Would You Risk Ruining Lake Superior Forever...for a Job?

I welcome to my blog my good friend and writer, Janey Palmer. She is a Twin Cities-based communications consultant who owns a home on Lake Superior. Janey isn't typically a politial activist. But there's an issue going on right now in our own backyard that has her hackles raised, and I offered to give her this platform to spread the word. 

Read on and get involved. Our environment's future for generations to come is at stake.

Submerged rocks at Split Rock State Park. Photo credit Steven Gaertner

My hair’s on fire.

No, not literally. But if it were, I’d go to the tap and douse it in water. But what if that water were polluted with sulfuric acid?

The reason my hair is on proverbial fire is because our beloved Lake Superior, the world’s third-largest freshwater lake and home to one of the biggest sources of drinking and hair-extinguishing water, is under threat by mining companies—in the guise of “job creators”— looking to extract copper, nickel and other metals in the very heart of the north woods and at the convergence of streams that carry fresh water into the big lake.

The Lake Superior watershed is one of the most special places in the world.

Poly-Met, a Canadian company, wants to set up the first of what will likely be many copper/nickel mines right outside the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. The byproduct of this mining is the aforementioned sulfuric acid – and the possibility of this leaching into the streams and into Lake Superior is great, despite what the mining companies say (and there is no real contingency plan to mitigate this built into their proposal).

WestVirginians can tell you why clean, fresh water is important. They can also tell you why regulation is important. And they can also probably tell you why regulation doesn’t always stop bad things from happening. 

The offending polluter in that case? Yep, declared bankruptcy.

As a former public relations pro, my hat is off to Poly-Met. They’ve done a great job plying the hearts and minds of the good people of the Hoyt Lakes area as well as labor unions with promises of jobs. Yes, the mine says it will provide 350 jobs for 20 years, but shouldn’t careers be longer than that? And is mining the only way to make a living up there? It can’t possibly be the only choice. I know there are a lot of very smart people who live up there, and I know if given a chance, together we could find a way to bring economic opportunity to northern Minnesota that doesn’t extract such a high price from all of us.

An environmental impact statement said the best case scenario is that this type of mining will require at least 500 years of water treatment. 500 years! Who in their right mind believes anyone would be willing to keep that up for even 50 years? And there is not enough “assurancemoney” in the world to ensure clean drinking water long after the mines close or declare bankruptcy, the latter of which seems to be de rigueur.

So, 350 questionable local jobs x 20 years = 500+ years of pollution. That’s the equation. Does it add up for you?

If not, I urge you to join me in telling the DNR to deny permits for Poly-Met and any other mining operation like it from now on. The time for public commentary is here. We have a short window of opportunity to get our voice heard. Comments will be accepted until 4:30 PM CT on Thursday, March 13, 2014.

To learn more, click here – and be sure to personalize your message. There’s a lot more at stake than my head of curly locks.

The Hardest Appointment

We've recently made the difficult decision to put our dog down.

Wayne and I adopted Dax in 1998 when he was 10 weeks of age. We had only been married for 3 years when we welcomed him into our lives. We affectionately call him our first-born.

Dax and I the day he joined our family,  October 1998.

Through three houses, three job changes between the two of us and two babies -- now two growing girls -- he has been our ever patient, sweet and snuggly dog. 

Now, at age 15, he has a growth that the vet believes to be cancerous. He has lost sight in one eye, has limited sight in the other and is completely deaf. 

I've lost track of how long ago he lost his hearing. To be honest, when he first started having difficulty hearing I thought it was by choice, with a screaming infant and a loud toddler in the house. Turns out he really was losing his hearing, and now he is completely and utterly deaf. 

The arthritis in his back legs is so bad that just standing still his legs shake and quiver. He has lost control of his bladder, resulting is numerous accidents in the house, even when we're home and let him out every 20 minutes.

None of this makes this decision easier. Despite his ailments, he still loves popcorn and will come running as quickly as possible at the smell of popcorn popping. He loves to snuggle. He burrows under the covers and curls up next to a girl's leg to sleep. A roaring fire and a dog bed are his favorite comforts.

And, we seem to be going about it in an odd way. We've selected a date weeks in the future, February 14th. Yes, I know that's Valentine's Day. I feel awful to plan it this logically, but the girls have a release day from school that day so they won't need to be concentrating in school, but will be out of the house. Monday the 17th is President's Day, so they will have a long 3-day weekend to be sad and get as many tears out as they can before they have to get back to reality.

This has been a hard decision. Part of me knew that making the appointment that far out means that if we change our minds we can always cancel. And for a couple of weeks I couldn't sleep and had to pop Zantac a couple of times a day over this decision.

It doesn't seem right to pick the day my dog should die, when he would probably be perfectly content to carry on as he is, possibly for years. Yet he can't be comfortable and cannot communicate his pain. He can't take prescription pain meds for the arthritis because his liver enzymes are so elevated; we're quite sure that his liver would fail by medicating him.

Then I spoke to a friend who had to make a similar decision with her cat who had kidney disease. Sure, there are treatments, and sure, the cat could have lived longer. But because my friend had to give her cat an IV once a day, the cat cringed every time my friend came near. She stopped being close to the people she loved the most, for fear of a pinprick and pain. That's not living. My friend put the date a couple of weeks out, and every time the cat seemed to improve she got her hopes up that perhaps they wouldn't need to do this, but then she would get worse again. She felt guilty when she didn't pay attention to the cat, which happened quite often with a newborn in the house. Her recommendation was to move the appointment up and stop torturing myself with the time between now and then.

And yet, somehow, her relating this story brought me peace with this decision and with the timing of it. We will enjoy every minute that we have with Dax, and the last few days we will spoil him rotten. He will have all the popcorn he wants, raw cookie dough, snuggles and warm fires. 

Now, when Dax has accidents in the house I am more patient, because I know that this won't last much longer.  I'm not as annoyed when he is awake at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, insisting on being let out and fed, because I know that some day soon I'll be able to sleep in on the weekends. And I'll be honest, I am very much looking forward to finally taking down the gates we've had to put back up at our home, in order to limit his accidents in one area of the home. Baby gates are so incredibly annoying, and it feels like we went from having to put them up for babies and toddlers to putting them up for the geriatric dog with little break without them. 

