tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2750376119043557402024-02-18T20:32:32.382-06:00Tales from Frostbite FallsTHE ADVENTURES OF OLE & LENA
A Stud & and Hot DishLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.comBlogger270125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-64723060596090117642019-12-01T16:39:00.003-06:002019-12-01T16:39:43.939-06:00THE STORY OF MY FIRST TURKEY - EVER<br />
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I bet I never told you the story about the very first turkey I ever cooked, did I? Well, get yourself a cup of coffee and get comfy in your computer chair. Here goes.<br /><br />As a bride of only one year, Ole moved me off to the NATO base in Keflavik, Iceland. Prior to that time we lived in a small (very small) mobile home in a mobile home park on a lot about the size of a postage stamp. Needless to say, this didn’t make for good entertaining capabilities, so I hadn’t done much cooking or meal planning for more than just the two of us. I am fortunate that Ole will eat anything I put in front of him, and in those early days never complained about my amateurish cooking - with one exception.<br /><br />His favorite pie was banana cream pie. It’s not anymore cuz I think I ruined it for him. I’ll tell you this short little story before I get to the Turkey Delight.<br /><br />Anyway, one Saturday when I was at home and he was working I thought I would surprise him with not one, but two banana cream pies. I worked so hard on making the piecrust from scratch – none of those store-bought crusts for me. I filled the pies with the banana pudding and sliced bananas and then came to the meringue. I’m not a fan of meringue myself, but in Ole’s world banana cream pie had to have meringue because that’s the way his mother always made it (any of you ladies heard that before?)<br /><br />So I dug out my trusty old Good Housekeeping cookbook from 1957, looked up the recipe and proceeded. I broke and separated a half dozen eggs and proceeded to beat the living H-E-double toothpicks out of them, added the cream of tarter and then realized I was supposed to also add sugar – according to this recipe two tablespoons per egg white. Well, somewhere in my Young Bride brain I left behind the word tablespoon and superimposed the word cup. As I gradually added 12 cups of sugar to the six eggs, the peaks kept getting higher and higher. After putting the meringue on the pies I tucked them into the oven for browning. I watched carefully and pulled them out just at the right time – beautiful high peaks of meringue that were golden brown on the tips. Picture perfect.<br /><br />They were sitting on the counter cooling when Ole came home that night. He couldn’t wait to sample so grabbed a fork to dip in for a bit of a taste. I happened to be in the other end of the mobile home, but I could hear when the fork hit the meringue with a loud TWANG so hard it bent the tines. Then he tried it again in a different spot and again on the other pie. Same results – TWANG! Then he chuckled and asked me where I had gone that day to get concrete? That’s when I discovered that 12 cups of sugar is just a bit much for 6 egg whites. Actually, I haven’t made meringue since. Now if Ole wants something on top of his banana cream pie he gets Cool Whip!! Remember – simplify your life.<br /><br />Anyway, back to the turkey in Iceland. We lived off base by choice when we lived in Iceland. We thought as long as we were there we might as well enjoy as much of the flavor of the country as possible. But this did present one itty-bitty problem. In order to buy groceries at the commissary and take them off base there were a number of steps you had to go through. First of all you were only allowed to take a preset dollar amount of groceries off base on a weekly basis. This was called your Take-off Allowance. This was all due to the fact that the Icelandic government didn’t want American goods making a negative impact on their economy. Guess they were afraid we’d sell all that cheap American food to the Nationals or something. Once you had made your food purchases for the week you had forms to fill out and then had to go through Icelandic Customs where they would check your bags and make sure you didn’t have more than what you claimed. Yah, this was a pain in the neck, but it didn’t take us or all the other Americans living off base to figure out ways around this little bottleneck. I won’t go into them now, as that’s another story, but if we’d been caught we would have had a criminal record for “international smuggling.” How’s THAT for being a bad girl?<br /><br />We rented a large house off base overlooking the ocean, which made for a beautiful view with all the snowcapped mountains across the fjord. Because our house was so big it was always kind of Grand Central Station not only for other married couples but also the single guys stationed there, and the guys who had to leave their wives back in the States. Kind of a sanctuary to get away from all the military bullshit that would take place on a NATO base. So I got the bright idea that I would fix Thanksgiving dinner for all these guys that frequented our house. Now, for someone who’s never fixed a turkey before in their life, that wasn’t exactly an intelligent decision.<br /><br />First off, getting the turkey presented a problem, let alone not knowing how to cook one. The commissary had ordered a limited number of turkeys that year, most of them going to the officers which left very little for the enlisted personnel to pick from. And because I was having a number of hungry guys for dinner I knew I’d need more than a 12 pounder, which was about all there was left. Not only was the size a problem, but also by the time I had purchased everything else I needed for dinner I had reached my limit of Take Off Allowance. Never fear – the guys in the Supply Department where I worked, unbeknown to me, came to my rescue.<br /><br />One afternoon, shortly before Thanksgiving, one of the guys who drove the supply truck through the gates out to the remote sites on a daily basis came up to my office and asked for my house keys. I didn’t question him about why, because several of the guys kept extra sets of clothing at our house so they could change into civies (civilian clothes) once they were through the gates. The Icelandic government requested that all military men, regardless of their rank, be dressed in uniform when they were off base. Guess it was a good way to keep track of them or something. So Bud picked up my house keys, and about an hour later came back to my office and returned them. When I got home that night, I walked into the kitchen and there sat a 28 lb. turkey in my kitchen sink – frozen solid – and only three days until Thanksgiving. Remember – I had never cooked a turkey in my life and I’m presented with this behemoth!! Somehow I wrestled that thing around in my sink for the next several days trying to get it thawed out, having to twist and turn it periodically because only about a third of it would sit underwater. It still had ice crystals inside when I stuck my hand in to take out the “interior parts.” And of course it didn’t have a pop up timer either. So Thanksgiving morning came and I was up at 5 a.m. stuffing that dam bird. I put it in a pan, opened the oven door and then realized that this bird was NOT going to fit into the oven of an Icelandic kitchen stove (they’re somewhat smaller than our American appliances.) After taking out all the oven wracks and jostling things around a bit, binding the turkey legs tighter to the body, I finally managed to get Mr. Turkey into the oven with neck and butt each touching the oven wall on their respective sides. Obviously there was no room for anything else in that oven.<br /><br />I had invited everyone for dinner at 4 p.m. The guests arrived, 4 p.m. came and went, we fed them more wine, 5 p.m. came and went, more wine, wash, rinse, repeat. By 7 o’clock the bird finally decided it was done, although the rest of the meal was somewhat dried out, when we finally sat down to eat. The outer parts of the turkey were pretty good, but down by the bones things were still a bit on the pink side – not quite done. But after that much wine nobody really cared anyway.<br /><br />Since then I’ve had a lot more practice, so things turn out a bit better now. <br /><br />What happened when you cooked your first turkey??? C'mon - share the story.</div>
Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-40893620006083843922019-11-17T14:03:00.000-06:002019-11-17T14:03:52.042-06:00THE EDGE OF THE WORLDThe leaves have come off the trees, fall is here and with the temperatures we've had we know that winter isn't far behind. That always seems to put me in a reflective mood, thinking about times past, where I've been and where I'm at now. What is it that made my life turn out the way it did.<br /><br />When I was a little girl my father was a farmer in north central North Dakota, where the farms are small compared to what they are here in the Red River Valley. My father farmed 400 acres of soil that wasn't very productive, especially during the dry years of the early 50s. In order to hang onto the farm he had to take another job, which ended up being something called a "grease monkey" for a road construction crew. Not exactly a politically correct job title in today's society, but back then that's what it was. Today he would have been called a mechanic for heavy equipment.<br /><br />So my Mother was forced to move from an eleven room farm house into a 25 foot trailer house with three kids, and no indoor plumbing. We lived like gypsies. I won't say we even became "trailer trash" because that indicates you embed yourself in one place. We didn't. We moved from one location to another, following the progress of the road that the construction crew was working on. Many times I remember my Father coming to the trailer and telling my Mother, "We've got to be moved down the road to the next location within one hour." And we would.<br />
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The "camp" in the middle of a pasture</div>
<br />Now mind you, there were 20 to 30 families living like this - vagabonds. And a big "cook car" - which was a mobile kitchen, run by several ladies who would do all the meal preparation for the single guys who worked on the crew. Inside on one end was a kitchen, and the remainder was one long table going through the center of the car with benches on each side for the guys to sit and eat.<br /><br />So this whole procession of trailers and the cook car would go down the road several miles to another location, which was usually some rancher's pasture, pull in and set up camp. Now think about this - this was a pasture - no well for running water, or sanitation facilities. First things first - several holes would be dug for the outdoor biffies, then one very large hole to bury garbage. Then a truck with a huge water tank on the back would arrive and park itself somewhat centrally located. One of my brother's regular jobs was to fill water into buckets and haul it to our trailer whenever needed so we had water to drink, cook and wash dishes with. Baths were taken once a week in a large round galvanized tub that my mother used to wash clothes in every Monday. Otherwise you did a "spit and polish" between the times when you would sit in the galvanized tub. And all HOT water was made hot by heating it in a large pot on a gas kitchen stove.<br /><br />I often think when we're out traveling in our motor home, my Mother would have thought she'd died and gone to heaven with all the conveniences I have. Completely self-contained - solar powered, gas/electric hot water heater, same for the fridge, TV, air conditioning - We often park in the middle of the desert for weeks at a time when we travel in the winter, and have all those conveniences. She had NONE of that. But then neither did anyone else in the "camp."<br /><br />Going to town for groceries on Saturday afternoon was always a big event. We got to go to TOWN!! They were mere wide spots in the road, and sometimes up to 30 miles away on gravel roads, but it was still a big event. Places like Elgin, Carson, Cannon Ball, Amidon, Black Butte, Flasher - some of which no longer even exist other than a few fallen in buildings. But at that time most every little town had some kind of a grocery store where a big treat would be a bottle of pop (soda to you NON-upper-midwesterners). Nesbitts orange and grape Nehi were my favorites.<br /><br />I have very fond memories of those days as a kid - playing with all the other "camp kids" out in the pasture not knowing what you were going to "step" in or find - and that included rattle snakes!! Most generally the rattle snakes were hunted out of the area we were going to be camping in. The construction company would send their snake crew in ahead of time and they would locate the snake dens and clean them out. An ugly, dangerous job, but it had to be done.<br /><br />I remember very vividly a time when a large bull snake decided he was going to move in under our trailer. He was only about six feet long and possibly six inches in circumference. The scariest part was that these snakes would crawl up into the underside of the trailers looking for warmth on chilly nights, and could possibly get into your house. Wouldn't that be cute - wake up during the night and have a snake that size trying to crawl under your covers to warm up!! That's just slightly intimidating. We didn't know it at the time but bull snakes weren't poisonous - but beneficial. They caught lots of mice. I don't care - I still wouldn't want him for a bed partner - AAAACCCCKKKK!<br /><br />Most of the roads that my Father worked on were in western North Dakota and all over South Dakota - a very slimly populated area, even back then. It's even more thinly populated now, but still holds a mystique for me when I travel the area. There's something so hauntingly beautiful about it.<br /><br />Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-56516815373263016602019-11-14T12:16:00.001-06:002019-11-14T12:19:08.402-06:00NALA AND THE METHANE EXPLOSIONHi to all you friends of my Grandma Lena,<br />
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Nala here. I'm taking over this blog today because I just want to blow off a little steam and let all of you to know what I think of this dumb diet stuff. After my visit with Dr. Brad yesterday, stepping on the scale and weighing in at 105 lbs., and having to listen to Dr. Brad tell me that I have to cut back because I'm not the svelte little gal I used to be - well, I found that rather insulting.<br />
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And then to come home and have Grandma tell Grandpa that he can't give me anymore treats - well, how disgusting. What am I supposed to live on anyway.<br />
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So last night when Grandma fed me - she thinks she's in control - she had the audacity to put only PLAIN DRY DOG FOOD in my bowl. No gravy, no meat tidbits, nothing good - just that plain old dry dog food. I showed her - I turned up my nose and walked away, went to the corner where I sleep and put a very pouty look on my face. I'll show her, I thought, I just won't eat my supper.<br />
