Blake Lake Report- Masonry in Action

We’re getting back into the swing of things around the casa. Nothing heals like time. Time and a good sense of humor and manual work.

Lots of manual work, not that I did much of it, but Mrs S did some ass kicking. A few months ago she decided that the cabin would a lot better with stone over the existing concrete basement. While agreed it was not exactly on my personal bucket list, but who am I.

(If you answered home owner you’d be right, at least co-home owner).

Not that I necessarily disagreed with this project. As a matter of fact I had no problem with the idea of the doing masonry, I belong to a Masonic Lodge after all. I just was concerned when she said that “we could do it.” My Masonic friends, by and large haven’t used to a look for anything other as an allegory for a serious lesson about one thing or another in like 200 years. That trowel won’t put mud on a wall any more, but it might get you out of a traffic ticket. (not really)

Who’s “we”?

I know, good question, which she ignored. She explained the process; we’d be putting metal lattice up on the wall, fastening with a Hilti Gun, putting mortar of the lattice, then fitting the stones, “easy” she said, “like tile”. She tiled our entry hall and bathroom. Personally “easy” and “tile” aren’t words that I would combine except to describe ability to slip on the same when water and fat man are added to the calculus.

Once the stones are up we come back with grout and grout the walls and then we’re done.

When? In 2014? Luckly I kept that comment to myself. She’s not as open to disparaging remarks when we’re discussing projects and her driving as I’d like. Just say’n.

So that’s what we did on Saturday. Using an unlicensed .22 caliber nail gun we the work was accomplished. I cooked. Made sure the team working ate well. And they did. Israeli Breakfast- Israeli breakfast salad, plain Greek yogurt, scrambled eggs, humus, and pita. Try it before you wrinkle your nose down there in Albert Lea. Lunch was my tacos- home made spice mixture called “what’s in the cupboard?” And since it the cabin where frequency isn’t a feature of spice and sugar usage, small cheese grater I’ve dubbed the “sugar grater” was needed in a few cases.

Dinner was Cornell Chicken- three half chickens marinated in a vinegar mixture for a few hours, doused with a mustard, vinegar, rosemary and sage sauce on the grill. Delish. Salt potatoes and salad and we were good to go. All that cooking kept me from going fetal on the floor as the sound of my favorite house in the world being chipped away one nail gun shot at time echoed through the downstairs.

I hate projects. I suck at them and I don’t like doing them. Hence my disappointment in having to do them. Doesn’t seem fair. My wife on the other hand.

Actually, despite my doubts as the forklift tractor was dropping pallets of cement and stone in our garage, my hands bleeding from grabbing metal lattice with out gloves, I did notice the joy on her face form this whole thing. She LOVES this stuff. Loves doing the research on the project, loves organizing the work crews, loves getting her hands dirty and getting shit done.

And get shit done she did. All the wire lattice was placed and about half the walls were motored. One full side of the house and about half another. In two weeks we’re back up there putting up more mortar and maybe stone. It will look good no doubt about that.

A good husband knows better than to get in the way of that. I just made sure they were well fed. And shot a few nails in to the house just to say I didn’t something.

 

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A Pause for Dad

I’ve missed deadline on this spot the last few days, rather week or so. Haven’t really been that motivated to write. I’ve been having trouble writing anyway, seems that there isn’t that much to say around here these days. And then I got the call I’ve been half expecting for the last several years.

Half expecting and at the same time preparing for.

My Father passed away last week.

We haven’t talked since 2005. Before that it was 2001, before that it was 1999, before that.. you get the idea. In the last 28 years or so my folks and I have been estranged for more time than we haven’t. Lots more.

Estranged for a lot of reasons, none of which were really his fault. He got caught in the middle.

I’ve started and sputtered on this post for the last several days, not sure exactly what to write about what was a sad situation. There isn’t a good playbook for estranged kids and parents. I heard from a cousin whom I talk too, the last of my family who I have any contact with, he called me Thursday with the news. There was no funeral, simple graveside service in California last Friday.

