Cathy in the Wright

Question

Speaking of relevance...anyone else think Nick Coleman is on his way to becoming the StarTribune's next C.J.?

C.J. is the Star Tribune's gossip maven. Her column appears in the Metro section on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. Call 612-332-TIPS with your comments and celebrity sightings. E-mail? Forget about it.

Yep. I think Nick is about two columns away from: "Fraters Boys: Not Recycling Their Whiskey Bottles? Trashmen Tell All."

Depressing

The Governor outgrew the Tigger pajamas I bought for The Senator when he was a toddler.

And is it just me or did the gray hair come out in force over the last month? Time to make the dread first concession to old age: Clairol Nice 'N Easy... unless you're counting the heavy use of Ben Gay before each soccer game or the fact that for the last three New Year's Eves I've been in bed before 11 p.m.

You're In Luck - Fresh Photos

This is as close to live-blogging as we get here at The Outpost.

We did manage to get out for a walk. Here's a shot of a corner of the backyard:

The picture doesn't do justice to how neat everything looks around here. We headed off through the woods and wound our way down towards the river. Near the duck pond, we came across this:

Judging from the bone size, I'd say it's the remains of a fawn. I don't know how this one died, but it provided a tasty meal for a fox or eagle. (What's the veal equivalent for venison?)

By the time we came across this carcass, the boys were whining to go back home. Fine. I wasn't feeling so well myself after watching Hoocher graze his way through Nature's Fecal Buffet Line. I am feeling better now, however, because we have reached my favorite part of the day: Mandatory Nap Time. The Senator is trying to filibuster, but within the next ten minutes, both boys will be tucked under their covers. I have threatened to feed the remaining Christmas cookies to the dog if I hear any feet hitting the floor.

The dog is hopeful. Christmas cookies beat deer poop hands down.

Tuesday? Wednesday?

I feel as though I should beg your pardon for yesterday's post; I didn't have much inspiration. I will save the apology for today's entry. The Senator was up until 2 am last night with whooping cough. Or pleurisy. Perhaps it was just a cold, but it always seems so much worse once the clock strikes midnight.

He's much better today. Unlike his mom, he slept in until 10:30 a.m. I was planning on doing that too, but The Governor started bellowing at quarter to seven. I forgive him, but it will be deducted from his share of the estate.

When I wake up enough to find the front door, I'll be dragging the boys outside for some fresh air. The trees are beautiful this morning; all frosty white. A good day for a walk through the woods and pasture. I'll bring the camera - you never know when you might run across a dead forest critter, and I'd hate for you to miss that.

Dead Meat. Did You Expect Something Different?

I met him in a bar over the Christmas weekend. I knew right away this guy was a turkey. The strut, the way he jerked his head around...no one would miss him.

So I slipped him some Roofies, took him back to the hotel...and cut out his liver so I could sell it on the black market. Or eBay.

So far I have one bid from an E.M. Kennedy.

Is This Holiday Officially Over?

Still recovering from an excess of Christmas. The house looks like a terrorist blew up a toy store. I'll give the boys a couple more days to enjoy the madness, and then it's time to cull the herd. We're going through the toyboxes and picking out the unwanted and the unused. I'm on a mission to donate or destroy. I can't stand all the stuff that has accumulated here. My kids have no sense of appreciation; that's my fault. We remedy that next year when I give them both nothing but a cardboard box to share.

I was pretty excited about the gift I found for my nephew, The General. Aunt Cathy got him his first BB gun. A Daisy Red Ryder. I did have to warn the gun-hating grandma to expect this nightmare, lest we have to call the paramedics, but she handled it with grace. Of course I'll need The General to practice extra caution. If there is ever an injury...I'm out of the will faster than Michael Moore can eat a cheeseburger.

I also had fun buying my dad the P.J. O'Rourke book, "Peace Kills." The clerk at the Barnes & Nobles grimaced when she rang that one through.