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So later on in the night I truly did get hungry and decided I needed to sneak out to the kitchen and do a bit of foraging. Ah ha!! Grandma forgot to put the trash can in the closet where she normally keeps it and there just happened to be the wrapper from a package of hamburger in there. Now I normally wouldn't stoop to getting into the trash. That's just beneath a dog of my quality. But I must admit that hamburger wrapper tasted pretty darn good when I licked the last molecule from the Styrofoam tray. Then I placed it in the middle of the floor so I was sure that she'd see it in the morning when she got up to make coffee.<br />
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Well, that sufficed for a bit, but it still didn't fill the hollow spot. And I'll be darned if I'm going to stoop to eating that dry dog food that was still in my bowl. As I walked through the kitchen I just happened to walk by the cat food bowls. Senior Citizen Lucy only eats canned cat food because she doesn't have any teeth anymore and needs something soft to eat. What a find!! Cat food pate' - delicious. There wasn't much in there, but I licked the bowl so clean it doesn't even need to go in the dishwasher. Then I carried the dish to the corner of the dining room and carefully placed it beside the china hutch where I thought she wouldn't find it.<br />
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Still hungry - more foraging - and another good find. As I said before, dry food without any goodies on it just isn't my forte', but dry CAT food goes down very well. Grandma uses a self-feeder for Gracie so there stood a feeder that was half full of delicious cat food which I've been told is a very big no-no for dogs. (Too fattening they say.) Well, here's too ya', Gracie - to bad you'll have to starve for the remainder of the night. Man, was that good. Now I could go back to the bedroom and fall asleep because I knew I had used up all sources of nourishment with the exception of that darn dry dog food in my bowl. Ick!!<br />
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I fixed Grandma really good, last night. I went back to the bedroom, fell asleep on the floor on her side of the bed and proceeded to let the cat food work. Somewhere along about 3 or 4 o'clock the METHANE GAS exploded and my tummy felt better - not so bloated. I lucked out - Grandma blamed it all on Grandpa - the methane explosion that is - and I just opened one eye and looked at her in pure innocence.<br />
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It wasn't until she got up to make coffee this morning and discovered the empty cat food dishes that I got a lecture. But that's okay - it was worth it. Cat food is the very best.<br />
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Love to you all from NalaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-79718828088631858262019-11-07T13:14:00.001-06:002019-11-07T13:18:09.213-06:00LUTEFISK & LEFSEQuite some time ago when I first started blogging I called my blog <i style="font-weight: bold;">Lutefisk & Lefse. </i>But then it dawned on me that some of my readers, not being of ScandiHOOvian descent, might not even know what Lutefisk and Lefse are. And with the holidays coming up so shortly, I think it's important that you all understand about these delicacies. So grab your cup of coffee, make yourself comfortable in your armchair and read on. This is important, you know.<br />
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Now lutefisk is not easy to love, or even like - take my word for it. What's more, it's certainly not easy to explain. It's actually cod fish caught in the cold water of the North Atlantic that is hung over wooden racks to dry until it tinkles in the breezes like a crystal wind chime. It can be kept indefinitely in this manner, and often is. When one gets the urge to eat lutefisk, it's soaked in water for a number of days, then in a lye solution - yes - I said LYE - and then in water again. If you're a commercial dealer you then package it and sell it to "customers" who bring it home and either boil it or bake it, loaded with butter.<br />
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Why a soak in lye solution you ask? This breaks down the dried cell walls and allows them to absorb water which turns this fish into a<b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"> gel-like mass that wiggles like white jello</span></i></b>. MOST ScandiHOOvians go crazy over this, but not this one!<br />
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When I was a kid lutefisk was a Christmas tradition. And at that time (back in the dark ages) you bought your lutefisk still in the dried form. Nowadays, the commercial processors do all that rehydrating for you. You can buy a white mass of gelatinous lutefisk already wrapped in cellophane on a styrofoam tray, ready to bring home to cook and smell up you house. My mother would start looking for "good" lutefisk weeks prior to Christmas so that she could spend two weeks soaking and washing and soaking and washing so it would be ready to prepare on Christmas Eve. My Mom, Dad and older sister drooled over this stuff as it was being prepared, anticipating putting the wiggly, smelly stuff in their mouth and savoring it. My brother and I would run to the farthest point in the house and hide our heads under blankets trying to keep the noxious smell from invading our nostrils. Then we would have to actually sit at the table and watch this jelly-like substance be consumed while we tried not to gag. The rule at our house was that you "had to at least try it." And year after year we would choke down the tiniest morsel and try not to throw it back up.<br />
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You can probably guess that as an adult, no lutefisk has EVER crossed the threshold of MY house!!<br />
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When Ole and I lived in Iceland we discovered that fishing for cod was the main industry. You could drive for miles and see fish racks hanging full of drying cod tinkling in the breezes.<br />
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One of Ole's goals while we lived there was to go out on one of the fishing boats to fish for cod, and we were fortunate enough to have a landlord whose brother was a fishing boat owner.<br />
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So one weekend Ole and a buddy were invited to go on a fishing trip in the North Atlantic. Now mind you, this is not at all like going fishing on one of the Minnesota lakes. They went out on a 32-ton round-bottomed fishing boat where on a good day the waves are only 6 feet high. The North Atlantic is not exactly what you call hospitable. And with a round bottom, it only enhances the rolling effect. Ole said he spent a lot of time in the bunk eating crackers. The buddy that went along had spent a lot of time on smaller Navy ships so had a pretty good set of sea legs.<br />
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Now, these fishermen work hard when they go to sea - and it was quite evident that when they are not at sea they party pretty hard too. The fishing boat was scheduled to leave port at midnight, and apparently the captain had been enjoying himself a bit to much prior to this. Ole said the captain had been imbibing to the point where he couldn't drive a car, so he rode up to the dock on a horse, jumped off, took over the helm (is that the right word - the steering wheel whatever that is in nautical terms), stuck his head out the window, and without looking at any radar or maps, drove that boat for 12 hours straight out to his fishing nets. Guess his head should have been clear by that time, huh?<br />
