Work Aprons

Four Scandinavian-Styled Aprons

Getting ready for a shift staffing the admissions desk at the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum means wearing one of the Scandinavian-looking aprons I purchased the the museum gift shop. I attach my name tag and put essentials in the front pockets, including keys, cellphone, lip goop, hankie, staff contact numbers, and pen. It’s my unofficial uniform.

It turns out I love wearing an apron to work. Why?

  1. Fit. Aprons fit me better than even my best fitting dress-for-success jackets. My aprons fit as I lost 30 pounds. They will fit when I gain back 35.
  2. Practical. Deep, front pockets are perfect for keeping the essentials mentioned above handy without unsightly bulges. My newborn daughter’s first pediatrician wore an apron to examine her in the hospital. I still remember it. Perfect, I thought. Of course you should wear an apron to meet an infant patient.
  3. Cheerful. Wearing an apron makes me feel put-together and happy. It communicates I’m helpful and approachable. Back in the day when I served as communication and marketing staff during large assemblies, I got a similar reaction by using my daughter’s long-outgrown wagon in the convention center. Unlike a hand truck, it’s smile-producing to see a little red wagon transporting supplies.

Admittedly, wearing an apron to work is a bit quirky, which is the perfect amount of quirky for me.

Sue Edison-Swift 4/19/2019

Find other “On-the-Job” posts here.

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Family Sweetness

Sally named our lower-level suite–a bedroom with two single beds, play area with a pull-out couch, and a bathroom–“the family sweetness.” It’s perfect for sleepovers.

Last night, the kids had a sleepover with Umma and Baba.

Mindful the next morning was a school day, we started bedtime preparations at 7 p.m. Paul set up the pull-out bed for me. Tubs. Jammies. Teeth. Choo-choo, I thought to myself, the bedtime train is rolling.

I forgot about the pre-bedtime burst of creative energy. Quickly, Walter and Sally devised a game where Sally would draw something to introduce the instrumentation Walter selected on the keyboard. Violin, piano, percussion, bells, and, b-a-s-s, which, I explained is a silly way to spell something pronounced base.” Just one more, Umma,” I heard more than once.

Finally, Walter was in the bedroom reading to Paul and, snuggled in the pull-out bed, I was reading to Sally. Although Walter is Continue reading

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Working Birthdays

Faith (left)and I broke office birthday parties.

It started innocently enough. One year, my colleague Faith and I, each with single-digit April birthdates, realized our combined ages added to 100. Since a centennial birthday doesn’t come around every year, we decided to spring for cake.

There were 24-some people on staff at the time. Unbeknownst to Faith and me, the idea of a centennial birthday party captured the imagination of one of our youngest colleagues. She took the idea and ran with it, organizing others to bring “a hundred of something.” For example, I remember 100 individually wrapped Life Savers™ and, we were assured, there were 100 pretzels in the bowl. Others brought a single bloom to add to a vase, creating a potpourri arrangement. I think there was punch.

It turns out, six years into the new organization, staff needed a little party. So.much.laughing. People mingled across teams. We set out the cake at 3:30. At 5:30, Faith flicked the florescent lights and started cleaning up, saying, “Go, home! Really now, go home!”

And that, we thought, was that. Except it wasn’t. Our party began an extensive discussion of how staff should–and most important, should not–celebrate birthdays. Continue reading

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On butterfly wings

This post combines the text from Resurrection Reminder,” my article in the April 2011 issue of Lutheran Woman Today, now Gather magazine, with photos and videos of monarch caterpillars and butterflies.Sue

Butterflies are symbols of Christ’s resurrection.  I know why.

After a worship service two summers ago, I claimed my first Monarch Ministry kit: a “days old” Monarch caterpillar in a Dairy Queen cup habitat, a snack bag of cut-up milkweed leaves (a monarch caterpillar’s only food), and a sheet of instructions.  I peered into the DQ cup to meet my caterpillar.  “Humph,” said a boy with a caterpillar twice as big as mine, “your caterpillar is tiny.”

“Yes,” I said, just a bit offended for my little one; “it’s tiny and mighty.”  With that, my caterpillar had a name, “Tiny Mighty,” T.M. for short.

T.M. spent his first day with me happily nibbling a hole in a piece of milkweed leaf.

The next day T.M. didn’t eat. That evening I left a new, fresh leaf.  In the morning it was left untouched. Not one nibble.