I didn’t go.

I felt like my presence there would be more of a distraction if I showed up. The purpose of the service is to give mourners time to mourn and remember. My appearance would have hijacked the service. I feel like it would have been a pretty selfish thing to do. Then again, not going… you could come to the same conclusion.

Like I said, there’s no good playbook on these things.

I’ve kept quiet about the reasons for our issues. There’s no point anymore. Not that I have anyone to talk too. The collateral damage from this relationship was a relationship with grandkids, and relationships with the rest of my family. My kids have never met anyone on my side of the family save one cousin on my Mother’s side and one on my Father’s. That’s a lot of Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, Thanksgivings, birthdays with just the five of us.

Over the last week I’ve thought a lot about the times I wished I would have picked up the phone and given him a call. But didn’t. Thought about all the family functions we’ve missed, things I wanted to talk about, but never did.

In the end it’s a sad sad situation, but not one that I regret. It is what it is, I can’t change it, and given the circumstances not sure that would.

I will miss my Dad, I’ll think about him often, as I always do.

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Blake Lake Report- Water Quality, Nitrogen and Sand Hill Cranes

Morning bird report, seen while taking my coffee on the deck this am, and this was just the first cup.

  • Grackle
  • Sandhill Crane
  • Bald Eagle
  • Canada Goose
  • Chimney Swift
  • Common Night Hawk
  • Common Loon
  • Robin
  • Piliated Woodpecker
  • Blue Heron
  • American Goldfinch
  • Cedar Waxwingt

And who knows what I was hearing, except for the barred owl. Once you’ve heard a barred owl, heck once you’ve heard a person making the sound of a barred owl, you pretty much know it when you hear it.

Unfortunately when it came time for the second cup a thunderstorm moved in to the area and I had to retire back inside.

This was a short overnight trip to the lake for me. I had a deal in the morning and couldn’t break away until about 1:00. However the kids, and by kids I mean all three of them, had been up there since Friday afternoon, sans parents. A little watershed in family development, they’d never gone up to the house, opened the place up, and managed to feed and water themselves before.

The boys went to the Blake Lake Association Meeting in the morning, a meeting that I’ve avoided the last couple years. It’s a little too dramatic for me, I have enough people to argue with in my home, I don’t need to go out into the world and watch other people argue. Oh, and um not get paid for it. Do that for a living if you will. The arguments at a typical lake association meeting area about what to do about water quality, aquatic weeds namely curly leaf pond weed an intrusive plant which would choke the lake given the chance, association funding and a whatever else is on folks minds. When it comes to water management I’m usually on the wrong side of the majority so I just stare at the spot where my rubber STFU SANK bracelet would be if I had one and let it go.

This year the one topic was water quality, and my son, 2 whole weeks out of geology and engineering school took particular notice. He used a word to describe the meeting that frankly, I found confusing; “interesting”. Apparently there was a dude from the Wisconsin DNR there who talked about a rather serious study that’s being undertaken on our small lake to learn more about the water quality and what might be done about it. Nate had a lot of thoughts about it. He was particularly interested to learn that in some parts of the lake there is 5 meters of silt built up. My favorite part of the meeting would have been when someone asked “what’s a meter?” I like those kinds of questions.

Apparently the Wisconsin DNR is working with the University of Minnesota to do the study which will include core samples to understand what the quality of water was before “contact”. Their goal is to return it to WWII levels. Not sure where that metric came from but sounds good. They’re also doing a survey of every stream in the watershed from here to Big Round lake, about a mile or two up the Straight River to see what sorts of farm runoff are flowing in to the lake.

Clearly this is a big deal. I’ll be interested to see what comes of it.

Nate thinks that because we have so much silt in the lake, as we said five meters worth, which I think is like a foot or something? Anyway, there is a tremendous amount of trapped phosphorus and nitrogen in the lakebed and that all the weed control and run off management in the world won’t do much to prevent the late summer algae blooms. I suggested a different view and he shut me down, which I found interesting. You send these kids to college and they come home smarter than you are. Amazing.