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And then the work began. Ole was told when they returned to port that the Albert (the boat he was on) had the biggest catch ever - so apparently the Albert's guests brought them luck.<br />
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It took Ole two days before he got his land legs back again - it was funny to watch him walking like he was still on the rolling deck of the Albert.<br />
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Ta-Da . . . Have a great day - Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-36398746651951007282019-11-04T14:47:00.001-06:002019-11-04T15:35:48.146-06:00And so it begins - AGAINOkay, Folks, here goes again. I've haven't posted a good ole' <b><i>Adventures of Ole and Lena </i></b>blog for many years now. And due to the number of requests I've had over the last year to resurrect Ole and Lena I'll give it a go. Over the years, lots of things have happened that have caused me to put Ole and Lena on the back burner. But don't worry - they aren't dead yet - they've just been simmering in this old brain and hopefully I can entertain you once again. All I ever did previously was to write about happenings in my life never thinking or anticipating that you folks would find it entertaining and on occasion get a bit of a chuckle. But that's the way it goes, doesn't it?<br />
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Lots of my previous stories were about things that happened when we lived in Iceland back in 1969 - 1971 when Ole was a member of the United States Navy. So you'll probably hear more about that - in fact I may even repost some of those old <b><i>sagas</i></b>. (That's the Scandihoovian word for <b><i>tale</i></b> in case you didn't know. Just need to keep you educated here, okay?)<br />
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Speaking of TALES, and being Ole is a former sailor, I really need to inform you of the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story. You know, sailors were always famous (or infamous) for telling sea stories - highly embellished tales of what happened to them either at sea or in port. And I'm sure you all know what a fairy tale is - but I bet you didn't know this: Fairy tales and sea stories always start out "Once upon a time." Now the big difference comes at the end where a fairy tale always ends <b><i>"And they lived happily ever after."</i></b> A sea story always ends <b><i>"And this ain't no sh*t!!</i></b><br />
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So I may even include some of the sea stories that Ole has repeated over the years at various ports. Hmmm - and then again maybe not (chuckle). If I do I promise to keep it clean.<br />
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So I suppose I better introduce myself for those of you who don't know me and for you non-Scandihoovians who may not know who Ole and Lena are. Scandihoovians have always been known for their sense of humor and the ability to laugh at themselves. We can make some pretty serious "cracks" about our heritage and daily hijinx and not come out offended as seems to be the norm these days with other ethnic groups.<br />
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I'm what's known as a "half-breed" - now don't go getting your shorts in a knot about that comment. I joke about it because my mother was all Swedish and my father was a pure Norwegian. I'll write about being a "half breed" at a later date, but back in the 30s and in the area that my parents grew up and lived the Norwegians and Swedes didn't mix. It had something to do with how Sweden took over Norway centuries ago and I guess the two countries were still holding a grudge or something in the 20th century. So anyway - you can imagine the inner turmoil that I grew up with and still have at times knowing that the two races that I'm made up of don't/didn't get along. No wonder I get indigestion sometimes. Now Ole is a Finlander - and technically, Finland is/was not considered part of the Scandihoovian countries even though it was at one time controlled by them. But I let him PRETEND to be Scandihoovian so he doesn't feel bad. There's just a little German in his background, too, that accounts for the stubborn portion. But I try to overlook that and pretend it's not there. MOST of the time I'm successful, but sometimes not. So that makes our daughter and our little granddaughter quite a mixture.<br />
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I was born in central North Dakota and my father was a farmer. We moved off the farm when I was 3 as my father took a job as a road construction worker. Naturally the company he worked for followed the road construction and we lived in a trailer house moving from place to place like gypsies. There again, just a forewarning. Don't raise your blood pressure with the use of the word "gypsy." It's not meant in a demeaning way, but when I wrote about that previously I was contacted and smeared all over the internet by a young college student from Texas because I was such a racist. I will repost that story in the future if I can still find it back in the archives. My growing up years were spent in one location where I met Ole in high school. This big tall Finlander captured me heart and we have been Ole and Lena for almost 53 years now. So there's the basics of who I am and where I come from.<br />
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Stay tuned for more adventures - Oh, and BTW, feel free to comment below just keep it clean and be nice. To bad we have to add that, but I see SO much nasty, uncalled for stuff on Facebook. Also, feel free to ask any questions you might feel inclined to. I'll answer if I can - and then again, maybe I won't<br />
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<br />Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-77555525909827030742011-05-07T18:34:00.003-05:002011-05-07T22:36:29.983-05:00Gray Hair, Bald Heads and Hearing AidsI discovered something today. When you're from the Far Nort'land you have to get used to the heat gradually. If somebody just drops you into the middle of it - you suffer. It definitely is easier if you can work into it gradually. And considering the fact that we've had COLD temps back home, we're a long ways from acclimating. Today Missouri decided to show us what it felt like to be back at 85 degrees again - with humidity because it rained last night. I guess it's a good thing we're heading home tomorrow as the next week is supposed to register in the upper 80s here. At this point our blood is still too thick to withstand that. <br /><br />This afternoon I saw more bald heads, gray hair and hearing aids in one place than I've seen for a long time - we went to a show called "Hank Revisited," an excellent impersonator of Hank Williams, Sr. The young man that did the show (Tim Hadler) was absolutely fantastic, along with his band that consisted of a steel guitar, fiddle and bass player. You would have thought you were staring at Hank, Sr. and you were for sure hearing him live. He and his band entertained us for 2 and a half hours. But then you have to be of a certain "age group" just to remember who Hank Sr. is. He far surpassed the Patsy Cline show we went to yesterday.