The Permanent Sistersly Record
Fevered Rabbit reports: “We don’t know what caused it, but Grumbling Bear and I had three days of, well, erupting. Came from below, came from above. There was something in each of us that had to get out — suddenly, violently, repeatedly.
“Then we had two days of good health and were prepared to take a flight. However, the night before we were to leave, I got hit with this unidentified illness again.
“Because my sisters knew of our plans to travel, I texted them to let them know of the delay. My younger sister wrote: ‘Praying you recover quickly.’
“The Sister Who Rarely Rests in North Carolina wrote: ‘Would that be reruns? Other sister kinder in her response, I’m sure.’
“These text messages shed a light on the relationship I have with each of them. The Sister Who Rarely Rests is more witty, and we share a lot of giggles; her labeling of my illness made me laugh indeed, even amidst the agony. My younger sister is more serious and solemn, and sometimes doesn’t ‘get’ what Sister and I joke about.
“I love them both dearly.”
Or: What’s in a title?
Doctors’ Mom in Mendota Heights: “In the office of one of my medical providers, I learned that receptionists have been promoted to the more responsible position of ‘Director of First Impressions.’”
Then & Now
And: It happens every spring
Aggie Girl: “Every year as a new baseball season approaches, I hearken back to childhood.
“Despite growing up in South Texas, without a team within 200-plus miles of our little town, I was a huge fan. I knew all the rosters of the Astros and the Rangers. I knew the stats of most of the players — gleaned from the agate type in the sports page of the paper from the nearest city. I followed my heroes on my little transistor radio, which would pull in the games after dark. Given that WBAP had the stronger signal, and that the Rangers games typically started later, at 7:35 p.m., generally I listened to them.
“I was a crazy fan. I liked to keep score as I listened. Last summer when I cleaned out some boxes that had obviously been hauled up here by my dad some years ago, I found quite a few pieces of notebook paper, carefully lined to show the innings, the batting order and the scoring. Some of these only had five or six innings before the scoring stopped. You see, my parents, while supportive, were not COMPLETELY complicit in this pastime — they kept insisting that it was bedtime and I had to go to bed. Now, it was relatively simple to stash the transistor radio under the pillow and continue to listen to the game. However, I never did contrive to continue to keep score without getting caught; flashlights and paper were just too obvious.
“My favorite player was Buddy Bell, though I loved Bump Wills, Richie Zisk and many others. For the Astros (who I usually caught on Sunday afternoon on the nearby station), I loved J.R. Richard and Jose Cruz.
“Saturdays were my favorite day — it was the NBC Game of the Week. Typically Tony Kubek and Joe Garagiola were the broadcasters — and Garagiolia was a blast as a color commentator — so funny! It really didn’t matter who was playing, because I was so excited to get to actually watch baseball!
“My love of baseball lasts to this day, though I remain annoyed at the ‘power play’ that made the Astros an American League team. I am a bit of a purist, and despite all those Rangers games, I really like the National League better.
“Hope springs eternal this time of year, and though neither of ‘my’ teams has ever won a World Series, who knows — this might be the year!
“And I still love baseball on the radio, which is hard as heck to find these days, since the Twins bailed to a low-wattage station. Times certainly change — going from having baseball on the high-power super-stations to now not being able to pull in the station even if it is local.
“Oh, well — good luck, Twins (and Go Astros!).”
Or: Everyone’s a copy editor
Red’s Offspring, north of St. Paul: “Subject: Don’t chute, it’s only a game!
“Chad Graff has an opening-day piece on the Twins in Monday’s edition of the Pioneer Press. In the continuation of his article, on Page 2B, Graff quotes manager (is there any other sport in which the head ‘coach’ is referred to as the ‘manager’?) Paul Molitor responding to a question about the importance of getting off to a good start: ‘When it’s the middle of the season and you’ve established yourself and what kind of team you’re going to be, you can handle those (ups and downs) a little bit better. But right out of the shoot, especially with young players, it’s a little more challenging.’”
Where’ve you gone, Mrs. Malaprop?
Reports quackdad: “A local weather expert being interviewed on public radio described our recent weather as having been ‘on unchartered waters.'”
The vision thing
Another note from our Official Geologist, Rock Doc of River Falls, Wisconsin: “People were so intrigued by my photo of a rock that looks like a smiley face. Here’s another.