I will miss him terribly. And I have no idea how I am going to be able to handle being the one who is there when the vet makes her final visit. But I now have peace that he has lived a wonderful 15 years with us, and that we are doing the right thing by him.

UPDATE: Jan 29, 2014 Due to the number of canceled school days due to weather, our kids' school district has now decided to hold school on February 14th. When Lindsey got the news she told me tearfully that she couldn't possibly be at school around all her classmates when she was going to be bursting into tears throughout the day. We've now had to change our plans to February 15th, Saturday. In the meantime, Dax's physical condition continues to deteriorate, making walking and eliminating challenging for him, further re-inforcing that the time is right for us to ease his suffering. Wish us well through this difficult transition.

A Magical Evening

I've been volunteering for a nonprofit called "Children's Lightouse of Minnesota" for nearly two years. This is something I've done in my "free" time, whatever that is.

Children's Lighthouse's mission is to build the first-ever children's hospice in the Midwest. The mission and the need is incredible. There are over 9,000 children living in Minnesota with life-limiting conditions, of which 700 will die every year. The needs of children in these situations is so different from that of adults. They have siblings who wish to be with them, large extended families who become involved in their care, and, after their passing, a different kind of grief for the families to work through.

Unfortunately, the US healthcare system does not value comfort and care in these situations, and there is currently no reimbursement model for children's hospice care. Therefore, there are only 3 children's hospices in the United States, all of which are on the coasts.

That's not why I'm writing this post.

The Home Plate II event for Children's Lighthouse, Hyatt Regency in downtown Minneapolis

A representation of the home and the children it will serve.

I'm writing this because I have come to believe that you get from the universe what you give to the universe.

The executive director of Children's Lighthouse, Katie Lindenfelser, is the most amazing person you will ever meet. She exudes peace. She has a grace and a patience in her manner that makes you take pause. She comes from humble roots, but has somehow managed to make connections with some very wealthy and connected individuals. From Nita Killebrew, the widow of Harmon Killebrew, Twins legend, to the well-known local DJ who volunteers his time to emcee the event, to many others, she has a way of personally connecting people to the mission.

When she talks about the mission, people open up about their own loss, losses that they may have kept quiet about for years. I sat at a table with couples who had not known each other prior to the evening. Throughout the conversation we learned that three of the couples at the table had lost a child, ranging in age from 45 days old to 3 and a half years old. They exchanged hugs and names and vowed to stay in touch. One person at the table is a pediatric hospice nurse who moved here from California, where one of the three hospices is. She is currently not employed but is supporting this hospice because she knows the need and the value. Another is a Medicare reimbursement specialist who is interested in volunteering her time to help CLM figure out how to get reimbursed for its care.

Things just fall together for this organization.

They had an incredibly successful fundraising event. They raised more than $80,000 during one portion of the evening, much less other revenue sources from the evening. It's a fraction of the millions they need to raise to build the home, but with the connections in the room, they will be able to get there.

I am not capturing how amazing this is.

Architectural drawing of the home in its planned location.

This is amazing because the organization has only one employee, Katie, the executive director. Everyone else is volunteering their time. No one has to do this, but everyone chooses to. That's how powerful this mission is, and how much of an inspiration Katie is.

When she was first introduced at the beginning of the evening she got a standing ovation, just for being who she is. The energy and love of that moment is something words cannot capture. Tears came to her eyes, she was so moved by the gesture.

I am honored to know her and to be a part of this incredible organization.

P.S. If you'd like to learn more about Children's Lighthouse, go to their website, www.childrenslighthousemn.org. And yes, the website was built and is maintained by volunteers. Other nonprofits are jealous.

Whining About Going Wineless

Here's a sight you've never seen at our house before:

It is a nearly full bottle of wine, corked.

This is something we rarely see because usually this is what happens in our house:
 

I decided to start my New Year with a 30-day health challenge: no alcohol for the month of January.

I announced this challenge in an online fitness group that I'm in, but otherwise have not let a lot of people know that I'm doing this.

I love wine, and Wayne and I can be counted on to have some with our Friday, Saturday and Sunday night meals. And honestly, opening a bottle of wine and leaving some of  it behind is...difficult. I mean, it's a ready-made portion! One bottle = approximately 2.5 glasses per person when you split it with someone else. Or, 5 glasses if you're on your own. Then you know you're done for the evening.

I'll admit, I've finished off a bottle of wine on my own on occasion. It usually happens on those days when I open a bottle around 3 pm and keep sipping through the afternoon, dinner prep and the dining hour. That could be a beautiful summer afternoon in August with a cool glass of pinot grigio, or in the depth of winter, with a merlot and a fire in the fireplace.

Depending on the type of wine, a glass can range from 110 to 300 calories per serving, or 550 to 1,500 calories per bottle. Those are calories I don't need, even if I enjoy them immensely. Before I make other changes to my diet, I decided I would cut out alcohol to see what difference that would make to my health.

What I've found so far:

1. It's easier than I thought to say "no thank you." I've had dinner out with a friend and gone to a P!nk concert already this month, both events where I absolutely would have had a glass or two. I didn't feel like I was missing out, even though others around me were enjoying their beverages of choice. We've prepared lovely dinners at home that would normally be accompanied by a glass of wine, and yet sparkling water or milk was next to my plate.

2. I haven't dropped any weight of yet. Honestly, if I gave up drinking and lost five pounds like that (snap of fingers), I'd be concerned about my alcohol-intake. I'm okay with that, although I'll be curious to see if there's any change over the 30 days.

3. My skin is clearer. My youngest was kind enough to point out to me this weekend that I don't have any more pimples. Huh, there's an unpredicted side effect that I love. Yet at the same time...dammit.


I'm nearly halfway through this month and feeling pretty good. I'll give another update after the challenge is through to let you know what other revelations I may have along the way.

Wayne has joined me in this challenge, which I greatly appreciate as it makes the journey easier, since there is less temptation around. The wine pictured above is one I opened last night, in order to use 1/4 cup of red wine in a meal I was making. I kid you not, I opened a bottle of wine and dumped some into a dish I was making without even taking a sip! (I did get a noseful though, but I'm pretty sure I did not ingest any calories just by smelling the cork.)

He lamented the opening of an entire bottle of wine, knowing that neither of us are drinking any for this month, and it won't keep for two more weeks.

So...I have an open bottle of red that has only had 1/4 cup taken from it, looking for a new home. Anyone?? You just need to be walking distance from my house, so neither of us risk get ticketed for open container.