"Oh, it looks like such a scary title!"

I grinned. Are you familiar with the author?

"Well, I think I've heard his name. Isn't he on CNN?"

As my grinned broadened, she started whipping the rest of the books in the bag. "Well, I just think it sounds AWFUL." I wanted to ask, "Haven't peeled the Wellstone! sticker off the back bumper, have we?" I didn't. Tis the season and all that, you know.

Now I'm gearing up for a small neighborhood New Years Eve party, and after that...vacation. I will be back for the next enormous social event: the Minnesota Organization of Bloggers get-together on January 22. Natalie left me a comment that led me to believe she will be there as long as we promise not to make her buy a gun. Natalie, I promise. And when you get the invitation to my Pampered Hunter party, just recycle it with the rest of the junk mail.

Merry Christmas

I almost wished I smoked cigarettes. This would be the perfect morning for one. The Outpost is still recovering from last night. Trash bags full of wrapping paper are scattered almost as liberally as the empty wine bottles. Dirty dishes are stacked on the kitchen counter. There is an odd contentment enveloping us all. Regular life needs to go on, but we're all shrugging our shoulders and giving it the half-hearted, "eh." Translation: tomorrow.

The boys have popped in the newest DVD. The VP is grazing on the fudge and cookies that have been denied him all week. I'm looking at my blog and thinking, "Thanks for the Christmas wishes, Matthew. Thanks Pam. Hope Aelfheld is having a great day. Wonder if Dave P's meal turned out as well as ours. Did Susan remember calling me Thursday night after drinking that entire bottle of wine? Does she still love me, man?!"

Tell me this doesn't call for a tumbler of Scotch and a cigarette.

Ah well. I will settle for another round of excellent Chardonnay with the father-in-law tonight as we open more gifts.

Thanks to my siblings, parents, and in-laws for making the exodus to The Outpost last night. We really enjoyed having everyone here. I hope you all got enough to eat. Next year I'll be serving insulin instead of punch with dessert. If anyone is up for leftover cheesecake, you know where to find me.

To everyone else reading this morning: I hope you have an excellent Christmas. If you're a praying sort of person, don't forget to add a line or two for the men and women in Iraq. And Afghanistan. And Kosivo. And Bosnia. And Germany. And Korea. And anywhere else that's not home.

Merry, merry Christmas.

Fa La La La La

The Christmas spirit is hitting in full force around The Outpost. Winter finally got its arse out of bed and is making an appearance. We had a dusting of snow last night. It didn't cover much, but the blowing and drifting gave me an excuse to get out the shovel and clear off the front walk. Also, there's nothing like a 20 below windchill to make you realize those halcyon days of 30 above in December are gone.

But its all great. My favorite part is baking cookies with the boys. I think they enjoy it too, although I know they'd enjoy it more if I'd let them actually eat the results. We're hosting Christmas Eve at our house, so everything is getting stored away for Friday. I've turned into a bit of a kitchen Nazi. "Put that back; it's for the party," has turned into such a common phrase around here, even The Governor has started using it. When he saw The Senator playing with a toy he wanted...I heard, "Put that back! It's for the party!"

Still, contentment reigns. Tonight, for example, I saw someone walking with a flashlight out in our pasture. Now normally, I'm all for shooting first and asking questions later, but I got on the phone and called my neighbor. Yes, her husband was out bow-hunting and was tracking a doe he thought he hit. Oh, fine. Merry Christmas. Hope Todd finds his deer.

How much better is that than awkwardly visiting your neighbor in intensive care? It's the season, I tell you.

I'm not sure how much blogging will get done between now and Christmas. My To-Do list is extensive. And yet, who knows. After all, do I really think my siblings will be able to tell the difference between a scrubbed kitchen floor and one that has been "Swiffered?"

We shall see.

When Will I Learn

Not to fix tacos on soccer nights. I'm not sure which was worse - the spicy burps or the fact that my sweat smelled like onions. I'd take credit for the win, but I'm sure it was just as hard on my teammates as my opponents.