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzY7ijzZxtRWXKIpnMYRIFzlYKU-cDn6D4m4kENyYlUJbJY1PqSzjtzgoNJOBkbGfYjw3gBg61UrAZA1UR0H6mpuyRC5b-UJrfjWPXJkjOubP1DYBVGwmQ1EVsOazP3XzVuvxi3XCgE8Q/s1600/g0a00000000000000006a8e586f2fd4f919351585b14bb79c28c7644cbe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604123192300497426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzY7ijzZxtRWXKIpnMYRIFzlYKU-cDn6D4m4kENyYlUJbJY1PqSzjtzgoNJOBkbGfYjw3gBg61UrAZA1UR0H6mpuyRC5b-UJrfjWPXJkjOubP1DYBVGwmQ1EVsOazP3XzVuvxi3XCgE8Q/s400/g0a00000000000000006a8e586f2fd4f919351585b14bb79c28c7644cbe.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lusE2Qn_cOWF7o0w97AxE3PBMEec_nvKqf8w5ITT3DtkHoYtgJH8Iy5MOCe-1R0VOUoeqX6FEpUNvO-8FZeavnRN6nwTry76qWYadNP-r-1KmxRLK5xm-PzYO3PRYkZo22sep1zdPnE/s1600/Tim-Hadler-as-Hank-Williams.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604123190395122386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lusE2Qn_cOWF7o0w97AxE3PBMEec_nvKqf8w5ITT3DtkHoYtgJH8Iy5MOCe-1R0VOUoeqX6FEpUNvO-8FZeavnRN6nwTry76qWYadNP-r-1KmxRLK5xm-PzYO3PRYkZo22sep1zdPnE/s400/Tim-Hadler-as-Hank-Williams.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div>Branson is so full of very talented people just looking for a break. There are street musicians all over, playing on the corners with the instrument cases open hoping to collect tips but more so hoping to get discovered. It's incredible. Tim Hadler has been to Nashville and played at the Grand Ole Opry, so he's at least got his foot in the door. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Well, to every good time there comes an end. Tomorrow we head north - back to Minnesota. Hopefully Minnesota has decided to let spring arrive and will show us some warmer temperatures and a bit of sunshine. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Love, Lena<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div>Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-11505893748161592472011-05-05T17:47:00.005-05:002011-05-05T19:05:14.317-05:00The Quilt Shop to End All Quilt ShopsI left you last Monday after we'd been out touring with Don and Bernie in the rain. There's that word again - it follows us around - the huge black cloud that seems to hang over our heads.<br /><br />Tuesday it decided not to rain and give us a bit of sunshine, but it was COLD. And, of course, being from The Far North, we (Ole) would never admit that he needed a leather jacket to ride the bike that day. So I followed suit, thinking that Ole knows best and just wore my light Harley jacket and darn near froze my buns off. We took a tour through the historic loop of Eureka Springs, and then turned around and did it backwards when we met this wonderful invention called a TOUR BUS. Actually it was a tram that took you through the historic section of town with a tour guide that spouted all the historic rhetoric. It really was interesting, and much warmer to say the least. At least I'm not afraid to admit when I'm cold ~ ~ ~<br /><br />Here's some of the facts that we learned: Eureka Springs was settled in 1829 (pretty old for this far west) by trappers and hunters, who of course didn't get along very well with the local Indians. Later on people settled the area because of the springs which were thought to have healing powers. The city is full of old Victorian mansions built into the sides of the hills/mountains and the entire city is on the National Historic Register. In the Early Days there were lots of houses of ill repute, many of which are now bed and breakfast facilities.<br /><br />One of the most elaborate that we saw was the Queen Anne Mansion, owned by some guy from New York who has completely restored the entire mansion to the tune of several million dollars. The mansion was originally built in Carthage, MO, dismantled and moved to Eureka Springs. Can you just imagine???<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGgV-TzlDzN6kaeEhNif18M-B9dGZ1lZ0-f1mC9sCiB-m12Df9VEqz_QWe27l7tcufKLml5_ZBnuYiOwF4Q0wb-FoIOHlZhiY0H_ZtnA6V-Znt_bj1npETr_cbbxGBf_28e5ylcF760Q/s1600/Another%252520view%252520of%252520Queen%252520Anne%252520Mansion.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603373149451459666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGgV-TzlDzN6kaeEhNif18M-B9dGZ1lZ0-f1mC9sCiB-m12Df9VEqz_QWe27l7tcufKLml5_ZBnuYiOwF4Q0wb-FoIOHlZhiY0H_ZtnA6V-Znt_bj1npETr_cbbxGBf_28e5ylcF760Q/s400/Another%252520view%252520of%252520Queen%252520Anne%252520Mansion.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I had read on the Internet that Eureka Springs celebrated the month of May with something called the Grand Illumination. When Ole and I had been touring downtown we noticed all the paper lanterns that were hanging all over throughout the downtown section and in the residential sections. Everything was supposed to light up at dusk, and the way things were decorated we thought it would be beautiful. Well, being it was actually MAY and we were actually THERE, we thought we would take it all in. So that evening I bundled up, hopped on the back of the bike preparing to freeze and rode the 3 miles back into the downtown area to see this beautiful spectacle. All the paper lanterns were hanging where they had been for the previous three days and only about 50 per cent of them were giving off a very faint glow.<br /><br />Not only that, but I think they roll up the sidewalks at 5 o'clock in Eureka Springs. This was about 7 o'clock and I think we actually saw two whole people strolling down the street in the downtown area. Talk about a disappointment. So we hightailed it back to the motor home where we turned on the heat and a good movie.<br /><br />Being totally bored in Eureka Springs as all it seems to do there is either rain or be cold, we decided to strike out the next day for Branson. After a stop at Walmart where we put in a few supplies we ended up in Branson about 3:30. I was going to be so smart and direct Ole to go on some of the back roads in order to avoid taking the RV/trailer through all the downtown Branson traffic to get to our campground. Yeah, well, did I screw up. Ole is guiding "the bus" down this narrow back road with no shoulders (165) up and down the hills and around the curves where we were eventually supposed to go across and bridge and come into our campground through the "back" way. Around a curve and down a hill and what do we come across but a great big sign that says, "ROAD CLOSED AHEAD." So how do you turn around a 40' foot motor home with a trailer behind? Not very easily. We managed to find a spot where he could at least get the rig somewhat off the road when a county truck hauling a load of logs pulled up behind/beside us on the off-road side. I got out and asked him what the situation was - if there was a place to turn around up ahead or not. He said he didn't know but would go ahead and take a look. He came back shortly and said we wouldn't have a problem as there was a visitor's center up ahead and we could turn around there. Apparently all the rain that has fallen over this part of Missouri caused the road that goes across the dam that was ahead to wash out in places to close the road.<br /><br />So we got turned around - went all the way back on the twisty, windy, narrow road, back to Hwy 65 where we ended up going right into downtown Branson, through all the traffic, wending our way back to the campground. I initially tried to make reservations at the campground that was close to The Landing in downtown Branson, but when I called they said they were closed due to the flooding of the previous week. Must have been a mess.