Introducing Saffron Viola Blume

Here's the first of many pictures of the new Baby Blume.

You'll find some more on JoAnne's photo page -

http://picasaweb.google.com/joblume24/Day1SaffronViola

Proud Mom and Dad with little Saffron

Grandma and Grandpa take turns
introducing themselves to the newest family member.

She's Here!!!

Today we welcome a brand new member to our clan.
(This time it's not a Dachshund puppy)
At about 4am Saturday (August 30, 2008) Derek and Jeanna became Mom and Dad to Saffron Viola Blume. The vital statistics are: weight - 7lbs. 3ozs. height - 19 1/2 inches. I'm not sure about the motivation for naming her Saffron. I didn't think that Mom and Dad were old enough to relate to Donovan's song, "Mellow Yellow", from the 60's so I immediately ran to Wikipedia. This didn't help much but I did learn that Saffron is a spice derived from a Crocus flower and is the most expensive spice by weight. No doubt this little 7 pound 3 ounce bundle of Saffron is just as priceless to our entire family. The middle name, Viola, is quite understandable. Both JoAnne's and my Mother are named Viola. (How's that for a coincidence?) We all look forward to seeing how Prince Snoopy and Princess Tina welcome the newcomer to their realm. Seeing as how we just received the news a little over an hour ago, no pictures are available but be assured that there will be plenty coming in the near future. In the mean time...."Here's Saffron!"

Oh Yeah!!!

That's all I have to say after last night's "come from behind" Grand Slam.

Bark, Bark, Bark!

Wow! I haven't posted for a long time. But I do have all kinds of excuses. There's been a Baptism, the Lands' End Harris Park Sale, a couple of Cub's games, a surprise birthday party, an ongoing baby wait and most of all, a BIG "Blog Block". The baptism involved one really cute kid from Seattle. Caiden, the son of Sally's best friend Lisa, was Baptized at our old church down in Arlington Heights, Illinois. (Photos at left show Caiden before and after Baptism) It was a quick one day roundtrip drive to the Chicago area for Jo and I, but a long trip back to Minneapolis for Sally and Uncas.
Although I promised myself that I'd never go back to "real" work again, I broke down and volunteered to work at the big Lands' End warehouse sale. With all of you as my witnesses, I solemnly vow to never do that again. After one day of standing in a tent hanging pants on hangers for eight hours I could hardly walk across the parking lot to my car. (Old feet aren't built for eight hours of standing.) Fortunately, after two and a half days the sale was going so well that my services weren't needed any longer. It only took me three or four days to recuperate. After adding up the purchases that Jo and I made, it cost me less than a hundred bucks to work for the two and a half days.
The two Cub's games were, well, typical Cub's games. Win a few, lose a few. Actually, win one, lose one. Nothing out of the ordinary other than a close encounter with a linedrive foul ball, a
one hour rain delay and a nonstop jabbering lady behind us. But, the trip to Chicago, in itself, was kind of special. We found a little "Boutique" hotel just off of the Outer Drive, walking distance to Wrigley Field, was accessible to wonderful restaurants and just across The Drive from the lake front. The games were just the tip of the weekend iceberg. Since around April the kids and I have been planning a surprise birthday party for Jo's sixtieth. My main job was to get Jo out of the house for a couple of days and deliver her back home on Saturday afternoon while Sally and Uncas would drive down to Fennimore on Friday to prepare food, decorations etc. and Derek and Jeanna were supposed to have a baby. Mine was the easy job. The Cub's games would take care Thursday and Friday. Friday night, my sister Mary and Hubby Jim would go to dinner with us and put us up at their house for the night. Saturday morning we visited my mom. This is where things got a little goofy. Unknown to Jo, my sister, my nephew, his wife and son were waiting for us to leave so they could head up to the party. We were delayed getting over to visit my mom and before I knew it, my stalling tactics had backfired and suddenly I was running late. In an effort to waste some time I had suggested that we go to my old neighborhood to take some pictures of the changes that have taken place in the area. But, after visiting my mom, we were already close to an hour behind schedule. Mary and her family were on their way and many of the "Surprisers" were arriving for the party. When I started East towards the picture taking excuse, I realized that I had to get home as soon as possible and going to take pictures would put us over two hours late with forty some people waiting for lunch. I wisely became violently ill and suggested that we head straight home and skip the photo shoot until sometime when I felt better. Jo went for it and even asked if she should drive. Not necessary. Besides she probably wouldn't have driven as fast as I did. I didn't stop until the "Low Fuel" light went on in Madison and while Jo was in the convenience store getting a soda "for my stomach" I called Sally to alert her of our position. We made it home just about an hour late but the party was a success and Jo was completely surprised.
As of this posting Derek and Jeanna are still awaiting the arrival of "Baby Blume".
OH! And the bark, bark thing... It seems that after the party was over and the guests had left Jo, Sally, Uncas and I were rehashing the events of the day. I noticed a baggie on the kitchen counter containing, what I thought was, chocolate covered peanuts. Not being able to resist one of my favorite munchies, I opened the bag and popped one of the little delights into my mouth. It took mere seconds for me to realize that that little morsel wasn't a chocolate covered peanut, but a liver doggy treat for little Sammy the dachshund puppy. Ich, spit, yuck!
Here's some pics to look at while I go gargle.

