Payback, Concrete Style

The sister-in-law and her husband were our best helpers when we moved, and what comes around goes around (at least I try to make it that way), so I tooled over to their place in the country on my motorcycle and helped lay and stamp the concrete patio they were putting on. It's a beauty, much unlike the crew that put it up. We were an ugly sight, but after a shower things are better, and they've got a dandy place to roast marshmallows.

Overdue Update, With Photos

The past few days have been busy ones, what with moving two houses full of stuff into one, getting TQ shipped off to Aberdeen, getting the Liberty house ready for renters, getting the Catherine house ready for buyers (oh, please!), and getting the Big House ready for us and our guests.

However, we took time Saturday for a few hours out at Prairie Village, where the big crowds enjoyed perfect weekend weather after a wet early morning.

The pictures show the father-in-law reminiscing in front of the Winfred jail, where he spent a few hours after a Halloween prank as a teenager, him again teaching me a thing or two about Model T's (check out the cool carpentry setup on this rig!). They had the rails running, with a steam engine, a diesel unit, and a shuttle car working. Also, crafts galore were offered. Mother-in law found a chair she liked. The last shows the wife whose day at school couldn't be complete without yanking some wallpaper off the new house.

Now, tomorrow is a new day, with me leading the faculty meetings, hoping to remember the names of MOST people.

And Yet Another Move

The wife and I made our own big move the last few days, with help of friends and family and a sturdy horse-trailer. More about that soon. Right now, we're tidying up the old house for a second open house this afternoon. Wish us luck!

Mama Makes Her Move

The last two days were spent in Ft. Pierre, where my mom is making her own move, out of a house she's been in for more than a decade. She's been going through stacks of old papers, sorting the coupons from the keepsakes, the crap from the quaint. Mom's heading down to Georgia where Sister1 lives, for part of the winter to assess and make plans about her next home.
The wife and my youngest brother and his other were there, along will nephew Dillon, all ready to help out. We got most everything into storage, out in the trash, or off to charity. The women did good work in the kitchen and bathroom, getting things put away and clean, not just tidy, the definitions of which made for some discussion.
A good dinner at La Minestra and treats at The Zesto helped put the days in perspective. Dillon pointed out at The Zesto that while I was eating mud (a mocha mud pie malt), he was eating dirt (a dirt pile?). Both were mighty tasty.
Best wishes go out to Mom today as she sorts through the last of the paper pile and this stage of her life in Ft. Pierre.

Karmic Day

The program "My Name is Earl" has poor Earl Hickey trying to work off what he thinks of as a kind of cosmic debt by doing good deeds to undo bad ones from his past. Not a bad idea, but doing good deeds is its own reward, too, right?

So today I was feeling pretty philanthropic, spending much of the day working on a book for my Chinese friend Cuiping and her husband. It's a textbook for business students, and I'm pretty sure I'll never see a penny for the work, but it will be fun to see the book with my name on it. I hope I get a copy!

Then I got an email inviting me to come help work on a Habitat for Humanity house here in Madison, so I packed up my tool belt (so women might at least find me handy, if not handsome) and headed over. A good crew, headed by an experienced carpenter, finished putting up all walls so the house is now ready for sheathing and soon rafters and a roof. Pictures from Saturday's work are here. Work continues on Wednesday evenings, 5:30 to dark, Saturday all day.

So, I'm feeling those cosmic forces for good--sometimes you make your own luck. Sometimes bad luck finds you. It didn't find my daughter or my son, both living in the Twin Cities.