“This is some water-carved lime rock in Crystal Cave, Spring Valley, Wisconsin (not Minnesota, eh?). It looks like a ghost face, which is sort of scary when you go underground on their fun cave tour. Here’s a link, if I’m allowed to plug a commercial operation. The red color is an artifact of the lighting and my camera.
“There is a word for rocks that look like faces and other things. They are called mimetoliths, and here is a site with lots of fun examples. Mimetoliths are a subcategory of pareidolia, which are natural objects that look like other things: clouds that look like animals, etc. Our brains love to see patterns in the natural world.”
The vision thing
Helena Handbasket: “Subject: Florida fauna?
“Indigenous to Florida: Plasticus Bagus Beach Crabicus.”
This ‘n’ that
Hugo Woman: “I, too, would like to send my condolences to The Old Woodchopper‘s widow, on the occasion of her husband’s death; I have read his submissions to BB and enjoyed them very much. Pancreatic cancer also killed my older brother, so I know what a terrible cancer it is.
“On a lighter note, I sure hope that DebK of Rosemount is saving her many interesting submissions to BB; her recent story about growing up in Iowa and ‘surviving’ the seasons on a rutted, impassable road in the country was fascinating. I think I speak for many BB readers/contributors that I always look forward to what she shares. There’s got to be a book in there somewhere, don’t you agree?”
BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: We do.
Our theater of seasons
Or: Ah, the smell of it!
DebK of Rosemount: “Al B’s having alerted us over the past few weeks to various signs of spring, Taxman and I have been on the alert for evidence of its arrival in Rice County. While we agree with Al B on most things — including his fondness for Primghar, Iowa, incidentally — we can’t gin up anything like Al’s enthusiasm for parfum de skunk. Perhaps it’s a question of dosage.
“Here at the farm, the seasonal uptick in the activity of skunks coincided with the arrival of triplet lambs, whose care involved my delivering lamb-milk formula to the sheep barn every three hours. Taxman assumed care responsibility for all other farm creatures for the duration of my NICU duties. One night, after a bone-chilling 10 o’clock feeding, I hurried into the house through the garage service door, only to be forced back by an olfactory tsunami, the unmistakable acrid stench of skunk.
“As it happened, Taxman and the dogs were standing in the mudroom, directly in my intended path. Rosie and Spike had just come in from their nightly, pre-bedtime patrol of the premises. Nothing about their behavior — Taxman’s or the dogs’ — suggested an awareness that anything was amiss. My alarm must’ve registered, however, for Taxman presently offered: ‘I think the dogs may have gotten into something.’”
Immutable Laws of the Universe
Refrigerator Division (responsorial) (responsorial) (responsorial)
Pollyanna of Lakeland writes: “Twitty of Como [BB, 3/30/2017] reminded me of this:
“Especially since my brain injury in June of 2014, I have had trouble keeping track of things. During the Christmas holidays of 2015, the string of lights that hangs on a railing went half-dead. I bought LED lights to replace them. The next spring, I was looking for something in the liquor locker. (I don’t drink, but my sister does!) What’s that? The half-dead string of lights was behind the booze. No recollection of putting it there.
“I have lost a new bottle of medication, a pair of pants, a pair of pajamas and who knows what else! Every once in a while, I find something while I’m looking for something else.
“Yesterday, I was talking to my husband on the phone (I was at work; he was at home). He said: ‘I think you should make those recipes you cut out.’
“‘What recipes?’ I asked.
“‘The ones on the table,’ he replied.
“‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure there aren’t coupons on the back?’
“‘Nope. Just recipes for orange vanilla muffins, and pumpkin muffins.’
“I am allergic to things high in vitamin C. Both oranges and pumpkins fall into that category. I cannot imagine that I cut the recipes out. My husband doesn’t particularly like pumpkin. I tried to tell him HE must have cut them out, but he disagreed. One of us is losing it.
“Maybe, if I make the muffins, I will find my pajamas!”
BULLETIN BOARD OBSERVES: Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor!
Band Name of the Day: The Reruns
Website of the Day, from The Doryman of Prescott, Wisconsin: “I’m not saying I understand much of what this shipwright is saying, but I find an enormous amount of beauty in in his knowledge. We are all ignorant about different things.”