Don't say "yes" when you mean "no"

Last week Bob bought a new Garmin GPS. He will need it when his OnStar subscription expires, and this seemed like a good time to get used to the new model, with its large, easy-to-read display and lifetime map support.

In order to keep maps up-to-date, I thought I'd install Garmin Express software on my laptop computer. I was a little distracted when I was doing so, and somehow I made the mistake of installing bundled adware along with the Garmin software. I've always preached the need to say "no" to installation choices, unless you're absolutely sure you mean "yes". I could hardly believe I got caught myself, and was somewhat surprised my Norton antivirus software to kick in when I really needed it.

The adware kicked in immediately, slowing down my computer and offering me the opportunity to buy a wide variety of products and services, including anti-adware software and services (!), upgrade Windows drivers or talk to a tech for immediate help. The usable real estate on my desktop diminished to a few square inches. Too bad I didn't read this item before I installed Garmin Express.

I spent several hours over the weekend trying to uninstall the adware. Norton was very involved this time around, and I thought -- more than once -- that the adware was gone. I think I got most of it uninstalled, but I'm fairly sure both IE11 and Chrome browsers were hijacked with adware add-ons and I just didn't have the skill or the tools to fix the problem.

Finally, I did things the old fashioned way and restored Windows (8.1) to its pre-Garmin state. PC and Windows are running fine now, and I feel lucky that I got only a slap on the hand for my carelessness.

Breadmaking 101: F

The bread maker

My mother, Mary Ryan, never considered herself an expert in the kitchen but she was a good cook and very competent baker. She followed recipe instructions to the letter and knew the value of accurate measurements, especially for certain ingredients like baking powder, salt and vanilla.

I remember Maman's baked goods, produced with predictable results and few, if any, failures. Many years ago during a visit, she was horrified to see me throw out a baking sheet caked with some baking disaster that I was too lazy to clean up. She would have laughed at my recent bread making adventures.

I'd been thinking about getting a bread maker for several years, sure that the methodology would be foolproof and even enjoyable. I imagined myself throwing together a batch of bread before leaving for work in the morning and arriving home to the tantalizing aroma of fresh baked bread. Add soup and voilà, a delicious meal.

As I researched the subject over a period of at least 7-8 years, I decided that the best approach might be to borrow a bread maker from a friend. However, anyone I asked had long ago sold the machine at a garage sale or donated it to charity. Finally, Meggan K. came to the rescue with an almost new machine that she graciously borrowed to me.

I made my first bread last Wednesday, a one-pound loaf of plain white bread. The instructions were easy and soon my bread was being mixed and kneaded, allowed to rise several times, and baked in the machine. My husband and I sampled the bread as soon as we could, while it was still warm. We tried it cold too, and as toast. It tasked fine, but really "just OK". I ended up throwing out most of it, determined to try again.

This time I found a recipe online that went against the instructions that came with the bread maker -- "Forget everything you thought you knew about using your bread machine!". The recipe promised fabulous results, so I thought it would be good to come home from church to fresh baked bread. Early on in the process, something seemed to be amiss. The mixture didn't knead properly and a layer of flour covered the top of the "loaf". The yeast mixture bubbled up along the sides of the pan. Oh oh. This development did not bode well.

Home made bread!

I decided to let the cycle terminate naturally. The alert sounded after baking was complete, so I eagerly opened the bread maker.  The gooey mixture was caked with flour and the "bread" seemed like dumplings squashed together, with a bit of caulk added in for texture: another candidate for the garbage. Mercifully, Bob did not laugh, but thought that he himself would be able to do a better job if he tried. I can see this might very well be true.

This is not my first culinary catastrophe, and I must have matured a little over the years because I didn't have a temper tantrum or try to hide the evidence of my failure. It helps that retirement has given me more time, and I didn't need to feel that I had wasted precious weekend time on bread making.

I still have bread flour and yeast left.

I'm going to try making bread one more time, the traditional way.

Winter Wedding

Cousins Michele Hennessey and Bob Hennessey with Rich Fortman and Kerry Hennessey

There's nothing like a winter wedding to break the monotony of cold and ice. Yesterday we were at Hamline Church United Methodist for the marriage of Kerry Hennessey and Richard Fortman. Kerry is the beautiful daughter of Bob's first cousin, Tommy Hennessey and his wife Cindy.

I felt a little anxious before the wedding because of a "formal attire" notation on the invitation. I have not formal clothes and fretted off an on about what I'd wear, but in the end I was fine in my seldom worn velvet jacket and black fake silk pants. Bob was very dapper in his dress clothes, including the custom made shirt that was a birthday gift from Chris last spring.

The  ceremony was a mix of traditional and modern, with a few laughs that relaxed the wedding party and the guests. In his nervousness, the groom forgot one of the phrases in the "repeat after me" segment of the exchange of consent and he had to ask the officiating minister for help. Very endearing.

We were a little concerned about getting to the reception in downtown Saint Paul at A'bulae, right Saint Paul Winter Carnival Vulcan Victory Torchlight Parade. We did have to wait for a few minutes to get into the parking ramp but really didn't face any difficulty at all.
where the

The reception venue was beautiful and upscale. To my surprise, the bridal party arrived at the reception with everyone else. Timing was perfect, with just enough time for a pleasant mix of appetizers and cocktails. My red wine was so delicious that I know I need to know the name.

The bride and groom visited our table as they were making their rounds and I was happy to snap a good shot of cousins Michele Hennessey and Bob Hennessey, with the bride and groom. Our companions at Table 4 were pleasant and interesting. The evening was full of fun and joy.

Father of the bride Tom Hennessey (seoond from left) with ousins Mary, Michele, and Bob. I'm second from the right.

