Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Only in Minnesota in winter January 24, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:23 PM
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FORGIVE ME if you’re not from Minnesota. But we Minnesotans obsess about the weather, especially in winter. We have good reason. With snow and cold hanging around for six months or more, the weather definitely impacts our daily lives.

Take my life.

Sunday night my husband grilled chicken and potatoes in the Weber grill atop the snow mountain that was once a backyard patio. The temperature hovered around 10 degrees.

This morning, when my 16-year-old left for school, the temperature registered 15 degrees. That’s 40 degrees warmer than the minus 25-degree reading on Friday morning when he refused to walk eight blocks to school.

The past two days I’ve had an upstairs window open with a fan blowing hot air outside. Sounds crazy, I know. But I’ve been staining and varnishing window trim on the second floor and the fumes were getting to me. I had a headache. My mouth tasted like stain and varnish. Not healthy. So for some six hours, that window remained open on Sunday and is still open today.

But, hey, the temperature this afternoon is a balmy 28 degrees, so it’s not like I’m allowing sub-zero air into the house.

WHAT TYPES of crazy things have you done in the cold of winter?

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Strike two January 19, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:41 AM
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Give me a softball glove and I'll miss the ball more than I'll catch it.

HAND ME A BAT to swing at a ball, and I’ll miss.

Place a bowling ball in my hand and I’ll throw it into the gutter.

Toss me a basketball and I’ll completely miss the basket.

Yes, I’m athletically inept. I possess not one ounce of athletic ability.

So when my husband’s boss and his wife hosted the annual company Christmas party recently complete with sports games, I didn’t rush to sign up for an event. I allowed my spouse to do that on my behalf as it really didn’t matter which sport he chose for me. I knew I would fail at all of them.

I suppose that’s not the attitude to have—a loser’s attitude before you lose.

But I know my abilities.

I did not disappoint myself in the dart throwing competition.

When I stepped up to the dart board and aimed, I succeeded in hitting the sheetrock more than the target. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the dart board is situated in a back, unfinished storage and exercise room, meaning that pocking the sheetrock with darts did not automatically disqualify me from competition.

To make my situation even worse, I had an audience, which throws my game even more. I do not like people watching me. But they didn’t stick around for long. Slowly, one-by-one, they slipped from the room as my competitor continued to whoop my butt. No one enjoys a boring game.

By the end of the night, when I once again failed to win a Cabela’s gift card, I decided this really wasn’t fair. There ought to be a game for those of us who are not gifted in sports.

I’d tried pool the previous year. Now I’d attempted darts. That left only Wii bowling, which I feared because I might toss the remote control through the expensive flat screen TV. (I was told a strap would restrain the remote, but I bet I could manage to dislodge and hurdle it like a real bowling ball.)

I excel at word games, so I suggested Scrabble.

That went over well, real well.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Who needs a sitcom January 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:46 PM
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Tonight FOX 9 television news anchor Jeff Passolt provided a moment of humor in the 9 p.m. newscast.

Weatherman Ian Leonard was giving the weather forecast for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. However, the meteorologist struggled with the holiday name, calling it “Martin Luther Junior King Day,” as he predicted a one-day thaw for Monday.

He realized his error and even called attention to his mistake, which was the right and graceful thing to do considering the importance of this day honoring Civil Rights leader King.

Then, as the television camera switched back to Passolt, the anchor directed a comment to Leonard: “You might want to thaw out your mouth too.”

Thanks, guys, for making me laugh during the news. That happens so infrequently these days.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Mining ice in Minnesota January 2, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 11:15 AM
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The icicles and ice dams on our house, before my husband began chiseling away at the ice.

CLINK. CLINK. CLINK.

Removing ice dams via a hammer and chisel may not be the quickest and easiest way to accomplish ice removal, but it’s certainly the least expensive method (unless you fall and injury yourself, of course).

On Thursday, when temperatures here in southern Minnesota hovered around a balmy 40 degrees, the hardy Minnesotans in my neighborhood took to their ladders. They knew this was their single chance to pick away at the monstrous ice dams threatening their homes.

A view I took through the kitchen window of my husband on the ladder, chiseling at ice damns.

First, Bob across the street hammered for hours at the ice on his porch roofline. I didn’t worry about him until I saw him climb onto his roof and then stand there like he didn’t quite know how to get down. I kept the cell phone close by, just in case. But eventually he swung his leg around, planted his foot firmly on a ladder rung and descended cautiously to the icy ground.

A few hours later, in the dark of early evening, my husband planted his ladder in the backyard snow mountain, climbed a few rungs until he could reach the ice-dammed eave troughs and began hammering and chiseling away.