Traffic jams in Chicago aren't limited to the Expressways.

The unsuspecting Birthday Girl enjoys the Lake Front

It must have been something I ate!

Open That Checkbook, Lands' End!

I've been biting my lip, holding my tongue, even crossing my legs and in general, keeping my mouth shut concerning Wisconsin's "Favreite" son. Being a Bears fan, I've had my opinion about the on again, off again retirement. Over the course of the last month or so, I've sided with the Bret then with the Pack then back again to Bret and back to the pack. It wasn't until late this past week that I realized how much this conflict could effect me. Rumor has it that the Packers have offered Bret twenty million dollars not come out of retirement. How does this effect me? Well, I'm retired and Lands' End has moved along without me. So, I'm in the process of preparing a letter to them threatening coming out of retirement. Sure they have anew team on board and they have their game in place. I didn't miss a game for ten years (only one short stint on the DL), I ad libbed most of the time and threw my share of interceptions. I'm qualified! Let's just say that I've got an itch to Art Direct. If I can get Eddie Lambert to reinstate me . . . for a large chunk of cash, I will agree to stay retired. I am willing to negotiate the exact figure. I can manage on less than twenty mil. (Quite a bit less) Unless LE comes up with an offer, I will show up a the Annual Warehouse Clearance Event this week. Until they come to their senses and make me an offer, I'll be there everyday working out with the new team, matching them bargain for bargain. If all goes according to plan, my future blogs will be posted from Maui.

"I got the itch to Art Direct again!"

Swish, Swosh, Swish!!!

I'm not sure if that's the sound of the Cubs sweeping the series with the Brewers or the sound of the Brewer's bats missing fastballs and sliders. At any rate, it's been a pleasant week up here in "Cheese World". Admittedly, the Brews threw some pretty heavy stuff at our Boys in Blue. A two hundred ninety pound, seemingly unbeatable, hurler, an All Star game starter, last year's rookie of the year and a Prince of a first baseman. And on the other side of the field, Bang! Crack! Slam! and almost, Ouch! Even the Chicago style Hot Dog took two out of three sausage races from the Brat. Brewer fans should look at the brighter side of this. The crew will be to able take advantage of the early hunting season in October. Maybe CC, Ben, Ryan and Corey can join Bret out in the woods. Well it's time to suit up and get the old TV warmed up for todays game.
See ya in da bleachers!!!

All was quiet in Fennimore Thursday evening . . .

except on the corner of 10th and Grant!