I went back to my sheet of instructions, and read “Occasionally, the caterpillar roams away from the leaf for a day or so.  It needs to rest and shed its skin.”  Still, I fretted.  Life is so fragile. Continue reading

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Sammyversary

“It takes a least three months to know what kind of dog you got,” reminded family friend and vet Audrey Gale-Dyer, as she virtually accompanied us through Sam-the-Dog’s transition from shelter to our home.

It’s been three months. So now we know, we got a good dog. You’re a good dog, Sammy, yes you are.

Sam loves his teddy.

We sent in Sam’s cheek swab for a doggy DNA analysis, because he seemed like a dog you can’t judge by looks. For example, he looks like a small German Shepherd but doesn’t have an ounce of guard-dog in him. Turns out Sam is mostly Lab (37%) plus Husky (12.5%), German Shepherd (12.5%), and Collie (12.5%), with 25% unidentified “mixed breed.” It’s a good mix. It’s Sam. Continue reading

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2018 Epiphany Letter

Last year, which felt like a decade shoved into 365 days, wasn’t all bad. We share our highlights, below. Continue reading

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Sam’s Photo Session

The Edison-Albrights, including Hank-the-Dog, were visiting, so we asked for help taking a picture with Sam-the-Dog. Eight photos illustrate how it went. Click on the photo to enlarge it. Continue reading

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Sam-the-Dog

Paul and I adopted Sam-the-Dog from the wonderful Human Society of Northeast Iowa (HSNEI) in Decorah, on Saturday, December 2, 2017. He was named Sam at the Shelter, being a “found” dog no one claimed. So, we don’t know a lot about Sam’s past, other than he wasn’t neutered as a puppy. We’re guessing he had a spartan environment, as he had to warm up to soft things, for example, dog beds, the designated dog couch (we keep it covered), and carpet.

Sam (AKA Sam-o, Sammy, Little Bear, and Love Muffin) is estimated to be 18 months old. He looks like a mix of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and some smaller breed (maybe Husky?), as he’s “just” 54 lbs. and is medium height. He has a thick, fluffy coat which will likely “blow” once or twice a year: that’s when he’ll do a massive shed for a week or two. Oh, boy.

Since a pet of ours is a pet of the Edison-Albrights and vice versa, everyone was involved in the decision. Paul and I met Sam, then Sean and Annie, then Hank-the-Dog had a meet, then all of us, including the kids. Dr. Auntie Audrey, the family friend and vet who brought Hank into our lives, studied the Continue reading

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“All Anew” is a way of life, not an event

Nobel Laureate Leymah Gbowee

The day before Leymah Gbowee addressed 3,300 participants attending the Tenth Triennial Gathering, July 14, she took time for a conversation over a cup of green tea.

Gbowee, a Lutheran from Monrovia, Liberia, led the interfaith movement of prayerful and persistent women credited with bringing peace to her civil-war torn country. She explained why, even as a Nobel Laureate, she continues to be a friend to Women of the ELCA.

“First, I am a Lutheran, a Christian,” said Gbowee. “I am the daughter of every institution that claims Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior of our world.

“Second, I have a history with Women of the ELCA. Before I was known, before the Nobel, they supported me in my personal and professional development,” she said. “Four women helped pay my undergraduate tuition and ELCA leadership scholarships bridged the financial gap for my graduate studies.

“Finally, my mother always told me, ‘ingratitude is a sin.’ For that reason, if I can possibly make it, when the church calls me, I will definitely be there.”

Holding on to hope 

The conversation turned to the topic of hope. How does Gbowee stay so hopeful, so positive?

“Hope is something I must hold on to in this world of pessimism and injustice,” she said. “Then I see the young people I engage with in my new life, who despite everything still believe in the future. They still fight for justice, believe in justice. Then I remember, ‘who am I to give up hope when these people are not?’”

Continue reading

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From your baby book

A MESSAGE FROM MY PARENTS

Paul, Sue and baby Annie with the book "Growing Up Free: Raising Your Child in the 80s"

March 28, 1981
(You are 10 weeks old)

Dearest Anne,

When we look down on your precious face, we are filled with many hopes and dreams for you.

We hope you will be a happy and loving person who will use her talents and skills to the fullest. We hope you will come to know and like yourself and those around you. We hope you will care for your body, mind and soul–respecting the life God gave you.

You are surrounded by lots of love, little Annie. All that love and care comes with an obligation to be all you can be. It is a tall order, but you have your whole life to work on it.

We’re looking forward to watching you grow and helping you develop. You have made us very happy, darling–have a wonderful future.

Love, Mom and Dad

2017 note: Happy birthday, Annie, we are so proud of you.

 

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