Clydesdales Rule

Many road races these days have categories for heavier people (you can read "fatsos" there if you must), with "Athenas" for women over 175 pounds, and Clydesdale (why not Zeus?) for men over 200. As much I hate to say it, I'm currently in the second category, but Saturday morning's run made me feel a little more like a thoroughbred again. My PR for a 10K run is about 37 minutes, 17 seconds, which was right at six minutes per mile. I weighed then about 30 pounds less. I remember the race that gave me the PR, a hilly 10K down in Beaver, Oklahoma, where I got into a battle for 2nd place with a guy through the entire race and we both came steaming down the hill to the finish line, gutting it out, and he beat me by a step, but I never ran a 10K faster. So I was grateful to him. That was maybe 15 years ago. About 10 years ago I ran The Strawberry Run in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, the first 10K I had run in years, and I finished in over 45 minutes, which I considered a great fall, a sign of fading athleticism. But until Saturday I hadn't run a 10K under 45 minutes since before that Wisconsin "disaster."
So, Saturday I hauled my Clydesdale ass to the starting line of Madison's "Tour the City" 10K, joining 19 others, including the true thoroughbred Rod DeHaven, an Olympic marathoner and holder of some state and national records. I was hoping for something under 50 minutes, but I had the feeble hope that a 45 minute 10K was in the tank, since I've been running well. 50 minutes would mean about a 7:30 pace or so, and I had my lap counter watch to check my pace. But there were no mile markers! How fast was I going? I had no idea until I passed the finish line and saw a 44:11 was my time. Whoop! When I checked the pace, and saw the 7:06 per mile speed I was going, I gave my 50-year-old self a slap on the back and a double whoop. Visions of a qualifying time for the Boston Marathon (3:25 for this old codger) began to take shape. So if the foot holds up, and I manage to stay on the DELAP Diet (Don't Eat Like A Pig), maybe I can improve mightily on last year's 3:51. Things are looking good. With some luck and good training, I'll make it.

House for Sale

When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for people to move from one house to another, the world's opinion encourages those people to divest themselves of the former house when aquiring the newer. So, we're putting up the Catherine house for sale. If you know of anyone looking for a house in Madison, SD, please send me a line and I'll hook them up with our realtor. It's a nice cozy little place where one can watch the world go by, our lucky little home.

Bloody Knees and a 99 Year-old Lady

Again, it seems like life keeps me busy, much to some peoples' dismay. No, it's not classes, but socializing and other events keep coming after the wife and me. Tuesday afternoon (as we fretted about whether we could--or should--buy our big house) some of the Lake County Historical Society board members and friends led about 50 local kids on an "Old Fashioned Game Day." We played some old games like jacks and marbles and jumprope and outdoor games including Red Light Green Light, Simon Says, and variations on these games and others. I was surprised to learn that a number of the kids knew how to play Pumpumpollaway (or however you spell it), a game that we loved to play on the school playground in Ft. Pierre, a game like tag that begins with a lone tagger in the middle of the playground as everyone is lined up on one side of the field. She faces them and cries out, "Pumpumpollaway, come away or I'll pull you away!" The kids race to safety on the other side unless they're tagged, which puts them on her side. Last one caught (in my experience it was usually my buddy Mark Huebner) is the next tagger.

We didn't have a good building for Annie-I-Over (or again, whatever you call it). Again, I loved the ritual calling-out of of phrases or sayings that went along with the game.

My buddy JS led the kids, most of them 8 or so years old, in various races across the grass--a three legged race, hopping on one foot, rolling across the grass (and trying to avoid the doggie land mines). The race on your knees led some to cry out after they'd scrambled across the finish line, "My knees are bleeding!" But most kids pushed on to the next race, the next game, the next race across the lawn with a potato on a spoon.

After the games, the board had its monthly meeting, and then it was off to house negotiations.

Wednesday I got in 33 laps in the pool early, then went to the funeral of my great-aunt Regina (Schnell) Rensch. The funeral, held not in Latin but English, contrary to her request, was held in Ramona, followed by her burial there and then lunch in the parish hall. Mother dear sang several songs for the service for the aunt she always thought of as a classy beauty, born in 1908.

Wednesday night we had some friends over for food and drinks, good company, and a great time. It was especially a treat to have the year-old daughter of J and CB here, embarking on her own life-long journey. This morning (too early) was "Early Burn" at the community center, followed by work on the house. Anxiety, pain, fatigue, they're just as much a reminder of the fact of being alive as the touching lyrics and melody of "How Great Thou Art" or the underwater image of a girl in the pool held aloft by her soul-like life preserver. Being there, and being aware--two kinds of luck.

Tomorrow I head for Minneapolis.

1314 NE 3rd St.--Our Coming Address

We've happily signed the papers on a new address, which comes with a big house, a big yard, and several piles of wood for the fireplace. Check out the map here, and one of the photos here taken during the winter. It's got a GREAT yard, almost nothing for neighbors, a big screened-in porch, and plenty of room for guests and gatherings. I might have to take another shot at learning to play the banjo just so I can make the best of that front porch!

A View from the Top

Among the many recent activities, the wife, a sister, a brother, and I climbed Harney Peak last week, and I got this great shot from the fire tower at the top, the highest point of land east of the Rocky Mountains. It was a long hike, about seven miles round trip, but it was worth it to get the walk in, to see the great vistas of western South Dakota, and to spend good time with good people.

Rosemary's Birthday

So, after a trip to see where my dad's buried, I thought it would be a good idea to go visit Mom where she's still alive and kicking! Today's her birthday, so we'll go out tonight (after a uneventful drive to Ft. Pierre) and have some good food and toast Mom's birthday. She's doing well and looking forward to another phase in life, maybe a big move coming soon.

Yesterday was a good day too, with the afternoon in Dell Rapids where we looked at lots of cool old cars and checked out the downtown and the old houses. We discovered that matinees at the old theater there are just two bucks and two nights a week you can get in for the same price. Cool.

A Trip to See Dad

It was a trip west into my dad's country, the high Bighorn Basin west of Buffalo, Wyoming. After a failed attempt to ride up a muddy, snowy road, after a trip up to Hyattville, where Dad grew up and where his ashes now rest, after successful ride and a long hike in and an overnight stay, brother Jess and I arrived at Lake Solitude, where Dad's dad took him, and where Grandpa Sidney's dad Tude took young Sid. So now I've been there, and I'll be back. I've got a picture of me at the lake; this one is of West Ten Sleep Lake, where we fished after giving up on the first climb. More about all that later. A good day, with calls from two kids, a tribute to the father-in-law, and some good work.

Most Systems are Go

Early summer is not warm up in Hyattville, Wyoming, where my dad's family comes from, but we're headed there anyway. We delayed the bike trip out that way until a snow storm had passed. I was ready to ride behind the plow, but brother thought it might be better done if my bike actually had treads on the rear tire, so, after a day of golf and swimming in Cascade Falls yesterday, we took the rear wheel off my Concours today and hauled it up to Rapid City, where the good boys at Powersports put a new tire on. A new filter and oil was in order, and after lunch at the Mongolian Grill, we headed home, worked the bike over, spent some time up on his little piece of heaven in the hills, and then began packing in earnest. The bikes are now ready to roll. Hyattville shows a low of 40 degrees tonight (colder certainly up on the mountain), but in the morning we're heading west, snowplow or no snowplow.

The wife reports fine times in Boston, including her succumbing to peer pressure and taking a boat into the harbor. What the heck is a duckboat doing in Boston?

On the Road in the Black Hills

Thanks to the wife for her excellent posting here about our New Ulm trip; we had a great time there and I'm glad to see the photo of her by the windows of The Bohemian, where we stayed. It's a great town and a great B&B. Oh for another taste of Bobbi's bacon!

After a stop in Ft. Pierre I'm out here in Whitewood at my sister's getting ready to be back on my bike. As noted, I ran the Deadwood Mickelson Trail Marathon (they're calling it the MTM) yesterday and survived with about 102 minutes of running. With the recent rain, the trail was cris-crossed with running water, making even the excellent trail a muddy mess in spots. It was a real trail run! Only the old Mystic Mountain Run was more rugged.

Now I'm going to work my way south to Hot Springs, where my brother and I will pack up tomorrow and head for Wyoming on our bikes, then hike into the Cloud Peak Wilderness area. Feats don't fail me now!

Danke Schoen to New Ulm

John, who ran the Deadwood 1/2 marathon today with an even better time than the Fargo a couple of weeks back, invited me to be his guest blogger and post some pictures from our anniversary trip to New Ulm, MN. It was a quick trip, so we didn't take in all the sights, sounds, and tastes of the "most German town in the U.S." But we took in enough to know that we'll return to visit again some time.

We stayed in a wonderful b & b, the Bohemian, where Bobbi took great care of us. We took a tour of the Schell brewery, which ends with a generous beer tasting, we ate some mouth-watering spaetzle, schnitzel, and desserts (yes, plural--rhubarb bread pudding, fudge, French silk pie--if it was a sweet, we tried it), and we enjoyed poking around downtown, visiting with people. Here is a sampling of what we enjoyed.

Yet Waving

We fly our flag.

Winning and Losing, One Day at a Time

Winners emerged from the pack today, people we'll remember, who wrote their names into the history books as champions, those who ventured beyond the pack to establish some quality they had that others in some measure, at least today, were lacking. Dario Franchitti outlasted the pack and the rain to win at Indy. Duke won the lacrosse championship after their disastrous year. Fernando Alonso won the Monaco Grand Prix today. Some baseball teams won; as many others lost. Plenty other games were played, while people in Iraq and Darfur struggle to win another day of life on earth. Here in South Dakota we cherished the trophy of a relatively windless day, sunny and seventy degrees, perfect for running, playing in the park, planting flowers, riding your motorcycle, hauling rocks, or cruising round and round in your first little go-kart, no brick yard, no pit crew, no track, just a piece of rhubarb pie for everyone.

How Green was My Picnic Table

Yard work is currently the order of the day--mowing, replanting, trimming trees, planting, and cutting rhubarb. That kind of thing. Also, getting outdoor items shipshape for summer is on the agenda, so repainting lawn chairs and the picnic table worked its way to the top of the list. Now, the wife usually has a pretty good eye for color. The green of the designated picnic table color seems a little bold, don't you think?
In other pseudo-news, the father in law and I got in 18 holes of Howard golf yesterday (no yard work involved), and one of my brothers is up in South Haven, Michigan, today getting schooled on racing his vintage Norton Commando. Training today, racing tomorrow and Sunday at Gingerman Raceway. Check out the American Historic Racing Motorcycle Association (AHRMA) for more information.

Big Day in Fargo

On May 3, I threw my hat in the ring for the Twin Cities Marathon for what I think is the 14th time, so I'll be doing the 26.2 mile dance again in October, barring injury. When I entered the form required proof for getting in Wave 1 with the fast guys, where I've always managed to stay. But with age I'm slipping, with sore feet, extra baggage, and a persistent ache in my left calf, and I didn't finish last year within the 3:45 time requirement for automatic placement in Wave 1.
Okay, that's the setup. I hoped on Saturday to tune up for the Deadwood Mickelson Trail half-marathon by running the Fargo half. I needed a 1:45 in the half marathon, and although it seemed like a remote chance, my training has gone well, I tried to stay close on the cold and windy Fargo morning. The final miles told the tale, with the second half done under 8 minutes per, cooking along in the last two miles on the happy wave of knowing I had 1:45 in the bag. 1:43:16. Whoop!
The wife was in the Fargodome with friends, including one enthusiastic young runner who would earn her own medal that afternoon in the kids run.
We got a chance Saturday to poke around downtown a little and visit with my lovely daughter and her dashing beau. More good times. Days like that make a guy feel a little younger, put a little more spring in his step.

Any Way the Wind Blows (As Long as It's North)

Tuesday took us to Canada, and Wednesday brought us back. TQ and I went up to Winnipeg for the Canadian Distance Education Conference, where we talked about our efforts to use blogs and wikis for helping students find and make use of information. It was cold up there, but we had a warm reception during the last session of the conference, where over 20 people came to hear what we had to say, asking questions and offering up some of their own ideas. It was a great session, though it threw me off guard when some professors spoke matter-of-factly about their resistance to using American servers to store or manipulate information. Any non-US server was fine with them. They mentioned the Patriot Act as a concern, leaving me a little uninformed about what provisions there might pose a problem. I'll need to look into that more. But they were interested in our work.
On a lighter note, I had brought an old case of cassette tapes to play in the non-cd player car we took, and TQ noted that one tape was dated--the recording made on May 16, 1977, 30 years to the day from our travel. Yours truly, a 20 year old soldier stationed in Friedberg, West Germany, just north of Frankfurt, making recordings. It was cosmic forces at work, so it was fitting the music was from the Canadian band Klaatu, and the first song? Check out the photo: "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft."
The trip also featured good Korean and Italian food, a nice cool run around windy Winnipeg (where in their 50 degree weather people sported t-shirts, rode their motorcycles, and cruised with their convertible tops down). We shopped very briefly and scooted back south again on Wednesday, flashing our passports at the border, two occupants of international craft coming home (without having had either Canadian bacon OR Canadian Club.