Aunt Flo, Arthur Itis

Above - a picture showing that I DO know how to walk without falling down. And Ye Old sanitary napkin belt. Thank God they invented StayFree pads right when I started my period! And Platex made the tampon.

In the olden days - around Junior High for me, we girls came up with code phrases for when we had our period. There were phrases like "she's got the blues" Sherry Smith (our grade - there as also one a year younger so we always had to qualify) was famous for that. On the rag - I guess that was more from college. Or we'd ask people if they liked Ho Ho's - those plasticy treats were newly invented then. If they said yes, we pretended it meant they had their monthly menses. Tee Hee. Why that was funny, I don't recall...

But the other key period phrase was -visiting Aunt Flo (Flo like Flow - get it?) Oh those pad and tampon commercials were embarrassing too - especially when my dad was around. I didn't even like to tell my mom when I needed additional supplies - so I was sneak it on to the grocery list.

Now I have another embarrassing affliction (I know - having a period is totally normal and it's not an illness, but it sure felt sick at times!) It's arthritis in my neck according to Bone Cracker Dr. of Chiropractic, Wes. Arthur Itis! A disease of old people.

Dr. Wes put on quite a show when I returned for my visit today. He pulled out all the bells and whistles - a spine replica, a diagram showing my hot spots and the pièce de résistance the X-Rays, showing, alas, some damage in my neck area. Evidently, according to Dr. Wes, I injured it sometime. Perhaps it was way back when sister Susi hit me in the head with a baseball bat. Or it could have been that time in 2006 that I pounded my head into Sumner Street while walking with my friends. Nice black eye - good thing Paul had an alibi!

So Doc Wes put me on his table and manipulated away. It was a good thing I wasn't suffering from gas or I might have made embarrassing body noises when the Doc torked on my spine, neck and hips! My popping body sounded like seams ripping. After that I got to have one of those vibraty heat treatments.

Andrea (poor man's Julia Stuetelberg) signed me up for 2 more treatments this week. Then when I get back from vacation I'll be back for more. Unless Dr. Cindo cures me with her special friend Crisp Chardonnay!

Bonecracker

For the second time in my life, I made the big plunge to go to a chiropractor. The first time was over 15 years ago, when my back went out while lifting Jud up on the monkeybars at St. Malachy School. Pop!

It wasn't too painful, except when I breathed or moved. Yikes! Back then, one of my high school classmates, Dave Stuetelberg was a chiropractor in Creston. His wife, Julia was a known appointment nazi - they said she wouldn't let you out the door without making another appointment.

She was a scrawny thing with 1% bodyfat. I'd known her since high school too, since she hailed from Anita, a town some 10 miles from my hometown of Atlantic. Those Anita girls were always hanging out in the big city of A-town, hustling our fellas. And Julia snagged one David Stuetelberg Dr. of chiropractic.

Dave did some type of treatment (with me fully clothed thank God!) popping every joint in my back. And then I left. No appointment. I said "I'll call you if I need to" and out the door I went. It didn't get better over night, but it improved over the next couple days and I didn't need to go back to see "Doctor".

Which brings me to some 15 years later. As you all know I started a new career with Iowa DNR last December. You might not know, though, that starting a new job at age 51 caused me to have some stress! A new kid in a new town with a new place to live. I had to drive in some unpleasant (fucking Iowa weather) conditions. For the first few weeks, my desk height wasn't right for me. So I was tense, and my left shoulder and lower neck area didn't appreciate it. They began to cramp and spasm periodically - painfully so.

You would think, after 3+ months, I would have relaxed. I'm settled in. The transitioning back and forth from work to home isn't easy, but I'm used to it. I feel at home at Joan's house. I like my roomies. I love my job and people have been very nice there. DNR is a great place to work!

Yet my shoulder, arm is still periodically spasming out and sometimes causing me to gasp aloud. (not a good thing in cubicle-land! My neighbor Tom probably wonders what the hell I'm doing!) Last Monday it hurt all day until I took the big step into the air and hit the floor. I thought I was at the bottom of the stairs at Joan's - but I was still 2 up. I fell flat, scraping and bruising my knee. But hey, my shoulder didn't hurt anymore.

Then again today, it was quite painful. So I bit the bullet and called Dr. Wes, a Waukee chiro that was listed as a provider for my insurance. I went there today - had several X-Rays, had a wheelie thing measure my back, did some basic exercises to see what hurt. Then I had that treatment where the vibrating pads made my muscles contract. It hurt - in a good way.

