Here I Am! Here I Am! (From the Life in Ely MN Files!)

A Little More Ignorant: I have not read a blog in over a week, have very limited internet access, and am without TV…although that might raise my IQ.

I accidentally saw the Michael Jackson verdict live – I happened to be at my grandmother’s house. She and I held hands as we watched…I’m not sure which of us had our jaw hit the ground first.

Perhaps they legitimately didn’t feel the preponderance of the evidence was toward guilty, but I really don’t buy that celebrity had nothing to do with it, and I do believe the child was punished for the sins of the mother – twice over. (Both in the negligence in allowing him to sleep with a grown man, and in the jury allowing their dislike of her to taint their verdict.)

A Little Smarter: On the plus side I now know how to plant tomatoes, where the fishies are biting, and how to make a delicious cake with rhubarb.

Rhubarb Custard Cake:
The recipe was submitted to wherever my grandmother got the recipe, by a woman
named Dawn Rapinac of Buhl (MN?) Comments
in parenthesis are my own.

1 Yellow or White
Cake Mix – Prepared. (Which means do everything but stick it in the
oven.)

4c cut up rhubarb. (Pretty much diced or
cubed.)

1 1/2c sugar

1 pt. whipping cream – unwhipped. Not half and
half.

Mix cake according to box directions and place in
9x13 pan, set aside. (I was going to use a pyrex pan, but this displeased my
grandmother. She made me use a metal one. OH, you DO NOT have to grease the pan! Dawn Rapinac was unclear on this. )

Combine sugar and rhubarb & pour over raw cake
batter. Do not mix with cake batter.

Pour the pint of whipping cream over rhubarb. Do
not mix in. (Don’t panic if cake batter rises to the top – s’okay!)

Bake at 350 for 55 minutes or until done

.

Anyhow, the cake is yummy and the rhubarb is a little tart and the sugar balances it out with sweet!

Unwashed: I just finished mowing the lawn and I smell like grass, deet, and sunscreen.

Last week when I mowed the lawn, I felt all accomplished. The lawn needed it and, as the new people in town, I wanted everyone to know we were solid lawn cutting citizens. We are like State Farm (Good Neighbors.)

This week I had nothing to gain and much to lose. Mowing the lawn does not up our rep, and not cutting it makes us look like bums.

But I’m just being grumpy…it’s a lovely day and Woman’s World assures me that statistically the difference between say, Calista Flockhart and, oh, Camryn Manheim is that Calista types naturally move around approx. 150 minutes a day more than Camryns.

Sore: I’m walking tons and, since Ely is one big roller coaster of hills and rocks, I’m a little sore. Oh, and we biked around Shagawa Lake. (‘Cept the part where we pushed our bikes up the MAJOR hills!)

Even the cemetery is hilly as hell. Not that Hell is hilly…in fact I had family that lived in Hell, MI and it was not really hilly. (Although it did freeze over and it had a dam.)

My thing is this: who wants to visit loves ones by rappelling to their graves? Except I think it’s a cool cemetery…especially the old sections. Why are so many cemeteries against head stones and statuary? I say More Headstones and more Grave Yard-y looking stuff!!

Seriously, looking at all the people who died young -- or who had many children die young – puts your life in perspective.

Slightly Neurotic: I’m spending way too much time fixated on the cleanliness of my house. I woke up the other day to find my husband left a dirty glass on the kitchen table; I had to take several deep breaths while telling myself “It’s not a big deal…It’s not a big deal!”

Previous to the move he could have left a dunghill on my kitchen table and it would have been only mildly irritating. It must be something in the fresh air.

I'm not going to worry until I begin to have erotic dreams about Mr Clean.

(Question...should I have a separate blog on Ely... pics, stories, etc...or just add them here?)