Dog Years

A week ago tomorrow marks the one-week anniversary of the passing of Dax's dog cousin, Buddy.

Buddy was the dog of my sister, Kristi, and her husband, Ned. They rescued him when he was barely a year old. He grew to know love and affection, and returned it tenfold as only dogs can do.

When he was a young pup, our collective families took a trip to Dana Lake. This was both dogs' first time around this particular lake, and for Dax the first time around water. The dogs got out of the car and excitedly ran around, sniffing the new smells. Dax walked along the shoreline and was coaxed into walking out on the dock, but was not interested in leaving dry land. We were surprised when Buddy ran past us on the dock and leaped into the water without hesitation. He surfaced and expertly swam to the shore, as if he'd been swimming every day of his life. After that, we couldn't get him to walk onto the dock again and he was clearly very afraid of the water. We determined that he thought that the lake surface was a hard surface, just a different color. He sure must've been surprised when he went through it and got all wet!

Young Buddy at Dana Lake, mid-1990's

He would paw his parents to take walks, and as he grew older his preferred activity was snuggling next to them while they watched TV or lounged.

These dog years are a curse. Before we know it, 14 years have passed and our young, energetic dogs are old and infirm. Buddy developed fatty tumors and eventually one became cancerous. They tried to remove it in July and he barely survived the surgery. After that, they knew that they were on borrowed time.

If you think about it, the next six months were like three and a half years to a dog. Three and a half more years of loving, of snuggling, of chasing leaves and walking in the park. Finally the tumor began to overcome him, and they had him put to sleep to end his suffering. What a difficult and selfless decision, to end the life of one whom you love so very much, in order to ease his passing.

As much as us animals lovers know that we live outlive our pets, that we ourselves may have to make that decision, we still choose to accept them into our hearts, knowing that some day our pets will break them.  The loss is no easier knowing that the time is coming.

But we love them anyways. How can we not?

Krist and Buddy, 2011.

Don't Try This One at Home

I love the website AllRecipes.com. Probably half of the recipes in regular rotation in my house came from that website.

AllRecipes.com is a website of recipes that are primarily user-generated and user reviewed. From great-great-grandma's recipe for almond poppyseed cookies to 100 variations of chicken cacciatore, it's a great sampling of Americana cooking.

For New Year's Eve, Lindsey asked to have a sleepover and we turned it into a sleep-under, meaning her guest had to leave by 10 p.m. (It's a brilliant concept and I cannot take credit for it, my friend Jennifer introduced me to the idea.) Lindsey's friend Maia would be joining us for the evening's meal. Lindsey wanted to try something new for dinner, so she and I went through the AllRecipes site days ago and picked out a recipe for chicken with balsamic vinegar and garlic. Sounded yummy and looked simple, and had 4.5 out of 5 stars out of 1,850 reviews. Can't go wrong, right?

I should have remembered the first rule of cooking: NEVER try a new recipe on new people Never. No matter how good the reviews or how simple it appears.

I picked up the ingredients on my way home from work, along with Wayne's traditional New Year's Eve dinner of cold shrimp. I tried to print out the recipe at home, but the girls had used up all the ink in the printer making up "Wanted" signs for themselves, now that they have Nerf guns and all. No worries, I'd just use the recipe off my phone.

Except that on the phone you have to keep scrolling up to see the ingredients, then back down to see the instructions. If I were using the iPad there was a format for making recipes from the device itself that would've worked beautifully, but the iPad was providing entertainment elsewhere in the house. So I kept forgetting steps, or had to keep checking the amount. It was frustrating and took twice as long as it should have.

I was supposed to dredge the chicken in a flour mixture before-hand -- I made up the flour mixture but forgot to dredge it. Pulled it back out of the pan, dredged it and popped it back in.

The minute I added the chicken brother/balsamic vinegar mixture, I knew we were in trouble.

The strong vinegar odor emanating from the stove was enough to clear your sinuses and knock you over. It was so odiferous that my eldest and her friend went upstairs to play because the entire first floor smelled, and my husband found some candles and lit them all over the kitchen and dining room to mask it.

Note the candle on the dining room table, too.

Good Lord.

I checked the ingredients -- yep, I had followed the recipe, that was the amount of vinegar that it called for. And then I read some of the reviews.

Every review I read said that the recipe was AWESOME except that they had reduced the amount of vinegar, or they hadn't floured the chicken because it turned out slimy, or they added cream to the balsamic reduction to reduce the acidity, or what have you.

They all gave it 4 or 5 stars, but nearly all of them had their own twists on how they had modified the recipe to make it better. In other words, the recipe in its current state was...not great. Quite bad, actually. And I was following it to a tee.

Here's the deal, recipe reviewers of the world: if a recipe is only good when you modify it a certain way, it's actually a new recipe! Don't give the current iteration 4 or 5 stars; give it a 2 and then post your own variation that you created which improved it. Otherwise you convince poor saps like me to try it in its current state and be accused of trying to poison not only my family but also my daughter's guest.

The good news is that the sautéed green beans that I had served with it turned out good, as did the rice. And the chicken itself was tolerable once you took it out of the sauce it had been cooking in. The sauce went into the garbage and the candles remained lit for several hours after dinner. And Maia survived a dinner at our home and didn't starve. Of course, we did ply her with popcorn later on while watching a New Year's Eve special.

The recipe will NOT be getting 4 or 5 stars from me. Just saying.

Gratitude for Modern Conveniences

Did I mention that our dishwasher sprung a leak on Christmas Eve?

It actually happened when we ran the dishwasher overnight on the 23rd. We ran it even though it wasn't full because it was 2 degrees and expected to get down to 12 below overnight (and it did, in case you were wondering). We've had the water line to the dishwasher freeze in previous cold spells, so we thought that by keeping water running as the temperature dropped that it would keep the line from freezing.

Instead it sprung a leak, resulting in water all through our basement.

Awesome.

This means I baked a coffee cake Christmas Eve, a pasta dish that evening and a nice dinner the following night, while hand-washing every single dish, spoon, fork, knife, serving dish, plate, cup and bowl that was dirtied. This means that we washed dishes approximately 4 to 5 times a day, for five days.

We were able to get a hold of a plumber who came to look at it the day after Christmas.  He determined that not only was a hose busted, but the dishwasher itself had a leak and an appliance repairperson would also need to be consulted.

