I move on pretty quickly from Christmas.  In fact, by 6 PM on Christmas night, my decorations were packed and put away, my windows were cracked open to bring in a little fresh air, and I was pooped.  That isn't to say that I didn't have a fabulous Christmas - it was the best yet.  (I got a hefty new coffee mug and a set of 500 thread-count pima cotton sheets.  They're almost like satin. I must have been a very good girl!)

I got together with my little Twin Cities family and felt sort of protective when I saw the little boys walking around with foam rubber darts hanging from their clothes.  I guess the dads found the boys' dart guns and used the young un's for target practice.  But, since everyone seemed to be having a good time, it didn't seem prudent to interfere. 

It was a pajama party, so only non-restrictive clothing was allowed and we partied in our pajamas all day.  The food was great and the little boys and I celebrated with sparkling grape juice.  We toasted Christmas and family.  Eventually I headed home and cleared away the holiday from my apartment. But I got a hankering for something fresh and lovely to take its place.  I thought about it most of the night, and the next day I went up the street to Bachman's florist and bought . . .

tulips!

I received an email from the President of the Chippewa County Historical Society Endowment Board in Montevideo, Minnesota with news regarding fundraising for their organization.  Anyone who has followed MN Country Mouse knows I have a soft spot in my heart for the little pioneer Chippewa City they have preserved.  But here is something even I can't believe.  I've never seen the Swensson Farm Museum!  I suppose I simply wasn't raised right. My sister Crazy Annie says she'll take me there sometime. 

 The Swensson Farm Museum is where much of the movie Sweetland was filmed, but Annie tells me it has its own fascinating story.

Brace yourself.  This is going to sound incredibly dopey, but here I go.  It looked like the streets were covered in diamonds on my way to work this morning.  "Nice work, God," I said.  After all, it's Christmas eve and these perfect little sparkly snowflakes were landing on my windshield and I could admire them at every stoplight.

My team at work seems to be less enthusiastic about certain aspects of life than I am.  But I can't help it.  A good snowflake makes me happy!  I feel the same way about leaves.  I may be a little too sunny sometimes for their taste. Lately, people have been arriving at work late because of treacherous driving.  One day my boss looked me up and down and said, with a hint of a sneer, "So, I suppose your drive was a winter wonderland this morning."

Like it's my fault?

Although it's hard to come up with exactly the right word to describe what makes this holiday season feel different, you know me. I have to try. The word is precious.  I think that's it.  And there's a sort of humility, too, in knowing that somewhere down the line, families and friends may need each other more than we can imagine, so we'd better learn to get along.

I've never lived high off the hog - which isn't to say I haven't wanted to.  And given the resources, I'm pretty sure I would have.  But between that and the people in my life, I'll take the people.  Let's hope they feel the same way about me.  There have been times . . . 

Maybe we can get back some of that holiday thrill, like when we were little kids and got to cross the days off our Advent calendars. Or like when we got to go to town to see Santa Claus.  In our tiny town, a party would be hosted at the city hall, and then Santa would arrive on the fire truck with sirens screaming and lots of helpers to hand out brown paper bags loaded with peanuts and candy. The helpers were always men, and it seemed a little out of the ordinary for big, strange men to be doing something so nice for us.  For a moment out of my little life I had to think of someone else - not my strong suit at that time - and remember to ask for a bag of treats for Crazy Annie who was too little to come along. 

That's the kind of holiday I want to have this year.

Guess who discovered MovieMaker on her computer?  Wait for it . . . wait for it . . . yup,  it's me.  And to my delight, singer and songwriter Jerry Ostensoe has graciously allowed me to post a music video combining his song, My Little Town, from his Just East of West CD with  images from MN Country Mouse. 

Click here to play "My Little Town" video

Jerry now resides near his current little town, Sacred Heart, in southwestern Minnesota, but advised me the song, My Little Town, refers to Canby near the South Dakota border where he lived until the age of ten.  And if we were able to talk to Mrs. Meyers from Canby, she may have remembered him as a little bit of a rascal.

Copies for sale online and at Java River in Montevideo and The Grinder in Granite Falls.

