Thursday, July 24, 2008
Continuing With Things I Don't Have Time For
I'm now on Facebook. If you want to be friends with me (n.b., NOT "friend" me), you know where to find me.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Photo Essay: The Range
As an editor, a reader and a human being, I hate the "word" "staycation." I also hate all the "reporting" that's been going on with the "staycation" "phenomenon," including the reasons for them (gas prices, poor economy), what they actually entail (camping within 50 miles of home, discovering town you live in) and how most of the reports end with a surly teenager talking about not being able to wait to get back to "civilization" and "TV."
Back in the day, before Matt and I were even dating, we would take these long drives he called capades. We drove to Red Wing. We drove to Pipestone. We drove to Stillwater. We'd drive somewhere, soak in the local, and then come home. It's what we did. Before we were dating, and then when I came back from Russia, too (in fact, we went on a capade in Russia). I hate that "staycation" is this new thing with its own dumb word when a perfectly good one, "capade," is available -- much like Matt, who grew up in flannel and jeans, hated the idea of grunge fashion when it came along.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I can tell you about the day trip we took yesterday up to the Iron Range. Matt wanted to show us all the places he goes to on the rails, and there were a few tourist outlets we'd always said we should go to but never have, and that was a good enough reason to hop in the car and head -- north? west? I'm never sure on the Range. I don't know if it's the vast amount of iron ore in the ground that throws off my (usually quite good) internal compass, or the fact that it's always cloudy or hazy when we drive on the Range, or the fact that there are at least two roads to get from every town to every other town, but I am always lost on the Range. It should be easy:
...but it never is.
With Matt's job, finding time where we're all off is a little difficult He doesn't have weekends or, really, vacation days. He has 8 hours off after an 8- to 11:59-hour shift, and he has 10 hours off after a 12-hour shift. Sometimes these stretches combine with train times to make the breaks a little longer, but he's basically on call 24/7. Yesterday was a day he had off due to a complicated rule I'm not going to get into here, but the point is he was off, he knew he wouldn't get called for at least 24 hours when he came home Friday evening, and we were going to take a trip.
We got up early and were on the road by about 7. The kids were in a great mood to travel and we told them to watch for wildlife, which always gets them kind of quiet yet interested in what's going on. I usually allow them to bring all the books they want on a drive, but for this trip I each let them bring one. "Can you believe that?" Matt said as we were driving. "Telling a kid to shut a book because he might miss something?" Often, though, Matt and I will say, "Wow! Look at that!" and at least one kid will miss it because of reading.
It's a good thing we did, because this first thing we saw was this:
She watched us for a long time, then ran along the road for awhile before crashing off into the woods.
As we drove on, Matt said we should watch for foxes at the crossroads bar he sometimes drives past. "Every morning I come by and there's a big one sitting in the road," he said. "I don't always drive this way, but when I do, I see him."
As we approached the bar, we saw the owner come out with a big pan in his hand. We raised our hands at each other, then Matt slowed to turn the corner, and:
There were three in the road and at least one in the ditch. I heard the bar owner scolding them to get out of the road and figured he must feed them, which made seeing them not quite as cool. But I got a good photo.
Up on the Range, we swung by one of the yards Matt works in and looked at some taconite cars he had set aside the day before because of bad brakes. We got quick and dirty lesson in how to couple cars, how to throw a switch and how to identify where the taconite comes from by looking at how it's loaded into a car. Take that, foamers! In the meantime, I tried to get a photo of an osprey landing on its nest, but this is the best I could do. At least the ore cars are visible.
The next place we went was the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame. I totally beat Matt at bubble hockey until he tied the score before the time ran out. I also found out that I have a 35 mph shot.
After that the only thing to do is visit the world's largest hockey stick. Like any hockey goon, Maia hugged the largest puck when she saw it.
Then it was time for lunch. There was some difficulty finding a place to eat that wasn't a bar or a chain. Not being locals, we weren't sure which bars were actually pubs and so we fled to Chisholm hoping to find a mealhouse there. While driving around Chisholm, I saw my favorite sign of the day.
