Thanksgiving Recap

My wife and I were lucky enough to host my mom and aunt during this past Thanksgiving.  Here are a couple of shots to show you how we spent our time:

We started with a really interesting tour of Lambeau Field.  Here are the ladies, standing on the Frozen Tundra.

In preparation for the feast, the ladies headed out for a Thanksgiving morning walk.  I encountered this crew on my way back home, and snapped this photo.  As you can see, they were prepared for the weather.

The kitchen was a center of activity - both physical and verbal.

The star of the show.  Weighing in at 19 lbs, we had our work cut out for us.  We're still working on him, but there's not as much left as you'd think.  It helped that he was downright delicious.


Other activities included my cousin and her friends stopping by for breakfast, football, shopping, putting up Christmas lights (bravo, ladies), knocking out my Christmas cards, attending the local light show (more on that in a subsequent post), and dinner at the Titletown Brewing Company.  It was just about a perfect Thanksgiving.  Wish you could have been there.

TSA Outrage

I hope that your trip home is better than this soldier's.  Travel safe.

End of the Minnesota 2010 Waterfowl Season - A Recap

This sunrise signaled the last day of waterfowling in central Minnesota last weekend.  With temps never rising above freezing on Saturday, most birds had moved out of the area, and those that did stick around were gone by Sunday.  It was all over.

But, goodness, what a season it was.  Despite not hunting nearly as much as I typically do, due to the new job and the move, my personal bag was among the highest I've had since I started tracking it.  And that's with the opening weekend being pretty much a bust (except for Monday). 

There were many highlights, but the biggest one being our resident flock of Redheads that stayed with us for over three weeks.  These big (and delicious) birds simply made our lake their home, welcomed in their travelling brethren, and gave our decoys enough attention to keep things active. 

In nearly every respect, it was a great season.  Here are some pictures of the last day:

Fuzzy and Ben on Gucci Point.  You can see where the ice had covered up the area that we had broken open earlier in the day.



It was so cold that even the dogs were cuddling up to stay warm.  Here's a crate full of Yellow Dog, staying warm and waiting for the next adventure to start.

Seems like the season just got started, and I'll miss the place, but what a season we had.  Simply outstanding.

Happy Thanksgiving

This past year has been one of unexpected twists and turns.  Despite the changes, the blessings continue, and at a level greater than we deserve.  We're so fortunate, and that will be the theme of the day for me. 

My mom and aunt are here with us this holiday, as well as a 19 lb. turkey (mom claims it was the smallest bird they had), so we have lots of work to do.  But in all that, for me, will be a constant undercurrent of reorganization, astonishment, and appreciation. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Ron Gardenhire Does Not Deserve AL Manager of the Year

I'm sorry, Ron Washington. 

I know, Gandenhire had a fabulous season. Strike that. A fabulous regular sesaon. His team posted a .580 win percentage with former MVP Morneau out for over half of the year, and going into the year with talent like Nick Punto as a starter. Great job, indeed.

But once again, when this team got to a place where the bright lights shine, they appear utterly clueless. They were swept by the Yankees in three, and never offered any kind of resistance. At all.  If they could have tapped out at the end of Game 2, they likely would have.

Washington, on the other hand, weathered a brutal Texas summer and got his team not only to the playoffs, but to the World Series. Just due to weather alone, it's damn near impossible to win in Texas, but Washington won, and won when it counted.

So, sorry Ron Washington. You got chumped, while the captain of the USS We're Just Happy to Be Here conducts interviews and prepares for another great regular season.

To be quickly followed by an weak and immediate exit from the playoffs.  Again.

A Question for Dad

My brother sent me a link to a recent Joe Posnanski blog post that incredibly intertwines a story about Bruce Springsteen's prolific years between Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town with a story about Joe and his father.  It is masterfully written, and I encourage you to read it here. 

Joe's an fantastic writer, and the story he weaves is really touching. 

After reading it, I reflected on it a bit, then I waded into the comments at the end of the blog.  Big mistake.  One post in particular mentioned a reader who had previously has some discussions with his friends about the questions they would ask their deceased fathers if they had the opportunity.  That hit me hard, because I immediately know the one question that I'd ask Dad if here was standing here right now.  And it'd be a trick question, too. 

"Dad, do you love me?" 

I can see his face immediately after I ask.  His brow would furrow and he'd appear a little hurt.  "Of course I love you," he'd say.  "Your Mom and I love you very much.  What, are you wacko?"  Then he'd go in for the huge bear hug, and my trick will have worked perfectly. 

