Bits&Pieces

There's creativity in them there genes

Every year, my father-in-law grows pumpkins, and as they're just starting to form, he carves the names of each of his grandchildren into the individual pumpkins. Some years they work brilliantly, and some years they don't. This year, Aidan and Cole's most definitely did.

When the kids were smaller, he would hide their pumpkins down on the farm where he and my mother-in-law live in Southern Minnesota. We'd bundle them up and send them out into the fields to choose a pumpkin to pick. It was pretty magical the first time, when they got out there only to find pumpkins with their names on it. 

 

{Aidan in the meadow at the farm, finding her first pumpkin, at age 2}

Speaking of things that have gone, and things that are here, I'm so happy that Papa still makes the pumpkins for my now 10- and 13-year-old kids.

I can guarantee you when they walk through the door after school the magic of seeing their names will still remind them not only of what an awesome and creative grandpa they have, but of how much they are loved.

And the shrunken head apple faces he made aren't too shabby either:

 

I'm posting a giveaway tomorrow, so check back! I wanted to wish all of you a safe and happy Halloween a bit early.

And thank YOU Papa, for such an enduring and endearing tradition.

Can't touch this.

(Note: if you are my Mother, you might want to SKIP reading the following post as it involves HAIR that is being CUT, and I know how that... upsets you... You have been warned, Shirley!)

My girl got a haircut the other day. Cut and color. She'd been wanting to chop the old locks off for a while now, and who am I—the global embassador of short hair—to stop her?

I mean, it's not like it's that short. It's still longer than mine, which means I still WIN! But she can do artsy-moody pretty well, so maybe I need to watch my back.

She also does the winsome, contemplative side-gaze fairly well.

Oh, who am I kidding? In the generationally transcendent words of MC Hammer: you can't touch this.

September's Here Again

Every September 1st, for the past some 20 odd years, I've listened to this song:

It seems to set a tone for fall, even if fall is truly still weeks away. The sound of David Sylvian's voice is nothing if not cooler weather, shorter days and distant memories of 20-something angst. Sigh. Those were the days.

In other news, I shared a photo last week from our Minnesota State-cation that looked something like this:

 

Every time we stopped to pose at a statue or an otherwise unnaturally large landmark, I begged the kids to do this pose. Why? I was recalling, in my mind, a shot taken from a 2002 road trip in front of an Iowa landmark of sorts, in which the kids were much smaller and doing a similar pose.

I finally dug out the shot I was remembering and was surprised that we really weren't quite re-creating it with much accuracy:

 

I guess the screaming of one child is close enough?

Still, look at how little those kids were back then.

 

Insert heavy, hormone-laden sigh here.

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Finally, thanks to all who responded to Day 1 of my campain for clean water with charity: water. Remember, $5 is all I'm asking for. And don't worry if it's not in the cards for you to donate this time. I realize the economy is tight. But for those who have donated, thank you so very much, and those who are considering it, remember: it's roughly the cost of a new package of scrapbook embellishments and a sheet or two of patterned paper. I'll be reminding blog readers over the course of the next three months, and drawing a name of those who donate to win a sweet box of scrapbooking goodness.

Cool? Cool. Scrapbookers do in fact rule.

Okay people…wrap it up and move along

As much as I'd like to milk the vacation wrap-up forever, it's time to git 'er movin' along. So today, I present the final installment of What I Did on My Summer Vacation aka The Recap Trifecta, if you will.

Above? Dan at the Mineview in the Sky, just outside of Eveleth. Did you know they mine up on the Iron Range? As in, dig in the earth mining? WHO KNEW?

And when they finish, sometimes the mine will fill in with water and look like this?

 

(At this point on our road trip, I said to Dan: "You know what makes road trips SO much easier? Living in the age of the iPod." To which he replied: "You know what else makes it easier? The fact that we didn't bring Bushwick Bill along for the ride.") Note: This is an extremely old inside road trip joke between me and Dan. No offense to Bill and the Geto Boys.

In Chisolm, we saw the Iron Man statue:

 

And then it was onto Grand Rapids, the childhood home of Judy Garland, where we saw the house she lived in until she was three years old.

 

We visited the Judy Garland Museum right next door and saw bits of memorabilia from her life, like this carriage which was the actual one they used in the Wizard of Oz when they rode into the city:

 

 

And Dan couldn't help himself at this stop's "Insert Head Here" opportunity, as he carefully channeled each of the character's key traits:

 

Then it was onto the Greyhound Bus Museum, in lovely Hibbing. Did you know Greyhound started in Minnesota? Well, now you do.