We found food, we ate, and we moved on to the Minnesota Museum of Mining which was interesting and fun for the kids. The outdoor display is a bunch of old mining equipment and trains that you can climb around on. And not in a "do not go past this point" way, but an "at your own risk" way.
This photo doesn't do it justice, but this was one of my favorite items.
The kids had a good time playing on the equipment. Here they are driving the steam shovel pictured above.
After some coffee and Dairy Queen, we were ready to head home. Maia conked out, John read his one book and I slowly regained my sense of direction as we drove back. After a lazy mac'n'cheese supper and the series finale of "Avatar: The Last Airbender," we were all beat about 9 p.m. As Matt stretched and starting making "I'm going to get ready for bed" noises, his phone rang. It was the call for the 2330 Thunderbird. If he left right then, he'd just make it. He hung up and started getting his lunchbox ready; his break was over, and after that long travel day he worked at 13-hour shift that started at 11:30 p.m.
As far as the rest of the summer goes, we're taking a five-digit vacation to Mt. New Septic Mound. Yes, it's a dream trip to a useless pile of gravel that will freeze in the winter and replaces a fully functioning drain field just to fulfill the county's whim. As an added bonus, we're also going to take side trips to Digging Through Asphalt Driveway and observe the culture of Workers Coming By At Odd Hours, Which Is Fine But Sometimes Awkward.
Back in the day, before Matt and I were even dating, we would take these long drives he called capades. We drove to Red Wing. We drove to Pipestone. We drove to Stillwater. We'd drive somewhere, soak in the local, and then come home. It's what we did. Before we were dating, and then when I came back from Russia, too (in fact, we went on a capade in Russia). I hate that "staycation" is this new thing with its own dumb word when a perfectly good one, "capade," is available -- much like Matt, who grew up in flannel and jeans, hated the idea of grunge fashion when it came along.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I can tell you about the day trip we took yesterday up to the Iron Range. Matt wanted to show us all the places he goes to on the rails, and there were a few tourist outlets we'd always said we should go to but never have, and that was a good enough reason to hop in the car and head -- north? west? I'm never sure on the Range. I don't know if it's the vast amount of iron ore in the ground that throws off my (usually quite good) internal compass, or the fact that it's always cloudy or hazy when we drive on the Range, or the fact that there are at least two roads to get from every town to every other town, but I am always lost on the Range. It should be easy:
...but it never is.With Matt's job, finding time where we're all off is a little difficult He doesn't have weekends or, really, vacation days. He has 8 hours off after an 8- to 11:59-hour shift, and he has 10 hours off after a 12-hour shift. Sometimes these stretches combine with train times to make the breaks a little longer, but he's basically on call 24/7. Yesterday was a day he had off due to a complicated rule I'm not going to get into here, but the point is he was off, he knew he wouldn't get called for at least 24 hours when he came home Friday evening, and we were going to take a trip.
We got up early and were on the road by about 7. The kids were in a great mood to travel and we told them to watch for wildlife, which always gets them kind of quiet yet interested in what's going on. I usually allow them to bring all the books they want on a drive, but for this trip I each let them bring one. "Can you believe that?" Matt said as we were driving. "Telling a kid to shut a book because he might miss something?" Often, though, Matt and I will say, "Wow! Look at that!" and at least one kid will miss it because of reading.
It's a good thing we did, because this first thing we saw was this:
She watched us for a long time, then ran along the road for awhile before crashing off into the woods.
As we drove on, Matt said we should watch for foxes at the crossroads bar he sometimes drives past. "Every morning I come by and there's a big one sitting in the road," he said. "I don't always drive this way, but when I do, I see him."
As we approached the bar, we saw the owner come out with a big pan in his hand. We raised our hands at each other, then Matt slowed to turn the corner, and:
There were three in the road and at least one in the ditch. I heard the bar owner scolding them to get out of the road and figured he must feed them, which made seeing them not quite as cool. But I got a good photo.