And guess what? Tomorrow I have to go back to see Dr. Wes. I know, I know, he has no pitbull receptionist. But Doctor needs to read my X-Rays and plan my treatment. I want this thing to feel better so I feel good hoisting Coronas on the beach in Marco Island, FL 1 week from today!

Diversity training

Last Thursday afternoon I attended a mandatory session on diversity at the Wallace Building where I work. It was a three hour session of mostly common sense type information. Though looking back at my post regarding my job at Gamble Robinson in Omaha, my how we've changed!

Back in the early 1980's, the company I worked for sent paychecks each week from Minneapolis to the GR post office box in Omaha. In with checks, in that way pre-email era, I often found copies obscene comics - drawings that featured phalluses (is that the plural spelling??), breasts and lewd language. They even faxed the stuff to us - we thought it was a hoot!

We thought nothing of rude and sexual comments from customers and salesmen alike. I participated in the back and forth banter and told racist jokes with the best of 'em. It was many years later that I started to feel uncomfortable when someone tells a racially based joke.

But you know by now that I'm a smart assed joker. Where IS the line between naughty/funny and out of line? I guess the answer is there IS no answer, because it depends on audience and situation.

At the diversity training we got to watch a video of an experiment filmed in Riceville, Iowa in 1968. The teacher, Jane Elliott, was tired of only teaching about discrimination, and decided to put her third graders in a situation that would really bring the lesson home. The first day she said blue eyed children were the best - smarter, more attractive and privileged that the brown eyed kids.

It was amazing how quickly to lesson took effect! Soon the blue eyes were teasing the brownies, and browns were feeling testy. One part of the film showed a group of girls huddled together forlornly at recess because they were forbidden to use the playground equipment or play with the blues. They comforted each other. The video also showed the class 14 years later (did we really look that bad in the mid 1980's?) meeting with the teacher, discussing how the experiment affected them. The experience seemed to have made a lasting impression on each of them.

The video was interesting, but the rest of the diversity training was kinda lame. I did get to meet more folks who work in our building. It IS the most diverse place I've ever worked - many nationalities are represented, and I know several openly gay people. It's refreshing really, and it gives me hope. Even though we don't always agree, we can work side by side and respect each other, but still have fun and be ourselves.

I know and love several gay people. I think they deserve the same rights as the rest of us when it comes to choosing partners. (after all why should they be denied the challenge of melding their lives together with another person) Our niece Peg and partner Brooke were married a couple years ago and have twin boys who are nearly 1 now. And I've known for years my friend's son is gay. He is a really neat kid.

Knowing gay people has caused me and my family to shift our paradigms. It's easy to make generalizations about gays when they are somebody else. But when they are people we know and love, we realize they are just people too.

But where is the line - what is off limits and what isn't? Some gay guys are more feminine than I am! So I make fun of myself in this way - is it okay to laugh about them? I had fun telling the story about the guy who sat by me at New Employee Orientation who said "I love your shoes"?? I had wondered if he might be gay, and when he asked that, I made to jump to "yes he is!" Is that bad? I know that not all gay guys are into fashion -and not all guys into fashion are gay. But hey, that was kinda funny!

Jud didn't want to shop at a certain store in the mall because it was too gay. Is that a slur? Or just him saying he wasn't that into fashion? My point is, despite diversity training, I'm still confused. Because I'm in a new state job, I'm trying to be very careful about what I say, especially in emails - you don't know how many I've deleted already!! I'm going to keep working on my personal comment muffler - think before I talk, and as Jane Elliott says - think about walking a mile in another person's mocassins.

Career stories continued

At right - me in a lovely Hawaiian shirt, Robyn (Robbie Dob), my college roomie Vic and Chris, the readhead in Robyn's apartment.


As my little buddy roomie (during the week I live in Waukee with a friend - Joan, and her niece Kristina who I have known since she was a tot) Krissy enjoys her first "real" job, it has caused me to take a walk down memory lane about the various jobs I've had in my long work career.


A few days ago I described my first job in Sioux Falls, SD at a grocery wholesaler and the interesting boss, Kermet. What an education! Only later did I think about the mechanic who worked on the delivery trucks. His name was Lawrence and he liked to take a nip or two while he worked. I couldn't complain though - he helped advise me on care and maintenance of my 1977 Chevy Monza 4 speed. So what if he liked his liquor?


