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Minneapolis

Moms know best

May 14, 2016 by Lisa Leave a Comment

Balcony garden

My mom always advised, “Don’t plant your garden until Mother’s Day.”

She was in town last weekend and helped me set up the balcony garden. We walked through the aisles of Home Depot’s garden department for an hour and a half, admiring, choosing and weighing the pros and cons. But mostly just admiring.

“Look at that beautiful strawberry plant. It looks so happy. You need it. Yes. You need it. Put it in the cart”

And so, the balcony garden came to be.

Mom is wise when it comes to the ways of plants. She’s not afraid to dig her hands into the dirt. She scoffs at those who wear “gardening gloves.”

Under her tutelage I’ve come to understand the value of proper drainage and the necessity of talking to your plants. Positive affirmation goes a long way in reaching full bloom potential. It really does.

For all her wisdom, it turns out, the “no garden before Mother’s Day rule” doesn’t apply to Minnesota.

The #balconygarden came inside last night, and will probably do the same tonight. Temperatures can reach below freezing in mid-May up here in the North. And so, I’ve spent most of the day watching Netflix and painting my nails.

As a plant mom, it’s hard to see your babies cooped up inside, away from the direct sunlight. But you have to do what’s best for them, you know?

I’ve told them that the forecast looks promising – that they’ll be tall and lush and vibrant in no time. I didn’t mention The Evil Squirrels of Loring Park. It’s best not to focus on the negative. And plus, when they’re inside – as long as the squirrels don’t get in through the hole they ate in the screen of my kitchen window – they’re safe.

Posted in: What I'm thinking Tagged: Balcony Garden, Balcony Life, Minneapolis, What I'm Thinking

The night I caucused

March 5, 2016 by Lisa 1 Comment

Gym caucus

Minnesota held its presidential caucuses Tuesday night – on Super Tuesday. I was pretty excited about fulfilling my civic duty, and being part of this country’s biggest primary election day.

SUUUPER TUUUESDAYYYYY

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 1, 2016

Like, really excited.

Getting excited to get my caucus on! #SuperTuesday

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 1, 2016

I enjoy politics. I like knowing what’s going on in the world and I care about how this country and the community around me are run. Nearly every aspect of our lives is in some way influenced by the decisions of our elected leaders. It’s important to know why and how. It’s important to have a say in these decisions. At the risk of sounding like your civics teacher, voting is a privilege. It’s a right that shouldn’t be taken for granted.

My maternal grandmother was born in 1919, the year before the 19th Amendment was ratified and women gained the right to vote. Think about that. It wasn’t very long ago – two generations – that I, by virtue of my genitalia, would have been precluded from voting. And that fact doesn’t even begin to shed light upon the many groups of people who – around the world and throughout our nation’s history – have been denied the vote because of the color of their skin, social class or country of origin.

I exercise my right to choose my leaders and vote on issues that affect my life, with pride.

Sure, politics and political discourse can be frustrating and ridiculous. Congress doesn’t get anything done and the candidates just tell us what we want to hear. But – to be honest – I enjoy a good political train wreck and the spectacle of it all. It’s entertaining.

And somehow I find a way to hold in real and honest tension my political idealism with a skeptical view of the pageantry and squabbles of politics.

caucus night

This was my first time caucusing. In fact, I don’t have much experience going to the polls at all. Throughout college and graduate school I maintained my Nebraska residency and thus voted absentee. I’ve been looking forward to caucus night since last June when Donald Trump descending that escalator, announced his campaign for the presidency and then said he would build a wall along the Mexico border to keep out the rapists and murderers.

By definition a caucus is a meeting of the members of a political party. In reality it was a less organized, more chaotic primary election followed by a discussion of party business and platforms. The caucusing process varies by state, political party and even precinct.

I caucused for the DFL, the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party. The DFL is affiliated with the Democratic Party. It is one of only two state Democratic party affiliates – the other being North Dakota – with a different name than the national party.

In my excitement, I resolved to document my caucus experience.

Are there rules against live-tweeting and snapchatting a #caucus? Asking for a friend.#SuperTuesday

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 1, 2016

Hundreds of people gathered in the parking lot of the elementary school, waiting to cast their vote.

Hundreds of people gathered in the parking lot of the elementary school, waiting to cast their vote.