Occasionally I would peer out the window or door, checking on his progress, but mostly checking to see that he hadn’t slipped from the ladder.

For some two hours he hammered and tossed huge chunks of ice from the roof. I’ve never been to Antarctica, but I can only imagine our yard now resembles a mini version of a broken ice shelf with chunks of ice strewn haphazardly atop the snow. But better the ice littering our yard than weighing heavy upon the house.

While my husband-miner mined, the next-door neighbor also attempted ice removal. I don’t know that she’s cut out to be a miner as the clink, clink, clink didn’t continue for long. But then again, her mine (house) doesn’t appear to have the same rich, natural deposit of ore (ice) as our mine (house).

Ice dam chunks litter the backyard snow mountain.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Memorable 2010 Christmas gifts December 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:50 AM
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WHAT DID YOU GET for Christmas? Anything interesting, fun, different?

This wind-up NunZilla walked and shot fiery sparks from her mouth. Sadly, the toy worked only briefly.

The gift our second eldest gave to her father ranks as the most entertaining and unusual of all the presents exchanged in our household.

Having heard her dad’s stories about attending a Catholic grade school, our daughter picked up a NunZilla at Vagabond Imports in Appleton, Wisconsin.

The sparking, walking, ruler-toting wind-up toy nun proved to be the perfect humorous gift for a man who endured the physical punishment of a sister or two during his childhood. He’s never explained why the nuns slapped his hands with a ruler or dug a thumb into his scalp. Apparently they thought he was misbehaving. He can laugh about it now, kind of.

I don’t condone corporal punishment. However, times were different back in the 1960s and teachers, unfortunately, got away with such physical abuse. Sad, but true. I can’t speak from first-hand experience (because I did not grow up Catholic), but I would like to believe that the ruler-slapping nuns were in the minority and that most were kind and caring.

Another Christmas gift also drew my attention, or should I say my husband’s attention. As he washed the eight new dinner plates that our eldest gave me, he noticed that the “IKEA of Sweden” plates were “made in China.” No need to say more on that one.

FYI, the wind-up NunZilla was also made in China.

Finally, the ghost of Annie Mary Twente, a 6-year-old girl who was buried alive near Hanska, Minnesota, in 1886, remembered me with a Christmas gift. For the second consecutive year, she (AKA my cousin Dawn and Aunt Marilyn) sent me a book about mice. She knows how much I detest rodents and takes great delight in taunting me.

The book was not—I don’t think—printed in China.

The imprint on the bottom on my new IKEA plates.

But the other part of Annie Mary’s gift, a combination calendar and notepad decorated with chickens (of which I am not fond), was manufactured in China.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Did you receive any memorable Christmas gifts? Humorous or otherwise? Submit a comment to Minnesota Prairie Roots. I’d love to hear your stories.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A practical use for icicles from snowy Minnesota December 27, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:32 AM
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I HAD THIS EPIPHANY, this brilliant moment, the other night as I watched my husband swing his scoop shovel at icicles hanging from the house roofline.

He had just descended the ladder after scooping several snowstorms worth of snow from the roof when he began knocking mega icicles from the ice-dammed eave troughs with his shovel. Clank. Clank. Clank.

For days I had admired the growing length of those icicles, the longest of which stretched to perhaps six feet. What extraordinary weapons they would make for sword fights, I thought.

But, the practical homeowner in me realized we needed to remove the weaponry to protect the fort, AKA our house.

 

Ice dams and icicles on the west side of our house.

So, Thursday afternoon I walked across the street to borrow a roof rake from my neighbor. For perhaps 45 minutes I floundered in thigh deep snow banks, pulling snow from the house and garage roofs until I felt like my arms would fall off.

I also knocked down as many of those icicles as I possibly could until I came dangerously close to also knocking out the bathroom window.

 

I nearly hit the bathroom window while removing snow and icicles from the house.

Anyway, back to that light bulb moment.

“Do we have any ice for the cooler?” I hollered to my husband as he hammered away at the icicles I had missed during my earlier reckless attempt at destroying the ice build-up. By this time, the attack with a scoop shovel method was no longer working.

He looked at me with skepticism, wondering, I’m sure, what exceptionally brilliant idea I had now. I don’t like to boast, but my idea to use icicles, in lieu of purchased, bagged ice, to cool food in a cooler rated as an environmental, cost-saving good use of natural resources. (We needed ice to keep our food cold as we traveled on Christmas Eve.)

