Schizophrenia

I changed my blog again. This is me acknowledging that a change has taken place. Again.

I have a schizophrenic blog that way. It is what it is.

In other news: My blog isn't the only thing to undergo a lot of changes recently. Recently being a relative term. I am going on week four of a new job in a new town.

Cheers to that.

I am not good at picking places to live. I have decided this after two post-college moves - both motivated by forces other than personal preference. I think the next place I live is going to be a place where I want to be.

For now I am living and working in a place that is unsuitable for normal people who want to live normal lives. In other words, its a tourist destination.

I apologize, my friendly little blog, for being so scatter brained. I am typing as many words as I can get out in 15 minutes because using a computer with an Internet connection in a Main Street coffee shop is $2.50/15 minutes and I have been without my catharsis for so long. I know. I could always keep a journal...maybe I will.

We will be spending more time together in the near future, because the cable man is coming Thursday. For what I deem to be an exorbitant amount of money I will have high speed Internet access and cable. If I were more clever I might say - Cable and Internet:$69.99 a month; Being connected to the world during winter: priceless. And This is my life.

Well - I shall say good bye for now because I need money for candy more than I need to share things with the Internet abyss.

See you Thursday, Friend.

Why Do People Say...

I always find the English language an interesting creature to study - especially under the literal lens. Here is an observation I made only recently, although I've encountered this phrasing many a-time:

"That's not a bad idea."

My boss told me the other day that an idea I had wasn't bad. The inflection in his voice added a little something to the statement - it sounded almost like surprise.

So. What we have established is that my idea was not bad, and the fact that I had an idea that wasn't bad is a surprise to those I work with.

I know that this is not the message my boss was trying to convey. I know that (at least in this case) my boss believed my idea was not ONLY "not bad," it was good. So why not just opt for the affirmative: "good idea"? That would be better for morale if you have employees who dissect your statements and take them literally.

But seriously.

Why do people even say, "Not too bad" or similarly backhanded compliments. I would have to do some research on this, but I have a theory. Whoever first uttered these words probably did so at a time in history when paying compliments seemed to show a sign of weakness. This sort of philosophy still has some weight in small towns where "the women are strong and the men are good looking." Strong, silent types often have farms, milk cows, drive tractors and say, "Not too bad."

Small-town Journalism

Minnesota is divided into two geographical locations that clearly establish the "us" and the "them" of the state. There are the "Twin Cities" or even "The Cities" (Minneapolis and St. Paul) and the rest of "us" - also known as "Greater" Minnesota. At least this is my understanding of the term - I am a foreigner (originally from Wisconsin) so I could be misunderstanding something - if that's the case, bear with me.

"Greater" is not intended to be an assessment of the quality of the state beyond the Twin Cities, but rather the quantity of land and people beyond them. It's a tidy, yet meaningless blanket term applied to everyone and everything not associated with these two densely populated areas of the state.


Since there is so much MORE of Minnesota than "The Cities" it's unsurprising that I ended up working for an agriculture newspaper in one of the many small communities that make up the "Greater" part of the state. The county where I live has a special claim to fame, because there are more cows than people here.

During my short but shining career as a small-town journalist, I have worked in three different communities for three different papers; I interned at another during college. I have learned a lot since I graduated in 2003.

When I was a journalism student, there were several miscommunications that took place during my Mass Communication education: 1) Most journalists work for large daily papers and cover fascinating topics; 2) Journalists get a decent salary -- eventually; 3) Weekly papers are inferior and for sissies.

What I have learned since then: 1) Most "average to good" journalists work for small daily papers, or even weekly newspapers. There is only ONE Star Tribune and ONE Pioneer Press and they are EVER downsizing their staffs! Most large markets are controlled by tyrannies - lorded over by one massive paper that is more than likely a merger of many papers over many years. This is just the way it is. Competition (at least in the traditional sense of newspaper vs. newspaper) is dead in most markets. 2) Journalists sacrifice more than they make in time, money and lifestyle. 3) Weekly newspapers rock. Thank you weekly newspapers - for keeping me employed even when we have had our differences.