After I had worked in Sioux Falls for eight months, I was approached by the manager (by then it was Larry because Kermet's bizarre behavior caused the corporate office to put him out to pasture) to see if I was interested in moving to Omaha, Nebraska. Would I? In a heartbeat! It just so happened that my boyfriend of a couple years had taken a job in Oakland, IA - some 20 miles from Omaha. And my baby sis, Betso attended Creighton University in Omaha. Ah fate and and destiny!

I found a great apartment out near Boy's Town with Cathedral ceilings that was bright and airy. I visited the famed Nebraska Furniture Mart and purchased a couch, bed, and butcher block kitchen table with chairs. On moving day, there was a mix up and it took Betsy's fierce call to the Mart to get my furniture delivered. I guess I was still a non-confident wimp at that point.

Once I moved to Omaha, I was overjoyed to find out that two of my Atlantic friends were also moving to the Big O. Robyn (of Robbie Dob fame) and Chris (Ginger's daughter). Rob was moving to town with her boyfriend Glenn, and Chris was rooming with a college friend Jodi, who was attending Creighton nursing school. What fun! We got together nearly every week to cook a meal. On Fridays after work we liked to meet at the Rusty Scupper. We attended aerobics together. It was a fun time in my life.

Oh yeah...the job. The Omaha branch of Gamble Robinson was in the Old Market (it's now a parking lot). It was a very old building that was below street level - you parked and walked down metal steps to the warehouse. Not impressive looking at all. Downright dumpy in fact. But the location was great - the Old Market is one of my favorite places in the world!

The branch manager in Omaha was Ron Nearman, a very nice guy. No weapons in his desk! The rest of the staff was a lesson in diversity for me! Executive Secretary Pat - the 50ish spinster with a boyfriend. Gruff, crusty exterior. Creston, IA native. Lila - lesbian bookkeeper, quirky and nice once she learned to trust me, Nedda - 300 pound Italian woman, married, one child - tender heart, and the Unwed mother - her name escapes me. Hooked up with a truck driver who delivered to our company long enough to get preggers.

Then there were the salesmen: Pete, a kindly gentleman who traveled in SW Iowa, Ed a nice guy who did the Council Bluffs area, Dan, a groovy divorcee and Lester "Red" Eymann - the most homely man you've ever seen who was lewd and crude and you had to love him! In today's world Red would be a walking sexual harassment poster boy!

Last but not least was Jackson - the lumper. Lumpers were not employed by GR, but they were necessary! They hung around to help unload semis as they arrived, and were paid in cash by the truck drivers. Jackson was a large black man with a friendly personality. He liked to gamble and he liked to drink. When he was flush, he would head to Sioux City to the dog track.

Out in the warehouse there were lots of good guys. They taught me things about bananas - they were put in special rooms to ripen them with gas. Other refrigerated rooms were damp and some were dry. There was a crew of mainly African American women who prepared the chopped veggies we delivered to restaurants.

My desk in Omaha was an old wooden one - I had to to pull it out in the morning and push it back in each night. I worked long hours, and had to go in each Saturday for some report - at least for an hour or so. Those were the days of early IBM mainframes so I learned to run the computer with its tiny little LED screen. I had to "Balance" the books each month, which was a huge challenge. Every New Year's Eve I had to work to run year end reports. It was a tough job! I was there from March 1981 until February 1984.

They must have liked me, because when Paul and I moved (we were married in 1982) to Osage, IA they created a job for me, traveling up to Wisconsin to do training in small branches up there. I do love my Snoboy (Gamble Robinson's brand) stuff! I found an old Snoboy wood box in an Atlantic antique store and a Snoboy cranberry ad in Valley Junction. Maybe first jobs aren't so bad after all...

Ginger

Above - Stone Soul Picnic, band of my youth - Ginger was their number 1 fan.

Aww, I'm sad. I heard last night that one of the grand dames of Atlantic passed away last weekend. Ginger Deardorff is my friend Christie Jo's mom. Christie is the baby of the family - at age 51. Her three older brothers are John, Mark and Scott.

I spent quite a bit of time at the Deardorff household whilst growing up. Ginger was a working mother - one of the few of that era. I was a little scared of her when I was young. Hell, I was a little scared of her last time I saw her at a concert during our 2006 class reunion. She was someone I respected and wanted her to like me! I hope she didn't know that I was at the beer party that time the cushion got a cigarette hole back around 1975. It didn't take her long to spot the hole, despite the old "flip the cushion over" trick!