Fortunately for me, I have a husband who doesn’t always dismiss my seemingly crazy ideas.

I dragged a cooler up from the basement, handed it outside to him and he continued hammering the ice until we had a whole cooler full of icicles.

 

My husband begins the task of harvesting icicles with a hammer.

Ice chips fly as Randy breaks the icicles into smaller chunks that will fit into the cooler.

The cooler was only half full of icicle chunks when frozen fingers led me to stop photographing the ice harvest.

Our teenage son made some comment about saving the ice until summer, putting a modern day spin on the concept of harvesting lake ice and packing it in sawdust inside an ice house.

Now, if you were to peek inside the chest freezer in my basement, you would find, um, yes, broken segments of icicles that will work perfectly for chilling beverages this summer.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

After the flood: humor and hope October 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:27 AM
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YOU CAN CHOOSE to laugh or to cry, or to laugh after you’ve cried.

You can choose to give up or to be strong.

In Zumbro Falls, you’ll find humor and hope in a town overtaken almost three weeks ago by a flash flood that damaged nearly every home and business.

Sure, residents of this small southeastern Minnesota community are frustrated and tired and angry. Yet, they remain hopeful. They can still laugh between tears.

 

 

This sign hangs on the garage of a split-level house along Water Street in Zumbro Falls.

 

 

This is the now uninhabitable flooded house where the humorous sign, above photo, hangs. You can see it between the open garage doors. Floodwaters rose to about the top of the front door into the home.

 

 

To the right, just above the front door, you can see a line marking how high the water rose on the split-level house, above image.

 

 

Water Street seems appropriately named given the residences along the street that were flooded.

 

 

I don't know whether this fish was hung on this front porch before or after the Zumbro Falls flood, but I'm guessing afterward.

 

 

It seems ironic that a bottled water cooler stands beneath the words "WATER LEVEL" on the Zumbro Falls Fire Hall.

 

 

Was Z.F. Storage for sale before or after the flood? I don't know, but the structure is now labeled with this warning: LIMITED ENTRY. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. THIS STRUCTURE IS UNINHABITABLE."

 

 

A sign of hope in Zumbro Falls, next to a gas station.

 

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

An environmentalist speaks out about dirty socks and underwear July 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:23 AM
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KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS.

Remember that segment by Art Linkletter on his 1950s -1960s television show, House Party? He would interview kids who responded with “the darndest things.”

Well, recently my 8 ½-year-old nephew Christian produced a comment that would be Art Linkletter worthy.

Here’s how the scenario played out. When Christian’s mom, Jamie, went to do the laundry, she discovered that her son had dropped only one pair of socks and three underwear into the basket of dirty clothes for the week.

For illustration purposes, please pretend that these dirty socks belong to my 8 1/2-year-old nephew instead of the two big-footed guys in my household.

“I knew he wore socks (and hopefully underwear) every day, so I asked him about it,” she says.

Well, Christian had it all figured out. He explained that he would only change his socks and undergarments on bath nights (Wednesdays and Saturdays) to help save the environment. But that’s not all. His mom wouldn’t have to do the laundry as often.

Now how can you argue with a thoughtful environmentalist like that?

Clearly, when you’re the mom, you can. Jamie instructed Christian that he needed to change his socks and his underwear daily.

Well, I have a little secret, which you probably shouldn’t share with my sister-in-law and certainly not my nephew. When I was growing up, I did not change my underwear and socks every day. It just wasn’t done.

And, get this, my siblings, parents and I bathed once a week—on Saturday night in an old tin tub in the kitchen—whether we needed a bath or not.

Isn’t that just the darndest thing?

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My not-so-royal shopping experience June 25, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:11 AM
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DID YOU REALIZE that Walmart has a wedding department? I didn’t…until last night.

While my husband shops for weed killer, I am several aisles away browsing the mish mash of merchandise in the bargain aisle. I am prowling for items that will make suitable game prizes for a family reunion. (Bear with me here; I’m getting to that matrimonial merchandise.) Think humorous here, not necessarily wonderful, prizes.

I finger placemats, examine drinking glasses, grab a small bag of plastic compasses. “Do you think these really work?” I ask my husband, who by this time has found the weed killer, walked half way across the store for an ink cartridge and returned to the discount section.

“Well, if there weren’t so many, I could probably tell,” he says, flipping the compass package in his palm. He tosses the bag back onto the shelf.

I can see he’s getting a bit impatient with me, although I explain that my shopping was stalled by my visit with friends Michelle and Eric, who are also scanning this section.