Just another attractive aspect of my personality I don't share often enough.

He Flosses Too

This is for Aelfheld and all you other cat people. My dad sent it to me in a file labeled, "What your pets do while you're at work all day."

Minnesota Bloggers & Readers: Mark Your Calendars

The next Minnesota Organization of Bloggers get-together has been announced!

Saturday, January 22 at Keegan's Irish Pub in Minneapolis. 5 p.m.

Thanks to Doug for putting it on the web - although I'm sure Mitch will have my personal invitation in the mail. He'll probably include it with the annual Christmas letter. Oh wait. That's probably him on the phone right now.

I'm really looking forward to seeing Mitch and King and those good-looking Fraters guys again. Captain Ed and The Big Trunk too. DC, are you coming this year?

I can't wait to meet (in no particular order):

Steve Scratch that. He'll be out of town. Loser.
Jo
Doug
Gary
Mary
Andy and Natalie (no pressure to show up this year!)
Dan (same to you, Dan)
Ryan (and you!)

I'm sure I'm missing a few names here...

Since I'll be driving from the west central boondocks, if anyone on my way in wants a ride, let me know. (Bob?)

Does That Come In Mauve?

I was just reading Mark's post on cars, and it reminded me of somthing I was going to mention. Keep in mind, I am not an automotive guru. You could show me a car with a 2-cycle engine, but if it had sparkly hubcaps, I'd dig it. Just a warning.

As I was waiting to exit a parking lot the other day, I noticed a black car parked on the street across from me. It looked like a sports car that wanted to grow up to be an SUV but hadn't quite hit puberty yet. My immediate thought was, "Hey! Subaru makes a sports hearse!"

Turns out it was the Porsche SUV.

At $41,000 for the stripped-down model, it's too far out of my price range to care, but I felt a bit depressed. Porsche in the SUV market just seems like Pepsi bottling Chardonnay in six-packs.

Two Days to Remember

Perhaps my best day with Mother Nature occurred when the Senator took my hand during a walk through an Outpost field. “Look, grandpa,” he said, “there’s MY red-tailed hawk.” The bird was soaring, apparently hunting. The Senator and I waved, and it requires only a short leap of fancy to believe that the hawk dipped its wings in recognition. What a place—and what a sense of place—for boy and hawk alike.

My second best day with Mother Nature occurred this morning, while I was jogging around Lake Calhoun in Southwest Minneapolis. The mercury was at 10 above, but the sun was shining, and it was a great day to burn calories by generating body heat.

Along the west shore, a bird flew overhead and I thought, “Wow, what a hawk,” and I remembered my sighting with the Senator. “Wow” was correct, but it wasn’t a hawk, which became quite apparent when the bird pulled a hard right turn and settled into a fishing run along a stretch of open water. No hawk—even the red-tail of memory—could equal the majesty of what was a huge, beautiful bald eagle.

The eagle flew as near as 10 yards away, paying me no attention. The fishing run was a dud, but he spotted several ducks and landed on the ice near them. It must have been a late hatch, because the ducks were small and not taking wing as the Eagle sized them up like a kid at a candy buffet. I couldn’t quit running to watch, because—at my age—stop-and-go jogging is not an option, because knee joints and leg muscles seize tighter than Tin Man’s in a rainstorm. Then there’s a matter of hobbling a mile back to the car in 10-degree weather, sunshine or no, when you’re sweat-chilled.

A woman walking in the opposite direction asked, “Do you think he’ll eat the ducks?” “That would be my guess” I replied in passing. When I got to the north shore—main beach to locals—I saw that my guess had been correct. The eagle was at water’s edge with its talons on top of a deceased duck. However, a gaggle of crows had put the eagle’s lunch on hold (literally and figuratively) as they fluttered around, looking to score their own meal. I don’t know what happened after that, because I had to keep running, but I’d bet the Eagle went back to the buffet at least once more.

