The Klatch
Lutefisk Supper Date Set
The Lutherans announce June 7; the Methodists announce they are busy.
Read the full story →Vol. CXXIX — No. 20 · Archive Section
The Klatch & Living
Tuesday, May 19, 2026 · Spring Work, Soft Roads · Full weekly section page with current issue material, standing notices, and back-page items.
Living Features
The Klatch Board
Eunice’s Notebook
Lutefisk Date Set; Meatball Anxiety Begins
First Lutheran has set the lutefisk supper date, which means the annual meatball count has begun in three kitchens and one garage freezer.
Eunice reminds readers that bars for church suppers should be cut in squares, not ambitious rectangles. Ambitious rectangles cause shortages and commentary.
Rhubarb report: the parsonage patch has been sighted, measured, and not yet raided.
Personals & Thanks
From the Kitchen Table
- Thank you to the spring cleanup crew, including whoever found the missing rake.
- Sympathy to the Rantala family. Gladys’s cinnamon rolls were a public good.
Living · Stars Over the Chain
The Week in the Stars
As read by Sigrid Pelto, who has lived in Misquah her whole life — but for college, and the summer of 1995, when she and the girls did Europe on a rail pass and a woman in a Florence market took her hand and told her she had the gift. She reads from the end of her dock on Loon Lake.
Mercury turns retrograde Thursday. People treat that like a city thing, but it explains plenty right here — the gym clock, the minutes that don’t match, the boat that won’t turn over. A woman in Florence once read my palm and told me to respect the backward times, so I do. Don’t buy a used trailer till June. Wait it out, the way we wait out the mud.
Aries
The ice went out and your bet went with it — pay up at Tim’s and smile about it. You wagered with your heart instead of the thermometer, and a warm heart’s worth more than a dollar any day. It’s a week for letting old debts settle.
Taurus
Cleanup’s calling and you’d rather not, and this week the stars are on your side. Pull one dock, rake one yard, then sit down. There’s no rush — the season isn’t going anywhere, and neither, thank goodness, are you.
Gemini
Your planet’s gone backward, which is the long explanation for the gym clock, the boat that won’t start, and that text you sent the wrong Cody. Slow down. Read things twice. The bugs got personal this week and so did the little mistakes — both pass, I promise.
Cancer
You’ll clear out three things during cleanup and miss one of them by June — keep the old boards, you know the ones. With Mercury backward the past comes knocking. Pour it a cup of coffee, by all means. Just don’t let it move back in.
Leo
Your child signed up to be the third Paul Bunyan, ax and all, and you couldn’t be prouder. Some are just born for the front of the room — clearly it runs in the family. Clap the loudest. You’ve earned the right.
Virgo
You can see plain as day that Main Street wants painting before the parade. But with Mercury backward, anything rushed gets done over, so measure twice and brace for an argument. You’re right — you usually are — only being right has never made things go faster.
Libra
That loose goat out by County 6 has somehow become yours to sort out. It hasn’t. Not everything that’s wandered off needs you to set it right. Let the goat be a goat, and save your good sense for the dock committee.
Scorpio
Now the ice is gone, something’s stirring in the shallows, and something’s stirring in you to match. Mercury backward brings the deep things up. Go easy — not everything that surfaces this week wants catching, and some of it’s better let back down.
Sagittarius
The roads are mud and your plans are mud, and that’s just what May is. Set your sights on ‘outside’ and the week opens right up. Even a puddle at second base is somewhere you haven’t been yet — adventure enough for now.
Capricorn
The game got rained out and then talked over for an hour under the awning, and you’ll get more from the talking than the playing. Stay for it. This is a week for going back over things, and nobody does that as carefully, or as fondly, as you.
Aquarius
You’re the only soul not complaining about the mosquitoes, which means they’ve gone and chosen you. Wear your long sleeves anyway, odd and beloved as you are. Being singled out is just your usual lot — this is only the itchier version of it.
Pisces
The lake’s open, and so is that long ache of a season turning whether you’re ready or not. You’re readier than you feel. This is a week for drifting, not steering — let the current carry the planning for a change.
On Your Big Three. People ask me to explain the three big pieces, so here it is the way I learned it. Your Sun is who you are at the Daybreak counter, where everyone can see you. Your Moon is who you are at two in the morning, when the wind comes up off the lake and you can’t sleep. And your Rising is who the new pastor thinks you are, before he knows any better. I read all three by appointment, Tuesdays, out at the end of my dock — weather and coffee permitting. Bring your birth time if you’ve got it. Bring a thermos if you don’t.