Surprised by Real Customer Service

Just before the New Year the carbon dioxide that powers my Genesis SodaStream ran out of gas and I returned the empty canister to Walmart for a refill. At a cost of $14.95, the process was simple and cheap, at least $10 less than the cost at Target, where I used to replace my canisters.

However, my SodaStream machine didn't work when I tried it out with the new CO2. Bob thought that I'd received an empty cylinder, but that seemed so unlikely that I called SodaStream's customer service on New Year's Eve. After spending ten minutes on the phone with me, the customer service rep determined that my machine was defective and would be replaced under the terms of the three-year warranty. She emailed a UPS label and I returned my SodaStream for free.

Today the new machine arrived but it didn't work. Once again, Bob figured the CO2 canister was empty, so I returned it to Walmart for a replacement. Although the customer service people had trouble with the return of their first "defective" cylinder, they were cheerful and stayed with the problem until it was solved ten or fifteen minutes later.

I screwed the canister into the new SodaStream and carbonated two bottles of water with my new appliance. I'm amazed that I dealt with two customer service teams that were determined to please me, the customer.

Well, I'm both happy and surprised with SodaStream and Walmart. Time for a celebratory glass of refreshing carbonated water.

First World Woes

Me in my diamond earrings. Summer 2014.

I have a number of beautiful pairs of earrings, mostly gifts from my husband or my sister, or purchased by me in an extravagant moment. This is my only "girlie" indulgence.

My all-time favorite earrings originated as diamond studs, a 25th anniversary gift. I was always afraid I'd lose the studs, so I rarely wore them. until Bob "upgraded" the diamonds for our 30th anniversary and changed the setting to a drop earring, with a solid clasp. I've worn them regularly for the last two years and they always made me feel elegant, even in my jeans and sweatshirt.

Yesterday I attended a going away luncheon with former work colleagues. I stayed behind after our delicious lunch at Christos to take a few photos at Union Depot in downtown Saint Paul, and stopped for a few things at Walgreens before heading home. I noticed my left earring was gone a little later, when I was ready to take off my jewelry. I probably dislodged it when I was putting on my jacket, which I did several time during the afternoon.

Phone calls to Union, Depot and Walgreens yielded sympathy but no earring. Our insurance agent said there is a chance that the earrings are insured under our Homeowners policy, less a $1,000 deductible. I'm embarrassed that I didn't insure my few items of valuable jewelry under a "scheduled" policy that would require a new appraisal of covered items every 24 months. The policy is cheap, not more than $30-$100 per year, depending on the value of the insured items.

I cried off and on during the evening and finally went to bed, thoroughly sad and exhausted, a little smarter and wiser. In the grand scheme of things, this incident is a minor inconvenience, but I loved those earrings so much!

Saturday, January 17: This is a happy footnote. I found the earring this morning when I was washing the kitchen floor. It must have come off when I came in from shoveling the garage floor on Tuesday afternoon, and took off my jacket at the kitchen table. I'm tearful, happy and wiser.

Thriving!

Minou - January 12, 2015

Minou is doing better than we had hoped only a month ago. I began treating her twice daily with the antibiotic doxycycline two weeks after the long lasting antibiotic shot convenia was administered by our veterinarian.

Because Minou turned up her nose at the taste (fish & marshamallow), I mix tuna with her regular Fancy Feast cat food, and added a second meal to deliver the second dose. I also experimented with gradually reducing her daily dose of prednisolone, now 0.5 ml daily, down from 0.8 ml.

She seems better than she's been for at least 18 months. As a precautionary measure, Dr. Whitman renewed the doxycycline prescription and I hopefully mentioned that perhaps the underlying problem was a bacterial infection all along.  In a week of so, when the weather's warmer, we'll investigate the possibility of a bad tooth, sometimes the cause of these infections. The vet cautioned that Minou's apparent good health doesn't negate the possibility of a slowly progressing cancer.

Our little cat is more energetic, sleeping less and presenting herself for grooming. For now, we're all happy that she's doing so well, thanks to medical care superior to what's available for most of the world's children.

Maintaining

Minou under the tree. December 2014.

When asked how he was, a young work colleague at the Minnesota Department of Revenue in the mid-90s would often reply, "Maintaining. Just maintaining ...". I've often thought about this response when I've had to "put myself on automatic" just to cope with everyday activities and small challenges, never more than in the last two months. I was expecting some hard days after Bob's knee surgery, but I was totally unprepared for a major health crisis affecting our little Russian Blue cat.

In the early fall, Minou's now chronic sneezing and coughing, diagnosed as asthma about a year ago, worsened. We took her to our veterinarian and she was treated with Convenia, an antibiotic used for bacterial infections, thought to be a consequence of a primary viral infection and exacerbated by a compromised immune system. Minou continued on her daily 0.8 ml dose of Predisolone, administered to manage her symptoms. For a few weeks, all was well and then the symptoms slowly returned, worse than ever.

Blood tests were inconclusive so we decided to request a second opinion from the University of Minnesota Veterinary Medical Center. After a comprehensive exam and a chest X-Ray, several "nodules" in her lungs were identified and she was diagnosed with probable lung cancer, either primary or metastasized from a tumor in her sinuses or elsewhere in the respiratory system. No sign of asthma. Other possibilities were a fungal infection (unlikely) or lung worms (highly unlikely). The only way to know for sure is a CT scan that would include a biopsy in one or more locations.

Our original decision was to get the conclusive diagnosis, but after a very bad weekend during which Minou's wellbeing diminished by the hour, we opted to treat her symptoms, with the goal of making our beloved pet as comfortable as possible for whatever her lifespan might be. Since we would not be inclined to treat cancer with either surgery or chemotherapy, the conservative approach seemed logical and kind, both to the cat and ourselves.

