Numa Numa Dance

Last night I was inundated by brain stuff on television. 20-20 entertained the differences of female/male brains. There is nothing like gender differences to keep one glued to a program. Then our local Health and Wellness channel, which offers medical lectures to professionals across the state of Nebraska, examined brains and what has been learned about them. Having had a TIA several years ago the second half of the program, devoted to brain attacks, had me both mesmerized and horrified.

After 52 years of wedded bliss, I am daily mystified as to why He Who Must Be Obeyed and I almost never see eye to eye. I suspect it is all because his remarkable brain was flooded with testosterone in utero and mine repelled it and welcomed all of that soft gooey estrogen. Is it any wonder if I try to go off of Premarin, I go into waves of hot flashes, even in my age.

The only brain I have a conversation with is my own. Wouldn't you think a person would be consistent in their interests? Why then can I be so entertained by both the speakers on C-Span II's BookTV and yet be so delighted by the Numa Numa Dance? It makes no sense.

In 2004 I was so tickled by the Numa Numa guy that when I first found it on Lockergnome I sent it to all of my grandkids. I still like it...but not hours of it. This link repeats itself until a person's brain goes dead.

Owl Visit at Twilight

This afternoon I saw a Specialist, and was advised to go to different specialist, "I don't work in the sewer," he said. I told him I could probably just visit with He Who Must Be Obeyed, the Civil Engineer with his major emphasis in Environmental Waste Water or something like that. It is good to laugh over health issues. But I will be waking up to the same old unsolved problem I suppose. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely like the doctor. He saved HWMBO's life three years ago and that counts for a lot. But it is like he said, he doesn't work in the sewer. Odd way to put it, but funny.

About the picture of the owls. I have hoped to see them again ever since the neighbor's Fourth of July M-80's sent them out of the back yard trees never to be seen again this summer. I could write an essay about the dumb things I pray about and the owl visit would be right up there with good parking spaces or green lights when I am late getting off to church.

I swam again through twilight until dark; and as I was swimming laps in tepid water in the darkling day I prayed, lap and pray, lap and pray. Alone, comfortably warm, no joint pain, annoyances melting away. I did mention the owls again, as I sometimes do, for they gave me such joy this spring. We need unexpected joy at times, the kind of joy that can be replayed in one's mind and the same joyfilled endorphines swim about in the head as the first experience brought.

Looking up during a lap, I glanced toward the fence against a darkening sky. I saw the little owl. Who saw me. I spoke to him in a chucking sort of way and tried to give him a little hoot or two. He looked at me quite a while before he raised his wings and without a sound flew over the roof toward the front yard. This is most certainly true.

I wonder what is on his menu these days. In June and July I suspected that his mother gave him a regular diet of baby birds so numerous in our pine trees and row of hews. One evening I watched English Sparrows dive bombing the owls on their favorite tree limb. There are no baby birds now that Autumn is three days old.

Hope Returns

When I was sent an email that sent me into the depths, I passed on the downer by blogging. What kind of example is that? Or does one have to be an example until they die, just because they gave birth. I am thankful however for the good examples that come my way.

I joined a new women's circle at Holy Cross yesterday. The leader of the group spoke the previous day at the funeral of her 30 year old niece and two other women with us were family members. She started the group by stating that we were going to be grief counselors for one another for an hour or so. We were. It was a beautiful, sad, comforting, and incredibly meaningful brief time in our suffering.

The Lutheran Women Today Study this year is on suffering. I am so glad it is because I wallow in suffering. I might as well learn to do it with grace so some good will come of it.

Cosmic loneliness

Have you ever had a few days that went from bad to worse no matter how you tried to keep positive, no matter how much you promised yourself that tomorrow is going to be different?

Today was a hopeful start with bars delivered to church for two funerals on time, my favorite little grocery store has been remodeled and the wider isles are easier to navigate, I brought home a couple of pots of little mums. The small yellow buds just didn't do it. It is cold inside and out. It has been grim and unpleasant. As a school librarian, I used to read "Alexander's No Good Very Bad Day" to little kids. I can't remember how it ended.

This is one of those days that make a woman think she should have become a nun. Today I truly felt like the 52 years I have put into 'this' has been a failure. Families are not always the blessing Hallmark would like you to think, nor are mothers. The only perfect mother is a dead one. Isn't that a scary thought. The perfect family is a myth. I would settle for a kind one.