 

 

Aidan fell hard for a boy, but alas, road trip romance never lasts.

 

Then after a quick lunch at Zimmy's (a restaurant celebrating all things Bob Dylan, who also hails from Hibbing), we hit the road again.

We saw more big things on our way to Bemidji:

 

Even the biggest of 'em all: Paul and Babe.

 

Dan and I even had a chance to pose for a prom-like picture right between Paul's knees. Who wouldn't want this shot?

 

Then it was off to see the headwaters of the Mighty Mississippi River. Did you know it starts in Minnesota and that you can walk across it? Well, now you do.

 

 

As we turned our compass Southward, we found more statues:

 

(Note: her McCain shirt was in the laundry this day. FYI.)

 

(There's your big bird, babe.)

And I managed to capture some truly magical moments of sibling togetherness.

 

We worked our way back down to Nisswa, where Dan's grandmother's cabin was waiting to greet some energized and happy travelers. But not without a few more stops.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On our way home, we stopped in Garrison, on Lake Mille Lacs, and while we were about to leave, I saw a cute young couple with a baby, and the Dad was taking a picture of his lovely wife and child in front of another giant fish. I asked if he wanted me to take their picture. As I was framing the shot, I asked him: Do you want the whole fish or just the family? To which he gave me my favorite quote of the entire trip:

The family is more important than the fish.

Amen, brother. Amen.

And here's also to finding a magical vacation in your own backyard.

There's nothing more exciting than other people's travel photos

Welcome to What I Did on My Summer Vacation, Part One.

This year, we opted for an economical getaway and decided to vacation in our own backyard: to tour around the great state of Minnesota in search of history, kitschy photo opps, and general family bonding time.

Using the book Weird Minnesota as one of our travel guides, we planned a trip that would take us up Highway 61, through Duluth and beyond, then to head west through the Iron Range and back down to the Brainerd Lakes area where our family cabin is.

Along the way, we sought out stuff like this:

 

The Lindstrom Tea Kettle Water Tower, Lindstrom, Minn.

Our rule was if it was large, kitschy, made of fiberglass, or had holes where you had to put your head through, we stopped. Or, if they served booze.

 

In Rush City, we found a big fish:

 

In Pine City, we found a huge voyageur:

 

And in Mora we found a Dala Horse, which led to the catch phrase of the trip: "Where's your Dala Horse, babe?" spoken ala the guy from the Two A-Holes sketch from Saturday Night Live.

 

One of the other trip rules? No fast food. Sorry Mickey D's, but the Zielskes took a vow to eat in local cafes and off the path eateries, such as the lovely Sportsmen's Cafe in Mora:

Following lunch, we posed by more statues:

 

And filled up our tank at the Frank Lloyd Wright designed gas station in Cloquet:

 

Along the way, there was plenty of time for Cole-created sight gags:

 

 

Until we finally arrived in our first official stayover stop: the beautiful fresh water port city of Duluth, Minn.

 

 

We did a clever re-enactment of the famous lift bridge:

 

We walked around on the rocky shores:

 

We saw and toured a big boat (There's your big boat, babe.):

 

We took lots of pictures:

 

And we broke a few laws:

 

Duluth is a place I could SO live from June through August.

 

 

 

Throughout our first day we kept track of memorable quotes from assorted family members, and captured such gems as:

Aidan: "Why is Cole changing again?" Mom: "He doesn't like who he's become?"

Dan: "Do cowboys just call their hats 'hats'?"

Cole, informing us whether or not he would get out of the car at our stops throughout Day 1: "If there's a gift shop, I'm so there."

And so ends Day 1. Stay tuned for more Zielske Vacation Shenanigans, coming soon to this blog near you.

An amazingly super awesome blog post coming soon

I just have to wade through 1,000 or so snapshots, four feet of laundry, and a good three or four cups of super black coffee.

Deal? Deal.

Girl in the yard

I have nothing overly clever to write today. I'm moving a bit slowly this morning thanks to three and half glasses from an absolutely divine bottle of Nera d'Avola last night at warm and lovely gathering of old friends. Still, I wanted to share a few shots of my girlie from yesterday.

Maybe the depth of field was a little short on this, and the exposure is completely different from the previous shot, but I love it when she's in the mood for pics.

 

As she was getting dressed for the party, she decided to raid my closet and go all "Cathy." She said, "Look Mom, just like you... jeans and all."

The weird thing is, there was one shot we saw in the bunch, and we were both like, "Wow. It's me/you." I never see me in Aidan. I see a combo of me and Dan, but I don't really see me that often. On this one, I did, and so did she.