If anyone is still reading.. the hot topic this year was the water level in the lake. An issue I faithfully reported about in the space last week. We were way down, a situation I attributed to damn dam problems. (see what I did there? Clever and innovative use of language if I don’t say so myself.) I was 100% correct in that BTW, it was the dam. The ice damaged it during the winter, knocked some of the stones over the top.

Kid learned an interesting tidbit, apparently there was a time when the lake was quite a bit higher, like about 4 feet higher. Sometime before World War II there was an actual concrete dam at the end of the lake. Apparently the logging company that owned the land in the area used the lake to float logs. I’m not sure where they floated them too, the river that comes out of our lake is little shallow and narrow to be able to really move the kind wood that would merit a dam, but what do I know.

The kid also learned that a great deal of the issues on the lake can be attributed to weekenders or “lakers” as we’re called. We ignore no wake zones, rip around the lake on our jet skis and leave garbage everywhere. Not to get defensive, but I think I’m pretty good about the whole no wake zone thing, matter of fact I bitch more than anyone about it because my boat has been trashed over years from slamming into the dock, that and I have no jet skis… blah blah blah who cares if this old fat ass follows the rules?

OK you don’t care. No problem nor does anyone else I’m sure. After the meeting the boys headed over the to dam and joined the work crew putting it back together. That meant getting into the water and moving rocks. Hopefully this earned them some good will points for pitching in. I’m glad sorry I wasn’t there to help out.

Other than that, was a nice weekend. Warm for a change, lots of time to sit out on the deck and watch and listen to nature. And the occasional lawn mower and jet ski.

Summer may have finally arrived.

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Thinking about Indian Summer after White Man Winter.

I love me a good Indian Summer. With all due respect to my native friends, or rather friend I think I only have one official Native American friend, official in that he’s an enrolled member of a tribe, I think he said I could still say Indian Summer. My definition of Indian Summer is a few weeks of gorgeous delightfully pleasant weather we get after the first nip of winter weather, usually in October. It’s a good thing, like the Indians are bringing us something nice before the cold sets in, aka the Thanksgiving Myth of happy Pilgrims free from the religious oppression of Europe, landed in America where they could now become the oppressors rather than the opressees enjoying a delightful meal of turkey, cornbread, garlic mash and green bean casserole with the benevolent and loving Wampanoag people who forgave them that enslavement deal for a couple days and brought them good things to eat and helped the survive the winter.

I digress. Indian Summer. Then I think about April 2013 in Minnesota. After three nice days in March we got an extra month of winter around here. Snow, and lots of it, cold temperatures, nothing thawed like it was supposed too… are there is there a name for that extra winter? Something about a people who gives promises of good times to come and then swipes them away? What COULD we call that? Hmmm.

What have we been through here in Minnesota? Local weather guy Paul Douglas pointed out that between Sunday morning and Tuesday afternoon there places in this state that experienced a 100 degree change in temperatures.

Paul Douglas is full of crap. There’s no way that it was more than 70 degrees. Childs play for the land of lakes where weather is a theatre controlled by the same unerring laws of natures that govern the movement of the planets in the orbits and rotation of our Earth around its axis, which is what really creates the unending progression of seasons which delight us so here in Minnesota, and fill our conversations with incessant whining while at the same time giving us pride and collective strength as we brag to friends and family less subject to Mother Nature’s inclemency’s that to live here takes guts and fortitude not found in more southerly climes.

To which I say, in the tenderest manner, bull<space>shit. My son, the Alabama guy, spit his McDonalds diet coke all over the front window of my car when he heard on the radio, on Sunday afternoon, a day when it didn’t get out of the 40′s, that by Tuesday we would be dealing with “extreme” heat, maybe even pushing…. 90 degrees.

We may be proud of the fact that there are times here when stepping outside in the wrong clothing could be fatal in a matter of minutes and that we survive it, but give us a little heat and we melt like fucking popsicle. Shee it.