In my lifetime, I’ve seen a few eagles but none closer than 200 yards, and certainly never in the middle of a city, so this is another day I’ll not soon forget.

Scrooge Critiques Holiday Music - Vol. 2

If your name isn't Gene Autry - and it's not - you should not be allowed to sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and line your pockets. Especially if you go by the name Babyface.

In a rare moment of weakness, The Outpost Music Guild has given out one of its highest ratings to a Christmas melody sung by a modern recording artist. The OMG gives a coveted 3-1/2 Mangers to Barenaked Ladies for their recording of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. We like it. Four Mangers would have been awarded, but Sarah McLachlan adds her vocals to the effort. While we have nothing to critique in the quality of her voice, our conservative soul balks a bit at anyone involved with Lilith Fair.

Channeling Bob Davis

The Governor has been walking around quoting our favorite radio personality.

You're an idiot.

I thought about lecturing him on the use of derogatory terms, but it's just so cute.

It's this kind of thing that will vault you above your competitors in the eyes of "Mother of the Year" judges. I'm a shoe-in.

Oh Boy..

I don't know whether to strut like a rooster or hide my head in embarrassment.

In case you missed the comments from that last post...go see who made the blogroll at Day by Day.

Chris...Do the others on your Links List care that the property value just went down?

Thank you very much. That's a huge honor.

Feels Like Midnight Already

Looooong day. The effort to get both boys out of bed, fed, dressed, and weather-proofed seems to be inversely proportional to the temperature outside. Never add less than half an hour to your projected departure time; fifteen minutes to find all the hats, gloves, snowpants, jackets, and boots and fifteen to argue, persuade, cajole, and force your children into them.

This morning I had to shake both of them out of bed. The Governor wore his pajama tops to the nursing home. Breakfast was eaten in the car. And the mittens and hats were in the backpack where they were doing the most good. Look for the feature article on me - "How She Does It!" - featured in Good Housekeeping next month. If you don't subscribe, don't worry. I understand they'll be reading it aloud at the Mother of the Year award ceremony on the 28th of the month. Check your local cable guide.

The afternoon improved with the visit of a new kindergarten friend. I've been hearing about "Levi" since the first weeks of school. We finally got around to inviting him and his mom over for lunch. What a great kid. Mom is terrific too. I'm so relieved. In preschool, The Senator seems enthralled with the mullet-sporting wild child. His taste has improved exponentially.

After our guests left, the rest of the day was a bit of a blur. I'm not sure what I fixed the kids for dinner. It's quite possible they ate Science Diet and the dog got leftover mac and cheese. After baths and showers, I poured them into bed and poured myself a drink. And I'd really enjoy that drink right about now, except I can't remember where I placed it.

Bed time, no?

Warming Trend

Well, things are looking up. The temperature is 13; the windchill is only -2. This I can handle. Cancel hibernation. Unless that means I don't get to eat the cheesecake.

Time to put the kettle on for tea and curl up with something to read. Anyone have Al Gore's latest treatise on global warming?

My Heartbeat Will Now Slow to 12 bpm

Sorry there was no weekend posting. I was going to attempt some today, but the temperature outside is about 20 degrees, and with the wind, it feels like -5.

I am going to eat my way through five or six boxes of assorted, soft-center chocolates and finish them off with a couple sticks of butter and an entire turtle cheesecake. By Tuesday I should have packed on enough fat to last me until March.

See you then.

The Governor Destroys Another Fine Mood, Part II

The Senator had his first school program last night. Eighty kindergartners singing Christmas songs at the top of their little lungs. Good thing it was loud. I was forced to watch it from the lobby. The Governor decided it was beyond cute to interject the word "burp" into any silence. So I fired the warning shot across the bow right as the principal was welcoming the crowd.

"One more 'burp' and we're out of here, mister."

