A cornucopia of blog notes

It has been more than a week since I’ve written a blog and I’m feeling a bit out of practice. I just can’t seem to pinpoint one specific subject to write about.

So, if you’ll bear with me, I’ll write about several.

Since last I blogged, I turned another year older. Pastor Braun asked if I was going to mention it in the paper — he was even willing to help me write something — but birthday No. 41, other than falling on an absolutely gorgeous, record-breaking heat wave of a day, was quiet and enjoyable. There was a birthday lunch, a birthday supper and even a birthday song serenade over the telephone, thanks to the little Buntjers from Fairmont. Best of all, I avoided the birthday spankings — not to mention the pinch to grow an inch and the sock to grow a block — although I’m sure nephews Blake and Reece will do what they can to remedy that the next time they come for a visit. Payback isn’t pleasant!

 My Honor Flight IV scrapbook is coming along, finally. A three-day weekend helped, but I lost valuable time trying to get a few movie rentals to work in my DVD player (I was in need of a little noise in the house by Sunday afternoon). There was one trip to the store for a new battery for the remote, followed by several attempts to make the machine work, and finally, another trip to the store for a new DVD player.

While my weekend movie rentals were a bit disappointing, niece Jessie and I did see a good show at the Northland Cinema a week ago. We’d both wanted to see, “We Bought a Zoo” and we weren’t disappointed.

That said, I’m pretty sure I won’t watch the movie again — it generated a nightmare that caused me to sit up in bed at 3 a.m., thinking there were snakes crawling around my house.

Yes, the zoo movie has snakes in it — and I have a definite phobia of snakes. I didn’t scream out loud inside the theater, but I squirmed in my seat, sheltered my eyes and even squeezed Jessie’s knee. Typical teenager that she is, she rolled her eyes and passed off a look that, I imagine, proclaimed me as her crazy aunt. Even now, just writing about snakes, gives me goosebumps. Yuck!

I’m beginning to think that in order to get my Honor Flight scrapbook complete, I’m going to have to leave my house — no DVD players or nearby movie theaters to distract me, no Facebook statuses to update or games to waste my time, no root beer to spill, no dishes to wash, no floors to mop and no furniture to dust — nothing but me and a stash of pictures, papers, gel pens, markers and tape runners.

I have a couple of options I’m considering — a Scrap-a-thon and Card-o-Rama is being offered in three weeks at the high school. With about 50 people expected, I could certainly get the inspiration and ideas I need to get to work.

Also a possibility is total seclusion in one of those really cool camper cabins up at Lake Shetek State Park (see the story in the Jan. 18 Daily Globe).

Other than 4-H camp when I was about eight or nine years old, and a brief excursion to the hostel at Itasca State Park last spring, I really have never “gone camping.” Visiting Shetek in the middle of winter sounds like quite an adventure with few things to distract me, although I could take a break from my scrapbooking to walk one of the trails, or wrap myself in one of Grandma’s quilts to read a good book.

I’d bring along a batch of beef stew and a crock-pot, a box of Cheerios, milk and water. Roughing it would mean living without my toasted English muffin and peanut butter — and all of the electrical amenities of home, of course, but it would only be for a couple of days.

Oh, what a grand adventure it would be!

My only fear in renting a cabin for myself is hearing the proverbial bump in the night. Snakes aren’t a worry in winter, but what about Bigfoot?

So, anyone out there want to go on a scrapbooking retreat? Your responsibility will be to protect us from Bigfoot … or at least assure me he isn’t real. The tale of the sasquatch is the one summer camp experience I can’t seem to forget.

Blinded by the green machines

Nephew Reece has loved everything about tractors and digging in the dirt since he was practically old enough to crawl.

Every birthday and every Christmas brings one simple request from him. He wants tractors – lots and lots of tractors.

This year, however, the request wasn’t just for tractors, but specifically John Deere tractors.

Now, Reece knows my aversion to the green machines – he thinks it’s funny. (No doubt his dad, my brother, has had way too much influence on the little tyke!)

After buying Reece a red tractor for birthday No. 4, and an International-red T-shirt for Christmas, I broke down and actually shelled out my hard-earned money for something with a JD logo for Reece’s fifth birthday. I can’t believe I’m admitting it.

Oh, the whole John Deere versus International discussion is a big joke in our family. I don’t want to offend any JD lovers here. Who knows, if I hadn’t flipped that John Deere pedal tractor and gone head over heels as a 5-year-old – a little trick that required a rod be put through my elbow and I be stuck in a hospital bed for two weeks – I probably wouldn’t have such a dislike for the green machines!

Anyway, we joined the Fairmont Buntjers for a little birthday party Wednesday night. I’m pretty sure I’ve not seen so much John Deere green in a room ever before. The birthday boy was wearing a John Deere sweatshirt – with a matching John Deere T-shirt underneath.

And the presents … apparently little Reece gave everyone the memo to buy green. There were green tractors (yes, plural), John Deere decorations for his room and one of those big “Parking for John Deeres only” signs that he was so thrilled to get he kept kissing it.

I bought him the John Deere truck (I went for the brown one instead of the green one – for obvious reasons) that included a 4-wheeler and a cattle trailer with three Holstein cows. I think he liked it – he was just too wound up, sugared up and excited to open the rest of his presents.

Taste testers

We were three nephews and one brother short of a full house at the family farm on Sunday for a combination birthday party for Mom (Saturday was her special day) and Father’s Day for Dad. As in all summer gatherings at the farm, the grill gets a work-out – hot dogs (or hot gogs as one little niece calls them) for the little kids and burgers and brats for the rest of us.

Kids are great entertainment at the dinner table, and today was no exception.

For starters, I put a couple of pieces of cantaloupe on Godson Reece’s dinner plate.

"What’s this?" he asked.

"Muskmelon," I replied. "Cantaloupe – it’s really good."

He took the smallest bite and, while it didn’t come back out of his mouth, I noticed he didn’t eat the rest of it.

Alayna, the 2-year-old, was seated on the other side of me. I tried to feed her a bite of hamburger, but she clamped her lips shut and shook her head.

What she did take, however, was a chip from the bag in front of her – some kind of jalapeno flavored variety that burned my mouth a little earlier in the dinner routine.

I missed the reaction, but my oldest brother burst out laughing when Alayna spit the chip from her mouth, placed it back in the potato chip bag (sure to keep anyone else from sampling the chips!) and proceeded to rub her tongue with her fingers.

Strangely enough, her brother (my Godson) had the same reaction to Grandma’s potato salad. I told him to taste just a little, but it quickly came back out and a napkin, of all things, was shoved into his mouth to "clean" his tongue off.

It was no surprise the two left food on their plate, yet had room for Grandma’s special, made-from-scratch chocolate birthday cake with whipped cream topping.

It was, after all, the cake that lured the Fairmont Buntjers to Worthington for a quick afternoon visit. (The kids called Sunday morning for Father’s Day and Grandma told Reece that she had baked her own birthday cake. After that, all she could hear in the background of the phone conversation was, "I want to go to Grandma’s for birthday cake!")