Ginger was lively and funny. She loved a party. Sometimes I felt like I was the old woman and she was young. She was sharp and witty and didn't have much time for people who couldn't keep up their end of the conversation. She didn't hesitate to tell Chris when a boy she brought home wasn't up to snuff! (Those brothers were pretty selective for their baby sis too.) And Robyn reminded me what a great laugh Ginger had.

Ginge was also a pretty stern task master. I remember Chris had cleaning duties that I helped her with before we could go play. By help I mean I chatted with her while she vacuumed. Chris never made a big deal out of it - her mom worked and that stuff needed to be done. When we were in high school, a Rotary Exchange kid came to town from Australia. He didn't seem to meld very well with a couple families he lived with. So Ginger said - I'm used to boys - send him to our house. And that was the start of a lifelong relationship between Chris Clarke and the Deardorffs. Just last summer Chris was in the country and of course took time to see his "Mom away from Home", Ginger.

Ginger's husband Joe passed away in 1988. He was the straight man to Ginger's lively personality. Oh did he have a way with sarcasm. I think a bit of that rubbed off on me from hanging out at their house. If you want to know what he sounded like - just hang out with John or Scott - they both remind me of him.

The Deardorff house was most always rocking, because the whole family was musical (see one of my early blogs about my favorite music). In fact John and Mark had their own band, or series of bands. I remember them as first Stone Soul Picnic which evolved to just Picnic. They would practice in garages and in the basement. They played at the big dances at the 4H building in Atlantic and all around southwest Iowa back when live band made the rounds. Later, brother Scott was also allowed to join the band. I've been lucky enough to hear them several times when they got together for reunions and Ginger's 80th birthday party.

It's so hard to believe Ginger is gone. She lived in her own home to the end, I believe. She kept it spotless. And now the John, Mark, Scott and Chris will have the immense task of breaking down their family home. My sisters and I did it in 2007 after our dad died. It was one of the hardest jobs I ever faced. But we did it together. And the Deardorffs will get through that too. And they will cherish all the good times they had.

Me, I'm picturing Ginger and Joe dancing together someplace to a lively beat.

Favorite Movies

Above - Sister Mary Debra, real priest - Father Art McCann (usher at the Civic Center), and me, Sister Mary Looseleaf

Facebook again got me thinking - isn't that the beauty of it? That and all those warm friendships I'm nurturing by typing on a computer. LOL

Anyway, I did a Top 5 Movies list, but 5 really doesn't cut it - it's just too few for so many genres!

Of course my fave movie of all time is Sound of Music. I've loved it from the first time I saw it - in Sensaround at the Indian Hills Theater in Omaha. The music, Maria, the Captain - all perfect. Plus those crazy nuns! Who could ask for more in a movie - comedy, music, drama. I used to have the cassette tape and loved to bellow along to the songs.

Once, when interviewing for a job, I pumped myself up with "I Have Confidence". There was also the time Deb and I dressed as nuns for "Sing Along Sound of Music" held at the Civic Center in Des Moines. It was such fun! In addition to songbooks, the audience got props and parts where we were supposed to hiss (when the Captain's blond bombshell lady friend was on screen). We even got to go on stage during the costume contest. A group of people dressed as Alps won - and rightfully so!

My very favorite part of my very favorite movie is when the Captain catches the kids teaching Maria how to do the traditional folk dance the lendler (sp?). He steps in - and that's when they first realize they have a thang for each other. Plus I love it when the nuns disable the nazi cars by removing distributor caps and say "I have sinned!" Too funny! I even used the SOM wedding march in our wedding, though people didn't begin to sing "How do you solve a problem like Leslie" thank God!

After the SOM singalong deal, Deb and I kept out nun outfits on for a trip to Olive Garden. What the hell - our hair was flattened by the habits. They did seat us pretty quickly and our tip to our waiter? Be good, young man. No, not really...we left $$

Busted...

Or in my case - not amply busted. Finding Nearly "A" cup brassieres to purchase is not easy. Finding bras that are less than A cup that do not have a bunch of padding is nigh impossible. Oh you can find those little half undershirt like things that have no shape. But you can't find a decent damn bra.