We sure know how to break stuff.

We hosted a family dinner on Saturday while the dishwasher was only partially repaired, resulting in dirty dishes on every flat surface in the kitchen before clean-up began the following morning.

Re-routing the plumbing to and from the dishwasher so it can be INSIDE the exterior insulation (what a concept).

So I learned to appreciate my modern dishwasher, but also to appreciate clean dishes, because I have to say that our silverware and dishes never gleamed quite as well as they did while we were hand-washing.

One of many loads of dishes washed in a day.

And it also reminded me of this little story I read in Reader's Digest many moons ago.

A recent bride had just moved into a brand-new home with her husband.  She was incredibly excited to show her family the home with all its modern conveniences. One day the bride's grandmother visits, and the granddaughter happily takes her on a tour of the house, spending lots of time in the kitchen with its modern appliances.

The grandmother smiled as she surveyed the beautiful and modern kitchen and asked, "If you had only one of these modern conveniences and had to give up the rest, which would be the one item you would keep?"

The bride looked around the kitchen, at the dishwasher, the side-by-side refrigerator, the stovetop and oven, the warming drawer,  microwave and debates: Which one could she absolutely NOT live without? Finally she says, "The microwave. Because if nothing else worked, I could at least heat up some takeout."

"Interesting choice," the grandmother said, "I would've chosen the running water."

Runaway Train of a Christmas Eve

Coffee cake, anyone?

We've built a few Christmas traditions for our family, based on carrying on old ones that I grew up with. One of those is having homemade coffee cake while opening gifts on Christmas morning. Another is having a baked pasta dish cook during Christmas Eve service, to be eaten upon the family's return from church. There's nothing like coming home from church, opening the door and having that good garlic-tomatoy smell waft out of the house. Aahhh!

For my family, this means that both dishes need to be prepared on Christmas Eve. My mom -- being the master organizer and planner that she is --  used to prepare them in advance and store them in the freezer until they were needed. Of course, that requires not only chunks of time not taken up by work, family and household chores, but also a nice-sized freezer in which to store the food, neither of which I have.

Christmas Eve morning started out with the highest of hopes and expectations to have everything done by the 4:30 church service. But this was soon derailed when we discovered at 8 o'clock in the morning that the pipe to our dishwasher has frozen. The appliances in our basement, located just under the dishwasher, looked like they had been rained upon, the floor trusses above were saturated and the floor was sopping wet. It was no longer leaking, but clearly had done so while the dishwasher had run overnight. A call was made to a plumber, with a promise of coming out to look at it...after the holiday. In the meantime, no running the dishwasher until we can determine the cause.

This means breakfast dishes had to be washed first, and THEN coffee cake started a bit later than initially scheduled, with dishes washed again while the cake was baking.

Coffee cake, or ugly cake?

Coffee cake! (See last year's post. And the year's before. Etc.)

In the meantime, I could feel a sniffle and occasional sneezing creeping up on me. Ignoring it, I told the girls we could go to the mall for lunch and possibly a visit with Santa, since we hadn't seen him yet this year and I was not up to making a lunch and washing those dishes as well.

But first... the eldest had to bathe and wash her hair which was long overdue for a washing.

They both put their new holiday dresses on and off we went to the mall. We lunched, and then got in line to see Santa. The line was relatively short; it didn't look like we were going to wait long. But this was a really good Santa, and he took his time with every child who came to him to tell him their wishes. There was a girl with a disability a few families ahead of us, and he took extra care in talking with her and her family. Seriously, how can you not love that?

Except that I was watching my watch as it crept toward 2:00, then past, then towards 3:00. And all the time I was standing in line I was feeling more and more run-down. I debated even going to the church service, but...really? Isn't that the whole point of Christmas, to hear the Christmas story and celebrate Christ's birth?

When it was finally our turn to see Santa we had been waiting an hour and a half. There goes my cooking time for dinner. Hmmm...how is this going to work?

We arrived home at 3:20 and I shooed everyone out of the kitchen while I got to work, whipping up our traditional pasta dinner of stuffed pasta shells.

I learned that I can cook that dish in 45 minutes. Rock star. By 4:10 I was upstairs changing and we got the family out the door in 10 minutes.

All during the service my nose itched nonstop and dripped endlessly. My head was feeling heavier and heavier. This was now a full-blown cold and I felt like crap.

We arrived home and final preparations began for dinner. My blood boiled briefly when I heard "When's dinner? I'm hungry," from the child playing in the living room, the child who is perfectly capable of filling salad bowls and putting salad dressing out. She was promptly recruited for the job.

While hand-washing the meal's dishes after dinner, I informed my dearly beloved that there was no way I could do all the Christmas prep myself as I had previous years. Thankfully I had done most of the wrapping the weekend before, but there were still a few late gifts that needed to be wrapped, along with stockings to be stuffed and Santa gifts to be found from their hiding places and set under the tree. Of course, only I knew where the stocking gifts were hidden, which presents needed to be wrapped, and where the Santa gifts were hiding.

The two of us got it all done and went straight to bed. Thankfully I slept all the way through the night and was awoken at 6:30 by two excited little girls, which is relatively late for Christmas morning in our house.

It felt like it had been a runaway Christmas Eve, starting out slowly and calmly and eventually ending in a race against the clock and a cold.

I'm thinking that we may invest in a freezer so I can avoid this runaway train next year. Ah-choo.

A Journey Complete and a Celebration

About 18 months ago my sister began a journey to create opportunity for herself. She decided to go back to school to get her bachelor's degree in nursing. Sure, she already has a bachelor's degree, and she has enough schooling to be an RN. But to be truly mobile in her career, she needed the undergraduate degree to be in nursing, not psychology (her original undergrad degree). So back to school she went, for something like the third time in her adult life.

As usual, she rocked it. She would sigh over her A- on her test or project and wonder what she could have done to get an A+. (Yes, her expectations of herself are really that high.) She juggled work and studying and fitness and traveling to see family to earn this degree.

So when it came time to graduate, she asked if I would attend, along with our dad, who would be driving up from Arkansas. What a wonderful opportunity for the three of us to be together, a rarity considering the distance between us.

Look out, Chicago! The Floria's are in town.

My what a time we had.

I flew in to Chicago on a Friday afternoon to be greeted at arrivals by my sister and dad. We drove into the city, lunched at a Corner Bakery, and then, the Sears Tower. I mean the Willis Tower, but it will always be the Sears Tower to us. Kristi had last been to the top of it about 20 years earlier, and Dad had never been to it.

We had such a wonderful time walking around, looking down at all the buildings and eventually trying our courage by standing on "The Ledge," a glass-bottomed enclosure that literally hangs off of the edge of the 103rd floor. Kristi could barely take the picture while I clung to the building for some time before finally stepping out.

We drove through the city a bit and looked at all the holiday lights, then drove back to Valparaiso, Indiana, where Kristi lives. We relaxed for a while, then headed out to a restaurant for dinner.

Saturday morning she and I took in a Crossfit workout. Kristi's been doing Crossfit for several years now and raves about it. I've heard all about her Crossfit friends and got to meet them in person. We did a group workout, where we got together in groups of threes and had to complete these strangely acronymed exercises like "DU's" and "wall balls." It took our group 36 minutes to complete and we were drenched in sweat. By the end of it I had completed 450 single jump ropes, 100 wall balls (squatting down and throwing a 14 lb. medicine ball as high up against a wall as possible and then catching it and going back into a squat for the next toss), and 35 power snatches (lifting a weight bar from a squat position directly above my head in a single movement.)

Crazy as this sounds, that is my idea of fun. and Kristi was complimented on her form during the power snatches. Of course, she couldn't resist but ask the guy, "Did you just tell me I had a good snatch?"

I learned that "DUs" are "double unders" and that I cannot do them. (It's jumping up once and having a jump rope pass under your feet twice before your feet touch the ground again.)

Lunch at home and then shopping in downtown Valparaiso. Valpo is such a pretty town and was special to see in a fresh coating of snow that was still falling as we were out and about.

Dinner out again. Shocking. Food and the Floria's.

And then Sunday, the graduation ceremony.

The chapel from my seat in the last row.

Valparaiso University is a private Lutheran school and the graduation took place in the chapel. It's a beautiful building with soaring stained glass panels two stories tall. The graduation was regal, filled with pomp, tradition and ceremony. So wonderful.

I never made it to Kristi's first graduation from college -- I was a freshman at St. Cloud State and her graduation took place the weekend before my finals week. I can count on one hand the number of times I had been to Valparaiso, for as close as we sisters are and for as many times in a year I see Kristi. It was such a treat to spend time with her and Dad. When we're together we are laid back, happy as can be to just sit around and "gaboon," as my dad says. And, as only families can do when they get together, we feast.

Such memories were made. I am so proud of my sister and so happy that our dad and I could be there to celebrate.

Are We Really Still Doing This to Our Girls?

Somehow a co-worker of mine got put on the subscription list at work to both Boy's Life and Girl's Life. Perhaps they think that by giving the PR manager at a children's hospital a free subscription that the magazines will end up in our waiting rooms and reception areas.

She, of course, begs to differ, and I had to agree upon looking at the magazines. 

For the first thing, take a look at both magazine covers.

No really, these covers are indeed from this year.

The Boy's Life one? I don't feel I can comment too much on this one, I never was a boy and am not the parent of boys. But from the outside, it doesn't look too awful. About skiing, the perfect ski outing, the most dangerous job in showbiz, and "true stories of Scouts in action." All sounds wholesome although obviously slanted to the outdoors and an active lifestyle. Perhaps it should be re-named "Active Boy's Life."

But then we have this.

"Look Amazing!! Major outfit inspo inside" (We can't even be bothered to write the word "inspiration" in full?)

"Get Your Dream Hair"

"Steal Her Beauty Secrets: Shhh! Tips and tricks from gorgeous girls." (Because we all know what it's like to look at the gorgeous girls, hate them but want to be them, too. But we shouldn't know what that feels like, that's the problem.)

And the ultimate headline: "Quiz: Should You Date Him?"

Oh. My God.

I looked up this magazine's advertising stats -- age range of its subscribers are 12 to 17, median age is 15.  They have more than 2.1 magazines in circulation, of those 400,000 are paid subscribers. 

You mean there are actually 400,000 parents who paid to expose their girls to this crap? Haven't we moved beyond this yet?

I try to shield my kids from ridiculous stereotypes and unreal expectations. They may comment on a beautiful woman on a bulletin board, and I'll let them know that her body was probably photoshopped or her make-up airbrushed on.

They and their friends are currently mocking Miley Cyrus for her choices in wardrobe and actions. But then we'll have a conversation about bullying, and how it must feel to be Miley Cyrus and have everyone make a parody of her song "Wrecking Ball." (Poor Miley.)

I made the mistake of opening the magazine to see if the content was really as bad as the cover promised. 

It was.  

On the traditional "reader asks questions" page:

"I think I repel guys. I get top grades, am captain of my sports teams and do choir. My friends say guys are intimidated."

One editor writes: It's not that you're successful, it's how you carry that success. Downplay it. Put the spotlight on others, and point out special things about those around you.

The other editor's response is: "At the risk of being a little sexist, flirt. Smile. Laugh at his jokes." 

My response to that editor: You didn't risk being a little sexist, you ARE incredibly sexist for giving that advice to 15-year-olds.

So the message here is: Be smart, but not too smart. And if you are really smart and talented, don't be proud about it, be sure to shine the spotlight on others or rely on your good looks so you can get a guy.

Now imagine that readers take that advice, apply it to their high school education, their college education, and then eventually to their careers.

And we wonder why women are still not well represented in the C-suite of company management rosters.

We need to stop giving in to societal pressure that the value of women in our society is in their beauty and not in their talents. 

I wish I could make this crap stop. I don't know why it's still out there. No wait, I do know why: I looked up the statistics for this magazine on their advertising page. A full-page ad in this magazine costs $27,000, more for the back cover or inside flap. Guess who their #1 advertisers are? Yep, you got it, cosmetics companies. Hair products. Apparel retailers. 

So we may want to tell "Girl's Life" that we will never buy their crap, but unfortunately enough people are buying it that advertisers want to be there.

So I will target the advertisers. Skechers has a four-color back page ad, the most expensive ad of the publication. A product called "No!No! Skin" promises to zap away your zits on the inside back cover. "Series 31" jeans has full-page four-color ads.

I could write a little letter to these, but I think I'll be a little more public about it -- Ooo! Look! Skechers has a Facebook page....

