I have been spending a lot of my time lately on the business side of things. Once you start making music for a living you find yourself with less and less time to make music due to all that ‘living’ implies.
But I finally got some web stuff ironed out. The cumbersome download process for the Stumbling Service has been streamlined. My wife is on a retreat and the kids are out of the house. It’s quiet. Seems like a good time to write a song.
My ukulele was the closest instrument. I started strumming. And singing. Writing. Editing. Editing. Editing. Googling ‘trailer park.’ And so on.
And now I get to check something off my to do list.
Next on the list?
Install railing on basement stairs for mother-in-law.
My 5 year old and I took off for the weekend in “Our Lady of Disrepair.” “Our Lady of Disrepair” is our 86 VW Vanagon Weekender. We love her. (Her actual name is Gomer as in Hosea 1:2,3. Not the most faithful vehicle and I’m convinced plenty of others lust for her.)
Our first stop was Maplewood State Park. We’d camped here once before and it is one of our favorite MN parks. We biked around a bit. Pondered this sign:
Identity Issues
And did a little wading:
It was perfect camping weather. Nice and cool. In the morning we went for a swim in Lake Lida. Still cool. Down right cold. Carpe Diem.
Onward to Walhalla ND and the Rendezvous Arts and Heritage Festival where I was playing and MC’ing.
We were poking along just fine. Then about 20 miles south of Grand Forks the gas pedal went loose and dropped down to the floor. Zero acceleration. Hazards on, I coasted to the side of the road. There’s a reason we refer to Gomer as “Our Lady of Disrepair.” Stranded on the side of the I-29 in ND with a 5 year old is not my dream situation. Unless of course that dream is a nightmare. I was a little stressed. Thankfully she took it all in stride:
Dad: “Looks like we need to call a tow truck honey.”
Daughter: “Oh goodie, I’ve never ridden in a tow truck before!”
I went ahead and bought her a pony.
If you need to wait for a tow truck, I recommend doing so in a Vanagon. We popped up the table, played Farkel, ate bing cherries, and chatted with State Troopers. There are worse ways to spend a summer afternoon.
In about 1/2 an hour Jason and his tow truck arrived and the folks at the Cenex on 32nd took fine care of us.
Thankfully no parts were needed. The accelerator cable had simply come loose and they were able to get us in right away, fix it fast, and barely charge us. I love ND.
We spent the next 24 hours in Walhalla. Not nearly enough time, but a wonderful time all the same. I got to play cards with my favorite mother in law, eat the best corn of the summer so far at the firefighters’ fund raiser, and the Art and Heritage Festival was great. Tons of local artists displaying their work, offering demonstrations, and inviting artists of all ages into hands on lessons.
As it wrapped up Saturday evening Elsa and I headed back to Fargo to spend the night. Sunday morning we headed east on 10 and I led music at Glyndon Lutheran where my friend Jeni is the pastor. One of the highlights was an infant baptism where they sat the naked baby right in the fount a la bath time. Apparently it’s a 3rd century tradition. Who knew? Jeni for one. And now we all do. I am a little curious how this translates into adult baptisms.
Back in the Vanagon again Elsa and I made the final leg of the journey. Stopping at Dunn Bros in Alec (Or as non-locals call it: Alexandria) the barista asked if I needed anything with my coffee. I asked for someone to drive me to St. Paul. She said no. I tipped her anyway.
The whole parenting-camping-driving-working-weekend thing is a bit exhausting, but we made it home safe and sound and all in all it was a great trip. Tow truck and all.
On Saturday the Houge Four returned from a week at Outlaw Ranch near South Dakota. It was spectacular as always. Great folks, great conversations, great music and songwriting sessions… A stellar week. (Sidenote: If your family is looking for a great vacation next summer, check out family camp at Outlaw!)
One of the beautiful things that happens at camp is that someone else cooks for you. And they do it well! If I had a camp name it’d be “Seconds.” ‘Cause who doesn’t like seconds? Coming back from all that love – I mean food – is there a difference? – and inspired by a couple great conversations on homemade bread and pizza I decided to do some baking yesterday and brushed off this recipe for Oatmeal Molasses Bread. The beauty of molasses is that it makes your bread dark. And when your bread is dark people assume it’s healthier and that you’re a better person for it. Then you go and sprinkle oatmeal on top. Seals the deal. Bonafide whole grain huggin’ hippy you are. Fooled ’em all. It’s white bread gone brown due to all the sugar. And it’s killer toasted with raspberry jam and a slice of sharp cheddar.