I haven't often been bothered by the fact that I didn't get blessed with bosoms. When I was in 6th grade or so, and they first started growing, in fact, I cursed them - probably permanently stunting their growth. (It probably didn't help that Mom was pretty small breasted, I suppose.) A tomboy does not want to grow breasts and to start to wear a bra. Pretty traumatic!

By mid 7th grade, after my dad had totally embarrassed me by snapping my bra. I got used to the idea the boobs were around to stay. But they never did get much bigger. My dad always cheered me up by saying "oh they would just get in the way when you golf - just like a couple apples hanging off your chest." Way to look at the bright side Dad!

I was happy I didn't have huge knockers when AHS finally got a girl's basketball program. That didn't look comfy - trying to run with huge boobs. Those chesty gals got lots of attention from the boys though. But I didn't get the feeling it was good attention.

When Amy was a senior in high school, during homecoming, the girls played football in the Powder Puff game. And some of the guys dressed up as cheerleaders - complete with balloon breasts. Man they couldn't keep their hands off the things - finally breasts they could touch all they wanted to! The moms got a kick out of it.

Back to the task at hand. So, note to bra manufacturers of the world. There are chicks (and even more mature women) out here that are proud and loud about being happily small busted. We demand comfortable, attractive brassieres without fakey looking excess padding. It can't be that hard to make.

Man parties

Last night I attended a jewelry party at my friend Lynn's house. I went with a couple women I hadn't seen in a while and there were other friends to catch up with at the party, plus some ladies I'd never met before. We played the "What's in Your Purse" game. I scored with peppermints and a jump drive, but didn't win the $10 discount. We had interesting food and drinks and I was home pretty early after purchasing some earrings to be delivered later.

Later that night, I got to thinking about those parties - I've been many through the years. Tupperware, Sexy Stuff, Baskets, Jewelry, Makeup, Kitchen Stuff, Home Interiors and more. But Paul's never been to a one!

Imagine if you will, a world in which men freely conversed like women do. If they had parties to enjoy each others' company and purchase fine products sold by other men, just like women do.

Invitation
Dude, come to my place Wednesday around 7. We can check out the latest in (insert Tools, Hunting Gear, Video Equipment) together. We can talk about sports, hunting conquests and lawns.

I'm serving beer, pretzels, and some form of meat. You will not need to share feelings or emotions. You can make most bodily noises you'd like to. We'll play that game "What's in Your Wallet?" to see what type of credit cards you have. Like if you have a Black Cabela's card you'll get $10 off your party purchase because we'll all be so impressed.

Hmmm - probably won't happen soon.

Best comedy movie

Oh, damn - I can't pick just one! There are so many good ones. I've always liked a good comedy flick. When I was a kid, we got to buy these matinee tickets for the local movie theater. I think the tickets were something like $.25 each - when you bought a sheet of 10 or something. Big Bucks!

We saw flicks like Francis and the Talking Mule, and The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. Remember those news reels they would play before the movies? And the cartoons - Pink Panther! Our theater ran an advertisement with this red haired kid who said "popcorn, and candy!" while food and candy flew by his head.

In the lobby of the theater, there was an ancient vending machine (it was probably state of the art for that time) for pop. You put your money in and a little plastic cup dropped down along with some chipped ice and then wala: the soda of your choice. At the Atlantic Theater, if your cup was a certain color, you won a FREE MOVIE TICKET. That seemed like big stuff to me!

I used to like to purchase Lucky Charm suckers. They were only a nickel and were as big as your mouth. The edges of these giant suckers would wear down and get sharp - cutting the edges of my mouth. But oh it was so good. Sometimes naughty kids would throw stuff from the balcony into our hair.

There were also some double seats upstairs - for those people who wanted to sit real close to each other! That's where I held my first sweaty hand. Aww how romantic.

So, drum roll, my fave comedies in no particular order:
Airplane, Animal House, Caddyshack and more I'll think of later.
I want to hear from you! What are your fave movies?

Muffin Top

It sounds yummy, right? Not so though. Muffin top is what people now call that unfortunate lump of flesh that gathers around our hips and waist. They say it piles on faster after menopause. (remember when the M word sounded like something in the distant future??)

But I've seen young chicks dressed like they don't realize they have one. It's not an attractive look. Much like spying an open fly or someone's thong sneaking out of their jeans, it's hard to keep from looking at the train wreck that is a jiggly belly dressed in a crop or tight top.