On Tuesday night I walked the few blocks from our apartment to my caucus location – an elementary school. It was dark and the neighborhood was buzzing with more activity than usual. I arrived at the school 25 minutes early. Two separate DFL caucuses were held at the school that night – one in the gym and one in the cafeteria. Hundreds of people stood in long lines in the parking lot.  A few volunteers shouted over the winding crowds, attempting to guide people into the correct line based on their address.

Making new #caucus friends while waiting in line to get in. #SuperTuesday #MNCaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

It was cold outside – about 20 degrees – but the atmosphere energetic. I chatted with the girl standing behind me. The crowd seemed representative of my urban neighborhood – millennial and white. I surmised from the conversations and paraphernalia around me, that many people had come out to support Bernie Sanders. The final vote tally would confirm these suspicions.

I stood outside for about a half hour, rocking back and forth to stay warm. I waited another ten minutes inside the gymnasium.

Waiting inside the elementary school gym to cast our caucus vote. Note the diehard Minnesotan who wore sandals on this 20 degree night.

Waiting inside the gym to cast our caucus vote. Note the die-hard Minnesotan who wore sandals on this frigid night.

I wasn’t alone in my inexperience. Many of the people around me in line had never caucused before either. We were enthusiastic, but not quite sure what we were doing. No one had given us instructions or told us what would happen when we got to the front of the line. We were ready to stand up for our candidates, but the whole process was fairly unclear.

The artwork of elementary school children lined the walls as I waited to cast my vote. It was a happy and poignant reminder that voting is a civic duty - an act of hopefully - ensuring the common good and well-being of future generations.

The artwork of elementary school children lined the walls as I waited to cast my vote. It was a happy and poignant reminder that voting is a civic duty and an act of hope. In its most idealistic sense, voting is about the common good and ensuring the well-being of future generations.

When I reached the front of the line it dissolved into a confusing and unorganized clump of people. Inside a small hallway, volunteers spoke loudly over the crowd.

“If you’re already registered to vote, go to this end of the table. If you’re not, go to that end.” 

People stood around the table asking questions. Others wandered through the hallway without an obvious purpose.

The first step in casting a caucus vote was verifying your identity and signing in.

The first step in casting a caucus vote is verifying your identity.

I stepped up to the table and I found my name on the electoral roll.  I signed next it – confirming my identity, address and that I generally agree with the party’s principles.

Verifying that I am registered to vote.

Verifying that I am registered to vote.

With no intention of starting a debate or even a discussion of political ideologies, here is my ballot:

My ballot. Casting my vote was a very open, formal process. I was handed this small piece of paper and after finding a pen in my purse, I selected my candidate and dropped the "ballot" in a cardboard box.

Voting was a very open, informal process. I was handed this small piece of paper. After digging around in my purse for a pen and using a nearby wall as flat surface, I selected my candidate. I dropped my ballot in a hastily decorated cardboard box.

After casting my vote, a volunteer directed me back into the gym.

The gym was small. It’s lacquered wooden floor was covered in bright lines and numbers. Posters lauding the merits self-control and kindness hung on the wall. The scene brought back happy memories of elementary school and my favorite subject – P.E.

Of the 525 people who voted in my caucus, about 10 percent stuck around to participate in the actual caucusing. Most voted and left – a completely valid and acceptable option.

Waiting for the caucusing to begin.

Waiting for the caucusing to begin.

Brown folding chairs, set up in no apparent pattern or method of organization, filled one end of the gym.

Once most of the chairs were occupied, a woman stood up and welcomed us to the caucus. She began by reading a note from the DFL Party Chair. Her voice was un-amplified and difficult to hear over the chatter and movement of the people at the other end of the gym who were still in line waiting to cast their ballot. She strained to be louder as she outlined how the caucus would proceed and highlighted the DFL’s Affirmative Action and Inclusion Statement.

“How many of you have been to a caucus before?”

Few hands raise#SuperTuesday #MNCaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

A donation bucket was passed.

“All proceeds support the DFL party. We need to pay the janitorial staff who’ll clean up after us tonight.” 

I chatted with the people sitting next to me. The caucus participants were much older – on average – than the people who had been waiting outside to vote.

Man sitting next to me asks me who I’m here for. He looks dejected when I say Hillary. #SuperTuesday #MNCaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

Caucus position

A candidate for the School Board spoke briefly. He was spry and passionate. His wife and son helped him hand out campaign fliers on their way out.

