Doot Ta Do!

Empty cardboard cores of toilet paper, what do you call them?  In our family they were called Doot Ta Dos.  When we emptied a roll of TP, we'd hold the core to our mouth and yell Doot Ta Do (DTD!  Did one of my brilliant siblings start that great tradition or did it come from elsewhere?

The lower corner cabinet in our kitchen was a swivel-out flour bin.  It's usage ended when flour was marketed in more user-friendly packaging than 100-pound bags.  

Then it became a home for DTDs.  It was some do-good thing or a maybe-some-day craft project of my Mom's.  I don't recall what the mission was and, later on, I doubt Mom did either.  

It was plumb full of the things, 100s of 'em.  They became part of the huge bonfire that my oldest sister Mary and I had going before the farm was sold.

Trish inspired this little story: she held up and empty plastic bottle and said Doot Ta Do!

Do any readers know the origin of DTD?  If so, please share.

Mom

A salute to Mom on Mother's day.

She was 5' nothing tall, highly religious, piano and organ player, was the organist at the nearby church.  Her children made up the bulk of the choir.

She was a teacher: for the time (1920s) she was highly educated.  My Dad, on the other hand, had a 6th grade education.  I've often wondered how he managed to seduce Mom into marriage.   With most young men serving in WWI, it was slim pickings, I suppose.  Not that Dad was a dummy, far from it.

Mom was 100% German, Dad 100% Irish.  Interesting that they got together during the height of WW1, where there countries of origin were on opposite sides. 

She bore 8 children, plus 3 that didn't make it; 11 total.  I'm the youngest.

Being a farmer's wife was anything but easy.  No plumbing or electricity for the first 20 years or so.  Imagine cooking on wood stoves, heating water for baths in a collapsible tub, doing laundry by hand using a washboard, including dirty diapers from 8 kids.

Dad and kids would milk the cows by hand every morning at 5 AM - and again at 5 PM.  Mom always had a hot breakfast waiting for us when we returned - and more hot meals at lunch and dinner.

When I was in grade school, she'd sometimes walk the 1.5 miles to the school, sit and watch the teacher and classes, then walk back home.  I was always glad to see her there, did my best to make her proud.  

Influenced by the depression shortages, she couldn't bear to throw anything away.  Spare bedroom full of worn-out clothing, broken furniture, old mattresses and other junk.  Same with food.  Kitchen counter covered with leftover dribs and drabs, leaving about 10" of work space.  Fridge full of trimmed lard parcels, leftover veggies, you name it.

She'd take naps in the afternoons.  When I came home from college, I'd take advantage of that interlude and clean house.  I'd start a bonfire outside, burn everything combustible, wash empty containers, etc.  When Mom woke up the counter would be bare and the freezer mostly empty.  She was okay with that: although she couldn't throw stuff away, she was okay if somebody else did.

She was one tough, hard working lady.  RIP, Mom.

Blame the Pagans

 Easter traditions, how did they get started?   

I never saw an obvious connection between eggs, rabbits and the (alleged) Resurrection.  I say alleged because I'm not a Christian - or any other religion.

There is no 100% certifiable reason but the popular belief is that it dates back thousands of years to the pagans.  Pagans supposedly associated eggs and rabbits with fertility and spring.

Okay.  So, what's a pagan?  It is: a person who is not religious or whose religion is not Judaism, Islam, or especially Christianity.

Which is pretty much the same as heathen. 

Both terms, pagan and heathen, are rarely used these days.  Atheist is used instead. 

That said, my ex, Patty, marketed small signs to place by entry doors that read: Cheap, apolitical pagans live here.  We don't want to buy it, contribute to it or hear about it.

Somebody (loved it or offended by it?) ripped it off our front entry in our last home in Oregon.

Train - And Cars and Planes

Trish planned a train trip on the California Zephyr, from Emeryville, CA to Denver, and back  We wanted my sister-in-law, Linda, and her guy to join us.  She did.  He didn't.  So, she invited her daughter, Trista, instead.

Linda flew in from MN, Trista from FL,  Trish and I drove from Lake Havasu City.  We met up at the Hyatt House, a nice hotel, right across from the train station.  

Trains are inherently tight on space.   Two people plus their luggage plus their beds in a space that's 3' wide, 7' long and 7' high is cozy indeed.  But it all worked and the food was good.  We spent 1.5 days on the train.

The plan was to spend 2 days in Denver, do a tour of the city, head home on the train AM of the 3rd day.   But - the best laid plans of mice and men.....  Our return train got stalled by a snow storm somewhere between Chicago and Denver.  That gave us 2 choices:

     1. spend an extra day in Denver and take the train back to Emeryville, lose our Emeryville hotel reservation $, get home a day late, pay doggy day care more $. 

    2. Linda and Trista fly home from Denver; Trish and I fly to San Francisco, to get the car and use the hotel reservation.

The 2nd choice won.  

The lobby of The Crawford Hotel.

The down side is we much enjoyed visiting with Linda and Trista, and wish we'd had a couple more days for that.  And the 'luxury' hotel, The Crawford, in Denver.  Apparently, luxury means pretty.  With no microwave and a pissant coffee-maker that was worthless, jazz music all day in the lobby.  I think the only thing worse than jazz is opera.  Yes, I have pedestrian tastes in music.

The upside was our last night in Emeryville, on the 9th floor of the hotel, with a great view.

This was my 2nd (and last) overnight on a train.  The first was when I entered the army, in 1966.  The airlines were on strike so I took the train from Fargo to New Jersey. 

160 MPH?

 Maserati, Lamborghini, Corvette - and Ford Edge ST?

Never having owned an expensive sports car, I'm wondering how high their speedometers go.  

Why?  Because my new Ford Edge ST speedometer goes up to 160 MPH.  The highest speed limit I've seen in the USA is 80 MPH.  So, where do I go to see if it'll really do 160?  

There are 6 automotive proving grounds in AZ, one of which is in Yucca, about 30 miles away from LHC.  These places are huge, have large race tracks, very high tech, designed to test vehicles in every way imaginable.  But, I doubt those facilities are open to the public.     

I'll be going to the Phoenix area in a couple weeks.  Might push the speed limit a bit, but not up to 160.

Cave Upgrade!

 Several posts back, I displayed the Mini Man Cave at our summer digs, 18" x 36".

This year, I got upgraded to a 10' x 12', insulated MAN CAVE!

And, I'm loving it!

The Boys in the Boat

 We watched the movie last night.  Excellent!

The coach was tough but fair, and his career was on the line, would likely have been fired if his team lost in the US.  I was reminded of my HS phy ed coach, who for whatever reason, didn't like me.

Wrestling was my only sport in HS, taught by a different coach.  Frankly, I was terrible.  I made the team but didn't win much.  I was a beanpole, 4" taller than most in my weight  class, and not heavily muscled.

I did well in phy ed, though.  Definitely well above average in everything: rope climbing, dodgeball, etc.  But one day the coach embarrassed me in front of the class.  We were doing forward flips with the help of a small ramp, coach standing beside the ramp.  When my turn came, coach stopped me and held me at the top of the ramp, and said to the rest of the class, "Here's an example of a person that isn't trying." 

His comment was unjustified and I was pissed!

When I was 45 I attended the HS class reunion, the one and only reunion I attended.  Sure enough, the phy ed coach was there.  I gave him a dirty look when I first noticed him. ignored him other than that.