One warm bright spot was when Wol Suk stopped by this afternoon to bring Korean pears from her tree. She hugs me and tells us we inspire her with our kindness and generosity...maybe there really is a God in Heaven who sends foreigners to love you and give you a feeling of worth. But I am feeling that cosmic loneliness again.

What is Your Image of God?

The Opinion Journal from the Wall Street Journal Editorial Page did it again; made me think about folks I know and their perceptions of God. You can certainly spot a Midwesterner.

A Baylor University study "found that Americans hold four different images of God," London's Times reports:

Nearly a third of Americans, 31.4 per cent, believe in an Authoritarian God, angry at earthly sin and willing to inflict divine retribution--including tsunamis and hurricanes. . . .

At the other end of the scale is the Distant God, seen by 24.4 per cent as a faceless, cosmic force that launched the world but leaves it alone. . . .

The Benevolent God, popular in America's Midwest among mainstream Protestants, Catholics and Jews, is one that sets absolute standards for man, but is also forgiving--engaged but not so angry. Caring for the sick is high on the list of priorities for these 23 per cent of believers. . . .

The Critical God, at 16 per cent, is viewed as the classic bearded old man, judgmental but not going to intervene or punish, and is popular on the East Coast.

That adds up to 94.8%, which leaves some room for other conceptions of God.
Researchers found that Americans hold four distinct views, and these “Four Gods” are remarkably accurate diviners of how an American thinks about everything from politics, abortion, taxation and marriage. “You learn more about people’s moral and political behaviour if you know their image of God than almost any other measure,” said Christopher Bader, one of the researchers.

Men Smarter than Women, Scientist Claims

"Check out this Reuters dispatch from Norwich, England:

(In part) Men may have developed a psychology that makes them particularly able to engage in wars, a scientist said on Friday.

New research has shown that men bond together and cooperate well in the face of adversity to protect their interests more than women, which could explain why war is almost exclusively a male business, according to Professor Mark van Vugt of the University of Kent in southern England.

"Men respond more strongly to outward threats, we've labeled that the 'man warrior effect,' " he told the British Association for the Advancement of Science meeting.

"Men are more likely to support a country going to war. Men are more likely sign up for the military and men are more likely to lead groups in more autocratic, militaristic ways than women," he added."

Hmmm? This is one of the little items from WSJ.com Opinion Journal Best of the Web Today.

The Man Warrior Effect is an interesting explaination for the rise in the noise level in my life.

South Dakota Sunrise

Ten Sleeps to Ten Sleep

From Buffalo, SD to Buffalo, WY and back to Omaha. Road trips are fun. Ten Sleep, WY is an interesting little town to visit. We spent time with relatives, classmates, and at the South Dakota Magazine office. Everyone was a friend and a joy to see and talk to.

We hung reproductions of two of my dad's paintings in the Buffalo, SD Museum and will take two more next year. We brought back a painting of a herd of buffalo that has gone to an Omaha photo shop to reproduce. It is in need of restoration. I have no idea of restorers in Omaha but need to do some research soon. I suppose Joslyn Art Museum, where I volunteered for over a decade, is the place to start. They have those skilled people on staff, but I don't know if they moonlight.

I was happy to go and to get home again. I have a great deal to be extremely thankful for. It doesn't hurt to think about that side of our lives occasionally. I am trying to be happy right now for the rain; with the 90 degree pool out my back door, I am wavering. The rain isn't putting me off as much as the chance of lightening striking me. I got the smallest electric shock from a faulty plug on a lamp last night that left my palm blackened. Do you think if a person got struck by lightening in a pool they would be boiled alive?

Grapes!

We have canned 16 quarts of grape jelly. The grapevines look like they have never been touched. It makes a person wonder how easy it would be to make wine.

Picking Grapes

He Who Must Be Obeyed was helpful in picking the Concord grapes along the east fence in the back yard. Taking only the ripe ones, we still got our huge berry bucket full. There will be more and we didn't even start on the back fence.

Now I must count how many wide mouth quart jars we still have; go to the store for sugar and pectin and start the process. Sometimes we work very well together. Sometimes we don't. But making jelly is a process that goes much better if I let him micro-manage the business. Engineers have a need to be in charge; teachers never want to stop teaching. Ours is often a dangerous and noisy combination; but we have made gallons of grape jelly together.