Bring on the Cheesy Goodness

In only a few short days I will be making the 445 mile-trip to the "old country." I can't wait! As usual, the next few days will be dreadfully busy with packing and other preparations. Ella's reservation at the doggy boarding house has been made, more dog treats have been bought, and she will be ready to go! On my end, I have plenty of laundry to do so I have some clothes to wear when I am at home and my lawn will probably need to be mowed twice before I leave! Fat chance that will happen. Oh how I wish I could cultivate a yard full of Minnesota native prairie grasses.

Friday night I plan to visit with my moniker-squared BFF Trish in Madison. I cannot wait to see her short hair cut! Unfortunately, it was cut super short a month or two ago, so by the time I am seeing it, it will not be as dramatic; I am still excited though. I love to see Trish and hang out and the cool farmhouse where she lives. She has been working on a flower garden, which will be very cool to see, even though it will be at night. I will take photos if possible.

Saturday TBM and I are going on a pre-birthday shopping trip, which will enable me to acquire some new clothing in a no-holds-barred scenario (i.e. many merchandise are "gifted to me" so I will actually get more than one item, and it will probably be something other than a black or white T-shirt). Stacy and Clinton would be so proud of me! I am looking for two pairs of dress shoes/boots in black and brown; a pair of new tennis shoes that have never seen cow-shit would also be nice. I already have two nice pairs of dress slacks, so some tops are in order. I could use a good Khaki pant, too, but nothing too light.

Sunday is the "family BBQ" formerly known as my Grandma W's birthday celebration. We are all so special in my family...

Monday through Wednesday I will be in Door County! I am excited because it is my first trip to Cherry Orchard Town!

Wednesday I will be stopping in Green Bay - my first trip to that town that is not work related. I hope I will get to see something more interesting than the inside of a newly built hospital that requires construction clean-up!

Thursday thru Friday I want to TAKE IT EASY! Leave me alone to bond with the family and the new doggie - Goliath. I will see if he is as amazing as TBM would have the world believe.

Saturday back to MN to get my boo-boo from the boarding house and back in her own bed!

Fun fun!

Lord Help Us All

I changed my blog! All by myself! Granted, I accidentally deleted my links and will have to fix some stuff, but right now, I am pretty proud of myself. It took me many hours because I am new to all of the programs but I am satisfied that I could make-over one aspect of my life relatively quickly. Yeay.

A Sink Full of Spoons

Because my normal diet of food I "prepare" at home consists mostly of cereal, frozen dinners and yogurt, I run out of spoons far more quickly than a normal person. Although the spoons pile up in the sink, it seems silly to dedicate too much water and soap to such a meager amount of "dishes." Instead, I eat with every type of spoon I have until there are no more.

First I use the dinner spoons, then move on to the soup spoons. After exhausting the supply of soup spoons, I use my two grape fruit spoons with the serrated scooper.

Finally, I use my measuring spoons - all but the Tablespoon because it won't fit into my yogurt container. If I still haven't amassed enough dirty dishes to make a washing worthwhile, I eat my yogurt with forks. Once the forks are gone, I must get to washing.

Disenchantment

Lately I've been thinking that I should rename my blog "Domestic Me." I feel like I in any waking hours that are not dedicated to my job I am a slave to my domestic duties. Is this what life is - a series of tasks that must be repeated over...and over...and over again? And that is if you are lucky.

If you aren't lucky, you are living in a third world country or some other awful circumstance just struggling to survive so that one day you too can be a slave to everyday tasks.

When I was very young, I thought the best thing about being a "grown up" was that you could eat ice cream late at night - and as much as you wanted. Now that I have done that, I am starting to feel like there is not much else to look forward to in adult life.

My "adult" life consists of the following: doing laundry, vacuuming, washing dishes, cleaning, avoiding cleaning, putting off cleaning, wondering why the place is such a mess, mowing the lawn, having the lawn mower die so I can't finish, folding laundry, taking showers, drying hair, putting on make up, shaving legs and arm pits, curling hair, and going to work so I can afford to do it all over and over again.