Don't you hate it when it's time to start baring flesh again after a long winter? I like that the weather is looking up but it's more painful each year to look at my aging body uncovered.

What am I going to do? My roomies and I plan to begin cooking together and eating healthier evening meals. I'll be walking outside more too. Several friends have been doing the Weight Watchers thing - and they look great! I'm jealous.

People think they look healthier when they're tan, but my skin (and my dermo) tells me tanning isn't good. My lilly white skin (thanks Momo Bullock for that) has never been tan friendly. So, hmmm no tits, and white - thank god I did get a few brain cells to rub together!

I tried to tan when I was young. Those days when we would rub Baby Oil on to enable the frying. Oh, and I was a lifeguard - long hours in the blazing sun. In college, one early hot spring day we laid out for so long that I swelled up due to sun poisoning. Dumb! I'm paying for it now, during annual skin checks where the Doc fries suspicious spots off with liquid nitrogen.

So I'll do what I can with fake tan lotions and stinky foam. I've never been in a tanning bed and never will. And I don't sit in the sun without sunscreen, covering up or retreating to shade often. I might be jiggly and white, but I'm self-righteous. I feel superiorly smart about my skin health.

Brady Bunch Banned

My Mom - Pat B. banned viewage of the Brady Bunch show because it was so far from reality. My sister Betsy would try to tune it in while Mom prepared supper and Mom would put the kibosh on it. No way are you watching that stupid show she'd say.

It seems kinda funny that she did let us watch The Addams Family and The Munsters - yep those were realistic Mom. The Munsters were a little corny for my taste - Fred was just so goofy and dumb. Grandpa was kinda cool though.

I liked the Addams Family better because they were a little naughty. And Tish and Gomez were hot for each other. Plus I know all the words to the song! My sister Cindy was Cousin It for Halloween one year - she wore a mop on her head and a fuzzy bathrobe and slippers.

Back to the Bradys. Of course, we ended up watching the Bradys as reruns during daytime TV. So we got in on Marsha, Marsha, Marsha episode. And I also remember Jan trying out to be a cheerleader at Fillmore Junior High. I liked Alice - she was pretty butch to have a boyfriend though. Do you remember the show Hazel - she was a housekeeper for Mr. B? She and Alice could have been domestic partners!

Ah the sitcoms of old were much more naive than today's sitcoms. Though I appreciate the edginess of the new shows, but a part of me misses those innocent days of 60's and 70's TV.

Call me Barney

I just took the Facebook "What Character are You from the Andy Griffith Show" challenge. It's just like a reality show except I can take it in the privacy of my own home without TV exposure.

I consider myself to be more like Andy - so I'm not sure how I ended up being Barney. I'm glad I didn't end up Aunt Bea, because she didn't get to do much besides cook and talk to the guys in the house. I wouldn't want to be Floyd either - he was kinda creepy, like a pervert or something.

True story - my father attended military school with George Lindsey - Goober Pyle on the show. Goober wore that wacky hat and worked at the filling station. When I was a kid, one time we drove to Ottumwa to see Goober (George) as he was appearing at a telethon for something. I remember he had a watch that was all 5's (it's always 5 o'clock somewhere).

Andy Griffith didn't quite measure up to my all-time favorite old show "Leave it to Beaver". Did June ever really say "You were a little hard on the Beav tonight Ward!"? If so, I didn't hear it.

My friend Robbie Dob was kinda like Eddie Hascall when we were growing up. You know how slick Eddie tried to be. When Robyn came over to play (she was like 7 years old) she would tell my mother "What pretty shoes Mrs. Bullock!" enthusiastically. Even though Mom was in her cleaning clothes. Mom knew when she was having smoke blown up her ass. Mom was a pretty savvy broad - just like her #3 daughter.

The O'Goldsmiths

You have heard about Mrs. Lewin's Nursery School in Atlantic, Iowa. It was cool, but can't compare to Creative Beginnings Pre School in Creston. Our kids Amy and Jud are proud graduates. They each attended two years.

Mrs. Weeda and Mrs. Drey - two sisters run the school in the local Methodist Church facility. So of course there is no boozing or swearing for the cherubs. Those Methodists may know how to sing compared to us Catholics, but they don't know how to have fun. We had to call early to get on the list for Creative Beginnings - there was a waiting list of parents eager to send their children there.