Follow that Rock!

As we were driving down the Oregon coast line on the 1st of August, my adventuresome auntie told her adventuresome daughter, my cousin, who was driving, "Follow that rock!" As you can see, it was only one huge rock on the truck.















Jetty repair was being constructed with the massive boulders being placed along the old one on the Pacific Coast where the Columbia River unloads its fresh water into the Ocean and opens its arms to the incoming tides..












An overlook provided a magnificent view. This is and has been historically a very dangerous place for sailors and their ships. I thought about Lewis and Clark, who ended up on the Washington side of the Columbia that long ago late fall. How would they get to the other side to the south where they would build Fort Clatsop; here they would spend a damp, cold miserable winter before going back to St. Louis. Too bad Jefferson just could not appreciate the magnitude of what they had done.

"The love of possession is a disease with them"

My title this morning is from Sitting Bull, Powder River Council, 1877.

"I (Sam Hurst) climbed Bear Butte with a friend last Wednesday, right smack in the middle of the Rally, in the heat of the day. Native prayer bundles hung from the low limbs of a hundred trees. In the shade of the north slope, two prairie falcons hunted. A tourist helicopter roared around the mountain, shaking their concentration. Two young Indians along the ridgeline sat quietly and watched the sun set in the west." Sam Hurst: Sturgis Motorcycle Rally Our Religion. RapidCityJournal columnist. Sunday, August 13, 2006.

He Who Must Be Obeyed and I experienced the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally several years ago with my high school friends, one of whom taught at Sturgis during most of her career. It was captivating in a hedonistic way with incessant noise, strange sights, and a devil may care attitude. We are glad we did it but once was enough even with front row lawn chair seats on LaCrosse Street at another teacher's home.

Hurst nails it this morning in his column..."This isn't a clash between native spirituality, tradition or treaty obligations and a week-long biker party. This is a clash of religions. They have theirs and we have ours.

Sam Hurst is a Rapid City filmmaker.

Rapid City Journal. Sunday, August 13, 2006.

Sturgis motorcycle rally our religion By Sam Hurst, Journal columnist

Astoria Photos

I uploaded a few photos from FinnFest in Astoria. A click on Flickr at the right will get you there. An Elder friend sent me the web site on the kantele. It has much more information than just that, for any Suomilainen, it is a treasure.

The Articles/Reviews click on that site will take you to Wilho Saari's "This Makes Me So Quiet."
He was one of the kantele players I heard play and speak.

Ram Sale

Bernie Hunhoff, who writes South Dakota Road Stories wrote yesterday about the Newell, SD September Ram Sale. According to him, Newell is the Sheep Capitol of the United States. I would kind of like to see that ram sale, myself. A cousin and his son and daughter raise sheep north of Newell.

I used to sit by my grandpa, John Tuovinen, at the Buffalo, SD Ram Sale. I would push up close to him so I could smell his pipe and get in on his buying action as the auctioneer cried out the increasing price for the bucks. Papa, as my mother called him, was a little nervous that I might get into the buck pasture across the road from their house on their sheep ranch in the Cave Hills of SD. A ram had knocked Roger out cold when he was little. I think I heard that story a dozen times when they were trying to get it through my skull that I could get killed if I went over that fence.

The last time I saw sheep was on the South Island of New Zealand a few years ago when two of my high school friends and I went there and to Australia for three weeks. We watched as one type of ram after another was called to the front of an auditorium and they mounted their properly labeled stand on a man-made mountain of magnificant rams.

FinnFest

The week in Astoria was the best. Seven days with my aunt's family in that mossy northwest was nirvana, the ideal condition of rest, harmony, stability, and joy. Six women spending three days together without men around created the type of bonding that might happen to nuns on a holiday. When the men started joining the group the dynamics immediately changed. They cooked and we ate.

FinnFest 2006 reinforced the love of my heritage. I loved the familiar food, the humor, the varied music, and being able to listen to published papers on the culture. A cousin and I got carried away with yoiking and she yoiked a beautiful blessing for our Cave Hills dinner in Astoria on Saturday. Mother and I were yoiked in Finland although we didn't know what to call it then. We were mesmerized by it and knew it was other-worldly. The dinner yoik was equally enchanting.