You never REALLY finish any domestic tasks. The laundry WILL get dirty and need to be washed, line dried (if your dryer doesn't work - like mine) and folded AGAIN. It's really maddening. I can't believe how long people have been doing these things without one day spontaneously combusting. Some days I just want to throw my lawn mower off of a bluff in southeastern Minnesota and laugh maniacally until men in white coats carry me away. Of course that is only a temporary solution. Eventually it would be decided that I am competent enough to work at McDonald's and mow my own lawn again - or live in an apartment where that is that landlord's responsiblity.

Gone to the Dogs

The pet magazine I was freelancing for is shutting down without something short of divine intervention. I am trying to brainstorm ways to prevent its demise that are practical and cost-effective; unfortunately "practical" and "cost-effective" are not my areas of expertise.

Evidence of Negativism Magnetism

This weekend I saw "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." Overall, the film was unsurprising, but I don't think that has to be a bad thing. It was kind of like a warm embrace from an old friend - comforting in it's familiarity. Among the little gold nuggets the film shook out, there was one idea - one comment - in particular I took with me from that theatre.

In dialogue between Professor Jones and Dean Charles Stanforth, Stanforth said the following: "We've reached the age where life stops giving you things and starts taking them away."

Reasons for My Month-Long Hiatus

I would tell you why I have been absent from my blog for a month, but none of my reasons are that interesting, they are merely run-of-the-milll ordinary boring excuses. Oh well, here they are anyway - in no particular order:

o My computer was gone for a week, it had some malware (bad, nasty computer stuff) on it, so a friend was exercising the demons;

o I dedicated most of my waking hours to what is the biggest project of the year for work, although my boss is cooking up some more "stuff" to make the most of my locked in weekly salary;

o I was sick. A small amount of unpleasantness lingers on, but for the most part I have recovered;

o My car was gone for a while and in need of repair, which put me in crabby mood;

o My dryer took a lesson from my stove and decided to start cooking my clothes, which also put me in crabby mood;

o I have been spending all of my free time following the dog around with a vacuum;

o My landlord left me a lawn mower that doesn't work and everyone else has mowed except for me. On the brightside, I now know my property boundaries;

o I had to figure out how to put up a clothesline since my dryer isn't working - not as easy as it looks and my clothes are almost touching the ground;

and... after all of that ... I have just not felt like writing!

The good news is; I am back. And since Spring TRULY appears to have sprung, I should be done with the bad attitude graphs for a good six months. I hope.

No Country for Critics of Cohen Brothers

For months I have lived in a world where it appeared that I was one of two people in America who (admitted) not being impressed by the Cohen brother's movie, "No Country For Old Men." Today is a day that I feel validated.

Dana Stevens, a movie critic for Slate.com and a screenwriter, put into words - more concisely than I ever could - the flaws of the movie whose Oscar-success and mainstream admiration confound and disappoint me. So rather than dedicate a blog to my analysis of the movie (which has been a LONG TIME in coming) I will direct my "readers" who are interested (if there are any) to her review. That is pretty much exactly how I feel and I am glad someone could articulate it for me!

As Promised...

EXPLANATIONS:

WEATHER: The snow is melting, which is a good thing... but the white clumps (even as they slowly - ever so slowly - evaporate, disintegrate, and/or muddy up the streets) are a reminder that the Midwest clings to winter even as everyone else is saying, "Hello, Mr. Springtime." The Calendar, try as he might to move winter along, (the First Day of Spring, according to the Calendar, was March 20..*hint, hint*) is always put in his place by Mother Nature. Assigning deadlines to seasons is an arbitrary, human policy that unfortunately means very little to the greater powers of the universe.

WORK: My bosses fired my friend and co-worker so I am very bummed. They tried to convince me it is best for everyone. In the long-run, this is probably true; but in the immediate future it is only best for them.

Just Kidding

I hate myself for saying that winter is gone and making a mockery of Mother Nature's authority. Apparently she has been offended by my insolence and as a result, is threatening to bury me - and my fellow Smalltownians - in 15 to 20 inches of snow over the course of the next three days.

An updated "Bad Attitude Pie Graph" will follow.