The grey haired people in the room are guiding us millennials through this process. #SuperTuesday #MNCaucus #DFLcaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

The woman leading the caucus asked for volunteers to fill the roles of secretary, chair and vice chair of our DFL precinct. She also needed delegates to the Minneapolis DFL convention. She didn’t offer a detailed explanation of these roles and few people were stepping forward. There weren’t any explicit requirements or background checks. You didn’t even have to give your name prior to volunteering. It was all very informal.

And that’s how I became a DFL Precinct Chair.

Ten minutes after being elected to this position I was handed a description of my duties. I’ll let you know how it all plays out.

Those who came prepared with resolutions met to determine if there was overlap in their proposals.

Resolutions are discussed.

A majority of the caucus was devoted to the reviewing and voting upon of resolutions. Anyone can bring, present and discuss a resolution during a caucus. It’s an opportunity to voice concerns and put issues on the party’s agenda. 

One by one people stood in front of the group and presented their resolutions. Most read prepared statements. Their resolutions were formal and prescriptive policy proposals, but they were also somewhat ceremonial – a formality. Their resolutions were recognized, documented and will be brought to the city party convention, yes. But they won’t in and of themselves bring about new laws or ordinances (see here for more info). These resolutions are the kernel out of which real policy change could occur. But right now they are just the seed of an idea – a suggestion of what the party should be concerned with and work toward.

There is something really neat about opinions and issues being voiced in this way. It’s grassroots politics in it’s purest form. It’s politics with a little “p” – and it’s inspiring. Sure, there were some wacky and unattainable policy proposals presented on Tuesday night. But at their core, all of these resolutions were set forth with a sincere desire to better our world.

The people who presented resolutions were diverse in age, race and gender – but they were analogous in passion. They were all trying to save our environment or make our communities strong, our schools better and the world a more just and honest place.

Caucus in action

One grey-haired gentleman in particular possessed an exquisite fervor and dedication toward the resolution process. Over the course of the evening he presented four separate policy proposals.

Referendum about Minneapolis parks being read.#MNCaucus #SuperTuesday #DFLcaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

Sulfide mining in Boundary Waters resolution being read. This gentleman’s 2nd resolution tonight. #championcitizen #SuperTuesday #MNCaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

#championcitizen has another resolution! This one is about the use of great lakes water.#SuperTuesday #MNCaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

#championcitizen has a 4th resolution!!!!

This one’s about support of those with autism & fetal alcohol syndrome#MNCaucus #SuperTuesday

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

discussion

After each resolution was read, the moderator put it up for a simple yea or nay vote. The results – whether the resolution had passed or failed – were recorded for party records. Apart from questions of clarification, there wasn’t much by way of discussion of these resolutions. Their purpose was to be presented and acknowledged, not scrutinized or debated.

The general tone of the caucus was informal and friendly. Bernie and Hillary supporters talked freely and with an unspoken acknowledgement that their differences are far smaller and less significant than the issues that unite them. We’re all on the same team – was the underlying sentiment of the night.

After all resolutions were read and voted upon, volunteer delegates for the DFL Senate District Convention were selected. The evening ended without a formal farewell. People lingered, waited in line to sign up for party mailing lists, chatted with one another and eventually surmised that all formal business was finished. As the folding chairs were being re-stacked and people mingled, the vote tally was read. A few cheers rose up.

Final votes are in at my caucus at Emerson Elementary:

365 – Bernie
158 – Clinton
2 – O’Malley #SuperTuesday#MNCaucus#DFLcaucus

— Lisa Baumert (@lisasuebaumert) March 2, 2016

The caucus wraps up.

The caucus wraps up.

Caucusing was fun. I felt like I was a part of something important. I felt connected to my community and involved – in a small way – in the presidential election and the national discussion of politics. Caucusing is an easy and open way to get involved in your local political party and with the issues affecting your neighborhood and state. Although its voting process was less organized and clear than a traditional primary election, the caucus format fosters transparency and true democracy.

While I care deeply about the issues and have a favored candidate, I’ll admit that my love of politics and the political process is not bound up with a particular ideology. I didn’t caucus because of my love for the Democratic party. I caucused because I’m a citizen of the United States and it is my right and privilege to vote.