Creative Beginnings was not a school one could simply drop a child off at with no preparation. No sir! There were assignments for each school day - hard ones, like "It's I day for the letter I. Bring a map of Ireland, cook a 5 course Italian meal and poke your I's out. Okay I exaggerate a little but it was hard. And the map part was accurate.

On St. Patrick's Day, Amy and came home with a beautifully lettered crown in the shape of a shamrock that said "Amy O'Goldsmith". Pretty clever! There were a lot of themes, and assignments that took time to complete.

Parents of students took turns taking snacks from the approved list of healthy foods. If you forgot, they broke out the graham crax and apple juice. One time my friend Bobbie made beautiful muffins for snack. Too bad it was my day to drive the car pool and I neglected to get the muffins out of the back of the van.

The car pool was convenient so nobody had to leave work two times a day three days a week. But it forced one to put up 5 screaming meemies on the one time a week I had to drive. Baily Rogers shrieking (without being able to pronounce the R sound) "Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?" So it was more like "Wew in the Wiwode is Cawmin Sandiego?"

When each Creative Beginnings graduate graduates from high school, the teachers send them a nice kid's book as a gift. Those ladies think of everything!

Kermet - Not the frog

My first boss at my very first job (Gamble Robinson) was named Kermet Torgerson - a good name for Norwegian guy from South Dakota. He seemed pretty old - to someone right out of college. He was a WWII vet, and was probably in his early 60's at the time. (yeah, pretty young really!)

Through out my working career, several of my supervisors must have attended the same business school. The one where they teach you to leave the employee to be taught be others, or self-train for long periods. Then, when you feel like you need an ego boost, call the new employee in to "show 'em your stuff" - how adept you are at a skill, or how much "juice" you have with the company.

Kermet was much like that. I knew, when he called out "Leslie" clean through the Assistant Manager's office, through two doors, that I was to jump up and run in for a "lesson". He loved to pontificate and I was the sponge to soak up his knowledge. As I said in my last entry - I was a greenhorn when it came to buying and selling produce. But Kermet was teaching an existential level of fruits and veggies.

But the old boy was in the process of losing his marbles. It many ways, it was good for the company! He took made up discounts for was he perceived as bad fruit. As Office Manager, I reconciled the invoices with receipt tickets and wrote muy largo (very large) checks for loads of oranges. And sometimes we did have shipments arrive with a great deal of spoilage. In that case we would have to document what was not sellable.

Except for Kermet. Both he and I had to sign checks. One load of oranges could cost $40,000 - and Kermet would out of the blue just cross off the amount on the invoice and deduct, say $5,000 for "bad fruit". And he got away with it!

In South Dakota there was a sect of German Americans similar to the Amish called Hutterites. They could drive trucks - but only black ones. The Hutterites sold truckloads of sweet corn and tomatoes to Gamble Robinson. Kermet liked to get those 'ol boys in his office and put them through their paces.

One time when I was popping into Kermet's office for a signature, he whipped a pistol out of his desk drawer, showing it off to the Hutterite guy who must have drawn the short straw and got stuck taking the corn to market in Kermetland. Kermet said "This is what one of your German cousins threatened me with"! I didn't stick around to see if it was loaded or not.

It was shortly after that, Kermet was put out to pasture. I never heard what happened to the guy, since I soon transferred to the Omaha, NE branch of the business. Next up - the Omaha Chapter of Leslie's Employment Path. It's been a wiggly road!

Here saber tooth kitty kitty kitty

That line was from a cartoon, but I can't remember which one. I always liked it though. It reminded me of my first cat, Bucko.

Bucko would have been a saber tooth had he been born at the right time. I adopted him from a shelter in Sioux Falls, SD - the location of my very first "real" job. In college I majored in Public Service and Administration (PSA) much to my parents' chagrin.

"What the hell can you do with that?" I can just hear Dad saying when Mom broke the news to him that I wasn't going to be a veterinarian after all. I'd discovered that:

a. you had to have pretty much a straight 4.0 grade point to go to vet school.
b. having a 4.0 grade point didn't go with having a social life and drinking 3+ nights a week
c. I was getting a D in Biology 101 - not a good sign (sidenote, I re-took the course sophomore year after I learned how to study and received an A)

I spent a couple semesters searching for the "right" major for me. I wasn't sufficiently rural (my dad sold ladies underwear for God's sake) to be an Animal Science major. I tried journalism but lacked the killer instinct to go for the jugular on stories. But I took a sociology course and it clicked. I also did well in political science and economics. What combined all of those in the Ag College? PSA! This major was actually a good pre-law major, or set up grads to work in the ISU Extension Program.