Hidden Treasures

The other night Jo suggested that we get together with a couple of friends for lunch next weekend. The mention of them sparked a thought in my usually idle bean. You see, our friends, (to protect their anonymity, we'll call Jim and Rhonda) own and operate a pizza place. In itself that's not very unusual but, what is unusual is that their place has no identity outside of the town where it lies. Now, don't get me wrong, everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) that lives or ever has lived in or around their town knows and loves their pizza.
To make things even more interesting, the little "shop" isn't in town but a mile or two from downtown and has no sign or any other indication that it even exists. They don't deliver, you can't eat in, but ask anyone in the area and they can recite the phone number without giving it a thought. I could tell you what road it is on and defy you to find it although it sits only a few feet off the road in plain site. Anyway the thought of their "mystery pizza place" reminded me of a number of similar places that I had run across in the past. Unfortunately most of them fell into the evil grasp of success which eventually choked them to death. (or at least altered the quality and flavors that made them special originally) Some of my earliest recollections of such places were in downtown Chicago. There was "Sasha's" which you entered through an alley just a block off "The Magnificent Mile". Once inside you were greeted by pure elegance and gourmet food. Sasha's was noted for it's exquisite soups. A few blocks away, on Rush Street, mostly known for it's night clubs and bars, two more real treasures were nestled among the dozens of bars. The first one was simply called "The Shrimp House" and that's what it was, simply a shrimp house. It looked like a little house and it sold shrimp. Another two blocks north was, at least in my mind, the jewel of Rush Street, "The Bon Ton" which from the street resembled a little pastry shop. Once inside, you were met face to face with a display case filled with eclairs, napoleon slices and an assortment of cookies and other sugary delights. That was cool but no surprise for a place that looked like a pastry shop. The surprise was a few steps beyond the display case where there were six or seven small tables filled with "in-the-know" patrons feasting away on Kabobs and Goulash. That was pretty much the menu. Lamb or beef Kabobs or Hungarian Goulash with Spatzel. The good part was that while you waited for a table you could munch away on some of the pastries. Getting hungry? Let's head three or four blocks west. What a difference a few blocks can make. We just left the magnificence of Michigan Avenue and the glitz of Rush Street for the gloom of north Clark Street. The street is dark by comparison to it's eastern neighbors, the bars, restaurants and chic shops are replaced by nondescript store fronts and seedy hotels. The area falls just short of a "Skid Row" designation. A small neon sign in the window of one of the store fronts flickers, and a group of fairly well-dressed folks form a line along the dimly lit street. This is the home of "Ding Ho", a small (eight or ten four seat tables at the most) Chinese restaurant serving some of the best food in the area. Like The Bon Ton, you brought your own beer, wine or liquor. Glasses and openers were provided. On any given night you would probably run across artists, photographers, writers and musicians some of which were pretty famous some were just hungry. On most evenings you might notice a shadowy bearded figure at a corner table chop sticks in one hand and a pen in the other. A sketch pad shared the small table with eggrolls and some other steaming dishes. A closer look determines that the bearded diner was Shel Silvertein, the cartoonist, songwriter, kid's book creator, who ate there anytime he was in Chicago. Hey, I'm getting off track. I could go on and on about places like these in Chicago. Back in those days (the 50s and 60s) you could go from neighborhood to neighborhood a discover some kind of hidden eatery. Usually the were related to the ethnicity of the neighborhood and only known to those living in the area. But, let's get back to the truly hidden places, like my friends pizza place. I think the phenomenon more common in small town locations. Back in the 50s and 60s a lot of what are now suburbs of Chicago were actually small towns. Two such places immediately come to mind. They were both in Palatine, Illinois (which is were Jo and her family moved in the 50s). At that time once you left the municipal area you were out in the "country". Right on the edge of town was medium sized two-story house. Nothing special but if you watched it for a while you would notice people going in and coming out in twenty minutes or so with kind of a satisfied look on their faces. Aha! A house of pleasure. Upon closer investigation I discovered that it certainly was a house of pleasure. That pleasure being one of the best hamburgers that you'll ever chomp into. I later found out that the place was called Brandts. Not a big surprise considering the family that ran the place were named Brandt. They lived upstairs and had a small bar and a few tables downstairs and only served burgers. As the area grew and Palatine became a large suburb rather than a small Brandt's secret got out and as it became a "hep" place for the growing yuppy population the menu also grew expanding to steaks, salads and seafood. I'm not sure if it's still there but the last time I drove by I did see that progress had reared it ugly head. A small neon sign that read "Brandts" was in one of the first floor windows, a neon beer sign (imported) glowed in another and quite a few BMWs and Volvos were parked outside. A mile or two west on the highway was, what could have been a distant relative to Jim and Rhonda's place. This was Charlotte's. Charlotte's sold pizza and lots of it. Unlike J and R's it was fairly large and had eat-in capabilities. But like J and R's it had no signage and you could pass by without being aware that it even existed. I'm not an expert about the place but JoAnne grew up with Charlotte's and a little drop of drool forms at the corner of her mouth when I mention it. I may have been there once with Jo not too long before it fell to either the wreckers ball or a stray match. I guess I've run on long enough. Hopefully I may have caused you to remember similar places in your past. Right now I'm getting a little hungry. Too bad I don't know J and R's secret phone number. I guess I'll have to run down to Brandt's for a burger.