"Burp!"

So out we went into the lobby. Through the doors, we managed to watch The Senator perform. Just as The Senator's class finished, The Governor got fed up with the lobby and started screaming. So we went outside into the rain. More screaming. So we went to the car.

By the time we hit the car, he was out of control. I fastened him into his carseat using methods I'm sure would be disallowed under the Geneva Convention. Once secured, he continued to scream and kick. The car was rocking, the windows were steaming up...thank goodness the entire community was inside the elementary school listening to Jingle Bells.

The silver lining? He wore himself out so completely that he slept until nearly nine o'clock this morning. Now we're both refreshed and this morning is going relatively well. No fights or battles. But it's not yet 11 am. Plenty of time.

It will take a supreme effort on his part to ruin today's good mood, however. Tonight I'm taking my girlfriend out to dinner for her birthday. The VP will be home with The Gov., The Senator will be staying overnight with his grandparents, and I will be free. I may not return home until Tuesday.

Have a great weekend.

Dear Rufus

Tina W. sent me a note that her dog is the spitting image of our Hoocher. She adds that her dog, like mine, was adopted from an animal shelter and is quite mellow and laid-back. Separated at birth? Now that our other dogs have passed away, Hoocher is longing for some additional family, especially as the holidays draw near.

To Rufus, my long lost brother:

Much love, Hoocher

Still Here

Hello Friends! Sorry about the two day absence. I thought I was coming down with the same viral malady that struck The Governor. Today I realized that my sore throat and rasping voice were due to the numerous arguments and battles I've been having with The Gov. Nothing works on this boy. Counting to three, threatened boycott by Santa, time-outs, shuffling adoption papers under his nose...he's just not impressed. I still have one trick up my sleeve: the television. I need to be careful, however, of using this ace unwisely. Television has come to my rescue in the past. I would hate to lose such an ally. But when I smash the remote control under his nose someday, it's going to make Hiroshima look a backyard bottlerocket display.

Otherwise life is going on as usual. Today was our weekly trip to the nursing home. Nothing exciting happened until Hoocher sneezed on Eva. She was a bit distressed, so we took ourselves off to another room. When we were out of sight, I congratulated Hoocher on his aim. After all the times I've had saliva and other unidentified goop spit or sneezed on me, it was fun to see it go the other way.

Had a great soccer game Friday night with my Russian team. I think I broke my little toe though. It's swollen and bruised and uncannily resembles a big red grape. I don't know if I broke a bone, but since this toe is entirely useless, I don't see the need to go to the doctor. I was able to play again Monday night. If it gets worse, I might just inquire about getting the thing cut off entirely. I'd have one less appendage to break while gaining extra room in some of my favorite high heels.

I guess that's all for now. I do want to congratulate Ross and Diana and the boys on the arrival of their little girl! I hope you're all doing well! Next time you find yourselves in our area, you drop those kids off here and scoot. I'd love to babysit!

Bwah Ha Ha!

The VP is sitting in the other room and wants to know why I'm laughing hysterically...

Another thanks to Gary. Do you boys at D-Q have any actual work to do? I hope not. Keep it coming.

Whew.

I've really been looking forward to the next Minnesota Blogger get-together. I haven't heard of any yet, but I'm sure Mitch is right on top of it.

Imagine my relief, however, when I checked Steve's site and finally learned how to pronounce his last name.

Major faux pas avoided.

Thanks, Steve.

TGIF: It's The VP's Turn To Stay Up With Him All Night

The Governor and I just got back from the doctor's office. Double ear infections and possible walking pneumonia. No wonder he's been such a little troll lately. I was amused by the doctor. He was a very calm, placid man. He walked in the exam room and The Gov turned his face away from him, hiding in my jacket. The doc said, "Oh, gee, I'll be very gentle here. Perhaps my white coat scares him a bit..."

Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Scare The Governor? You must be joking. I didn't have the heart to tell the man that by the end of the appointment, he'd be calling for back-ups.