Half-way down the aisle, I spot a jeweled tiara. I pick up the crown which, except for a tiny, missing center “diamond,” will make the perfect pretty prize for the woman who brings the most beautiful bridesmaid’s dress to the reunion.

We’re going with a wedding theme at the family gathering. Long story on that, but suffice to say that we are celebrating the 20th wedding anniversary of my cousin Jeff and his fictional northwoods bride, Janet. Jeff’s “marriage,” primarily the announcement of said event on April Fool’s Day 1990, is the stuff of family legends. But I digress.

This hefty tiara, which is no cheaply-made, plastic version for some princess’ birthday party, seems quite appropriate for the planned theme. But, as delighted as I am with this find, I encounter one problem. The tiara is unmarked—no bar code, no discount price sticker, no nothing—and there are no other crowns on the shelves.

This spells Cinderella-type trouble. I know that upon reaching the cash register, I will have to wait and wait and wait until someone does a price check. If I’m lucky, that someone will not possess the personality of a wicked step sister.

I am not lucky.

“Did you get this in the wedding department?” asks the clipboard-carrying supervisor who has taken her sweet old time responding to the cashier’s call for assistance.

“Uh, no, I got it in the bargain aisle. I didn’t know you have a wedding section,” I reply.

“Did you know it’s missing a jewel?” she asks, seeming hopeful that I will vanish.

“Yeah, but I don’t care,” I say. “I want it.”

“Were there any others back there like this?” she questions.

I want to say, but don’t, “How stupid do you think I am?” Rather I simply reply, “No.”

Behind me, the line of customers grows. “You might want to go to another check-out lane,” I tell the woman behind me. “This could take awhile.”

“That’s OK. I’m waiting for my husband,” she smiles.

Beside me, my husband fidgets. “Let’s just go,” he states, his voice edged with impatience. He’s not smiling.

“No, I really want this. Don’t be so crabby,” I say, foregoing an explanation of why I need this tiara. He’s tired and not in the mood for an explanation.

My fear now is that the treasured crown, since it originated in the wedding department, will cost more than I am willing to pay.

“Can’t I just have it for a dollar?” I ask the clipboard-carrying supervisor.

“I can’t do that,” she glares.

OK then, sorry I asked, I think to myself.

Eventually, she gives me a price of $3.50. It’s more than I want to pay. But since I’ve made my husband and all those Walmart customers wait, I buy the tiara.

Just for good measure, when we arrive home, I place the crown upon my head and wave a slow, lazy princess wave, first with my right arm and then with my left, turning from side to side as if greeting my subjects.

“I’m Miss Vesta,” I say, referring to my hometown, site of the upcoming family reunion.

“You don’t live in Vesta any more,” my husband notes.

He’s right. But for one night, this night, I deserve this moment. I have, after all, overcome so many obstacles to acquire this crown.

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A car vomits along the road June 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 10:10 AM
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WITH NEWSPAPER STORIES that tell of budget cuts and lay-offs, oil spills and natural disasters, crime and tragedies, items published in the “Cops & Courts” report can sometimes provide comic relief.

Let me clarify lest you misunderstand. I am not amused by motor vehicle accidents, by vandalism, by assaults or similar occurrences reported to law enforcement. Rather, I am amused by the occasional comic element or in the wording of information in published public records.

For example, a recent “Cops & Courts” item printed in the Faribault Daily News states: “3:28 p.m., caller wants to report a theft that occurred eight years ago by his step-daughter…” This isn’t exactly clear to me. Is the stepdaughter the victim or the accused? More importantly, why did this stepfather wait eight years to contact the sheriff’s department about this supposed crime?

Ditto for another report filed on the same day. A complainant alleges that “his neighbor has been coming to his location and stealing motorcycle parts and tools, has been happening a lot, first time reported…”  If my neighbor was stealing from me, I wouldn’t wait to call the cops.

Finally, this published report gives me pause to chuckle a bit and to formulate numerous questions: “11:41 p.m., someone glued doors shut in the 200 block of Third Street Northwest.”  Who would think of doing this? How do you commit this type of crime without anyone noticing? Which doors were glued shut? What type of glue was used and exactly how strong is that glue? How did the victim open the glued doors? Was the victim glued in or out of his/her house? Why would anyone do this?

Finally, the most amusing of recent reports: “2:06 a.m., vehicle with hazards on, vomiting on the side of the road, Warsaw Township 118 at Cannon Lake Trail and Echo Court.” When was the last time you saw a car vomiting on the side of the road?

Just for the record, I once owned a 1976 canary yellow Mercury Comet appropriately nicknamed “The Vomit.”

© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling