Holy shit, what the fuck is going on here?

I just didn’t expect the death threats.
Wait a second. Death threats?

They decided I had to die.

I got a death threat.
I got another death threat.
And then I got one telling me that if I went to a popular blogger’s conference in November, they would find me, they would kill me, and they would kill everyone around me.

Please read the whole thing.

By far

The most awesome thing I saw at the State Fair yesterday was an acid washed denim fanny pack.

The rosé at the wine stand was pretty great too.

Fair fair fair

The fair is coming.  The fair is coming.  THE FAIR IS COMING!  Wheeeee!

It's almost time to break out my State Fair Shirt and wallow gleefully through the streets of fried batter and obesity.  I'm not super excited about this year's new food options, except maybe the Jamaican jerk fries, but I am excited about roasted corn, fried green tomatoes, and being able to enjoy a Surly Furious at the fair for the first time.

I'm allowing myself one beer at the fair this year.  And I'm bringing water bottles again.  Nothing eats up the State Fair budget like beer and lemonade.  We'll see if Lily's interested in any of the rides at the Kidway.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I hope she is not.

I'm also not excited about any of the music.  Usually the Leine stage has some good shows but this year is pretty lackluster.  I'd like to see Steely Dan but I agree with Husband -- this is just not the venue.

Expanding the musical repertoire

 Every night that I put Lily to sleep she demands "sing songs!"  Usually by that time of night I lack sufficient brain computational power to come up with more than 2 or 3 songs and their full lyrics.  If she deems a certain song unacceptable she pitches a fit a couple of notes in.  If she likes the song she tries to sing along.  These songs are starting to get old so it's time to make a list of new ones to try.  If anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them.

Acceptable songs:

Itsy Bitsy Spider (“Issy Bissy Spire”)

Rock-a-bye Baby (“Rock Baby”)

ABC (“C C C”)

Mama Loves Baby by Solange from Yo Gabba Gabba (“Sunshine!”)

Beautiful Girl by Poe

I Am Weary (Let Me Rest) by the Cox Family

Didn’t Leave Nobody But The Baby from the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack

Down to the River to Pray by Alison Krauss

Virginia by Tori Amos

Wampum Prayer by Tori Amos

My Home Sweet Home from the Final Fantasy V: Dear Friends soundtrack

Don’t Be Afraid to Run by Greg Graffin

Missed the Boat by Modest Mouse

Unacceptable Songs:

Woodstock by CSN

Brian Wilson by Barenaked Ladies

Penny’s Song from the Dr. Horrible soundtrack

Sunshine (Go Away Today) by Jonathan Edwards

Lump by the Presidents of the USA

Songs I May Try:

Sorrow by Bad Religion

Blackbird by the Beatles

Candle in the Wind by Elton John

California Dreamin’ by the Mamas and the Papas

On the Turning Away by Pink Floyd

Life By the Drop by Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble

Santeria by Sublime

Man in the Mirror by CSN

School Blarg

I recently completed my first college course in 12 years.

AWWWW YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

But because I'm an idiot I didn't realize that I was supposed to register for my fall semester class BACK IN MAY.  So since I don't have enough time to get my tuition advance from work before next week I'm officially going to be taking this semester off.  Oops. 

Unofficially, though, I've decided to do an algebra self-study.  I have access to my school's math center tutors.  I have to tackle this math aversion head on before I launch myself into an official college algebra course.  Now I just need to stay on track.

Future gossip

Yesterday we made a quick stop at the playground on the way to Dairy Queen.  There was a friendly little girl there who wanted nothing more than to chat with me and help Lily on the equipment.  In the span of about 5 minutes I learned:

• She is 6
• She has a 3-year-old brother
• She goes to that school
• She has 10 uncles
• Her "best uncle" is in jail, but will be getting out around Halloween
• All her uncles are STRONG
• She is going to be a princess for Halloween
• She has a baby doll named Rapunzel and a pile of Barbies that she hasn't named yet
• Her side of the bedroom is full of princess stuff and Michael Jackson posters
• Her favorite singer is something called Little John
• Her other favorite singer is Michael Jackson
• She cried when Michael Jackson died
• Her little brother's stuff is taking over her room
• She lives down the street from the Dairy Queen

This kid is awesome.  I have no idea what her name is.

Foodblogging: Summer Food

OMG you guys, I have so many cherry tomatoes.

I pick about half a pint a day.  Which kind of adds up.  I'm loving it though, because this year's crop is perfectly sweet.  Last year's cherry tomatoes were like a disturbing game of Russian roulette -- is this one going to be wonderfully sweet or face-meltingly bitter?

The garden could use some weeding, but I don't care too much right now.  It's not like I have time. 

Now that we're back from the BWCA I'm supposed to be fully into Deprivation Month, but it hasn't exactly worked out.  I decided to push for a post-State-Fair Deprivation Month and simply cut back on meat to maybe one meal a day.  In September I can be hardcore about it with no meat and no alcohol, and possibly no sweets.  I should try and find a juicer before then.

I'm eating healthier lately.  That is not to say I'm eating healthy, but it has gotten better.  I won't go into the BBQ bacon cheeseburger, fries, and blueberry pie I attacked immediately upon leaving the woods last week (but seriously it was the most glorious cheeseburger I have ever put in my mouth).

Exhibit A:

 

The tomatoes, beets, and green beans were from the garden.  There's also lettuce under there somewhere.  That's balsamic and olive oil drizzled on top.

Exhibit B:

Mashed white and sweet potatoes with tomato gravy (yellow tomatoes from the garden) and baked tofu with Famous Dave's Georgia Mustard sauce.

Please excuse the cat hair.

Yeah, so there's bacon fat in that tomato gravy.  Bacon is still on my acceptable list.

In which we haul our belongings across the waters

Last Friday we and some friends loaded up a couple of canoes and took the long drive up to Grand Marais for a trip to the BWCA.  We didn’t realize that it was the weekend of the North Shore Dragon Boat Festival and we ended up spending too much on motel rooms for the night.  But the motel owner guy was super nice (as they are in that part of the country) and the beds were comfortable.  We grabbed some expensive Summit EPAs at a local rooftop bar and watched the dragon boat teams practice in the bay on the night before we disembarked. 

Bright and early the next morning we headed up the Gunflint Trail to Hungry Jack Outfitters to rent a solo canoe for our odd-numbered group, a couple of sleeping bags, and some other odds and ends.  We shoved off from HJO’s dock and did our first portage to Bearskin Lake.  Husband and I had never portaged before.  I have been camping on the Gunflint, but that always involved driving back into the woods and being able to haul useful things like coolers and boomboxes with you.

Portages are measured in rods, where each rod is 16.5 feet, which is completely nonsensical and useless until you are actually hiking the portage with 85 pounds of gear strapped to your person.  That first portage was around 20 rods and crossed a road and a parking lot.  It had some rocks and roots but was relatively smooth.  Since we had five people and had to haul in all our tents, kitchen gear, food, and clothes, we had to make two trips each at each portage.  I carried the kitchen pack, which was probably around 50 pounds, and our clothes pack, which was around 25 pounds, on the first trip.  Then I went back and got the food pack, which was probably around 70-80 pounds.  I was feeling good and barely broke a sweat.  Bearskin lake was absolutely still and like glass and had the clearest water I have ever seen.  Unfortunately there are a bunch of cabins on that lake that were grandfathered in when the BWCA boundaries were decided, so motors are allowed there.  Douchy McDoucherton was driving his Doucheboat around (Husband has a way with words) while we were paddling to the next portage point to our target, Daniels Lake.

I had checked the weather that morning and it said there was a 30% chance of scattered strong storms in the area.  But the sky was blue and the lake was calm as we started off on the second portage of the day.  This one was 60-some rods and was quite a bit more hilly and rocky than the previous cupcake portage.  The theme of the weekend was "Don’t Get Eaten By A Bear" so we made sure we made a lot of noise along the path as we went.  The first trip down the path was a lot longer than I expected.  I was wearing my steel toe work boots that were nice in that I didn’t turn an ankle or gash myself on the sharp rocks (something that happened to one of our companions last year), but they sucked in that getting back into a canoe absolutely requires you to wade into the water.  I wore my sandals for the remainder of the trip.  By the second trip back and down the trail I was seriously winded and wheezing slightly.

Daniels Lake wasn’t nearly as clear as Bearskin but it was just as calm.  What I wasn’t prepared for was having to use only specific BWCA-designated campsites.  Each campsite has a fire grate and a latrine.  You are absolutely prohibited from creating your own site.  We had decided on a campsite that was marked out on our maps and paddled in that direction hoping that it was empty.  Alas, a couple of canoes came into sight as we rounded the bend.  As we started across the lake to a different campsite, dark clouds started rolling in.  This campsite was... less than ideal.  It was tiny and far away from the water and the latrine was a long, overgrown hike up a hill.  We’re not entirely sure why or how it’s even a “real” campsite.  We got all our packs under a tarp and waited out the storm and listened to the thunder echo through the bluffs.  When the rain died down we sent out a scouting team with a tent to find and claim another campsite. 

Another thing I was not prepared for was the sheer number of people we saw.  Campsites were filled and canoes were everywhere in the BWCA.  Shit is busy.  There is, thankfully, plenty of space on the water but not a ton of places to park your tent.  When I go camping I kind of expect to not see or hear anyone, ever.  I’m told we have to go to Quetico for true isolation in the BWCA.  So I guess we’ll need to work on getting our passports for next year if we go that direction.

The scouting mission was a success.  “If this site is one star,” said our friend, “that one is four.”  We reloaded and paddled to the far side of the lake to spend two blissful days in the sun.  Then we went back to Bearskin and rounded the corner to the 80 rod kill-me-now portage to Duncan Lake.  If Daniels was like a county road, Duncan was like a damn freeway.  The portage was super busy and we had to whisper our plans and hustle to our next campsite before the people behind us go there first (assuming they were trying to camp on Duncan) and get out of the way of the people who were waiting to exit through the portage at the same time.  We ended up on a somewhat high point that overlooked almost the whole lake.  It was there that we had a run-in with a Forest Service ranger with a pierced nose who checked our permits and made sure our latrine was... I don’t know, in working order?  I’m not sure what can really go wrong with a shitter sitting in the open air in the middle of the woods.  Props to the rangers though; they have to paddle in a canoe just like the rest of us.  She told us that the Stairway Portage would be busy that day and reminded us that there shouldn’t be more than 9 people in any given area at any given time.  She also let us know that there may be storms in the area that night.

After we got the tents set up two of our crew stayed behind and the other three of us went across Duncan to the Stairway Portage. It involved paddling back into a windblown tree graveyard area and hiking 90 rods over hills, roots, rocks, and down a ton of stairs.  This is not anything I would ever consider portaging gear and canoes in either direction, though two of our group did it last year.  We chilled out on the shore of Rose Lake for a while before reluctantly heading back up the 90 rods.  By the time we got to the top of the stairs my legs were burning and I was gasping.  I was wearing a dorky fanny pack with a couple pounds of emergency supplies and even that seemed overwhelming by the end.  Carrying 80 pounds of gear up that trail?  I’m usually up for a challenge but this is just not for me.  Unfortunately the wind that was at our tails for the trip over was now a vicious headwind that was whipping up small whitecaps (“think of them as lake kisses!”) and it probably took 3 times the time and effort to get back to our campsite.  Our friend was in the solo canoe and I was seriously concerned for his safety.  We all made it back in time for a delicious dinner of chicken and gravy over English muffins before the sun set and I had a quick swim to cool off after the hard paddle.

We got the promised storm that night and none of us slept very well.  I ended up on a root or rock and our tent was on a barely discernable slope and Husband was up almost all night reading on my Nook with a flashlight.  And it was hot.  So we were all pretty bleary-eyed that next morning as we packed up for the last time.  We were rained on as we made our way back to Hungry Jack but everything cleared up by the time we got to Bearskin.  Thankfully we didn’t have to deal with any wind that morning and all the lakes were like glass again.

All in all the trip was satisfying, if a bit expensive.  The rental sleeping bags were great (super warm and they packed down to nearly nothing) but a bit steep at $6/day each.  Each person had to pay a $16 entry fee.  And gas in a truck hauling hundreds of pounds of gear and a canoe was painful.  But we had a good time -- fish were caught (nothing edible), good food was eaten, much whiskey was drunk, and sun was soaked up.