The Gov screamed throughout the entire exam. The doctor wrote up the prescription, gave me the dosing instructions, and bolted from the room. I couldn't blame the guy. On our way out the door, everyone at the nurses' station turned to gawk, and one sympathetic RN wished me well.

The pharmacy was even more entertaining. Our local pharmacy is great. I always have a short wait, but today it just could not be short enough. By the time we hit the cashier, The Gov was in full meltdown mode. He threw himself to the ground, arched his back, screamed, cried, and started kicking his feet. If he wasn't my kid, I would have found the whole effort rather impressive.

As it was, I had to sling him fireman-style over my shoulder to get him out to the car. Trying to fasten him in his carseat goes beyond my mastery of words. I had a momentary thought that someone looking on would call the police and report a kidnapping. But the thought went as fast as it came. A kidnapper would never be so patient. And it wouldn't take the police long to figure out no one else wanted to claim him.

So now we're home. Looney Tunes are playing. Medicine has been administered. And the odds of a nap are looking pretty good. My life has been reduced to an Old Milwaukee slogan.

Thought For The Day

Any married man should forget his mistakes. There's no use in two people remembering the same thing.

Thanks, Gary.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

I got a copy of our local weekly newspaper in the mail today. The lead story was about a Cokato furniture store that was robbed of $25,000 in merchandise. Here's the meat:

...Two complete living room sets were stolen from Countryside Furniture, U.S. Highway 12 W., Cokato, sometime between when owner Steve Kordahl closed the store at 4:30 p.m. Nov. 20 and when he opened up at 10 a.m. Nov. 22.

Both the front door and the side door to the store were damaged during the break-in. The thieves even had the audacity to use Countryside’s brand-new, unmarked trailer to transport the goods. Then they brought the trailer back.

“Who would risk getting pinched bringing it back?” Kordahl wondered. “That’s gutsy.”

The store was closed for about six hours on Mon. Nov. 22 while the Wright County Sheriff’s Department investigated the burglary.

“I feel they (the burglars) were furnishing a home,” Kordahl said. “They took complete sets, like they were putting entire rooms together. They even took pictures and throws — we’re still finding things missing.”

Supporting Kordahl’s belief the burglars had just finished a remodeling project and needed furniture is a receipt for a lumberyard sheriff’s investigators found in the parking lot.

“It must have fallen out of their truck,” he said.

The thieves even took the time to load up a set of plates in a cardboard box after they removed the store’s calendar order.

“They loaded it right out of the overhead door in the warehouse,” Kordahl said.

In all, $25,000 worth of merchandise was stolen, including a leather sectional.

Kordahl said the items are covered by insurance, but that doesn’t change the eerie feeling the theft has given him. He believes whoever is responsible came in during his “change of ownership” sale and picked out the items before they stole them.

Knowing that he probably came face-to-face with the culprits before the theft is “real strange,” he said.

Six months ago, thieves stole $143 in cash from the store, but didn’t touch any of the merchandise. During this most recent burglary, the thieves broke into the cash register, but, since the store no longer keeps bills, they took quarters, dimes and nickels.

“We’re having a security system installed today, and we’ve got extra locks on the doors,” Kordahl said during a Nov. 24 interview.

Despite two burglaries in less than six months, Kordahl remains optimistic.

“In spite of what happened, I still feel there’s not a better community to live in and do business in.”

From an advertisement in the October 6, 2004 issue of this same paper I learned that

"For the past seven years we have had a silent partner here at Countryside Furniture and Gifts. This partner has decided to sell his interests in this business. To make this transaction possible, we MUST REDUCE OUR INVENTORY BY 50%!"

This poor guy. Two burglaries. Trying to pay off a business partner. Thousands of dollars worth of stuff stolen. Has to spring for the new alarm system. And he still likes living and working here. I hope the Chamber of Commerce can do something nice for this guy.