For Craig

This is just for Craig. I found it on the South Dakota Magazine link and they linked it from The Black Table. There is a nice photo of the bird there. It isn't me talking about the boyfriend so those of you that are my relatives can calm down. I suppose you are wondering about this Craig guy. He is a Civil Engineer I chatted up on a flight from Portland to Salt Lake City, who wants to hunt pheasants.

#1. The State Bird = Good Huntin'.
We have the ring-necked pheasant, an import from China. And we like to blow the crap out of it. About 150,000 hunters annually shoot up about 1.3 million pheasant. Wow, that's nearly double our human population!
My dad, rightly, likes to point out that hunting brings loads of tourist dollars to the state, but all those guns can be a bit disconcerting. My boyfriend recently took his first trip to Sodak, as we sometimes call it. A New York native, he found the clutches of hunters with rifles blasting away just feet from the highways more than a little nerve-wracking. He also was a bit wary of the fellows waving around guns in both hands at the local Wal-Mart as they showed off their wares. And darned if they didn't have a better ammo selection than they did paper towels. Michael Moore would not be pleased.

Something New

"Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new. "

The above was written in regard to Paul in Acts 17. "Some said, "What does this babbler want to say?" It goes on in restaurants all over Omaha by tables full of ladies who lunch. Once a month I am one of them, getting together with five to six of the women who worked together in the Media office at Westside High School between the 70's until today. We are all anxious to hear something new, the latest literature, movie, school or family scuttlebutt.

It happens in homes and on cable news channels and the network nightly news programs. We all tune in to see what the babbler has to say. Some think it could change over time as more and more people check out the blogging babblers.

Recovery Agent

This morning a man with the words "Recovery Agent" on his shirt knocked on our door. He was looking for one of our two new neighbors next door. I sort of wish I hadn't Googled 'recovery agent,' as the hits were not exactly what a middle class, quiet, old neighbor lady expects. Jeepers, even the Interpol was mentioned in one of the links, as well as bounty hunters.

He Who Must Be Obeyed, my own bounty hunter, got $20 in 1955 for a couple of coyote ears. The rest of the coyote rotted in the car trunk, rendering the car useless and had to be gotten rid of. Today's bounty hunters might be after coyotes of a different sort, those who carry other folks in the trunks of their cars. I believe they make more than $20 for a find.

Perhaps this Recovery Agent was after absconded bail bond money. I do love a mystery but prefer them in books and not in the house next door.

Doing What You Shouldn't

Happiness happens. This past week a former student of mine wrote a note in response to mine. I googled myself, which is embarrassing, but was a good thing actually. I found a hit on a former student's site. A note sent was a note reciprocated. God's Blessings Mark!

I prepare for seven overnight house guests. Beloved family members warm these old parent's hearts. I try to pack for the FinnFest in Astoria. I clean house and yard. I hem shirts and pants. We went to Saturday Services in 100 degree heat last night.

Doing what you shouldn't is fooling around on the computer right now. Fooling around is what I do best.

A Psalm of Gratitude

1. I sing a song of thanksgiving to the Lord. What have I done to deserve all this abundant goodness?

2. The Lord God created for me a beautiful prairie homeland in which I grew to womanhood. The buttes and pastures delighted my eye. The Meadowlark lifts my heart with the memory of its trill. The smell of summer showers linger in my nostrils forever. I praise the Lord my God for my homeland.

3. The Lord God created for me a majestic land in which to raise my children. The sacred Paha Sapa sheltered us from every storm. The trout streams filled my children with glee. The tender horses in pastures were wonderful to behold. Bluebirds made nests and raised young by my door. Our souls were nurtured and we sang praises to the Lord our God.

4. The Lord God created for me a great city in which to work. Work was plentiful and held rewards unimagineable. The streets were paved for my ease in travel and the Lord brought me safely home each night. For the pleasure of work I shout praises to the Lord.

5. The Lord God created rest and peace for my old age. He fills my life with contentment and joy. He places me in the arms of loving friends and shines his light on me through their eyes. I praise the Lord God for each of them.

6. For a good life with a good husband, I sing and shout praise to the Lord my God. The house of the Lord will be filled with my song and joy forever. Amen.