<br /><br />So last night was spent "unwinding" a bit and making plans for today. This morning (Thursday) dawned with bright sunshine and a temperature that was actually climbing. When we left the rig about noon it was in the mid 70s (nice). How long were we going to luck out this time?<br /><br />Our first stop was at the Veterans Memorial Museum which covered all the wars from WWI to present day. It was amazing. Even I enjoyed it - Ole was enthralled. In one of the central rooms was this bronze statue depicting a company from WWII. There are 50 bronze figures that are casts of actual soldiers that died in WWII, one from each state with a brass plaque beneath each figure stating his name and where he's from. There were so many things exhibited in this museum that just gave a person chills - especially the exhibits from the prison camps like Dachau and Auschwitz. Being a former sailor, Ole particularly enjoyed the Navy exhibits.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnwWvR1JrIhI_5u6SLUvDInTpYjVo72T-f8o8OFLUDYkLNmH5NPn4P6vMYVGiA5nU8NfrT7rQXcC_L5dGO0x09fPnlpyi5Cl9eHyIi1S5Z8bZyjoS1BLXkDayB9WPyqFzyBdzOZOSpdE/s1600/veterans50Statue1_edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603371528406922834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnwWvR1JrIhI_5u6SLUvDInTpYjVo72T-f8o8OFLUDYkLNmH5NPn4P6vMYVGiA5nU8NfrT7rQXcC_L5dGO0x09fPnlpyi5Cl9eHyIi1S5Z8bZyjoS1BLXkDayB9WPyqFzyBdzOZOSpdE/s400/veterans50Statue1_edited.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />By this time it was 2:30 in the afternoon and we decided it was maybe time for lunch. So we drove down to The Landing and found a saloon called Rocky's where Ole could get a burger and a beer. Of course at that time of day things weren't very busy so the bartender, named Layne, entertained us with lots of stories. She was a very interesting person who was born in South Africa, and lived portions of her life in England, Scotland and Australia before she came to America. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>THEN, it was time for the best part of the day - Quilts & Quilts - a quilt shop to end all quilt shops that a couple of my quilting friends had recommended. I'd been salivating over this stop for days on end - anticipating how much fun this was going to be and how much "stuff" I was going to acquire.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaQjYEkAEE8nYl1iSxG78-CU3MJs6d9ZdNmNU2Qb03Jn44T2vZbsJU2ZKNGG8o5nti7W1sCBRcv0-KrBuJRYUsEPM5nAlBctKN20GlpA9rdckcKompPBr18JIoaHd2DmV6NJ3l643-No/s1600/quilts-store_edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603371523700350706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaQjYEkAEE8nYl1iSxG78-CU3MJs6d9ZdNmNU2Qb03Jn44T2vZbsJU2ZKNGG8o5nti7W1sCBRcv0-KrBuJRYUsEPM5nAlBctKN20GlpA9rdckcKompPBr18JIoaHd2DmV6NJ3l643-No/s400/quilts-store_edited.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Ole waited patiently out on his Harley while I went in and came out a half hour later empty-handed. Ole had this look of panic on his face, thinking I had gotten sick or something and couldn't imagine why I wasn't carrying any packages. This store encompasses over 7000 square feet of "stuff" - anything and everything that you can imagine that's related to quilting in any way, shape or form. I was so overwhelmed all I could do was walk around and look and get confused. I came out of there with my brain spinning and thinking I'd probably dream about this place tonight. (I'll let you know tomorrow, 'kay?)</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Big sign in the front of the store as you enter "NO CAMERAS" - yeah, well, - - -</div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EWt0RmyLW8ZgARmmFFsSDCwGQ3ztYbjQiMJUF-3NVGNnyy5RHjPJOhojW9ICrJPfa1YAdzxTqP3uUNqUaaafu__CMJW3MQQulzocrHKOA0GxmTTEcDcyQ03mUT_X9Blvg8B0PvzIjoU/s1600/quilts_Vintage_Moments_edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603371519976226946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EWt0RmyLW8ZgARmmFFsSDCwGQ3ztYbjQiMJUF-3NVGNnyy5RHjPJOhojW9ICrJPfa1YAdzxTqP3uUNqUaaafu__CMJW3MQQulzocrHKOA0GxmTTEcDcyQ03mUT_X9Blvg8B0PvzIjoU/s400/quilts_Vintage_Moments_edited.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwIDzcBxMztG4qRfPNGGizgxyCHrV1R_ubZ6z10ND20XIfLM9QnPKSaxKomDs85nd5a6ERx6JtlpF62Ec9gWPLe4o3-1onBW2pMrMr7eEN05A9gjXPOnV_y-E19o7CvBIqyzNqrHC50u0/s1600/quilts_Star_Spin_edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603371514522638866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwIDzcBxMztG4qRfPNGGizgxyCHrV1R_ubZ6z10ND20XIfLM9QnPKSaxKomDs85nd5a6ERx6JtlpF62Ec9gWPLe4o3-1onBW2pMrMr7eEN05A9gjXPOnV_y-E19o7CvBIqyzNqrHC50u0/s400/quilts_Star_Spin_edited.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />So we're back at the ranch - er - campground. Ole's had his afternoon nap and walked Daisy in the rain - I'm playing catch up on my blog - but I do think it's time for a 5 o'clock toddy being it's already 7:00.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Love, Lena<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-52278677425082701592011-05-02T20:02:00.002-05:002011-05-02T20:37:52.675-05:00Wet MondayIt rained all day today. It rained all day yesterday and part of the day before. So guess what we've been doing. No don't . . . . . . . . I don't like where your mind goes . . . . .<br /><br />We've watched a lot of movies, we've read a lot of books and magazines, taken a lot of naps and I've crocheted a lot. Today was a blessing as our friends Don and Bernie came to visit IN A CAR and took us for a tour of the countryside.<br /><br />This is a big motorhome but it can get quite small after a couple of days of rain . . . .<br /><br />Anyway, Don and Bernie retired to northwest Arkansas about a year and a half ago and love it. I can certainly see why. They ride their Harleys 12 months a year and after much questioning Don stated that the summers here aren't any hotter or more humid than the summers in Minnesota. Hmmmm . . . . Brings to mind a lot of questions about relocating. <br /><br />Anyway, they picked us up IN A CAR and took us through some very beautiful parts of northwest Arkansas where we landed at a place called the Cliff Side Inn for lunch. It overlooked a huge valley that was gorgeous. Unfortunately the rain caused a fog that wouldn't allow us to get a good view of the valley so we just enjoyed the lunch and the company and all the humming birds that were buzzing around the flowers planted in pots on the porch. <br /><br />So we really haven't gotten to do anything that we've wanted here in Eureka Springs. There's a couple of quilt shops downtown that I want to visit along with just poking around in the unique downtown area. They also have something called a lighting ceremony where the victorian are of the old downtown is lit up completely by paper lanterns. It's supposed to be quite a sight and was supposed to begin last night, May 1st. But with the rain we question the fact that it happened. Hopefully the weather will cooperate on Tuesday night so that we can take it all in. <br /><br />Also want to do some touring on the bike around the lake area. The countryside is beautiful with all the rolling hills, etc., but with the rain we haven't been able to take it all in. <br /><br />So - - - more movies on the TV tonight as it's raining and we can't get the satellite TV due to all the trees. This is really ROUGHING IT. So we missed out on the earth quake in Alexandria, MN that happened several days ago, and also the capture/killing of Osama Bin Laden. HURRAY!!