 

It's the jawline. It's MY jawline. Maybe not the chin aspect, because mine has a bunch of this annoying extra stuff underneath it now, but this profile... the jaw, the chin, the ear and the neck: MY GOD! She IS my child afterall! SUCH a relief to finally believe it.

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Next week, the Zielske family is taking off on a great Northern Minnesota road trip. Posting will be light depending on where and when I can find internet access. I hope to return with many good, highly entertaining tales and scrapworthy fodder.

Fotos from the Farmie

No, this isn't a scene from Field of Dreams before the field was created. It's the view from the backyard at Joanie and Papa's place a.k.a. The Farmie.

 

Joanie and Papa are my inlaws, parents to Dan and his four sibs, grandparents to many, and all around good Minnesota Lutherans of German and Noreweigan descent. This house was owned by Dan's grandmother Irene, and Papa grew up here. It's about an hour south of the Twin Cities from where we city slickers live, and it's simply a study in bucolic wonder.

Everywhere you look you find something interesting buried amid the farm junk. Like this:

Or this:

 

Or this, which is decidedly not buried:

Now I'm no Pioneer Woman, but I think everyone should also have a chance at least once in their lifetime to play in a cornfield, even if it is just feed corn.

 

 

 

And everyone should also witness a beer-totin' partially-trained farm dog in action:

 

The farm is definitely a place where we relax and unwind on unseasonably cool August days:

 

And last but not least, it's where we wrangle chickens:

 

Sorry, Cole. The answer as to whether or not you can have a chicken for a pet is still a sound 'no.'

R&R in the Northland

This past weekend, the Zielskes took a somewhat spur of the moment trip up to our family cabin in Lake Shore Village, just outside of Nisswa, Minn. Dan's grandparents lived in this quaint little house on Gull Lake for years, and Dan has as many years of fond summer memories spent here.

I didn't grow up on lakes. I also didn't grow up going to Northern Minnesota. And I didn't grow up doing anything remotely woodsy either. I stayed indoors with my sweet mother, where we just avoided insects and sleeping near nature of any sort.

Many weekends that Dan heads up north, I stay home. It's not that I don't like my relatives. I do. I adore them. They are the most amazing family you could ever hope to marry into. But I'm one of those sorts who avoids crowds whenever possible, and on major holiday weekends, you never know if there's a bed for your head, and for me that's a bit of a stressor.

But this past weekend, Dan's sister Debbie was headed up with my cute nephew Nick, and his girlfriend, and said, "Cathy, it's going to be quiet weekend…why don't you come up?"

Combine that with the forecasted highs of lower 70s and no humidity? It was a no brainer.

And it was the nicest weekend I've had in a long time.

We played games at night, like Mad Gab and Balderdash. Notice the intense concentration of the teams on boys versus girls:

(Yes, Cole finds he plays better while wearing a helmut. One can never be too cautious!)

We admired Great Grandma Boeder's massive costume jewelry collection:

We went into Nisswa for pizza at Raffertys, some general shop browsing and a round of mini golf at Pirate's Cove. And, Dan channeled his inner Bret Michaels:

Despite the unseasonably cool weather, there was still time for outdoor fun:

 

Even I got into the nature spirit by taking my coffee on the deck.

 

And we did some good old fashioned bonding:

And one of the best parts about going up north? Men doing dishes.

Note to self: we need to get away more often. It's good for the collective souls to get away from city life. I'm certain I grow mentally with every trip up there. I think I can prove it by the fact that I only Tweeted two or three times.

That's what I call being in touch with Nature.

Patriot Games

Oh, how I love having mad graphic skillz…

My friend Candice Stringham wrote a great article in a past issue of Creating Keepsakes magazine about creating your own 4th of July photoshoot. She threw up a huge flag in some nice open shade and shot friends and family. (See more here.) I knew I had to take the idea and run with it at our annual neighborhood get-together. So I made my sign, packed up my camera, and off I went, and here are some of the highlights.

First, I present the patriotic boy:

Next, the corresponding girl:

After that, we have the patriotic mom:

And finally, the patriotic dweeb, er, Dad:

But the fun didn't stop there! We had more…

The slightly confused and/or British patriot:

 

The impossibly adorable patriot:

 

The moderately reluctant teen-aged patriot:

 

The baby patriot:

 

And finally, the other impossibly adorable and overly happy patriot (aka the baby patriot's daddy):

 

Thank you, Candice, for such a fun idea! It's sure to become a tradition at our neighborhood gathering, which was, by the way, hosted by these people:

The loving hosts of awesomeness patriots:

 

Hope you had a delightful holiday weekend.