Winter Doesn't Live Here Anymore

When I got home from work I made a decision: I was going to rollerblade.

Only four hours earlier I wouldn't have considered this an option. Four hours earlier, Mother Nature was dumping soppy snowflakes upon us for the umpteenth time. Then merciful sunshine intervened, turning those little pesky flakes into shallow sidewalk puddles.

As I sped on down the freeway, making my way back to work from a farm at about 5:30 p.m., I assessed the walking/biking trail. Rollerblading on winter's coattails can be risky: as evening approaches, the air cools and turns harmless puddles into sheets of black ice. Rollerblading on a day such as today could either be very exhilerating, or potentially dangerous.

At home after work I consulted with the dog.

ME: What do you think?
ELLA: I'm game. I'd really like to pump up my cardio program before I have to go to the vet again. Jerk.
ME: If we go, you have to promise to be a good dog, and not pull me anywhere. And if there is a hint of snow or ice, you must slow down.
ELLA: What are you so afraid of? This wouldn't be the first time you fell down this year.

She was correct. March alone boasted three noteworthy falls:

Fall No. 1 took place in early March - in the shower. I fell sideways out of the tub when I was trying to wash my left foot while balancing on my right leg.

Fall No. 2 took place the day I came home for Easter break. I was in my "bedroom" and one of the area rugs I stepped on bunched up right as I stepped forward and I wiped out, nearly hitting the back of my head on the floor - close call.

Fall No. 3 happened just last week. I was on a farm, taking notes and roaming about in my plastic biohazard "booties," which are required attire. Seems like a smart way to keep cattle safe, but people - not so much: this practice is the equivalent of tying a plastic bag around each foot and hopping around in ankle-deep sludge. Guess who falls - arse over tea kettle - onto a thick blanket of mud?

I had fallen all of these times, and put myself at risk of potential bodily harm - and for what grand prize? To have clean feet? To turn off a light? To write yet another story about cows and the people who milk them?

If I am to be hurt because I fall, let it be because I live boldly; not because I shower thoroughly.

So, rollerblading I went! The pathway was really quite clean and I avoided the onset of evening with the accompanying scary black ice. April 2, 2008 - spring has sprung. Winter doesn't live here anymore.

Bad Attitude

I am sorry dear blog, I haven't felt like writing lately. This is mostly because I have been consumed by crabbiness. I have learned I can write quite well when I am throwing a pity party, or when I feel I have something profound to say (even if it is not perceived by others as profound), but not when I am necessarily crabby. And crabby is what I have been. There are a number of reasons for my crabby demeanor (See "Bad Attitude Pie Chart" below).



As you can see, work and general self-loathing take the bulk of the blame, but not far behind is PMS and the weather.

Crap.

It just started snowing again....

I may have to update the chart.

Celebrating Easter in Wisconsin

What is Easter in Wisconsin without 12 inches of snow? I think it is safe to say we are all ready for spring. But, as usual, Ella is able to make the best out of a bad situation.

What Does It All Mean?

Ella and I went for a walk tonight. For the first time, I was able to really see what my neighborhood looks like. Daylight-Saving Time really didn't do me any favors, though. The most memorable sights were as follows (and in no particular order): a lot of soggy looking yards, a Christmas wreath on the door of one house, a pile of fluorescent leaf bags with jack-o-lantern faces piled high along the side of another, and dogs - everywhere - barking. Unleashed Dog even left his yard to keep Ella and I company on our walk; Ella did not appreciate the intrusion. She said as much in her nastiest, snarliest voice. Unleashed Dog then wandered into the road, lingering in the middle of a well-travelled intersection. An SUV approached slowly, and laid on the horn. Unleashed Dog was wide-eyed and apparently frozen, so I summoned him in my most welcoming doggy voice and posed myself in what is considered in the dog world to be a "friendly and playful" stance. Unleashed Dog then dashed across the street to join us, despite Ella's very inhospitable demeanor.