<br /><br />Ole's got some WKRP videos playing so it's time to go watch them. <br /><br />Love, Lena<br /><br />PS: Special message to all you North Dakotans and Minnesotans - ENJOY YOUR SNOW - at least all we've got is RAIN!!Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-85926818611002025722011-04-28T21:28:00.004-05:002011-04-28T21:48:07.279-05:00OWWW!What a horrible way to start the day. I think I broke my toe! OwWwW! And for those of you who are thinking anything else, it was all in pure innocence. I was walking back to the bedroom to make the bed. Ole was in Walmart shopping for that new tire we had to buy and I wanted to have everything ready to take off when he got back. That's what I get for hurrying I guess. Hope I can get my boot on tomorrow to go riding. <br /><br />Anyway, it was a rather eventful afternoon getting here. Not because we had any problems, but I think I had several heart attacks along the way. About 5 o'clock we turned off Highway 71 at Bentonville, AR and headed east toward Eureka Springs. If I had known that road was so full of hairpin turns I would have figured out some other way to get here. For those of you who have ridden the Needles Highway on a motorcycle down in the Blackhills, this is quite comparable. Only it's about 35 miles long instead of just a few miles. And doing it in a 40' motorhome is definitely NOT fun. It's very narrow and there is NO shoulder or guard rails. If you move 6 inches too far to the right you're done. They'll never find you down in the bottom of the deep ravine. The vultures and the wild critters will dine on your bones. Now on a motorcycle, I'm looking forward to it - but we're definitely finding some other way out of here when we leave in the motorhome! <br /><br />So we made it to the campground, got parked, set up and started to relax. Daisy was definitely tired of being cooped up in the RV and was ready for some outside time. After a good long walk with Ole around the park and through the ravines she was ready for some downtime. I think she felt my stress level and reacted to it as she seemed very nervous on the last leg of this journey. After her walk she managed to find a soft spot in all the oak leaves that had fallen and took a nice nap.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb5mKzy1oHlsLsYWcwRkjZoJRqZGO3rVfARoPoi-H9OeHd1O0V0pv90g-Qzbcs8M-Wj-yYhzmA_Yhp2ziNCNqsqyyKu0yvM2an7zYvLG6gTaF0qN_JWxsQsizI93rqkyVNBckpP_5U7A/s1600/P4280005-Optimized.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600827255012035234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb5mKzy1oHlsLsYWcwRkjZoJRqZGO3rVfARoPoi-H9OeHd1O0V0pv90g-Qzbcs8M-Wj-yYhzmA_Yhp2ziNCNqsqyyKu0yvM2an7zYvLG6gTaF0qN_JWxsQsizI93rqkyVNBckpP_5U7A/s400/P4280005-Optimized.jpg" border="0" /></a>Ole walks her on a leash as those are the rules, but I know he wouldn't have to as she's so well behaved. Everybody that sees her goes gaga over her and she always allows them to get acquainted and pet her. There are several other dogs in the campground but they're all little "yappers." She just turns her nose up at them as though they aren't worth her time. Good Girl, Daisy. Keep up the good work. <br /><br />So Ole cooked tonight - burgers on the grille. They were SO good. It's been too darn cold to do any grilling at home so these were especially good. <br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwi7M26R-fKVaQ60o_J3Z40hsl-_jWOz9QR9zr8YKXxS87aQUp4RgLR2Hr2ELCN1bAunulRvHSNhId97rHEGzIrA97-2TdTfNQQPUEr6uD8pYKLEd3JJt_TJ8jYVEsnqeP_KMvh13g7Y/s1600/P4280006-Optimized.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600827257188041410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwi7M26R-fKVaQ60o_J3Z40hsl-_jWOz9QR9zr8YKXxS87aQUp4RgLR2Hr2ELCN1bAunulRvHSNhId97rHEGzIrA97-2TdTfNQQPUEr6uD8pYKLEd3JJt_TJ8jYVEsnqeP_KMvh13g7Y/s400/P4280006-Optimized.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><br /><p>So tomorrow the Harley comes out of the trailer and we'll put some miles on. Really looking forward to it. </p><br /><p>Even though we're in a campground with electricity, water and sewer, we're really having to rough it for the week. There are so many trees here - huge oaks and very tall pines - we can't get a satellite signal nor do they have cable. So that means no TV for a week. Do you think we'll survive? As of tonight it's wonderful. I'll let you know in a week if I still feel the same. </p><br /><p>Love, Lena<br /><br /><br /></p>Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-66424057651564843902011-04-28T08:44:00.002-05:002011-04-28T10:33:38.205-05:00We Had Renters!See that picture up there on top of the page? That's about what happened to Ole when he tried to get the RV off of our property before the flood came. It wasn't quite that bad but almost. I posted pictures on a previous blog showing Farmer Neighbor Dave and his Big John Deere rescuing Ole and the motorhome. Once we got the rig going out of the muck we brought it up to the church parking lot (hard surface) where we thought it would be safe and sound. You know - with the Lord looking after it and all?? Only thing is, the Lord forgot to talk to one of his church members about being kind and considerate to those in need of assistance. But that's another story for another day.<br /><br />First of all, I'm coming to you from a different blog this time and will be while we're traveling. I'm not comfortable posting the fact that we're not at home to a blog that I don't have control over - anybody/everybody in the whole world can read the one that's posted to the Areavoices site - I have control over who reads this one - so if you've received this notice, consider yourself quite special!! okay? But anyway, on with the story.<br /><br />So - Ole and I decided we needed to "get out of Dodge" for a bit following the long bitter winter that we had and all the water stress that followed. Even though we suffered no damage this spring I think it was still one of the more stressful floods we've been through. All the hype for such an extended period of time really got to both of us. Being the RV was located (at that time) in the church parking lot I decided to load up a bunch of clothes baskets and haul everything up to the RV that way. At this point we still couldn't get the RV back in our yard because our driveway was mush. Getting stuck once was enough - Ole didn't want to do that again so this was the only alternative. Inconvenient? yes, but doable. <br /><br />So in the process of checking things over and doing some cleaning in the RV, I opened up the drawer that held my kitchen towels and dish clothes. There in the very front was the biggest mouse nest I've ever seen. It consisted of a half a roll of paper towels that had been hauled all the way from a cabinet in the bathroom AND pieces of all my kitchen towels. I tell you, these little critters had made a haul and constructed it into one of the coziest nests that could be. In checking all the other drawers and cabinets in my kitchen I was presented with mouse turds and lots of them in every opening available. I tell you, these mice had a hay day all winter long. <br /><br />So I loaded up everything from the kitchen and hauled it home to run through the dishwasher, bleached all the drawers and cabinets. Extra work I didn't count on.