Stay tuned...

Or better yet, want to join me?

Games People Play

There is something about playing games that brings people together.

It is not as direct as a one-to-one conversation. Yet it is not as unengaged as watching two separate screens, side-by-side, with no relationship to each other.

It is conraderie. It is friendship. It is kind-hearted teasing. It is getting-to-know-you-time.

Which is why I'm so thrilled to have many generations together playing cards.


Mark and Donna engage in "table talk" while Lindsey and Mille play by the rules.

Some of my fondest memories of my Grandfather Dolaskie is of his playing the game of spades.
I didn't know him well. He tried to teach me to fish, but I wasn't much into fishing. He wanted to take me boating, but I was afraid of the water.

He tried to play cards with me, but I was too young. So instead, I watched him. For hours. For years.

I watched him be a sly little shit and bluff his children (my parents) into thinking he didn't have the cards he had, and win a hand. I watched him be stoic and non-expressive, then grin like a fool as he counted his points. I saw him laugh to the point of tears, with the ridiculous plays he or others would make, trying to get others to show their hands.

All in the game of spades

I got to know his humor, his stance, his political bend,  his dry sense of humor. All through card games. I can honestly say I never had a direct conversation with the man my entire life. We just didn't see each other that often through my childhood, and by the time I was an adult I was too busy to take the time to get to know him. That was my loss, truly, I had no idea what I was losing.

He was staunch. He was strong. He was weak. He was funny.

All those things I never knew, his entire life.

But now, seven  years after his death, as I sit around a table playing cards with people he'd only met once in his life -- at my wedding -- I think of him.

Because I am getting to know my sister- and brother-in-law and my mother-in-law the way I got to know my grandpa.

Playing games.

Our Mathlete: An Update

Thanks so much to everyone who expressed their concern, well-wishes, advice and commiseration after I wrote about Marissa's struggles with math.

I can give you a couple of updates.

I learned a whole lot about the resources available at our school, or the lack thereof. While we could never afford private schools, I was encouraged to try to open enroll her to Edina or St. Louis Park school districts, both of which seem to have no issue finding resources to give a little extra help to students who need it. Still on the table, but not thrilled with a school change for her, away from friends, and the extra complexity that having kids in two different school systems would bring to our family.

We learned that Marissa is not a terribly attentive student. Her math teacher this year has let us know that her number one goal for Marissa is to pay attention in class. When we talked to Marissa about focusing and listening to the teacher, she said that her friends would get upset with her for not talking with them. We told her that she should tell her friends that her parents will be even MORE upset if she doesn't pay attention, and that they should probably be listening, too. I can only imagine the amount of chatter that happens in the classroom.

Because of this, we know that changing teachers mid-year this year probably won't help. It's not the teacher, it's her lack of focus. We considered whether or not she had ADD. After reviewing the questionnaire for the disorder and talking to her teachers, we decided not to put her through the testing because the chances are so slim that this was the case. Bottom line, she's a social, lovable, happy little girl who would rather spend time with her friends than listen in class.

Mathnasium rocks and is an incredible resource. Marissa loves to go there, loves to work with the various tutors and enjoys the little rewards they get along the way. They started her with 1st grade math, which she has nearly completed after 2 months. She'll be starting on the 2nd grade math curriculum probably mid-winter, and if she continues with Mathnasium through the summer, she'll be ready to start the 3rd grade curriculum next fall...just as she enters 4th grade.

We are incredibly frustrated that she has fallen this far behind and it was on no one's radar but our own.

But she is plugging along. We have noticed considerable improvement in her math skills, and less resistance to doing homework in general, though she still has her moments. She likes to show off her math skills now by writing word problems in her math notebook, which you will find in her hands nearly every evening, making up problems like...

If Daddy had 3,546 jelly beans and he gave 1,252 to Marissa and none to Mommy or Lindsey, how many jelly beans would he have left?

The answer: 2,294, until Mommy stole and bunch and then he had none. (She knows me pretty well.)

"My Child's Greed is Killing Santa" -- An Update

Just in case you thought that my eldest was still in her room, sulking...

She is not.

But we did have a good conversation about the value of money. Someone who read my original post suggested that perhaps Lindsey could save up her own money to buy these Uggs that she wants so badly. Actually, she wouldn't have to save, she's already got more than $200 saved up from the last few birthdays and Christmases. If she wanted Uggs, she could go out and buy them right now.

But she won't, of course, because it would use all her money for a single pair of boots she would grow out of in just a year.

My point exactly.

I think she was actually more upset at learning in a roundabout way that Santa is not actually sending her presents, that parents spend the money for the gifts from Santa and that we are not bottomless pits.

She revised her gift list down and said that Uggs are off the list. Whew.

A day later our family was watching the news and a report came on about consumer spending for the holidays. The report said that the average American family was planning on spending around $750 for gifts. Wayne and I both looked over at our formerly greedy girl and said, "That's $750 for the entire family, not one child."

She hid her head in the blanket in embarrassment.

I think she got it.

My Child's Greed Is Killing Santa

For a month or so now my oldest daughter has been mentioning here and there some of the things she'd like for Christmas. A trendy down vest. Acrylic paints and canvas. A Kindle Fire. The Kindle Fire is a bit outside of the norm, but might be doable.

Then she mentioned the Uggs. The same Uggs she asked for last Christmas but didn't get.

Well, it's not that she didn't get them, she got "F'Uggs," or fake Uggs. She knew they weren't "real" Uggs, so authentic Uggs are back on her list at $200 for the style she wants.

I have a real problem with paying $200 for a pair of shoes. I have never in my life spent $200 for shoewear for myself. Ever. And I'm not growing, I've been the same shoe size for almost 30 years now. Our daughter is currently growing about a shoe size a year. We buy her new winter boots every year, and she's going through athletic shoes at a pace of 2 per year because she wears those year-round.

Of course we won't buy her a pair of $200 boots at age 10.

But she says "Well, Santa will bring them."

Now, we are 90% confident that she knows Santa doesn't exist. None of her friends believe anymore, and I think she just says "Santa will bring it" knowing that we won't break the news to her that Santa isn't real.

She started adding up her wish list, computer in front of her so she could look up the prices. $150 for a Kindle Fire. $200 for Ugg boots. $30 for paints and canvas. $65 for a Furby, all the way through her entire wish list.