I was sitting on my couch in front of the fireplace last night thinking.  Occasionally my mom will say, "Sometimes I just sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits."  Well, this was one of my sitting and thinking moments.  Maybe this came on due to the holiday season and the spirit of giving, but somewhere from in the back of my brain, I remembered, at the age of six, stuffing a baby doll in my school bag and hauling it on the bus to Catholic school to donate to the pagan babies. 

Who were the pagan babies?  And what, exactly, was a pagan baby?  Sister Leo Ann gave us only a very sketchy idea. Here is what I thought a pagan baby was.  Somewhere along the line, I mixed pygmies up with pagans.  Or maybe pygmies are pagans - I don't know.  But to me they were PIG-mees.  And I was pretty sure I saw one in an illustration from Alice in Wonderland.  She was carrying a baby that turned into a pig.  Anyway, I honestly still have no idea where that baby doll was sent.  I bet they would have preferred money.

When you're six, it's hard to decipher between fact and fiction.  Maybe I should have just stuck to Little House on the Prairie.

Hoping for a snow day

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Even a hint of snow is enough to make my son hopeful. “Do you think we’ll have school tomorrow?” he asks, even before the first flake hits the ground.

What is it about kids and snow and school?

If we lived in southwestern Minnesota or near the Iowa border, I could understand his wishful obsession with snow days. In those parts of the state, the open landscape and strong winds invite blowing snow, white-out conditions and treacherous travel. But not here in Rice County’s more protected terrain. The chance of a snow day in Faribault-based Independent School District 656 isn’t too likely.

But still, I suppose a kid can wish for multiple snow days like those I experienced while attending junior high school in Redwood Falls during the late 1960s. One particular winter (I don’t recall exactly which), getting to school proved challenging, if we got there at all. I’ll explain.

I lived on a farm just outside of Vesta, which is 20 miles west of Redwood Falls. Weather and road conditions were so bad and the snow so deep one winter that buses did not venture into the country to pick up students. If we wanted to get to school in Redwood Falls, we had to find our own way into Vesta, where one bus departed from the local café at a designated hour. And guess how my oldest brother and I got to and from Vesta? Via our Dad’s John Deere tractor. And back in those days, tractors did not have cabs.

As if the cold tractor ride the mile into town to catch the bus wasn’t enough, once we got to Redwood Falls, the teachers were none too happy with us Vesta kids. Like we could help being tardy.

A few years later, I was attending high school in Wabasso following a school merger. We had plenty of snow days there too. As in Redwood Falls, we had “snow homes,” designated in-town houses where we would stay should snowstorms strand us. I never stayed at a snow home.

But I recall one particular bus ride home that warranted an overnight stay in town. The bus driver drove with the door open and a student watching out the door so we wouldn’t run in the ditch. That we made it safely to our destination during those blinding snow conditions was miraculous. To his credit, the bus driver stuck to the main highways, stopped only at homes along those tarred roads and dropped off the rest of the students in Vesta.

And, no, I never had to walk two miles to school one way, uphill, in three-foot-deep drifts. That would have been the generation before me.

(For more articles by Audrey Kletscher Helbling, go to the Minnesota Moments Blog )

When I was a little girl out on the farm, I had very few playmates other than my seven brothers and my little sister, Crazy Annie.  But among the bunch of us, you would find a whole variety of personalities.  I was, of course, the persecuted child (whatever), what with all those older brothers and all.  There is a brother, who I'll refer to as brother X, who is one of my favorite brothers, but a big-time cheater when we played board games.

When we played Monopoly, he always got the little dog marker that I wanted to use.  I generally chose the candlestick, which should tell you that we also played Clue occasionally.  Anyway, brother X would stash money under the board and use slight of hand to land on all of the really good property.  He'd also talk me into selling my properties to him since I didn't have a snowball's chance in h-e-double-hockey-sticks of winning anyway.

 We yelled and fought and wanted my harried mom to step in, but she said she had more important things to do than referee a board game.  So brother X always won, and the rest of us always lost.  It helps me understand how an investment broker could get away with a silly little thing like a $50 billion Ponzi Scheme.