By last Monday afternoon I was an emotional wreck. Bob, while outwardly calm, was upset too. We consulted with our longtime vet, Dr. Jan Whitman of Animal Medical Clinic, who reassured us that we're doing the right thing for Minou, who has had "a great life". She even came by on Monday evening after her long workday to give a Convenia injection, delivered so efficiently that she was in and out of the house in less than a minute. I feel so fortunate and grateful for  Dr. Whitman's kindness and compassion.

Almost a week later, Minou is no longer coughing or sneezing, and she seems very comfortable, though a lethargic version of her former perky self. She sleeps most of the time, but still loves to snuggle up with Bob or Chris, purring contentedly. We've resigned ourselves to the idea that this could be hospice care that we'll provide as long as it's appropriate.

During this time, I've felt very sad and preoccupied, unable to write or take pictures. The Christmas card list seemed so daunting that I divided it into manageable segments and omitted my annual photo insert summarizing the year in pictures. Other tasks have simply been left undone.

With a course of action pretty well laid out, I'm doing better than "maintaining" this weekend. I've always loved the Christmas Season and this year is no exception, despite the fact that sudden near record warmth has given us a dull, foggy landscape. All we need now is a little snow ...

Too much, too early

Goodrich Avenue November 16

On a visit to Minnesota in the early 80s, I saw the book Bring Warm Clothes in a bookstore: I can't say I didn't know what I was getting into all those years ago when I moved here. Of course, I've always lived in "the north country" and I enjoy winter. I love the little crystals of snow sparkling in the winter sunlight and cheerful winter activities in the fresh air, and nothing can beat the feeling of superiority that comes from thriving in this harsh climate.


Unplowed Goodrich Avenue

Not much snow has melted since Monday's winter storm and we got more yesterday, enough to shovel this morning. More cold weather, 20-30 degrees F below normal temperatures, is promised for at least another week.

The streets in St. Paul are treacherously icy and yesterday evening vehicles were sliding through most stop signs in the neighborhood. On all but snow emergency routes, I guess the City of St. Paul is relying on Plan B (the sun) to melt the snow and ice.

The first snow is usually just a reminder to finish the raking and put away summer toys. Seems like more of a warning this season.

Rufous Hummingbird Way off Course

Rufous Hummingbird - Wikipedia

I had never heard of a rufous hummingbird until this morning, but now I realize I missed a great opportunity on the next block.

Yesterday afternoon when I was out in the alley clearing snow, a young couple -- all bundled up and looking a trifle eccentric -- asked me if I knew where to find "the hummingbird" somewhere in the neighborhood. I mentioned that I thought I'd seen a hummingbird fluttering among the last blooms in the prairie garden but figured that this was simply wishful thinking, given the time of year.

More snow last night so this morning I was out with my shovel again, and two of my neighbors mentioned the "rufous hummingbird" on the next block, where a local birder had set up a makeshift warming station for the bird. Photographers were capturing beautiful images of the bird, so I planned to visit this afternoon, though I felt sad that the little creature seemed to be so alone and far off its migration path.

I read on a birding site early this afternoon that the bird had been captured and was headed to wildlife rehab. I hope this is a good thing for the bird, but it's definitely bad for me because I missed out on a great photo shoot.

Giving me pause: I may have looked just a little "off" myself this morning. The day was cold and I was wearing a big jacket, hat, heavy mittens and rather masculine looking hiking boots. My transition lenses were dark, despite only a little sun. The first neighbor gave me a knowing look and asked, "Are you into birding at all?", before starting in on the rufous hummingbird story. "Oh yes,", I answered with enthusiasm. So now I guess I am readily identifiable on the street. Next thing you know I'll be in full birding gear, leaving no doubt as to either my birding bent or mental status.

Première Neige

University of Minnesota Medical Center, East Campus

Forecasters are predicting a storm that may rival the Halloween Blizzard of 1991, so I felt a little apprehensive when I went to bed yesterday evening, knowing that I had a 7:30 a.m. appointment for a routine mammogram. The snow began to fall shortly after midnight and it was blowing mightily across the deck when I got up shortly before six.

I'm a mediocre driver who requires ideal conditions: perfect weather, no rain or snow, excellent roads, and, most important, no traffic. This morning I decided to drive Bob's 4WD  Chevy Traverse instead of my little Ford Focus. I've been driving it since Bob's surgery, so I didn't experience the dread that usually overtakes me whenever I have to take his meticulously cared for vehicle.


Beginning of the storm on Goodrich Avenue

My trip was uneventful, despite icy roads, especially in St. Paul. There was a lot of traffic on East Mississippi River Boulevard, since commuters seemed to be taking city streets to downtown Minneapolis instead of I94. However, no worries in the Traverse. The back-up camera, superb control, miracle of anti-lock brakes and great visibility gave me an easy ride, as did the big girl underpants that seem to fit so well today.

A Just Reward

Canon Pixma MX922

I've been thinking of a new printer for awhile, especially in recent months as my old but great HP PhotoSmart has been showing its age. After thousands of pages of text and hundreds of photos, the printer was jamming more frequently. With the holidays approaching, I knew I'd be needing reliable printing, so I started shopping several months ago.

My first choice was another PhotoSmart, but I was irritated with HP for changing the printer cartridges for newer models, so that I wouldn't be able to use ink that I still have in my cabinet. I finally decided on a Canon Pixma MX922, on sale at Best Buy for $125, with free delivery. I was a little dismayed to find the same printer at Amazon for $99 ...