I want Hillary to win the presidency and I have clear opinions about the political issues of the day – don’t get me wrong. But my enthusiasm for this election flows from a respect for the democratic process. It comes from a passion for being informed and a desire to have a say in how my life and the world around me are governed. 

And so, I guess the point of this incredibly long post is – you should vote. Get involved in the political process and participate in your community’s governance. 

Being political doesn’t mean you are loud, angry, annoying or rude. It doesn’t mean you share your opinions on Facebook or only spend time with people that agree with your political stances. Getting involved in politics means caring and being curious enough to be informed and engaged. The challenge of politics is finding a way to balance cynicism with hope and a belief in the common good.

Vote. Don’t vote for Donald Trump – but vote.

_____________________________________

I’d be interested to hear about your caucus experience. Tell me in the comments.

Posted in: What I'm doing Tagged: Minneapolis, Minnesota, politics, What I'm doing

How to survive winter in Minnesota

January 25, 2016 by Lisa 1 Comment

Minneapolis Sculpture Garden

First off, please note that title of this post is not “How to love winter in Minnesota.” It’s not “How to thrive in winter in Minnesota” or “How to triumph over winter in Minnesota.” It’s “How to survive winter in Minnesota.”

I’m in the midst of my fourth Minnesota winter. So far I have yet to do much of anything more than make it through to the other side of this harsh and enduring season alive. Many people are, of course, stronger and more well-adjusted than I. Plenty of Minnesotans love winter and look forward to this region’s defining season. They embrace it.  I am not one of those people. Someday I hope and plan to figure out how to enjoy and flourish in Minnesota during the winter. When I do, I will tell you all about it. I promise.

But for now, here are some tips for staying alive in the North Star State during the 6 months of the year it is covered in snow.

Bundle Up

First and most importantly, one must properly bundle up. Before moving to Minnesota I assumed that Hunter Boots or Uggs passed as winter footwear and that a cute pea coat could get me through the winter.  It’s not that I had never lived through winter. I’ve known blustery Nebraska blizzards, endured damp-to-the-bone Chicago winters, and have experienced my fair share of New Jersey nor’easters. Winter in Minnesota is just on a whole other level.

When it comes to boots, you want something warm, waterproof, and sturdy.  Sorel seems to be the Minnesotan’s brand of choice. I’ve had these since in 2012. I wear them every time I leave the house in the winter and they have not let me down.

For a coat, I recommend something down-filled that comes to at least down to your knees.  A fur-trimmed hood isn’t just a fun accent – it keeps out snow and blocks the wind. It’s essential. All the cool kids in MSP seem to be wearing one of these. But for those of us who don’t feel like spending an entire month’s worth of rent on a jacket, something like this will do just fine.

In addition to boots and a coat, you’ll obviously need a warm hat (try one from here, if you want to be a hip, true Minnesotan), a scarf, gloves, maybe some long underwear, and wool socks.  You’ll learn very quickly that bundling up and staying warm is important. Looking cute and being fashionable are secondary to function – i.e. not freezing your ass off.

Cozy

I’m not very good at slowing down and doing nothing, and I suspect this one of the primary reasons winter in Minnesota has proved so persistently difficult for me.

In the 2015 World Happiness Report (yup, that’s a thing), the top eight countries ranked “most happy” are all in generally cold, nordic climates.

Ok. Ok. So “cold” does not necessarily equal “sad”. But why?

Many point to these countries’ cultural attitudes toward winter. In these places – like Norway, Switzerland and Denmark – winter is not something to be endured, it’s something to be enjoyed. And winter is enjoyed because it’s viewed as a time to slow down and cozy up.

The Norwegians have koselig. The Danes have hygge. However you translate it, it has to do with not fighting the cold – and accepting that life’s routines and expectations must be altered because of it.

For me, this idea of koselig or hygge means being OK with being lazy. It means Netflix bingeing and going down senseless internet rabbit holes. (Remind me to tell you about the time I got really into reading Mormon mommy blogs.) It means accepting that I’m not going to get as much done. And it means being OK that some days (like yesterday), I’m going to be in a shitty mood and will put off taking a shower after my run for most of the day.

Sometimes, during the earth’s coldest, darkest points in the year, your mind and body follow suit. Do something mindless and wait it out.