OATMEAL MOLASSES BREAD
Ingredients:
2 cups warm water
6-8 cups bread flour
2 1/4 tsp yeast (one packet)
1 cup oatmeal
1/3 cup dry milk
1 Tbl salt
1 Tbl olive oil
1 Tbl honey
3 Tbl molasses
2 eggs
Whisk 2 cups warm water, 2 cups bread flour, and yeast in large mixing bowl. Cover (I use a plastic bag) and rest for an hour. At this time set out eggs so that they come to room temperature. After an hour, add oatmeal, dry milk, salt, olive oil, honey, molasses and eggs and mix well with a big spoon. Begin adding flour 1 cup at a time. When you get to six, be careful not to add too much. I like to use to mix with a spoon as long as possible and then dump the gloppy mess on to the counter and begin kneading it. You want the final dough to be on the wet side – just barely sticky. Knead it for 5 minutes or so. The wetter the dough the less kneading needed.
Oil up that bowl, put the dough in, stick a bag on top (retains moisture better than a towel), and let it rise till doubled.
Doubled already? Sweet. Now divide the dough in two equal parts, you egalitarian hippy you. Form two balls of dough and place them on parchment paper on a cookie sheet. Sprinkle them with oatmeal if you want to look cool and make friends. Give them space. (The balls of dough, not your cool new friends. If they’re really cool, space won’t be an issue.) Cover with a towel. (Again, the balls of dough.)
Let these soon to be devoured boules (Now that you’re making friends we’ll move beyond terms like ‘balls of dough’) hang out for about 45 minutes. About 15 minutes into that time preheat your oven to 375 F. Spoiler alert: If you’re going to throw ice into your oven later you should slide another baking sheet on the bottom of your oven now.
The boules look ripe? The oven is hot? Shazaam. Use a razor blade and slash the top of your loaves so that they can blow up a bit when they get into that hot oven. (That’s a little thing bakers call Oven Spring, or in the case of Amish Friendship bread: Ovenspringa.) Right after I put the loaves in I also throw a handful of ice cubes into the bottom of our oven to up the steam factor which in turn ups the chew factor. Yum. (If you’re baking something with less sugar in it and you’re at 450 0r so the steam also gives you a killer crust. At the temperatures we’re using for OatMol it seems to have less of that effect. That’s my experience. Yours may differ. I honor your story. Let’s move on.)
Bake at 375 for 25 minutes. Then take the loaves off the baking sheet and place directly on the oven rack. Reduce heat to 325 and bake for another 15 minutes.
For some dumb reason my summer has been short on biking. Lot’s of short run-an-errand rides and what not, but very few rides for fun and distance. Along with that I haven’t been working on bikes nearly as much as I normally do. Thankfully I had a chance meeting with two forlorn alley bikes that I tore down yesterday and should be ready for a new rider tomorrow. It’s nice to have a little grease under the fingernails again. And that odd citrus degreaser taste to the uncovered cup of coffee on your work bench. I’m sure it’s clearing out my arteries as we speak.
But even cooler than my dinking around the garage is that this last weekend we stuck the tag-a-long on the back of my bike for Elsa. Her legs are finally long enough. Now she can pedal along with me. This is huge. Last summer we couldn’t really bike as a family because she was too young to keep up on her little bike and old enough to reject sitting passively in the trailer. But now she can keep up. She can ride along. She’s in and active. She loves it. I love it. Feel the love people.
This sparked in her a sense of freedom. The power of going fast. She subsequently realized her training wheels were holding her back. And now they’re off. Hurray!
She still needs my hand on the back of her bike but she’s growing in confidence. And now that they’re off there’s no going back.
I think I’m more stoked about this than she is. I’m okay with that.
Here are the finisher’s of the 1st Annual Grandpa’s Minithon. My dad (bottom left) is an avid distance runner and hiker. This year he was all set to go for another running of Grandma’s Marathon up in Duluth. Unfortunately a torn calf muscle put a crimp on those plans. So my brother (middle right) and I came up with Grandpa’s Minithon. We moved the decimal over one to create a 2.62 mile course. Initially Dad was going to run it and we were all heading up the water stops but at the last minute I decided to run it with him. And then Ben joined. And then Jutta jumped in.
Lydia made us race numbers that we pinned on to our shirts. Instead of timing chips we were each given a handful of potato chips to eat as we crossed the starting line. The first stop was at Mojo Monkeys for a chocolate donut. The next stop was at McDonalds for milkshakes, but apparently no one had clued in this location on being a fast-food destination and after a 10 minute wait we decided to carry on without them. (Not to mention the donuts weren’t sitting so well with us at this point.)
A mad dash to the finish, an awards ceremony, and a round of celebratory drinks at Skinners followed.
We’re already looking forward to next years. (With plans for water balloons, a bacon station, and a found object requirement)
This is one of few races I’ve run with my Dad, but definitely my favorite. Cheers!