The printer arrived Friday afternoon, 3 full days earlier than promised. I unboxed it right away, and went to work on setup on Saturday morning. Like many of my IT colleagues, I took only a cursory glance at instructions; after all, I've set up dozens of printers and one is much like the other. However, the ink cartridges were a little different on this printer, easy to install the wrong way. I did this several times until an online video and a little logic (often in short supply) led me down the path to success.

One online reviewer warned that wireless networking was harder than expected, but fortunately I've done this for many devices and my problem was limited to figuring out the buttons for the little keyboard on the device display.


Canon Pixma MX922

The printer is fast and output is almost like laser printing. The tools that come with setup are easy to use and will serve me well for use with digital photos -- I don't do much editing but I do straighten and crop photos before archiving.

A new device -- laptop, phone, camera, speaker, printer -- is always a great pick-me-up. I'm thinking of it as my "caregiver bonus".

Demolition Derby

Just before demolition

Photos.

In the introduction to a later edition of Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh explained that when he wrote the novel in late 1943 and early 1944, he anticipated the imminent demise of the English country house and the British upper classes. Both proved to be more resilient than anyone could have anticipated during those bleak days of World War II.

This morning the heavy wrecking equipment arrived onsite to demolish the house of our longtime and much beloved neighbor, E.L. The house was sold earlier this year to a professional buyer of distressed properties, a "knockdown" house like so many in these older neighborhoods of Minneapolis and Saint Paul.

10 minutes into the job

E.'s lovely little house was no typical knockdown property. She completed home projects with predictable regularity, one every year or so: the kitchen, her pretty little porch, the roof, metal siding. She loved her garden and especially relished her annual "first ripe tomato" contest with my husband. E. won every year, until I tied store bought tomatoes on one of Bob's bushes so that he would finally be credited with his first win.

E. spent a few years in a nursing home before she died in August two years ago. Her house has been vacant since then, and we had been hoping for new neighbors as pleasant as recent arrivals on our block. It seems, however, that the estate sale last January was the beginning of the end.

The little house is half gone after an hour

We have been dreading this day since the remodelers' sign went up last spring. Since then, we've taken note of the many large boxes built on our small city lots, designed to blandly fit reasonably well into our neighborhood of early 20th century construction. Sometimes the little houses on either side look out of place, and they are almost always deprived of light by their new neighbor. And, of course,occasionally property values increase and neighbors are happy with this urban renewal.

Today I feel very sad. Selfishly, I hope that we don't lose the eastern sun when the new property is raised. My greater sadness is for Saint Paul and for our lovely old Macalester Groveland neighborhood. I hope that I, like Evelyn Waugh, will be pleasantly surprised by the impact of what today seems like the beginning of a great decline.

Fall Clean-Up

The oak has lost enough leaves to make a big job in the yard

I was amused when Bob referred to me as Nurse Ratched but my underlying restlessness was no laughing matter. Being inside so much was getting on my nerves, but I didn't want to go too far from home so soon after my patient's total knee replacement surgery. Early last week I wanted to begin chopping up the oak leaves in the yard with the lawn mower, but I couldn't start it. I'm not very mechanical, and over the summer Bob always had it running for me, so I'd forgotten the steps.

The "one-pull" Honda wasn't even close to any kind of action after five or six pulls and I had to give up. Yesterday, Bob thought that I might have forgotten to engage the clutch while pulling the rope, and of course he was right. I guess I'd put all my (minimal) brainpower into remembering to set the choke. I quickly changed into my yard work clothes and sure enough the mower started like a charm.

The oak is over one hundred years old and a lot of leaves were on the ground -- not all, by any means, but enough to fill three barrels and six lawn bags, tightly compressed. If the leaves weren't chopped, I would have had about 25 bags: I know this, because I had to do fall clean-up once before, when Bob was out of town for almost the entire month of November. That was back when I had never used any kind of machinery at all, except girly things like a stove or a sewing machine.

Today I even put gas in the tank and hoisted the leaves into the Traverse for a trip to the compost site, under the supervision of the head lawn guy, of course. I felt proud of my work, happy after several hours in the brilliant fall sunshine, and confident that I'm ready to deal with starting a snow blower when winter hits.

Don't Make Mine Milk

I've always disliked milk. When I was a little girl, my mother believed in a breakfast of porridge (oatmeal), sweetened with brown sugar and drowned in whole milk, with a whole orange on the side. The porridge made me feel queasy and, well, I sometimes threw up. After it happened in church at High Mass one Sunday, both the porridge and High Mass obligations ceased. In fact, I'm not sure that milk, or any other offensive food item (olives, mushrooms, fried onions ...) was ever forced on me again.

Today's news story suggesting that milk is bad for the bones and the heart gladdened my heart and made me feel damn good about myself. I've been a consumer of cheese, cottage cheese and yogurt for many years, but somehow those smug milk lovers like my mother and my husband always made me feel like some third world child who needed both education and, of course, milk. Turns out they, and others like them, may have been wrong.

The study's statistics are impressive. I may avoid osteoporosis and live longer just by continuing with my half-century + of avoiding milk. It was a good day!

Locked Out!

Many years ago I was invited to a 50th birthday celebration in an unfamiliar neighborhood. The party was for a woman I didn't know very well, so I was already a little nervous as I approached the house, built on a hill at the end of a long driveway, one that I'd have to back down in the dark later that evening. I realized as I stepped out of my van that I had left the keys in the ignition. I had to lie down on the ground to retrieve the spare set in a magnetized little packet attached to the underside of the vehicle. I was flustered and mortified.