On a related note, I think we live in a amazing time for cold weather living. The sharing/streaming/on-demand economy is a perfect facilitator of coziness. Order dinner out, get your groceries delivered, take an Uber instead of walking, utilize Amazon Prime Now to its fullest extent. And don’t feel guilty about it.

Cozy up. Stay in. Chill out.

Slush

I married a Minnesotan who loves winter. He is a really wonderful person but a terrible source of empathy when I’m at my winter-hating/despairing worst. He struggles to understand why I don’t always think Minnesota and it’s beloved winter are THE BEST THINGS EVER. And I find that he is not alone.

Many Minnesota natives don’t seem to offer me space and the affirmation to express my frustrations about how much winter can suck here. Typical responses from Minnesotans to my negative comments about the weather include:

“I remember the Halloween Blizzard of 1991. The roads were coated with two inches of ice and we got 30 inches of snow and I went to work the next day!”

or

“Winters were so much worse when I was kid. This is nothing compared to how it used to be.”

And while those statements very well may be true, they don’t negate the fact that this winter, right now, is hard and cold and miserable.

And so, I suggest befriending non-native Minnesotans. Find someone who didn’t grow up here – someone who is just as miserable as you are – and have a bitch-fest. Name the suck. Sure, your complaining won’t do anything to change the weather, but it’s cathartic to say it out loud to someone who is just as miserable as you.

Suggested topics for complaint:

  • The winter is too long. As I experienced during my first year here, winter can start in October and go into May.
  • It’s really cold. Case in point: last year, Minneapolis Public Schools changed its outdoor recess policy. They increased the minimum temperature required to have indoor recess from -15° to -10°. That’s not improvement. That’s craziness. Lord, please be with those poor children.
  • Winter is so persistently harsh. On average, the Twin Cities experiences 21 days per winter with below zero temperatures. During my second winter here, we had 52. I’m still recovering.

Winter path

Now that I’ve addressed the virtues of doing nothing and being angry, I must admit that surviving winter in Minnesota also requires some constructive, proactive work. You can’t abandon all your routines – especially the ones that make you happy and help you feel like a normal, healthy human being. I’ve learned from experience that spending the whole winter as a lazy, cooped-up, unhealthy blob exacerbates winter’s crazy-making effects.

As hard as it can be, you have to workout and you should probably eat your vegetables every day. Feeling (at least halfway) good about yourself is a big step toward getting through the coldest months.

Get off the couch and make plans to meet up with friends. Have something to look forward to – a trip, a concert, dinner out. It doesn’t matter how big or small or cheap or expensive. The idea is that you are doing things simply for the sake of doing them. Which is sometimes all you can really ask of yourself in the depths of winter. And just maybe, in the act of doing things, you’ll discover that there is joy to be had in all this cold and darkness.

Do things that remind you, even if only at a subconscious or basic, physical level, that you are still human. You are alive. Even though everything outside is dead and covered in ice, you still have the choice to be and experience and do things well. And that matters.

Bus stop

Finally, be kind to yourself. Winter in Minnesota is hard. It feels at times like the whole frozen universe is conspiring to make everything in your life more miserable and complicated and cold. Everything – and I mean everything – takes more time, attention and work during the winter. Do yourself a favor and don’t make things worse by hating yourself.

I have lots of experience being my own biggest critic, harshest judge and cruelest messenger. And I can say, without a doubt, that self-hatred is a dead end.

You are OK. You are better than you realize. It’s alright if you don’t do it all and can’t be everything everyone wants you to be.

Start by speaking kindly to yourself. Tell yourself it’s OK. It’s OK that you feel shitty and that winter is hard.

It IS hard.

Tell yourself that it won’t last forever and that you’re doing a good job. Repeat.

Do little, simple things that make you feel good about yourself. Paint your fingernails. Go out to lunch. Dance. Watch 30 Rock.

Feeling good about yourself is important. Liking yourself is crucial. Do whatever it takes to be your own best friend.

Oh, winter. Ugh.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything changes. We’ve got this.

________________

What are your best strategies for getting through a long, harsh winter? Tell me in the comments below.

Posted in: What I'm thinking Tagged: How to, Minneapolis, Minnesota, self love, Winter

I am Lisa Baumert. I'm a person who does a bunch of stuff and has thoughts and generally tries to live life well.

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