Up on the Range, we swung by one of the yards Matt works in and looked at some taconite cars he had set aside the day before because of bad brakes. We got quick and dirty lesson in how to couple cars, how to throw a switch and how to identify where the taconite comes from by looking at how it's loaded into a car. Take that, foamers! In the meantime, I tried to get a photo of an osprey landing on its nest, but this is the best I could do. At least the ore cars are visible.
The next place we went was the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame. I totally beat Matt at bubble hockey until he tied the score before the time ran out. I also found out that I have a 35 mph shot.
After that the only thing to do is visit the world's largest hockey stick. Like any hockey goon, Maia hugged the largest puck when she saw it.
Then it was time for lunch. There was some difficulty finding a place to eat that wasn't a bar or a chain. Not being locals, we weren't sure which bars were actually pubs and so we fled to Chisholm hoping to find a mealhouse there. While driving around Chisholm, I saw my favorite sign of the day.
We found food, we ate, and we moved on to the Minnesota Museum of Mining which was interesting and fun for the kids. The outdoor display is a bunch of old mining equipment and trains that you can climb around on. And not in a "do not go past this point" way, but an "at your own risk" way.
This photo doesn't do it justice, but this was one of my favorite items.
The kids had a good time playing on the equipment. Here they are driving the steam shovel pictured above.
After some coffee and Dairy Queen, we were ready to head home. Maia conked out, John read his one book and I slowly regained my sense of direction as we drove back. After a lazy mac'n'cheese supper and the series finale of "Avatar: The Last Airbender," we were all beat about 9 p.m. As Matt stretched and starting making "I'm going to get ready for bed" noises, his phone rang. It was the call for the 2330 Thunderbird. If he left right then, he'd just make it. He hung up and started getting his lunchbox ready; his break was over, and after that long travel day he worked at 13-hour shift that started at 11:30 p.m.
As far as the rest of the summer goes, we're taking a five-digit vacation to Mt. New Septic Mound. Yes, it's a dream trip to a useless pile of gravel that will freeze in the winter and replaces a fully functioning drain field just to fulfill the county's whim. As an added bonus, we're also going to take side trips to Digging Through Asphalt Driveway and observe the culture of Workers Coming By At Odd Hours, Which Is Fine But Sometimes Awkward.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Well Hello There
During the week, 4 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. turns into a blur of a news meeting, wrapping up some editing, being out of the office no later than a certain time, picking up the kids by a certain time, grocery store, supper, some kind of diversionary activity with the kids until bedtime, bedtime. It's really kind of a drag. Sometimes I'm Super Mom and have made supper the night before, or sometimes Matt is off at supper time so we go out to eat, but really, once 4 p.m. hits, I don't stop until dusk.
Today was no different. A small traveling circus was in town tonight, so the routine was going to be a little speedier than usual. Fortunately, Matt picked up the kids, so I was on my own at the grocery store with a little time to spare.
I walked down the cereal aisle to pick up some Cheerios. As I was walking down the aisle, I saw a girl, about 7, and her mother across at the end of the aisle. They were looking at me and smiling. The girl waved.
I didn't recognize them, but smiled back, in that polite way you do when you think maybe someone's waving at someone behind you. They grinned, pleased: I was the person they thought I was. The girl was so excited that I opened my mouth in this sort of Muppet face I get to express — or mirror someone else's — agitation (those of you who know me are familiar with this face, although I didn't do it to the extreme in the way I sometimes do). The girl jumped up and down and said, "Can I say hi to her, Mom? Can I?"
The mom granted permission and called at me down the aisle, "She must really miss you!"
"Heh, heh!" I said, and it actually did sound like I was saying that. "I guess so!"
The girl ran to me, arms outstretched, her long yellow hair pushed back with a headband and her t-shirt dirty, as if from playing outside all day. Her face was all lit up and I said, "Hello!" in this laughing happy voice as if I hadn't seen her for months. Which, of course, I hadn't; I'd never seen her in my life, as far as I knew. She hugged me around my waist, and I gave her a half-hug back: I had a basket of groceries over one elbow, and after all, you don't just full-on embrace a stranger's child in a grocery store.