Today I felt a little unsettled when I left the hospital after spending the afternoon in my husband's hospital room at the University of Minnesota, where he's recovering from knee replacement surgery. Everything is going well but I was tired and a little edgy. I decided to stop at Birds Unlimited, since the bluejays come for peanuts every morning and I felt guilty knowing their feeder has been empty for several days.

When I returned to my car, no keys. They were within sight in the vehicle, easily retrievable if only I had left the window open a little. I looked around for a cab, but saw only Lincoln Navigators, Volvos, Mercedes, Porsches and other high end vehicles in the parking lot around me. No one in that busy strip mall looked even remotely familiar, and, though I was fairly conspicuous with two large bags of bird food at my feet, I didn't even get a passing glance. Walking home -- over a mile with heavy bird food -- seemed out of the question as darkness fell and fatigue descended.

I called my son, Chris, looking for the number of a taxi. He sprang into action and a few minutes later a Lincoln Town Car limo pulled up behind me. I settled into the comfortable back seat with my peanuts and bird food on the floor. I was impressed by the availability of complimentary water, mints and gum.

The driver dropped me off at my front door and waited while I found the hidden house keys and retrieved the extra car keys. I was soon back in Highland Village and in my car. Chris had already paid for the limo and gained a new convert to Uber.  Neither flustered nor mortified, I was soon home where I cracked open a beer, feeling very fortunate and happy.

Wish Granters

I've always been somewhat skeptical of organizations with the mission of fulfilling the wishes of very ill children, police officers, firefighters, other special groups. Sometimes the administrative costs of such non profits are outrageous and I am reluctant to fork over contributions based on an emotional plea for help. While I find the Charity Navigator a handy decision making tool, my tendency is to lump all of them in the "undesirable" bucket without even checking.

This morning I'm sitting in a family waiting room at the University of Minnesota while my husband has knee replacement surgery. In a casual conversation with a woman here with her adult daughter, I learned that she is a "wish granter" for Make-A-Wish Minnesota. A team of two wish granters evaluates formal wish applications submitted by candidate families and makes recommends for approval. During the process, the wish granters establish a relationship with children and families, and maintain contact through wish fulfillment and sometimes beyond.

Common wishes are trips, meetings with sports and media personalities, sometimes an item to facilitate a favorite activity like fishing. My wish granter companion told me about a child who wanted to "pet a cheetah" and was granted a trip to the San Diego zoo, where she petted a baby cheetah and viewed cheetah bottle feeding from behind protective glass. The family of another child who wanted to hold a koala bear visited Australia. The wish granters make an event out of the "wish reveal" and will celebrate the gift with a party or other celebration.

Minnesota Make-A-Wish gets high marks for financial management and transparency as well. The website is interesting and attractive, with easy access to wish stories and financial information.

Shock and Tragedy in Ottawa

Parliament Hill, Ottawa. September 2014.

About a month ago, I spent a day revisiting some of my favorite places on and near Parliament Hill in Ottawa, where I worked for the better part of a year in the late 1970s. I was a staffer to Liberal Member of Parliament Marcel Prud'homme (Montréal-Saint Denis), later a distinguished Canadian Senator. Always I political junkie, I learned to appreciate the dedication of elected officials as I worked long hours myself in the West Block. They're always "on"; can't even go to church on Sunday without interruption.

It was a happy time. I liked my office in the West Block and the people who worked there. I loved the daily Question Period, especially on Friday morning. I learned to follow bills and identify stakeholders for pending legislation. The best time was Wednesday morning: always a few hours to get caught up with work when MPs from all parties met for Caucus sessions, segregated by party.

My heart sank when I learned of this morning's shootings at the Canadian War Memorial and in the Centre Block. I knew right away that the building would be full of MPs and Senators gathered for Caucus, and was horrified to turn on CNN and see so many uniformed police officers exposed to gunfire on the lower level, just inside the front door. The shots must have been terrifying, magnified by the echoes in that space, but officers pressed forward, without apparent regard for personal safety.


Canadian War Memorial, Ottawa. September 2014.

The Canadian soldier who was guarding the tomb of the Unknown Soldier is dead, the second member of the Canadian military murdered this week: Patrice Vincent was killed in Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu on Monday after a "radicalized" man rammed him and another soldier with a car.

The gunman, whose identity hasn't yet been released, is dead, shot by a true hero, Sergeant-at-Arms Kevin Vickers. The scope of the attacks isn't yet known, but it seems now that the gunman may not have been acting alone.

It's a sad day for Ottawa, for all Canadians and for people of good will around the world. This beautiful and peaceful capital city is unsettled and weary as evening falls on this late October day. Ottawa and Parliament Hill lost their last vestige of innocence this morning, forever changed but not vanquished by powers of darkness.

Last Vette Trip to LaCrosse

The weather was perfect for our overnight to Lacrosse . Lots of photos in the Facebook fall album.

Perfect Fall Day

We took advantage of a winter storage Saturday to travel through Kanabec and Pine counties, on our way to St. Croix Park and western Wisconsin.

Blog post.

A Time to Plant

Today's planting

Last October I planted spring bulbs for the first time and was as amazed by tulips and daffodils in May as I was by the "prairie garden" a few months later. A few weeks ago, I bought a few bulbs at Menard's to supplement the flowers that should bloom again next spring.

On my first attempt, I dug a hole large enough to qualify me as a gravedigger. Those bulbs -- buried excessively deep -- didn't do so well. The hastily planted daffodils and tulips in the area east of the house did much better, so this morning I approached the job with what might have been misplaced confidence.

I'm used to yard work now, and it doesn't exhaust me the way it once did. I expanded the operation into the west garden, prepared the ground and planted about 65 crocuses, tulips and hyacinths in a couple of hours.