Nobody could bear hug like my Dad.  He hugged with his heart.  He hugged with gusto.  He'd surprise you with his strength and musculature of his shoulders and arms.  It felt good, even when his unshaven cheek was rubbing against yours.  And when you were there, there was no better or safer place in the world.   So if I could parlay my question into a hug from my Dad, I'd be quite content to ask no other questions of him. 

Note that in my quote above, Dad replied "your Mom and I."  He often did this in things of significance.  Some might speculate him doing it because it kept him from being totally exposed on emotional issues, but in my years of observation, that was not the case at all.  Mom and Dad were a team, knew where each other stood, and were unified in their approach to us kids.  When he'd say stuff to me that began with "your Mom and I think...," I could believe it, as I knew they had verbalized it to each other, they were on the same page, and one of them could freely and confidently speak on behalf of the both of them.  Mom often used the same language, and it meant the exact same thing coming from her. 

Note to my brother - Please don't send me any other blog posts like that where there is a possibility I might read them at work.  Not cool.  But please do send them along, because with this one I got to go back and experience a wonderful dynamic between our parents, and if I close my eyes, concentrate hard and open my heart, I can clearly remember what it was like to get a hug from Dad.   

Fr. Don Talafous and the Selling of Our House

I was all set to use the following as my next blog post:

There’s a big lie you’re not being told.  The recession may not have impacted you, or so you think.  You’re not lost your job, and have remained fully employed.  You income could even have gone up.  The belt tightening that we’ve all had to do turned out not so bad.  Life’s good.  At least until you try and sell your house.  The dirty little economic horror story that nobody is discussing is the absolute shambles in which the real estate market has been left.  Oh, you can look at what sold around you, and tell yourself tales like “that is a good comp to me because of X so I’m OK” or “that is a bad comp to me because it obviously had to be a foreclosure,” but the fact of the matter is you have no idea what you’re sitting on in terms on home value until you put it on the market.  Your perusal of real estate transactions can’t tell you.  Your county assessor can’t tell you.  Your real estate agent can’t tell you.  Only the market can tell you, and unless you’re entry level, new construction, a foreclosure, or $1,000,000+, what the market will tell you is that you are screwed.  Royally.  What you think your house is worth isn’t even close to what it’s worth, and if you were counting on that equity as a retirement buffer, security blanket, or a means to fund your kids’ college, you better find another money pile, bucko, because the one you’re living in has burned away to ashes. Caveat venditor.

I subscribe to a daily newsletter from Fr. Don Talafous, a priest that was a part of my freshman and sophemore years at St. John's.  I strongly encouage you to subscribe - he has fabulous insight. 

The very next day after writing my house screed above, I get this message from Fr. Don:

What we can and must do is trust in the value of our commitment and not let such disappointments lessen our generosity or good spirit. We have been blessed with closeness to God and Christ, with life in the body of Christ and with the assurance and strength this brings. Rather than wailing over what isn't and dreaming of some other time, we need to give the present our best, our gifts, our hope. Whining, nagging, complaining self-pity, grumpiness, bitterness, silence, are not, as Paul would say, the fruits of the spirit but of the flesh, of a short-sighted attitude. Rather our true following of Christ shows itself in joy, kindness, forgiveness, respect for others' conscience, trust for the future, perseverance in prayer and worship.

Hence, I retract my whining above, and continue to put my faith in the fact that things will happen when and how they're supposed to happen.

Thanks, Fr. Don.  Again. 

Review of Spamalot, Weidner Center, Green Bay

We attended a very enjoyable showing of Phoenix Entertainment’s Monty Python’s Spamalot at the University of Wisconsin Green Bay’s Weidner Center last night.  It wasn’t your typical Broadway show, but I didn’t expect it to be, either. 

Here are notes from the performance: 

• I was surprised at the script’s literal interpretation of the movie with many parts.  Dialog was brought in verbatim, which had me not only finishing lines in my head, but also had me listening to the woman behind me say them out loud.  This was disappointing as the fresh content was really good.  
• Highlights were Lancelot’s coming out, You Won’t Succeed on Broadway (Unless You Have a Jew in the Show), and The Song that Goes Like This. 
• Best performance of the night (and there were a few) goes to Jacob L. Smith and his handling of his solos. 
• Caroline Bowman as The Lady of the Lake had a beautiful voice, and was worth the price of admission as well. 
• The faux playbill was pure Python (did Eric Idle write it?) and had me laughing out loud multiple times prior to the curtain. 
• I was impressed by Weidner Center.  While the stage was on the small side, the venue had great sight lines and an intimate feel.  Unfortunately, the upcoming schedule of shows is limited, which is a real shame.  A hall like that should be used a lot more frequently. 

As a Python fan, I really enjoyed the show.  My wife, not a fan of Python at all, even had an OK time.  It was a well produced, well performed Sunday night out.