"I think she's happy to see you!" her mother said, as she started walking toward another aisle.
"Who are you?" I said to the girl, in the same tone of voice I would have used if the first word had been "how". She looked up at me, laughing, and said, "Lily!" and ran back to her mother. The two of them walked down a different aisle, and I checked to make sure I had the box of Cheerios I had been aiming at, and then my shopping trip went back to normal. The circus was cancelled, probably because of the weather, and the rest of my evening has been uneventful.
Today was no different. A small traveling circus was in town tonight, so the routine was going to be a little speedier than usual. Fortunately, Matt picked up the kids, so I was on my own at the grocery store with a little time to spare.
I walked down the cereal aisle to pick up some Cheerios. As I was walking down the aisle, I saw a girl, about 7, and her mother across at the end of the aisle. They were looking at me and smiling. The girl waved.
I didn't recognize them, but smiled back, in that polite way you do when you think maybe someone's waving at someone behind you. They grinned, pleased: I was the person they thought I was. The girl was so excited that I opened my mouth in this sort of Muppet face I get to express — or mirror someone else's — agitation (those of you who know me are familiar with this face, although I didn't do it to the extreme in the way I sometimes do). The girl jumped up and down and said, "Can I say hi to her, Mom? Can I?"
The mom granted permission and called at me down the aisle, "She must really miss you!"
"Heh, heh!" I said, and it actually did sound like I was saying that. "I guess so!"
The girl ran to me, arms outstretched, her long yellow hair pushed back with a headband and her t-shirt dirty, as if from playing outside all day. Her face was all lit up and I said, "Hello!" in this laughing happy voice as if I hadn't seen her for months. Which, of course, I hadn't; I'd never seen her in my life, as far as I knew. She hugged me around my waist, and I gave her a half-hug back: I had a basket of groceries over one elbow, and after all, you don't just full-on embrace a stranger's child in a grocery store.
"I think she's happy to see you!" her mother said, as she started walking toward another aisle.
"Who are you?" I said to the girl, in the same tone of voice I would have used if the first word had been "how". She looked up at me, laughing, and said, "Lily!" and ran back to her mother. The two of them walked down a different aisle, and I checked to make sure I had the box of Cheerios I had been aiming at, and then my shopping trip went back to normal. The circus was cancelled, probably because of the weather, and the rest of my evening has been uneventful.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
In Which I Share Just A Bit Much About My Writing Past
When I was a teenager, I, like most teenagers, took myself very seriously on several levels. During the summer, before I got jobs, I would decide that the season was a good one to devote myself to current events or learning something new. Or sometimes both. I followed the events of Tiananmen Square slavishly (and this was before the Web -- fortunately, the town I grew up in had a morning paper and an afternoon paper). One year, I fell in love with baseball. Another year, I read "The Adolescent," by Dostoyevsky. The summer of 1987, I let Peter Jennings walk me through the Iran-Contra hearings and I loved him ever since. That summer, I also wrote a sonnet in honor of the USS Stark, the first part of which I still remember by heart:
OK, I totally call a Twin Ports Cringe Fest! Who's with me?
Anyway, I wrote a lot of sonnets that summer, but that one was probably the worst.
This summer is my Vietnam journalism summer. I finished Once Upon a Distant War by William Prochnau a couple weeks ago and loved it. I'm now plowing through Neil Sheehan's A Bright Shining Lie and if I finish it by August I'll tackle the Pentagon Papers next. Some people like fluffy fiction during the summer; I like heavier stuff. But I think I'll pass on the sonnets this time around.
Remember, friend, the tale of the Stark,
Her crew cut down without a single shot.
O weep, America! And kindly mark,
their blood, upon your flag, an angry blot.
OK, I totally call a Twin Ports Cringe Fest! Who's with me?
Anyway, I wrote a lot of sonnets that summer, but that one was probably the worst.