Sad to admit quality control hasn't improved much, if at all. I quickly tired of weeding and turning the soil, and was soon throwing the bulbs in hastily dug holes too quickly to ensure proper depth or adequate space for each bulb.

There is no deep black hole year this fall. In fact, most of the bulbs are much too close to the surface, so I'm simply crossing my fingers.
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Summer Slides into Fall

St. Croix Falls

Fall Photos
After my return from Ottawa, the weather began to warm and we enjoyed several 80-degree days at the end of last week, extending through the weekend. We put away our jeans and delayed shoving our shorts into our Florida wardrobe drawers.

Dahlias at the Arboretum

Outdoor projects can wait. Day junkets to St. Croix Falls and the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum reminded us that retirement  gives us the opportunity to enjoy drives in the country when others are at work. On Sunday, we fell back into our year-round habit of afternoon appetizers at Pier 500 in Hudson.

Waking up to autumn on Monday was something of a shock. By Wednesday we  were used to the idea, and a day of rain seemed like a good time to have the carpets cleaned. Today, surfaces are almost dry and I'll take advantage of clear surfaces to declutter and clean.

However, virtue has its limits. More rain today and I think I need lunch out ... or something!


Fall on the Mississippi River in St. Paul

Gatineau and the Temiscaming Reunion - September 19-21

Photos  and blog posts.

I was in the Ottawa area for my hometown reunion two weekends ago, September 19-21. Last year, I got sick with a bad cold and returned from the reunion 3 days early, so I decided that I would simply do a one-stop trip this year -- a good idea because I was ready to return home after Saturday's festivities.

The cross-country flights to and from Detroit were very enjoyable on two sunny days. I quite enjoyed several hours at DTW on both days, although I couldn't get the configuration right for free Wifi access. No matter: it's a great place for people watching and Louise Penny's Long Way Home, sent by my sister just before I left, kept me entertained.

Michigan Junket - September 1-5, 2014

Blog posts
Facebook pics

Seduction at The Yarnery

Beautiful alpaca yarn and knitting patterns

Every year I tell myself that I won't spend December playing catch-up with Christmas cards and gifts. For the first time ever, I decided to do something about it. With Labor Day is still a week away, the opportunity jumped out at me yesterday at lunch, when Bob's daughter Sonia showed me her yarn and pattern purchase from The Yarnery across the street from Billy's on Grand. Sonia had taken advantage of a great sale and I was eager to begin Christmas crafting, so off I went to shop while Bob and Sonia chatted after our meal.

I was immediately accosted by a very helpful customer service person who sat me down with half a dozen books of Scandinavian mitten patterns. I settled on a colorful volume of hats and mittens, still pricey at 50% off.  The pattern I chose calls for alpaca yarn, not cheap, but at 20% off, who can resist? Too bad my tastes ran beyond the clearance items, or even those 40% off.

I have two pairs of mittens in mind as Christmas gifts, and I figure that if they really don't turn out Bob and I can use them for working outdoors. They'll be damned expensive work mittens, though! I walked out of the store $59 poorer, partly because I needed to buy a set of double-pointed size 6 needles.

My heart sank when I read the pattern I'd chosen. The mittens are lined, which seems like a good idea, but I wonder if lining doubles the amount of work. Moreover, I didn't even understand some of the terms, including several references to stiches cast on with "scrap" yarn.

 I was a little encouraged this morning when I saw the large number of internet videos, covering virtually every problem I could possibly encounter. Mostly, I was upset with myself for spending so much money on a project that may not even get off the ground before the snow files. Or ever.

Destination North Shore

View from Thompson Hill, duluth

Our most frequent North Shore junket is Duluth and points north, always Two Harbors and sometimes the lovely area around Split Rock Lighthouse. We hadn't been on the Wisconsin side of the lake for a couple of years, until yesterday.

The ride north on I35 was close to traffic free, and almost as scenic as Highway 23, the secondary road we usually take to Duluth. For the first time in recent memory, we stopped at the Thompson Hill Information Center, where the panoramic view of Duluth harbor is one of the most glorious sights in Minnesota. The wildflowers were in full bloom around the building, where we restocked on Minnesota highway maps.

We were on something of a schedule, since we had a reservation on a 2:00 p.m. boat ride out of Bayfield, so we stopped only long enough for a couple of photos. We arrived in Bayfield in plenty of time for the glass bottom boat tour of the Apostle Islands. The Superior Princess is a new (2012) boat but we didn't really take advantage of its glass bottom features. We're really outdoor types, so we spent nearly all of our time on the upper deck.


A sailboat on Superior

The tour of several Lake Superior shipwrecks was moderately interesting, but three hours seemed like a long time on the boat. The weather was ideal, though, sunny but not too hot. Our windbreakers were handy, as the air got a little chilly in the late afternoon.

We checked into Lake Superior Lodge around 6:00 p.m. We've stayed at the Hotel Chequamegon in the past, but it was fully booked, perhaps a sign that its new (how recent, I'm not sure) association with Best Western has resulted in some much needed updating to facilities. Our room was "fine", with a great bed and newer linens, but the plywood doors, fifties furniture, and old TV are something of a downer. Excellent: front desk guy (young and competent), coffee pot (Starbucks), and WiFi (fast and reliable).



Ashland sunset

Had dinner at Bob's favorite Deep Water Grille. He had steak and, against my better judgment, I ordered the Cobb rather than a house salad. The steak was OK but seemed "processed", and my salad was so salty that the sodium meter in my mind went over the top. I did enjoy my house nut brown ale, tasty and not too heavy.

We watched some fishing at the dock just after sunset. Lake Superior was serene and darkly beautiful. Pics in my FB summer album.