How does the story end? What happened next is too difficult, and not interesting enough, to explain. Suffice it to say that Unleashed Dog took his leave. He dashed safely across the street but not in the direction of home, which concerned me. Ella and I concluded our walk. Once she was fed and watered, I slipped out of the house to collect Unleashed Dog. Or at least look for him until I was convinced that he was safely home.

I didn't have to walk far to spot him. He was not alone. It was dark, so the person with the hand around his collar was hard to distinguish. "Is that your dog?" I asked. A very pre-pubescent male voice answered from the dark: "Yes." I asked him if he would like my leash, which I brought to collect his dog. He politely replied "No, thank you." The tone in his young voice said clearly that this was the end of our social encounter.

On the short walk home, I had a chance to inspect an object on the ground that had been of great interest to Ella on our walk. I hurried her away from it because it looked like either a dead animal, or a chocolate covered rabbit. I was half right. It was a small, stuffed rabbit that looked as if it had been dipped into a mud fondue fountain. I picked it up by the ear, which was the only clean area on its little body, and carried it home.

Why? I don't know. I can't tell you. Maybe its the same reason why I rescued a boxelder bug from the sink as I prepared a dish-soap bath for the tar baby rabbit I pulled off the road; or put a yellow-rose corsage into a water-filled vase. Maybe its the same reason I talk to my mail when I take it out of the box...could there actually be a good reason for that?

In many ways, the world just seems to me to be a very fragile place. But now, perhaps, I am just projecting...

Comparing Apples to Apples

To the man who said comparing two similar item is like comparing apples to apples, I issue this challenge: Look around the produce section at today's grocery store. Comparing the different kinds of apples to one another is like comparing apples to oranges!

The stores where I normally do my shopping have a ridiculously large selection of apples - there is the Gala, the Pink Lady, the Rome, the "Java" (which I am still not sure what that means) the Golden Delicious, the Delicious, the Granny Smith, the Braeburn, the Jonagold, the Fuji, the McIntosh and the newest edition - the "Grapple" - which looks like an apple but is said to taste like a grape. Why you would try to make an apple that taste like a grape when you already have something that tastes like a grape, GRAPES, is unbeknownst to me and for the sake of this blog -neither here nor there.

All apples, I know, are NOT created equal, in fact, they have many more differences than similarities: texture, taste, size, color. All they really have in common are the general shape - and yet in this there are many differences. The McIntosh is short and round, for example, while the Delicious is long and oval shaped. Then of course there are all of the organic varieties.

I was once like the "apples to oranges" man. I thought, "Eh, an apple is an apple."

Not so, I now say.

If you replace my McIntosh with ANY OTHER VARIETY (and I do challenge you) I will notice. In my humble opinion, the McIntosh apple is far superior to others. It is sweet, and white fleshed; not too hard, with a very pleasant, smooth texture that is not crumbly or spongy. It is crisp and juicy. Yum. Consider this my official endorsement for the McIntosh apple.

Fighting Illiteracy

This weekend I completed a (free) 12-hour training session to become a tutor in my community. After getting some paperwork filled out and my background check, I will be approved to help the illiterate learn to read. I will also be able to help those who are learning English as a second language learn to read, write and speak. The training session was sponsored by the Minnesota Literacy Council

Creature Comforts

I share my domicile with a hyperactive dog and a small army of boxelder bugs. The most I have ever seen at one time are two, and since I don't kill them, I don't know if each sighting is a new sighting or just the same bug(s) making the rounds.

Ella hates our box elder bug neighbors. She always has. The first time she saw one was at our old apartment. I was asleep and woke to find Ella hovering over me, her ears dangling down and her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall above my head. Behold - box elder bug.

Ella has recently discovered that we have box elder bugs in our new place. For whatever reason, box elder bugs really bother Ella - believe the reason to be because they move. After she spots them moving she flies from wherever she has perched herself to investigate. She sniffs, licks, then stomps. Rarely is this method a successful means of terminating the box elder bug, although it does effectively disable them, temporarily. This appears to be all that Ella wants.

Lucky box elder bugs are rescued (by the sympathetic human in the house) and returned to a safer dwelling place. If they are wise, they will stay away and tell their friends - there is a box elder bug hunting dog in the house!