Are you nuts?

A pair of acorns fell from a mighty shoreline oak and onto a Thole Lake lily pad, momentarily delaying their inevitable plunge to the bottom.

David Brewer 1919-2010

We learned this afternoon of the passing of Kathleen's brother-in-law, David Brewer, 91. He died this morning in Durango, Col., his wife, Mary Lou, and daughter, Heidi King, at his side. He had suffered a massive stroke at a care facility two days ago.
David lived a long and interesting life. A rocket engineer by trade, his imaginative and restless mind drew him into many adventures, sometimes nude. He loved science and chemistry. He cheerfully tinkered with anything and was constantly seeking to invent something better, perhaps a battery or a solar cell.
He could make your old car run again. He was quick with a blow torch to help a solo sister-in-law with three little children when her townhouse heating pipes froze. In his energetic 80s, he and Mary Lou built a country French mansion in the exclusive Shadow Falls neighborhood of Minneapolis, doing most of the work themselves. A suspicious neighbor once spotted the couple's mega-vitamin stash and called in the drug cops.
He was the son of the famed Minnesota portrait artist Edward Brewer. His late sister, Barbara, was a prominent artist as well.
He will be missed by many. Our thoughts tonight are with his devoted wife of 35 years who for the past two years faithfully visited and cared for him daily at the Durango facility.

Uncle Dave with bargain blanket shoppers at an open-air market in Tijuana, Mexico. From left, Missy, Heidi, Kathleen, Jennifer and Marcelline. In 1983 Kathleen and Stan took their girls to Disneyland. A highlight was a visit with Dave and Mary Lou at their San Diego home. Dave loved a day-trip to Mexico, not for the blankets, but for the gasoline. He hated paying energy-crisis prices in the states, preferring to tank up at state-controlled prices in Mexico. He even brought back extra petrol in plastic drums. Really. He did. 

Hey, pumpkin head!

 These exquisitely sculpted busts are the work of Jennifer Blethen's friend, Krafty Kathy Goodman, who gives a whole new twist to the fall pumpkin carving tradition. Mostly she works in pumpkin media, but a green squash (above and below) will do nicely as well. (Don't you love how some of the the green skin is still on Father Nature's nose?) Click on Mother Nature at right to enlarge and see the incredible detail and the creative flourishes of birds and bees and butterflies. Owning one of these would be a reason to throw a fall party.

Anybody lose a dog?

We've just been through 24 hours of digital hell, that nasty time of frustration and hurt when no matter what, you have to make a change to your computer setup. Plus we're dealing with Comcast's dreaded cable tv transition. ("We want you to have MORE") We got the Easy Setup Guide yesterday. Verizon's dropped calls and bad connections during the Comcast technical advisors sessions didn't help matters, as we battled just to hold on to a conversation about what to do next. Ain't the New World Grand? The failure of a Comcast $5 a month rental modem triggered the whole debacle. That was coupled with the forced transition to digital tv that coincided with the modem failure. We're back now, sorta, and as we indicated a day ago when the modem dropped . . .

We found this tender five pound morsel in the middle of Fairhaven at its intersection with Langston on our morning walk at 10 a.m. today. We've since found its owner during the digital chaos, but it's so dang cute we're running the lost dog photo anyway just to see if the system can handle it.
Last night, the coyotes were howling. Bet our little lost Yorkie is glad to be home.

St. Andrews vets

Post round posers

Little Stix on the tee, Maxa,
what's left of him, at left.

An early morning phone call stirred Stan from his second cup of coffee this morning. It was Dan Martin, of the Danny Martin School of Charm, calling from the clubhouse. Last night he had assembled almost all the golfers he had escorted to Scotland last year and today was the first chance for a reunion round. Thanks for all the notice, Stan groused. But a perfect autumn day beckoned, so before you could say "double bogey" Stan was out in the yard awaiting pickup. After a crisp round, the group paused for these reunion snaps. Just one missing player. Everybody looked pretty much the same. . . except for Rick Maxa, who had dropped 60 pounds. There's one at every reunion.