<br /><br />This is about the time that the RV was relocated - and parked at Farmer Neighbor Dave's house. It looked a little out of place parked among all those big John Deere tractors, but at least THEY were welcoming. So that explains why one evening Farmer Neighbor Dave and his wife were visiting with us in the RV when Cindy saw a mouse run across the floor, under the davenport and up to the front of the rig where it climbed in an opening and went under the dash. Dave went to get a live trap that he had, set it in front of where we saw the mouse go in and then we proceeded to visit some more. Within 20 minutes the mouse's curiosity got the best of it and he climbed in the trap where it immediately went CLICK and the mouse was caught. <br /><br />Well, you know you can't have just ONE mouse. So the next day when I opened up the drawer where I keep my "undies" they were covered with mouse turds and another huge mouse nest. I gingerly picked them up, one by one, and put them into a clothes basket to bring home and run through a very hot washing machine. As I was getting to the bottom of the drawer Ole, who was in the front of the rig, heard this very loud GASP. It came from me! As I picked through my undies up popped the head of a little gray creature with beady eyes and pointy ears giving me this look saying, "And just what do you think YOU'RE doing here in MY mouse domain?" Then he quickly scampered through the back of the drawer and down between the floor and the bottom of the drawer. <br /><br />Okay. Now we've declared mouse war. We went home, gathered up our arsenal of traps and a jar of peanut butter. Ole went back to the rig and set his trap line. Three more mice bit the dust. The next afternoon we brought the last load over to the RV Daisy was the first one in. She went charging over to a corner, caught another mouse and crunch. That mouse was a goner too. <br /><br />We've continued to run the trap line until this morning and have had no more takers. So I HOPE our renters have decided to move out. I can't imagine that we've had multiple mice in here throughout the winter that didn't have babies. Maybe they decided that abstinence was the best option?<br /><br />Now we do travel with two cats - Lucy and Simon. Simon is 20 years old so he's pretty much in retirement mode and doesn't hunt anymore. He spends his days eating, sleeping and pooping. Lucy on the other hand is only three. But she's turned into such a "pork chop" since she came to live the easy life that she doesn't hunt anymore either. What a worthless bunch, huh? <br /><br />I'm writing this from St. Joseph, MO. As we left Farmer Neighbor Dave's yard yesterday at 8:45 a.m., we of course honked the air horn just to make sure he was awake. We ran into a bit of rain in South Dakota, otherwise we had sunshine all the way. Unfortunately we had some strong cross winds, which didn't make Ole's job very easy. He has 40' of broadside plus a motorcycle trailer going down the road with the wind trying to blow him off. Normally Ole drives until dark, but agreed to quit at 6 o'clock last night because he was tired. I really didn't want to drive through Kansas City after dark either - so St. Joseph was a good place to stop. <br /><br />This morning we're having a new tire put on the motorcycle trailer. That is if Ole ever quits visiting with the neighbors who are from Bemidji, and gets over to the tire store to make the arrangements. You know Ole - he's got his coffee cup in his hand, Daisy on her leash and his gift of gab. <br /><br />More later -<br /><br />Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-15677045687406043102011-04-22T07:57:00.001-05:002011-04-22T07:59:24.101-05:00Note Quite the Nitty GrittyGet your "jollies" right <a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/22/not-quite-the-nitty-gritty-details/">here!</a><br /><br /><br />Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-8782294173393825452011-04-19T12:59:00.000-05:002011-04-19T13:00:15.519-05:00Chocolate Easter EggsFind out where <a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/19/where-chocolate-easter-eggs-come-from/">Chocolate Easter Eggs</a> come from!<br /><br />Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-61795573869157997452011-04-12T11:57:00.001-05:002011-04-12T11:58:30.522-05:00What Happens when Hens eat Fruit Loops?<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/12/what-happens-when-hens-eat-fruit-loops/">I bet you didn't know this, did you? </a>Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-82286541886146910582011-04-11T12:35:00.001-05:002011-04-11T12:36:34.083-05:00Dumb Sh*t InsuranceOle discovers that we have <a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/11/dumb-sht-insurance/">GREAT insurance</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-76126376854985217492011-04-07T12:29:00.002-05:002011-04-07T12:29:55.949-05:00I Have Water in my Basement<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/07/i-have-water-in-my-basement/">But it's not from the river!</a> Love LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-38480647394957993042011-04-05T13:19:00.000-05:002011-04-05T13:20:39.004-05:00The Non-Event<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/05/the-non-event/">It just didn't happen!</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-8976152014587875422011-04-03T11:56:00.001-05:002011-04-03T11:56:46.217-05:00How High's the Water, Lena?<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/03/how-highs-the-water-lena/">It's MORE than 6 feet high and risin'!</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-74151369749435770332011-04-01T10:09:00.000-05:002011-04-01T10:10:45.278-05:00The Atrocities of being ScandiHOOvian<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/04/01/the-atrocities-of-being-scandihoovian/">I'm a Half-Breed!!</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-19873196522542998782011-03-31T12:49:00.000-05:002011-03-31T12:50:34.685-05:00The Hornet's Nest<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/31/the-hornets-nest/">BUZZZ - BUZZZ - STING!!</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-15046563476846727262011-03-29T13:56:00.000-05:002011-03-29T13:57:04.443-05:00Life as a Gypsy - Part 2<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/29/life-as-a-gypsy-part-2/">Life as a Gypsy - Part 2</a> Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-58258108029585200362011-03-26T14:35:00.001-05:002011-03-26T14:36:26.682-05:00We're In For It Now!!<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/26/were-in-for-it-now/">Things don't look good from here!</a><br /><br />From Cranky LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-66304999657200421452011-03-24T13:17:00.001-05:002011-03-24T13:18:22.346-05:00The Tale of the Poop Truck<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/24/the-tale-of-the-poop-truck/">The Tale of the Poop Truck</a><br /><br />Just click on the link.<br /><br />Love, LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-62814945829639336822011-03-23T10:55:00.000-05:002011-03-23T10:56:24.353-05:00The True Story of Lena<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/23/the-true-story-of-lena/">The True Story of Lena</a>Lena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-23227959051315070832011-03-22T21:35:00.002-05:002011-03-22T21:36:00.215-05:00The Winter that Just Won't EndRead On about our <a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/">trials and tribulations </a>of today.<br /><br />Love LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-275037611904355740.post-81849961345082197862011-03-17T19:54:00.000-05:002011-03-17T19:55:09.449-05:00Get Your Surf Boards Out<a href="http://oleandlena.areavoices.com/2011/03/17/get-your-surf-boards-out/">Learn How to Surf</a><br /><br />Love LenaLena . . .http://www.blogger.com/profile/12668036821461012213noreply@blogger.com0