A Prairie Garden

Last May, I dreamed about a beautiful wildflower garden until I tilled the dry, rocky soil and finally scattered the green planting crystals on top. I watered the sorry effort and, somewhat discouraged, simply hoped for some kind of "sign" of life.

The weeks passed and a few little plants sprouted, but to my untrained eye the crabgrass looked much like the promised wildflowers. The rain fell on the bad seed and the good, and Bob took to watering what we now jokingly called "the prairie garden". Before we left for Calgary in mid-July, I was delighted to see a few flowers that turned out to be cosmos. Other blooms soon followed: cornflowers, poppies, zinnias, several others I can't identify with any certainty.


I did some weeding and Bob fertilized my little plot when he was taking care of his own plants. The rabbits hide in the greenery and a few butterflies have been spotted on healthy looking colorful flowers. I'm ecstatic and crazy proud of my modest success.

I've started thinking about turning this little space into a small meadow of color, blooming merrily from early spring through late fall. I'm sitting on the deck enjoying my view of the "prairie garden", minus the wine but full of all the summer joy I anticipated last May.

When I'm Sixty-Four ...

Birthday cards include a handmade "Hallmark Classic" from Bob

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

They were just Beatles lyrics, not so long ago, it seems. Almost unbelievable, but here I am, "doing the garden, digging the weeds" ... at 64.

When I was a little girl, my mother hosted great birthday parties, with good games and lovely prizes for the guests. I almost always felt cheated, because my sister and I weren't allowed to win, and it seemed that the prizes awarded sometimes exceeded the quality of gifts received.

The last party I remember was for my tenth, "golden" birthday on August 10, 1960. The day began badly, when I stepped on broken glass and cut my foot. The wound bled, off and on, most of the day, and a Band-Aid didn't keep the blood from staining the brand new white socks which reminded me of the incident until they were finally retired many months later.

Most other birthdays are tangled in my mind, one indistinguishable from the next. A few exceptions: #25, in Provincetown, Massachusetts - too many Harvey Wallbangers turned me off Galliano, pretty much for life; #30, on Durocher Street in Montreal - my godmother, Catherine Lynn, called me from my home town of Temiscaming, an unusual occurrence in those long ago days of expensive long distance phone rates; #40, in the State Office Building in St. Paul - my first summer at the Minnesota Legislature; #60, at home in St. Paul, when one too many gin martinis sent me to bed in the early evening, thereby eliminating yet another libation from faves at the home bar.

I love the month of August in general, and August 10 in particular. The day is almost always hot and sunny, great weather for any outdoor activity. I always think of it as the apogee of summer, after which signs of autumn manifest themselves, as the hours of daylight decline rapidly and the first colored leaves appear on drying trees. A jacket is often required in the evenings from now on and, of course, the State Fair is on the horizon.

I'm a little dismayed to be looking forward to 65 a year from now, when Medicare kicks in and health insurance prices go down. The Silver Sneakers program will give me a gym membership for $25 a year.

Paraphrasing Denny Crane's comment to Shirley Schmidt in one of the later episodes of Boston Legal, I may have more good years behind me than ahead of me, but the future still holds a few more adventures and good times.

Where are you, Lord Fletcher?

A visit to the Arboretum is usually followed by lunch at Lord Fletcher's. Since I'm always so geographically challenged, the GPS would normally be a necessity, but Bob was confident that he knew the route from the arboretum to the restaurant.

We drove through much of the countryside around Lake Minnetonka, enjoying the late summer colors and the feel of the road in the Corvette. Somehow, we turned instead of staying on County Road 19, and were soon way out of our way. North Arm ... Maple Plain ... Highway 12 .. Wayzata. Fortunately, we weren't all that hungry, and we did laugh about our predicament. Lots of traffic on 394 and 94.

We decided to have lunch at the Longfellow Grill, by which time we were tired and hungry. It must have showed, because the server asked us if we wanted water, along with our beers -- an unusual order for us in the middle of the day but very much needed. We shared a turkey sandwich and were much revived for the rest of the day.

Perfect Summer Day at the Arboretum

Black-eyed susans

I'd been looking forward to a visit to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum for several months but something always got in the way ... until today. A perfect Minnesota morning beckoned, and we headed out Highway 5 to the Arboretum, confident that the sun would enhance photos without excessive heat.

I was shocked to set up my Canon Rebel and realize that I had left the image card in my laptop. I usually have my trusty little Panosonic with me, along with an extra card, but this morning I'd decided to be economical and take on the Canon. I felt the anxiety rise in my chest, tears welling in my eyes. I sadly put away my camera and almost failed to appreciate the extraordinary beauty of this late summer morning.

The shadows were cool as we drove along 3-Mile Drive, and I tried to compose myself. I almost missed the colors in the dahlia garden, where the blooms were at their peak rather than way past prime, as they were last year and the year before when we visited the Arboretum. Finally, I resigned myself to simply enjoying the moment.

One of many varieties of lilies

The serenity of the place washed over me. I listened to the birds and the waterfalls ... and the hum of the air conditioning. Workers trimmed plants and pulled weeds. A docent nabbed Bob and lectured him on the Annuals Garden, stunningly bright and beautiful under the noon sun. I felt something akin to peace.

I did take a few iPhone pictures, and realized that my skills need polishing. I was surprised to find myself rationing my shots, something I haven't done for many years. We left the grounds feeling refreshed and renewed.

Dana and Ben's Wedding Weekend: Madison Club Reception

Ben and Dana. Photo by Andrea Paradowski.

