keep checking back.
I have the sponge rising for Italian country bread and Regis is soaking barley for Scotch broth. Yuck. Don't look the recipe up. It sounds gross. I'm going to make shrimp and andouille sausage gumbo. Doesn't that sound better?

11:31 a.m.
Snow continues to fall steadily and and blow. I went to the coop (three trips for one pot of soup) and it was treacherous (There's a big word for a baby!) driving, even in town. The snow plow went by and threw up a huge plume of snow so it was hard to see. No ice here, just snow for now. Regis estimates 2-3 inches on the ground. Miles, I hear you were awake in the night. It is permissible, even encouraged, to nap on snowy days.

1:19 p.m.
The snow stopped for a short time, then resumed as pingy little ice balls. That didn't last long, however, and now we're back to big fluffy flakes. Two snow mobiles just roared by our house and the neighbor has been out shoveling already. I'd say it's snowing fairly hard...not a blizzard...more like a snow globe.

5:02 p.m.
The snow has pretty much stopped here. I'd say we got a total of about 5 inches which really isn't even enough to take pictures of. You'd feel like somebody who lived in Alabama...getting overly excited about a few inches of snow. People would make fun.
So, there's your first Minnesota blizzard, Miles. Such as it was.