Here’s a shot from one of the 3 Holden Youth Weekends I just returned from. Huge thanks to the folks at Trinity Lutheran College for putting this on, Holden for hosting and welcoming me into the community during the in between days, and all the youth and adults that participated!
A bonus thank you to Nancy at Delta in St. Paul for tracking down my guitar during it’s 20 minutes of wandering between uninformed baggage claimers and jackassed gate checkers. Man alive, airports are inhumane. I need a Smith’s shirt with the quote, “I am human and I need to be loved,” for my next trip through the airport. Let’s make that happen folks.
Thank you all, check your pulse, hug a loved one, Nate.
Here’s a shot of my daughters on our recent camping and tour excursion to North Dakota. We camped well, stayed dry, stayed warm, and came home happy to see Jodi. As always.
After my show in Walhalla one person asked me what I love about this job. Well…. Just about everything! The travel, the music, writing songs, meeting new people, hearing new stories… It’s a great gig.
But it’s not my only gig. Notice the two girls in the photo? Yeah. They (like it or not) require a bit of parenting. My wife and I continue to balance our lives. You don’t need to have kids to know how hard that can be sometimes.
I’d really love to have my monthly newsletter out on the first of the month. But then my work hours on Tuesday disappear when one of the girls is home sick. It would be great to take the gig on Friday… but my daughter’s going to be on stage at school.
This morning was a rough one. Jodi at a conference (day 3) 1 kid misses the bus, the other has a minor meltdown due to a misplaced toothbrush. Trying to get both of them into the car with my guitar in hand while calling the day care I’m supposed to be playing at in 5 minutes and saying I’m running late…
But that’s life. That’s my job. My work. Calling. Vocation. Whatever you call it.
Not perfect, and today was rough, but all in all? Good. Sometimes I need to be reminded.
So here’s a song for me. And maybe you to. Wherever you are at in life, I hope you can see the good.
And if I ever get May’s newsletter together you can sign up for it here:
Today I’m bustin’ my kids out of school and heading to North Dakota via the MN State Park system. Our Lady of Disrepair is all loaded up (almost). I bought an extra tarp and bungee chords in case of bad weather. I’ve got a guitar and a box of CD’s for Wednesday night’s concert in Walhalla. And as of this morning I’ve decided to leave the lap top behind. As much as I want to take advantage of the girls partying with Grandma while I get some work done, I’m realizing that everyday I get more attached to my digital world. So in an attempted act of detachment I’m cutting myself off. I’ll still have my phone (and my AAA card). But for the most part I’ll stick to pen and paper and catch up on some letter writing. If you’d like to get a postcard from ND e-mail me your address today (4-24-12) with Postcard in the subject line and I’ll see if I can’t get something in the mail to you. A little Ephemera to brighten your day.
I love our Vanagon, but there’s a reason we named her, “Our Lady of Disrepair.” Over the winter I resealed the gas tank, replaced the fuel lines, sent the injectors off to be cleaned, installed a fuel regulator, new shocks, upper ball joints, and new front speakers. But it’s still running rough. Temporary fix: Turn up the new speakers.
I’ve been feeling defeated by this. But I just got off the phone with my mechanic (who is now on the phone with his Travel Agent) and I’ve got an appointment. And I get to hand it all off. And I feel very relieved. Surrender can be a good thing.
Small wheels, short cranks, and low gear ratios make for a slow bike no matter how fast you pedal. Perhaps you’ve jogged alongside a four year old on her first bike. She’s cranking her legs off and you can still pretty much keep up. But if you get on your adult bike and try to pedal alongside her you find that you can’t quite go slow enough. And it’s not fun. And biking is supposed to be fun.
My youngest is at this stage. When she’s on her bike she’s too fast for me to comfortably walk with and if I get on my bike I’m too fast. Either way there’s too much distance between us. So I made a new bike. And it leveled the playing field.
When I ride my tiny bike I am slow. I am limited. But I get to be alongside my daughter. (Okay, I’ll admit, in this video I barely keep up with her…) And that’s super fun. A part of me gets to be a kid again. The thought of getting on a bigger faster bike is wonderful, but only because I know I still have this little bike available too.
I think in a way Jesus is God’s way of riding a tiny bike. God was tired of the distance and wanted to ride alongside us all the way to the end. Today is Maundy Thursday. The day we remember Jesus’ command to follow his example. One way we do this is by loving and welcoming others unconditionally. Gay, straight, black, white, smart, dumb, democrat, republican, this, that, and the other. We ride side by side. And in a way I feel that in this act of loving others we give Jesus an opportunity to ride that all too small bike once again. And I think he loves it. And I think it levels the playing field.