The wedding reception was on three floors: the terrace level, where the groom's dinner was held on Friday evening; the next floor up for dining; the top for dancing. Enjoyed the conversation over dinner with "Frank Sinatra" style music in the background. We hadn't eaten since breakfast so were ready for our steak, salad and dessert. I'm not usually a dessert eater, but I loved the light, lemony cake with jam lightly spread between the layers.

we left the dance shortly after ten, when serious dancers were already warmed up and ready for a couple of hours of fun. Some of the boys were smoking cigars in the summer heat outside the front door of the Hilton. We chatted for awhile and then retired to our room.

A good end to an enjoyable day.

Dana and Ben's Wedding Weekend: Time to Get Married!

Waiting for the bride

Members of the wedding party were all lined up on the stairs from the lower level of the church. The grandparents, including me, took their spots at the entrance to the church and we were soon walking down the aisle. My usual fear of falling in the middle of a crowded church went through my mind but fortunately I made it to the assigned pew and watched the rest of the processional.

One of the two ring bearers rant to the front to join his mother but the other ring bearer, the brie's nephew  Will was not in evidence. When the bride appeared, a little figure behind us handed her a gummy worm -- the pre-determined bribe from his dad, to be received after the aisle walk. Instead, Will gave the gummy worm to his aunt. She took the gummy worm and chewed it as she completed the last few steps to the altar. Unscripted and adorable.

Married!

The love story of the bride and groom was central to the ceremony, and it was interesting to learn about Dana and Ben's relationship, now spanning about a decade. Fun to hear about Ben's proposal again, in a winter storm on a cold Chicago bridge. Vows were exchanged and the newlyweds beamed as the congregation applauded.

More pics.

Dana and Ben's Wedding Weekend: Grace Episcopal Church

We drove to Grace Episcopal Church, located just across from the west entrance to the Capitol. We had been there just a few hours earlier, but this time I was wearing the platform shoes and I couldn't imagine myself making the trek on foot. The church was so hot that staff passed out fans as we entered, not a good sign. The promise of air conditioning in a couple of years wasn't particularly helpful to the many men in suits.

The beauty of the worship space was perfect for a summer afternoon wedding. Lovely stained glass invited me to walk around with my camera, but I was able to resist that temptation until a future visit to Madison.

We sat in the last pew until we were summoned to the narthex for the processional.

More pics.

Dana and Ben's Wedding Weekend: Capitol Square and Monona Terrace

Wisconsin State Capitol, west entrance

We were on the street by 9:00 a.m., on our way to breakfast at Marigold Kitchen, recommended by the customer service rep at the Hilton desk. The "organized chaos" created an environment that was full of sensory stimulation -- a little too much for one small child who had a major meltdown at the neighboring table.

There must have been a lot of new patrons that morning, as we were not the only ones who had to be told to order food before getting a table. Turns out we ended with the same corner table near the door that we had selected when we first entered the restaurant. We each ordered the breakfast scramble, a good meal for the long day ahead of us, though more than either one of us could eat.



Inside the Capitol

The Farmers' Market on Capitol Square is busy, energetic and fun. The land around the Capitol is flat, so the grounds are very people friendly, with many benches perfectly positioned for watching Saturday morning visitors. Bob gave me a little time to myself so that I could go into the beautiful, historic capitol building. This is a lovely "people's house", a fitting monument to our long and successful, if messy, democracy.

We took a break at Starbucks and walked down the hill to Monona Terrace, on the lake next to our hotel. The gardens and tables with umbrellas welcome visitors to Lake Monona, where boaters and swimmers were enjoying the midday sun. Made me think that Saint Paul's riverfront development is a good thing ... and it has a long way to go.

More pics.

Dana and Ben's Wedding Weekend: Madison

Lots of activities

We woke up to a stormy morning on Friday and Bob decided to take the Traverse rather than the Corvette for our Madison junket. That turned out to be a good decision since the traffic was heavy most of the way. Our hotel room at the Hilton Monona Terrace wasn't ready when we arrived at about 2:30 p.m., so we "settled" for a lower floor (10 instead of 12) and a State Capitol rather than a lake view. The room is very comfortable, with a great work desk and two armchairs. WiFi seemed very slow so I'm using an ethernet connection for the first time in several years.



The boys enjoying the patio

We spent a couple of hours meeting up with various relatives at the bar and walked to the Madison Club next door for the groom's dinner. After a pleasant buffet meal, we sat outside on the beautiful patio until after dark.

The bride and groom seemed very happy and we all had a great time.

More pics.

Calgary Wedding

I moved all the Calgary posts to a new blog http://hennesseycalgary2014.blogspot.com/.

The wedding photos are on Facebook and should be visible to all. See https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10203820606652011.1073741861.1125181306&type=1&l=93e4733ecc.

Still Weather Watching

Flooding in Red Wing on July 4

We got a winter respite in Florida, where we spent the entire month of March. We thought spring would be in full bloom by the time we returned to Minnesota in early April but we were wrong. Things looked promising at first, with most of the snow gone, but cold weather persisted and we were well into May before leaves and spring flowers made their appearance.

After an unusually pleasant Memorial Day weekend, we sank into a wet, soggy June. We broke a few records, including the most rain in a single June day, and were close to the record for the wettest June ever.

By last Monday, the Mississippi in downtown St. Paul was 6 feet below flood state of 20 something feet, but several heavy rainstorms during the week -- including 3 inches yesterday morning -- were something of a setback. Looks as though it will be weeks before the river will be "normal" for this time of year.

Leaves are dripping moisture and the air itself is rain forest soggy. Ah, and the sun now sets before 9:00 p.m. Summer is sliding by, without summer weather for more than a day or so at a time, and record cold is predicted for early next week. One bonus is that I feel much healthier this year that I usually do in the heat of a Minnesota summer.

Hope the sky will be clear tonight so I can see the July super moon.