Front row, John, Danny, Rick; back, John, Kevin, Stan

He's back!

The last time Randy Moss played for the Minnesota Vikings was in 2004. Emily wasn't born yet so she has no idea what all the excitement is about. But a potential Hall of Fame receiver with plenty of tread on his childish tires may be just the thing to get Emily throwing her pom poms again. We shall see.

No silver spoons. . .

The word has come down from Hanover, Germany.
Since we disclosed last week that Stan's family has ancestors from the Hanover area, diligent genealogists have raced to track down the bloodlines we have identified as our Wendelkin forebears. (See post below).
The international phone call came Monday afternoon here, late evening in Hanover. It was Ingeborg.
She eased into the conversation with some small talk first.
"It has been 20 years since we have been reunited," she said, referencing when the great wall that divided Germany was taken down. We agreed that it didn't seem that long ago. "There are young adults who have never experienced this separation," she said in her good English.
Then she let us have it. Both barrels. "Stahn,"  she said, sounding like a former schoolteacher. "I have looked in the area where your people come from. Yes. I must tell you. It was a swamp."
A moment of silence hung on the transcontinental wires.
Yes. It would seem that when our great great grandparents wed in Worpswede they did so in an area known for its production of. . . peat. Yes. Peat. Rotten dirt. Our forefathers didn't farm. They probably dug up rotten dirt and sold it for heating homes. Without doubt, they were poor. Very poor. Dirt poor.
"Well," Stan surmised. "No wonder they came to America."
"Yehs," said Ingeborg, with just a slight hint of pity.
Then, trying to make the best of it, she said: "But, the other town mentioned in your post, Mevenstedt, was known as an artists' colony. It was known for producing art work."
So there you have it, my dear family members. It appears that either our German forefathers were dirt poor, or they were starving artists. And for whatever reason, they immigrated to South Dakota. Wow. South Dakota, our promised land.
Ingeborg will be sending us maps of the swamp to confirm where our German roots were nourished. You never know. So take heart, Wendelkin/Brown/Rolfsruds.  Maybe they'll strike oil there.
-------------------------------------
Here's the historical reference that put Ingeborg on our trail:
Johann Wendelken Jr was born on 31 March 1817 at Winkelmoor, Ottersberg, Hanover, Germany. He married Anna Katharina Kohlmann, daughter of Zeband Kohlmann and Katherina Gutindes, on 3 December 1841 at Worpswede, Hanover, Germany. He emigrated in 1843 from Spring, Emigrated to, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He appeared on the census of 6 August 1850 at Ward 2, Page 177-B, Dwelling 21, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He was (an unknown value) on 6 August 1850 at Carpenter, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He died in 1903 at Elkton, Brookings County, South Dakota.

No camera. . .

The popular public access at Lake O'Dowd in Shakopee is in a densely-populated area surrounded by homes and, this morning, lots of garbage cans set out on the road, awaiting pickup.
Stan had just completed his morning kayak session and was paddling into the public dock when a senior citizen rolled up in his green pickup truck with camper cover. Stan watched as the elderly man struggled to clamber onto the tailgate and into the cramped truck box area . . . where he eventually produced a wire cage.

Google Images

Holy cow! Inside the portable jail was Rocky Raccoon!
Stan surmised that the pesky creature had been live-trapped by his frustrated host. What Stan couldn't guess was what would happen next: The man simply popped open the cage and released Rocky into the "wild."
The pest was off like a shot into the brush. He'll soon discover the Eden he's been given. His captor has generously provided Rocky with a whole new set of garbage cans, back yards to visit nightly and perhaps even a cozy chimney to occupy during the upcoming winter.
Our gentleman trapper was off as quickly as he came, his raccoon no longer his problem. He's long gone and so, it would seem, is any concept of the "common good."

Here's your seats, Joe and Mina

When the Yankees come to town Wednesday to settle the American League championship, our neighbors will be in these seats. Kathleen scored the tickets (she's mastering the Twins web site) for Joe (left) and Mina and the view (below) looks good. We previewed them last Thursday, about the time Wally the Beer Man was being busted for serving underagers. Free Wally!