This summer is my Vietnam journalism summer. I finished Once Upon a Distant War by William Prochnau a couple weeks ago and loved it. I'm now plowing through Neil Sheehan's A Bright Shining Lie and if I finish it by August I'll tackle the Pentagon Papers next. Some people like fluffy fiction during the summer; I like heavier stuff. But I think I'll pass on the sonnets this time around.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Shocking
My day started with finding out that I'd let my car battery run down, so I spent the morning dogsbodying around finding the battery charger, finding an extension cord, trying to decide if it was OK to have the charger almost tipped so its cord could reach the extension cord, battling the apple tree because I'd parked Right. Under. It. the night before, debating whether I should mess around with the fuses which would involve disconnecting the battery, wondering why the charger wasn't reading a charge after I hooked it up to my car battery, trying to keep the kids from burying their faces under the car hood so the battery could discharge acid into their eyes, arguing with myself over whether I should just change my clothes before I do anything more drastic on the car (like take out the battery and switch it with the battery in the 1970 Chrysler), et hoc genus omne, until I finally got ahold of Matt on his train up to the Range and he recommended that instead of grounding the black clamp, I should put it on the negative terminal of the battery.
Do wha-wha? And risk exploding the Earth? He was pretty cavalier about the possibility of world destruction, so I tried it, and the car started right up. That was the most remarkable thing that happened to me today, which tells you a lot right there.
Do wha-wha? And risk exploding the Earth? He was pretty cavalier about the possibility of world destruction, so I tried it, and the car started right up. That was the most remarkable thing that happened to me today, which tells you a lot right there.
Friday, July 04, 2008
All Eyes Accounted For, Though
It's not even dark yet and three of us have burned ourselves with fireworks! The one who didn't was in bed -- but of course, that was after a 12-hour shift up to Minntac and back.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Go Me!
Today is my birthday.
Update at 10:28: I was going to do stuff like bake a cake and spend all the time I wanted agate-hunting, but I HAVE AN IPOD! Yes! I've now made it to the middle part of the decade! So I've been spending the morning downloading all sorts of Songs From When I Was Young and putting them on my shiny new iPod that's engraved with "Soundtrack to Editbarn" on the back. I found it when I came up from the basement after waking the kids up and I could hear Metallica's cover of "Ecstasy of Gold" by Enrico Marricone blazing away outside from my car. And there was the iPod! AWESOME! WOO! THANK YOU, MATT!
Update at 2:52: After I was done downloading music (Fugazi! Screaming Trees! Guadalcanal Diary! And Jill Scott!), Matt took me to lunch at one of my favorite places for lunch, the New Scenic Cafe. I had the asparagus and brie pizza (with onions, lemon, baby spinach and truffle oil) and a glass of red wine, and Matt had the fried egg and asparagus sandwich with gruyere and something else. Nom. For dessert I had key lime pie with huckleberries and he had some kind of pie, I can't remember what it was. Yurrrrrm.
Update at 5:51: The problem with an iPod is that after carrying it around for a day you think, "You know, this would be so much better if it had, you know, a phone in it."
Update at 10:28: I was going to do stuff like bake a cake and spend all the time I wanted agate-hunting, but I HAVE AN IPOD! Yes! I've now made it to the middle part of the decade! So I've been spending the morning downloading all sorts of Songs From When I Was Young and putting them on my shiny new iPod that's engraved with "Soundtrack to Editbarn" on the back. I found it when I came up from the basement after waking the kids up and I could hear Metallica's cover of "Ecstasy of Gold" by Enrico Marricone blazing away outside from my car. And there was the iPod! AWESOME! WOO! THANK YOU, MATT!
Update at 2:52: After I was done downloading music (Fugazi! Screaming Trees! Guadalcanal Diary! And Jill Scott!), Matt took me to lunch at one of my favorite places for lunch, the New Scenic Cafe. I had the asparagus and brie pizza (with onions, lemon, baby spinach and truffle oil) and a glass of red wine, and Matt had the fried egg and asparagus sandwich with gruyere and something else. Nom. For dessert I had key lime pie with huckleberries and he had some kind of pie, I can't remember what it was. Yurrrrrm.
Update at 5:51: The problem with an iPod is that after carrying it around for a day you think, "You know, this would be so much better if it had, you know, a phone in it."
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