Let's face it, our country was sold out a long time ago by Woodrow Wilson, back in 1913, when he decided to let a private bank run the show.  My favorite alternative news website has been talking about these ponzi schemes for years, so the current economic situation doesn't come as any surprise to me.  I've heard we are in an age of enlightenment, and I thought that meant spiritually.  But I think we are in an age of being enlightened about how our world has been working all along. 

I think it's all good. I mean, in terms of regaining our equilibrium.  I doubt I can imagine how hard things are going to be. But, I feel like we've been out of whack for a while now and the pendulum has to swing back.  I think we're being forced back to our roots, our families and our core values.  And maybe, in the near future, I'll invite brother X to play a game of Monopoly and this time, I'll win!

OK, I'll say it.  It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.  But not like any Christmas my generation has known.  Santa delivered over 200 pink slips to employees at my company yesterday.  It's the first lay-off in its history and this company has been around for a while.  To their credit, they are offering severance pay, job counseling and other services to help with the transition. Fortunately, I'm still employed at a job I love - so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

We also had our first snowfall yesterday and today we are sharpening our driving skills.  I remembered to pump my brakes at the slippery spots and I went around more than one corner in magnificently controlled skids.  You would have been impressed with my skills. 

My favorite part of the drive was through a little neighborhood near Linden Hills in Minneapolis.  It warms my heart to see the shops lit up and looking festive on an otherwise gloomy morning. 

So, my thoughts are with my former co-workers today, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the rest of us.

Booteggers, a former speakeasy on the edge of Granite Falls, Minnesota should be jukin' tonight.  It's the 75th anniversary of Repeal Day.  December 5th, 1933 marked the introduction of the the 21st amendment repealing the Volstead Act, introduced by Granite Falls' own Andrew Volstead.

The 21st Amendment

Ratified December 5, 1933

Section 1. The eighteenth article of amendment to the Constitution of the United States is hereby repealed.

Section 2. The transportation or importation into any State, Territory, or possession of the United States for delivery or use there in of intoxicating liquors, in violation of the laws thereof, is hereby prohibited.

Section 3. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an amendment to the Constitution by conventions in the several States, as provided in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the submission hereof to the States by the Congress.

Sometimes I get a craving for a certain combination of flavors completely foreign to a southwestern Minnesota farm girl.  So last Saturday Melanie and I headed to the Bonfire Grill in Savage, Minnesota for a helping of blackened walleye salad with a generous dose of maple vinaigrette dressing. This is a new and exciting flavor combo after a lifetime of the farmer-preferred meat and potatoes.  (I'm not complaining.)

The serving is generous, so Melanie and I always share the salad.  The above photo shows half a portion.  There is a method to our madness, of course, and that is to save enough room for dessert.

We couldn't agree on a dessert, so Melanie ordered the creme brulee and I stuck with my favorite flourless chocolate cake which has to be the richest dessert I've experienced yet. 

The atmosphere at the Bonfire Grill is richly imaginative - in a cowboy sort of way.  It has a distinct western flavor and the restaurant smells like a smoke-house.  The first thing you notice when you enter is the wonderful aroma.  It's a perfect stop on a cold winter day.  It'll warm your gizzard right up.

I had a great time at my parent's farm near Wabasso, Minnesota on Saturday, where four generations of country mice gathered to celebrate a late Thanksgiving.  During the conversation my mom mentioned that an uncle of mine, who lives in town, wants to build a little chicken coop out on their farm in preparation for a possible depression.

The comment spurred a lively discussion about our economic situation, now considered potentially worse than the great depression, and left us with the feeling we may have seen only the tip of the iceberg from this economic Titanic.  Then someone announced to my parents that if we all get laid off, we'll be moving in with them.  One of my engineer brothers was expecting to be laid off shortly, and being the youngest, he still has a room at their house.

We discussed the kind of produce and livestock we would raise, and even though the worst may not come to pass, it was a nice feeling to know we're in this together.

Before we left, Kasey asked my dad what he wants for Christmas this year, and he answered that he'd like a GPS system so he knows where he is, and where he should go.  "Oh grandpa," Kasey said. "I don't think you need one of those.  You've got grandma to remind you where you are, and she can tell you where to go."