I remember the one and only time I took by precious bride to visit my folks in Stockton California. It was August. Mid August, oven season in the Great Central Valley. We had started our journey (and this is the only appropriate use of the word friends. Your weight loss, professional development, childrearing years etc. are not Journeys, stop using that word for that stuff, it’s just gawd damned annoying.) in San Francisco, it was about 60 degrees. As we made our way over the Altamont Pass and descended into the valley, where on a clear day in winter you can easily see across the valley from the Altamont to the Sierra Nevada, a distance of about 100 miles, there was nothing but shimmering heat and haze. We pulled into Stockton the comfort of our car AC cranking away and passed the bank when Mrs S made the following comment, “It’s 1:15? I thought it was like 3:00.”

When we stopped and opened the door to the car, she realized her mistake. It was 3:00 and it was every bit of 115. Brutal. But not like I didn’t go out and do things back in the day, after all it’s a dry heat eh? We must not have invented dehydration before about 1980 because I can’t ever remember anyone ever worrying about it, or about us kids paying out side in the heat. Hell they MADE us play in the heat, and told us not to drink water to avoid cramping up.

Strange times we live in, why I hear nowadays parents’ chain smoking in cars with the widows closed is bad for the children in some way. That was a game even Granndma got into. Smoking that is.

So where in Minnesota we’ve passed the season where a can of beer in your gloved hand starts freezing in about 5 minutes and finally, FINALLY seems to have reached a point where the snow, at least sticking snow, is behind us for 4 or 5 months. Not saying we won’t have another frost yet, but snow is probably gone. Today I smelled my first cut lawn, neighbors are starting to get out there with their mowers and hacking away. The raking is in fill swing. Street sweepers came along today to harvest as much of the winters sand and gravel as they could, streets are clean, flowers are budding, things are looking up.

Ooo Morels will be here soon, now THAT is good news.

And then you realize the days get shorter in 4 short weeks. Happy Summer everyone.

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Big Day for Marriage in Minnesota- All Marriage

Interesting few days or so here in the Gopher State, today we became the 12th state in the union to legalize marriage between same sex couples. It’s been a bit a whirlwind since November last when the state defeated a referendum to change the constitution of the state to define marriage. It was a pretty big defeat for the local conservative activists. Frankly I was surprised it failed. I think we were the first state to defeat an amendment like that by referendum.

I’ve written rather extensively about same-sex marriage in this space, personally I believe it’s the next great hurdle for civil rights in this country. But to go from defeating a restriction on peoples rights to full on legalization in 6 months… not that I didn’t expect it.

This action by the state legislatures and Governor is a reflection of a rather dramatic shift in public opinion here in Minnesota over the last two years. Not surprising personally I had to go through my own version of change to get to the place where I am now; viewing marriage equality as a civil rights issue, justice issue and the “right” thing to do. Twenty years ago I think I was pretty much in the mainstream regarding Gay rights, homosexuals and marriage. Generally supportive of Gays, I was in the live and let live camp. You could translate this into “do what you want behind closed doors”, that’s an easy position to have when you’re already enjoying the benefits of society.

I guess I’m still a little caught up in old paradigms, it’s like this isn’t quite real yet, I had to be brought along slowly maybe? There’s a nagging little voice in the back of mind that says we should have taken this slower, brought people along as you will. Then I realized that I sure wouldn’t want to wait for the right vote, or the right to sit where I want on a bus or in a restaurant, or to marry whom I choose, ie someone of a different race than I. (See Loving vs. Virginia)

I’ve changed. Somewhere along the line I developed friendships with gay people, I came to understand more about justice and equality. I acknowledged my own prejudices and had a little epiphany; I was wrong, wrong to judge.