You drive me crazy, but...

"Now that you're done going potty we're going to wash our hands and then brush our teeth."

"Mmmhmm!"

Lily had just finished a marathon session of sitting on the potty, asking me to read to her, to pour water on her to help her go, wiping, pouring small amounts of pee into the toilet, washing hands, and then starting all over again.  Last night we did the same thing, only perhaps one time around the circuit too few, and she peed in her diaper immediately after finishing the last bedtime story.

We finish our ritual of Lily sort of making an attempt at passing the toothbrush over her teeth but mostly sucking off the training toothpaste, then Lily gets to brush Mama's teeth while Mama brushes Lily's teeth.  I cringe inwardly at the naked toothbrush rummaging around my mouth but I have to do what is necessary to ensure that my child has properly brushed teeth.

"Time for a diaper and some books."

"Yes!"  She scrambles first into her bed, then the rocking chair.  After the requisite three books (Peanut Butter and Jelly, Clifford Takes A Trip, Clifford's Christmas) I pick her up to put her into her bed and endure a barrage of whining for one more book.  "Read!  Read!"

"We only have time for one more short book.  I will read Counting Kisses and that's it."

She picks up Octavius Bloom and the House of Doom, a much longer book.  "Read!  Read!  Reeeeeead!"

"No, Lily, this is the only book I will read right now.  You have to go nigh-night."  She pouts, whines some more, and runs squealing to her bedroom door with her choice of reading material.  I calmly pick her up, put her on my lap, and put Octavius Bloom on the floor.  She continues to whine and squirm.  "Now.  Do you want me to read Counting Kisses?"  She nods, defeated.

She starts off by protesting each page as I gently tickle her squirming body (Ten little kisses on teeny, tiny toes.... Nine laughing kisses on busy, wriggly feet....") but by the time we reach five kisses on a pretty belly button she's giggling with delight.  Finally I lay her down and give her tons of kisses that she playfully tries to dodge by putting her hands in front of her face in mock protest.  I finish by telling her the same thing I tell her every night and saying nigh-night as I leave.

The whining begins anew.  She opens her door, stands at the gate, and whines.  I pick her up, wordlessly deposit her in her bed, and close the door again.  These theatrics are repeated twice.  My mind is on the homework I have to read, the final paper I need to finish by Saturday, the dinner leftovers that need to go into the fridge.

"Poop!" she shouts from the gate.  She calls anything in her diaper "poop".  I'm sure it's a ruse, another one of her stalling tactics, but potty training has been difficult and I know I have to take her to the bathroom when she asks.  She sits on the potty and pees one more time.  I tell her I'm proud of her for telling me that she needed to go potty.  Back to her bed she goes.

Not thirty seconds later she's back at the gate.  "Food!"

It's 8:00 now.  A full hour past bedtime.  She didn't eat much of her dinner because she was busy whining.  I wonder where my cheerful, agreeable daughter from this morning has gone.  I put her back in bed.  "Stay there," I order.  After a quick reheat of the remains of her dinner plate I return, plop the food down in front of her, and sit in the rocking chair to stew.  Soon it's clear that she's not willing to eat at a reasonable pace so I go back to the bed to feed it to her.  I resent having to occasionally hand feed my 2-year-old but I'm desperate for her to go to bed. 

"Yummy.  Meat?" she asks as I pile a cube of tofu into her bird-like mouth. 

"Yes," I say.  Sure, whatever, kid.

"Meat. Good." 

There's still about a quarter left of her dinner of mashed sweet and white potatoes, tomato gravy, and baked tofu with leftover Famous Dave's Georgia Mustard sauce.  "I'm glad you like it.  Thank you."  Another spoonful.

She finishes the last two bites on her own, takes a long drink of water, and immediately lays down.  Now thoroughly irritated on the inside, I bend down to kiss her head one more time.

"Nigh-nigh, Mama."

She always knows just what to say to diffuse me.

"Nigh-night, Lily.  You drive me crazy, but I love you."