She added up the list and came up with $285. I corrected her math, and she came up with $485.

"See? It's not even $500," she says.

Who is this child? When is the dollar amount "$500" ever preceded by the words "not even" unless you're talking about a house repair or medical bill?

Santa reviews my daughter's wish list with skepticism. So do I.

She got moody when I told her Santa would NOT be bringing her everything on her list, and that mom and dad couldn't possibly afford to buy all those things for her.

She is currently up in her room, sulking.

So we will have to break it to her that mom and dad ARE Santa, and that's why what things cost DOES matter. And then I think we're going to go volunteer at Feed My Starving Children and have her dad tell her stories of his Christmases growing up, when each child was given one gift. And they liked it.

You're Losing Your What?

My hair. Yes, I am losing my hair.

This is something women in particular do not like to talk about. Sure, men don't like to talk about losing their hair (or losing it in the first place, for that matter), but at least it happens to enough of them that it's kind of normal.

But for women? If we lose our hair we never talk about it.

This past September I noticed that I had an inordinate amount of hair going down the drain when I took a shower. Enough hair in a handful for a small ponytail, I kid you not. Cut a small ponytail worth of hair out of your hair every couple of days and see how much is left on your head.

Crazed, flyaway-haired lady! Aaaack!

This picture was taken a few months after I had begun shedding. The short hairs that were re-growing weren't long enough to stay in a ponytail, so I began looking like a crazed lunatic whenever I wore my hair back. Which, for me, was most of the time. 

At first I chalked it up to...I don't know what. I think I was in denial that it was happening. But then I lost a ton while showering, then combed through my hair just after said shower and lost just as much again.

What. The hell.

So of course I called my dermatologist, because she'd just put me on a new prescription and asked her if a side effect was hair loss. Actually, she informed me, a side effect is hair growth.

Okay....

I called my endocrinologist and scheduled a blood test, because I know that hair loss can be associated with hormone and thyroid changes.

Every test they ran came back normal.

Curse it...

I happened to mention to both doctors that I had recently made a diet change. I stopped having my protein shake every lunch hour because it turned out I was allergic to some of the ingredients in the shake. Even more ironic, my allergy had been coming out as severe adult acne, which was the reason for the new prescription from the dermatologist. Nasty, ugly stuff that made my self-confidence take a huge plunge and make me feel like an awkward teenager.

Turns out that there are four kinds of grasses in the protein shake I'd been taking: wheat grass, barley grass, kamut and oat grass. Now, grass is actually a great filler -- it's in the majority of protein shakes on the market, a fact I discovered while researching a replacement. But for someone who is as horribly allergic to grass as I am, ingesting the stuff is just as bad for you as rolling in it.

But...there are a lot of good things in that shake that my body really loved too, tons of vitamins and minerals, acai extract, Goji berry, blueberry, and so on and so forth.

When I mentioned that I had stopped taking this shake to my doctors, they both said, "Oooh yes, that can make a difference."

So the good news is that the hair loss is a not a permanent change, and my hair loss seems to have slowed to a more normal rate. The bad news is that I still didn't feel great about myself because it was so scraggly to me. It may have looked okay to others, but I could tell the difference and I was not happy.

And so there was only one thing left to do.

Before

After

My normal stylist wasn't available for a while, and I just couldn't wait to make a change. So I called a salon in Minneapolis that specializes in cutting and treating curly hair. They cut every curl individually while it's dry so they can see where the hair wants to naturally curl up. THEN they wash it and dry it in such a way that it isn't frizzy and won't frizz as the day goes on. They even taught me how to dry and style it appropriately so I can get the same effect myself.  I LOVE the way my hair curls now, and the shorter length is absolutely freeing.

I had no idea that a diet change or hormonal changes could result is such dramatic hair loss until I experienced it myself.  Hopefully my sharing this can help other women from panicking if they experience this themselves.

Enjoy the Process

I started my third 21-day meditation challenge recently.

The first time -- a bust. I think I meditated a total of 4 times the entire 3 weeks, and hated every second of it.

The second time -- interesting. Got something out of it, felt more settled, and actually kind of missed it when the 21 days was done.

This time -- struggling to stay focused.

I have never had such a hard time staying focused in this. It was hard the first time, but this time around? Even harder.

Before Deepak can even say "If you find your mind starting to wander…" my mind has wandered and I didn't listen to what I was supposed to do if my mind started to wander.

Work….

An aging beloved pet...

A volunteer assignment I took on and haven't been committed to completing…

My child's math struggles….

My mind is anywhere but where it is supposed to be, which is nowhere.

But then finally, I settled on one thought which sounds ridiculous but which I've adapted to any situation:

ENJOY THE PROCESS

This did not come from some meditation expert, therapist, life coach, it came from a fitness instructor, Chalene Johnson.

THIS Chalene Johnson, of TurboJam, then TurboFire, then Chalean Extreme fame.

Really?

Here's the context:

I do Chalene's Chalean Extreme (CLX) strength training program, and it will probably be a program I follow the rest of my life. The theory is low and slow reps, medium to heavy weights.

Try this:

Fill a glass with 8 oz of water, and hold it out straight in front of you. Hold your elbow up to the same height as your shoulder, and keep it steady right in front of you.

Not hard, right?

Now hold that for 10 seconds. 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

See ripples in the water yet?

That's the idea.

It's not about how heavy you lift, it's about how long you hold the rep. You don't need to do 30 bicep curls, you need to do just 12. But by the 12th rep, if that weight was a glass of water it would have ripples in it from the shaking in your muscles because they are so maxed out, because you did the rep so slowly.

Halfway through this workout, Chalene says, "Enjoy the process! It's so much fun building muscle, why would you want to rush it?"

And that's the key to success with her program: do it slowly and enjoy it, or you won't do the whole program. You are building muscle, you are re-shaping your body, why would you want to rush through it and not enjoy it?

Now, apply this to life. Apply this to anything you don't always enjoy.

My kids when they are acting up and bickering: Enjoy the process! They will only be little for a short time. Take a deep breath, be calm, set a good example and parent them while they'll still listen.

Dinner time. Enjoy the process! Look at the vibrant colors of the veggies, listen to the sizzle of the meat cooking in the pan, smell the sauce as it simmers. Instead of rushing through the prep work savor every moment of it.

Laundry. Enjoy the process! Appreciate that your children own so many clothes that need washing, that they are active and healthy to be able to get them so dirty, and be sure to breathe in the clean smell as they come out of the dryer.

Meditation. My mind wanders, I accidentally made a "to do" list,  I did not "go within."

Enjoy the process! It's okay to have your mind wander, it's back where it needs to be now, just enjoy this process of finding stillness in your mind and life.

This is my version of "live in the moment." Live in the moment? I don't know what that means. And I ponder it and then feel like I missed out on something because I didn't "live in the moment." I don't get it.

But "enjoy the process?" These three little words give you room to make mistakes. It allows you to have setbacks. Because it's not about the goal, it's about getting to the goal. Savor every sense while you're doing it, and you're "living in the moment," without freaking out if just for a second you don't.

Now you try it -- how would you apply the mantra "enjoy the process?"

Why I Do What I Do

The thought of sleeping is the furthest thing from my mind.

Yes, I've been up at 3 a.m. the last two nights. Yes, I was single-parenting it the last day and a half.

But I can't even think of going to bed.

Because today was Give to the Max Day, a 24-hour online fundraising event in Minnesota. And every year on this day I am reminded why I do what I do.

Because giving to charity FEELS GOOD.

It warms your heart. It puts a smile on your face. It makes you feel all bubbly inside and you want to hug the nearest person to you, even if that person just spent that last 30 minutes grouching at you because you made her do her homework.

And I am always amazed and humbled by the outpouring of support for my employer, Gillette Children's Specialty Healthcare.

The families whose lives we touch, the children who grow to be fully-engaged adults in the world, with jobs and spouses and family and friends, who ask their family and friends to give back because of what Gillette has done for them.

We would like to forget that two generations ago, people who were born with the conditions Gillette treats would be shuttered away in institutions, easily forgotten by society.  But remembering that makes what Gillette does even more remarkable. These are children who overcome incredible challenges to become…ordinary. Everyday, "have a nice day" kind of ordinary.

What a blessing.

And what a blessing to fundraise for this cause, to talk to donors who have been moved by the mission and choose to give, to hear their reasons and their stories of how their lives have been changed, either directly or indirectly. To have them give in amounts unfathomable to me, and have them say, "it is only a token of what Gillette has done for me."

Unbelievable.

Okay, so maybe it's the adrenaline, the lack of sleep and the excitement over the day, but still, there is just something magical about being a part of something so moving.

So here's just a snippet, you can't begin to imagine the challenge of capturing in 30 seconds what Gillette does:


Moving Forward > from Gillette Children's on Vimeo.

And now, the story behind the story.

Moving Ellie Forward from Gillette Children's on Vimeo.

Whoop! Whoop! Mom of the Year Award

This fall both Marissa and I caught a cold. She had it first, passed it on to me, I got over it and then realized she still had it.

Actually, what she had was a cough. Her nose wasn't running anymore, her head wasn't stuffy, but her cough was lingering on and on.

We sent her to Girls on the Run practice as usual, thinking that the fresh, cold air and exercise could help clear out the lungs once and for all. But it didn't get better. We kept sending her to school, since she wasn't feeling too poorly, wasn't running a fever and just had this nagging cough.

Finally, this past Sunday her cough got to the point where she was gasping for breath. She had circles under her eyes from the strain and disjointed sleep, and her sides hurt from the coughing.

So Monday I stayed home from school with her and took her to the doctor. The pediatrician decided to do a whooping cough test, even though she thought it would come back negative. They put what looks like a Q-tip on a very, very long flexible wand so far up her nose I thought they were going to tickle her brain. God bless Marissa, she did so well during the test even though she was super scared to do it. She's a much better kid than I was at that age, that's for sure.

The doctor sent us out the door with a prescription for Zithromax and said that we would treat it like whooping cough until we knew for sure if it was or wasn't. In the meantime, Marissa could go to school until we got the test results, especially since she wasn't running a fever.

I should clarify -- she wasn't running a fever at the doctor's office. The pediatrician asked me if she'd been running a fever and I said no, even though the battery on our electronic thermometer had been dead for months and I hadn't been able to actually get a temperature on her this entire time. The first of a series of "mom of the year" award-winning moves.

So she and I spent the rest of the day Monday snuggling together, watching movies, reading and enjoying each other's company. It was actually quite nice.

Tuesday morning Marissa awoke and said she had a headache and didn't want to go to school. She didn't feel warm (using the hand-on-forehead scientific method still), so we gave her some ibuprofen and sent her on her way. We did have her skip Girls on the Run, though.

Same thing Wednesday. Doesn't feel like going. Gave her ibuprofen and sent her anyway.

Same thing Thursday. Doesn't feel like going. Get her up and dressed and she and I head to Bruegger's since it's free coffee day, a fundraising event for Gillette. While there I missed a call from her pediatrician's office. I pick up the voice mail and hear that the test came back positive for whooping cough. Not what I expected.

In the next hour of phone calls here's what I learn about whooping cough:

• It is a reportable disease, meaning the pediatrician has to notify the state about this diagnosis.
• The treatment is antibiotics but she is still highly contagious during the first 5 days of treatment. Even though she's been on Zithromax since Monday, she must stay out of school the rest of the week.
• Not only should she stay out of school but she needs to stay out of all public places.
• The entire family must be treated with antibiotics as well so we don't develop it.
• Her cough is expected to last another 3 to 4 weeks. 
• Anyone who has spent more than 10 hours with her in close contact (like my sister who was just visiting from Indiana over the weekend) must be notified and should contact their doctor.
• She can and did develop whooping cough despite being vaccinated against it because the vaccine is no longer 100% effective. Why isn't it? Because so many other families don't vaccinate their kids against it, per the pediatrician.

I also learned that whooping cough is an annoyance for kids Marissa's age and healthy adults, but can be deadly to little babies and those with compromised immune systems, which is why it is monitored so closely. Had Marissa been around any little ones in the past 2 weeks? Um….yeah, we had her cousins over for dinner one night, the littlest one is only a year old. Crap.

For days Marissa had been saying she didn't feel like going to school and we'd been sending her. Parents of the year award coming our way, both of us.

So if you're looking for us this weekend, we'll be right here in our house, quarantined, the four of us. I think some books and movies are in our immediate future. Maybe some apple pie. Hey, I have to earn back that "Mom of the Year" title, right?