There’s a lot of banter today about why and how we came to this point in Minnesota. The prevailing wisdom, which I agree with, I that the conservatives, by putting the measure on the ballot two years ago forced the issue and rallied the folks on the side of marriage equality to stop talking and start taking action.  Which they did, effectively.  The forced the issue. Erik Hare, one of the really outstanding bloggers in Minnesota wrote an excellent piece describing how this came to be in Minnesota and how this might go down as one of the biggest political blunders in our States history, then again you might say the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Barataria The Good Fight Wins by Erik Hare

You might say my own epiphany was a result of a right wing argument against same sex marriage. I think the one that really did it was when the other side made the argument that legalizing same sex marriage would infringe on their rights. For me, that one argument exposed the inconsistency in my own belief systems and completely changed my mind. There were no longer any arguments against it my mind that made sense.

And so its here, morality won- couples in long term relationships can now enter into a legal contract to preserve and protect their relationship. Justice won- all people in Minnesota have equal protection under the law.

Congratulations to my Gay and Lesbian friends and family, I hope you find marriage as fulfilling and as I do and that you are as lucky in love as I have been, because now you’re all legal and shit.

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Cabin Treasures

Cabin Treasures, a set on Flickr.

So, here’s some of teh oddities I found in cabin cupboards. Who can tell me what this stuff is?

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Family Fun Project Style

The stated purpose of our trip to the cabin this weekend was a simple one- power wash the house. This was in preparation of a project to line the house with stone this summer, which sounds like a pretty fun way to spend some Saturdays and Sundays. 

I was skeptical, but I kept that to myself, no need to confirm Mrs S’s opinions about my negativity. She recently made the following remarkable statement about me and projects; “you always say no”. 

To me she said this. Hah.. Sometimes she says “no” to but rather than say any thing.. sometimes it’s the pitches you lay off that define you as a ball player. That’s all I’m say’n.

The Fates were against this project from the beginning, and they went out of their way to tell me so, and her so, but she’s was determined and I was determined to do what ever it was that she was determined to do so we peservered in our march to folly. In the end we accomplished nothing, well we do have a nicely power washed deck, patio furniture and cheese slicer. 

The days events started promptly at 8:00. Watching the news I learned that we would be enjoying a cold by sunny day. 

We can do this, even at 52 degrees. Mrs S suggested that we go to the hardware store, rent the machine, bring it back and then get the kiddos up for breakfast. Since the hardware store and the breakfast place are both in Amery, about 15 miles each way.. I kinda felt like we should roust their lazy asses, make them come with us to Amery NOW, get the maching, have breakfast, and then comeback. Saving a 30 mile round trip that we would be making at least twice anyway. 

So we did. At the hardware store we learned that the machine they had was 2500 PSI. About 1/2 what she wanted. The fellow explained to her, as I had… although not because I knew, but because someone else had told me, that at 5000 PSI we could blow a hole through our cement wall. “we’ll be careful” was her reply. “For the first time ever” was my under breath reply which apparently I said a tish louder than I thought, based on the death stare. 

We also learned that that particular hardware store, as only open until noon and was not open on Sunday,

This actually meant that  we would have to get our work done before 11:00 to get it back in time which meant that we would not have time to get pancakes at Ida Mae’s Cafe which caused to be to do something I rarely do.. put my foot down. “Project or not, I am having pancakes, who is with me?” Always interesting when you make you children choose parental allegiances, even more so when they’re adults. Red and Daughter were in on the pancakes, giving me the majority I needed not to have to worry about getting left behind in Amery. 

Besides I noted, there is the other hardware store. “They don’t have this stuff” she exclaimed in a way that was reminiscent of “NO”. “My precious turtle dove” i exclaimed, ‘Lets go try ’cause we’re here.” We did, and guess what, they did. And guess what again, they’re open to 5:00 AND they’re open on Sunday. In some ways I was right. 

Let me remind you that it was cold on Saturday, about 40 degrees. It was also windy, like whitecap windy out on the lake. This was going suck and the fellow at the hardware store told us so. “You really want to do this today?” Personally the day has yet to come where I would “want” to do this, but since we’re “going” to do this, today is as good as any other. “Mothers Day present”. Ok…

He walked us to show us how to use the thing, “you know, you may have trouble starting this machine, they don’t run well below about 60 degrees. 

We loaded the thing into the Durango and off Ida Mae’s Cafe we went. 

Ida Mae’s is a new-to-us place in Amery that has become my GO TO spot on the local breakfast scene, the food is delicious and ridiculously inexpensive. They were packed, and as a result were slow. However as opposed to the horrible service we had the night before at a taco joint, at Ida Mae’s the owner was constantly coming back to tell us that their grill was full and thanked us for our patience offering coffee and juice. We decided the longer we sat in there waiting the warmer it was getting outside so no big deal. Besides the food would be worth it. 

It also gave us some family time free from the distractions of electronics, save the occasional text message. Funny the conversations we have these days. Some way some how we got onto the topic of geometry, that noblest of sciences. One kid was asking another about some sort of special triangle and the other was describing various forms of the same and I weighed in, since geometry was my favorite math course and was also the point at which I realized that a career in mathematics was something I should avoid given my learning disability. A disablity ironically I discovered and self-diagnoesed exactly one math class later, calculus. Discovered in once in college and again in my feeble attempt to to return to college for an MBA. In the words of Barbie, “Math is hard”, and I’m afraid of it. 

And here’s a great example of why, I do know my triangles, I can pick a triangle out of a population of shapes any day. So as the kids were talking about 90:45:45 degree triangles I mentioned what about a 33:33:33 degree triangle? You know the old equilateral thing?

Silence, followed by snickers, the red head looked away.. shamed,  the daughter looked up at me and said in a way that sounded hurtful, “What?” For the moment I didn’t realize my mistake. The oldest gently pointed out that what I had described was impossible.. and something about 90 and 180 became clear to me and I realized my error. I looked at my wife for support “You got yourself into this one Dude.. I don’t talk about this stuff with them.” 

All I could come back with was I knew who Euclid was and I knew about this 47th problem. All though I could only describe it as a bunch of squares merging in someway that makes it look like a cool pin which you could buy at a Masonic store they dove into Pythagorean theory and blah blah. Subject changed to storm water management. The local hospital in Amery recently had some landscaping done that would effectively manage storm water and run off, the oldest kid is interested in getting an internship with the firm that did the engineering for the project. I asked about the storm run off in our back yard that annually moves all of our mulch form our upstream flowerbeds to the storm drain at the lowest spot on our property. “What can you do about that” I asked. 

“Nothing”. Which is the very answer I’d been giving to Mrs S these last several years as she’s been trying to mitigate flow with everything short of a cement dam. Good thing breakfast started rolling in ’cause being right twice in one day.. to much. 

Two hours killed getting breakfast, plus the hardware stores.. we were off to late start. 

P1000812

After breakfast we started heading home. By now the wind was blowing so hard the car was difficult to control. Passing over the Apple River the water looked downright angry, it was a dark almost black color with long trails of foam from the white caps, which were quickly progressing to full on rollers. 

Que OMEN. 

As we continued the drive the north the weather go worse.. clouds were rolling in, started sprinkling… 

We unloaded the machine, hooked up the water and just like that.. out of nowhere, combination rain storm, sleet, blizzard.. literally every sort of known precipitation came falling out of the sky at the same time. Except hail, not hail. No brimstone either. But everything else.  

I was out. Kid however, he kept at it. We learned that you can not power wash paint off cement at 2500 PSI. 

P1000810

Crapski. We failed. 

An so the wall project moves to Plan B- latticing. Something about chicken wire and molly bolts.

I’m sure it’s going to be interesting. 

In footnote, while he was working out side, I spent my time inside, cleaning out some cupboards that have been on my list to clean out since 1999. When we bought the place we bought it with everything in it. The place was loaded with old glasses, plates, odd appliances, time to get rid of it. I found three boxes worth of crap, some of which might have some value. All of it was odd. More later. Among the oddities, a small marble cheese guillotine of some sort with a weird mold on it. Powerwashed it looked brand new. 

 

 

 

 

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