Neither of those appealed to me, but hey I loved my advisor, Eric Hoiberg, father of Fred Hoiberg future ISU and NBA basketball star. Eric was a sweetie and just the thing for a very shy and non assertive girl from Atlantic, IA. I think my parents worried a great deal about how I would make my way in the world due to my lack of self-esteem.

When my partying (ur um school) years wrapped up, I bought an outfit and signed up for interviews at the Curtiss Building. I was very selective - anything that sounded do-able. I ended up interviewing with Gamble Robinson a grocery wholesaler out of Minneapolis (they sold Snoboy Fruits and Vegetables) and the interviewer and I ended up talking about skiing (see post below about my spring break trips during college). He must have been convinced that "hey if she can ski, she can be an office manager" because a few weeks later, that company offered me a job!

I had been in a panic thinking I'd be forced to move back home. No Way! So I was thrilled to accept a position as Office Manager at the Sioux Falls branch of this company. It seems Nancy the 30 something Office Mgr. tragically had a stroke. She was expected to recover, but it would be a while. And the office staff loved her. (open door and insert new college grad who knows nothing about produce, offices or South Dakota)

Mom and I took a trip to Souffles (that's what I called it) and I selected a furnished apartment to live in. Who cared if the mattress was bad and it was right by the Interstate so I couldn't open the window if I wanted to hear the TV. I didn't mind the neighbors who fought a lot and I could hear each word through the thin walls. (it made me feel at home, really)

I probably learned more in that job than I had (at least skills to do a job) during my prior 20 (counting Mrs Lewin's nursery school) years of school. Karen, the assistant office manager had been carrying the ball when it came to the office work. She was a strict task master and I felt incompetent since I couldn't even run a damn 10 key adding machine with all my fingers. I didn't know any grocery lingo or where towns in SD were. She made me feel stupid - which I was when it came to that stuff.

I ended up living in Sioux Falls for 10 months - during which time, I mastered the adding machine, learned how to do the job pretty well and won Karen and the other office staff over with my unassuming smart-ass style. I could do a whole 'nother column about Kermet Torgerson, the Branch Manager for some of my time there. In fact I will this week. He's was a WWII Veteran and f'in crazy.

During the time I lived in SF, Paul was the only person besides my parents to come and visit. We'd dated in college mostly my senior year, but I didn't think it was anything permanent. When he came to visit, that's when I really got to know him - away from the distractions of college - to find out what a good person he was. I also adopted a kitty, who didn't really like people (he'd been an orphan) and Paul put up with said Saber Tooth.

Fate and karma intervened in our lives when Paul accepted a county soil conservation job in Oakland, Iowa (20 miles from Omaha) and I was asked to transfer to the Gamble Robinson branch in Omaha - on 10th street right by the Old Market. Again - that could be a post for another day in the walk down Leslie's memory lane.

Big 4

So our visit to Northfield last weekend got me nostalgic about college stuff. We always start talking about our crazy antics of yesteryear. Damn we had a good time.

Top photo - the Big 4 in the year of the afro. Jane, me, Vic and Sal, who must be slumping since she's like 5 foot 11 inches. Vicki's mom, Barb whipped up these aprons for us when we had our big Thanksgiving Celebration - thanks to Moose and Steve (in suits above for one of our parties) who helped themselves to one from the deep freeze of a fraternity.

Our parents often came to ISU for the big VEISHEA celebration - Barb Billhorn at left (photo above, her husband Jon behind, with Vicki's sister Krista - youngster in white. I'm in the center in light blue with my mom Pat B (The Y Director) in between me an Jon, my daddy Dave B with his arm around me, Vic in plaid and my sis Betso Bean at right.

Spring breakin' it

Spring Break 1979 photos above - Hauser in his bibs, Moose (top right), Vicki in turquoise, Jen Deter in blue, and me in light green on the Horseshoe Bowl - note Hauser sitting and flipping the bird.

Jud (#1 son) is going on a wild trip spring break trip yet again. NOT! I don't know what's wrong with the guy - he failed to make friends with anyone who plans a trip over spring break that he can glom onto.

When I was in high school, spring break for high schoolers hadn't yet been invented. But I lucked out when I went to college, and I became bestest friends with Vicki Kim Gernand. She's a people person (she could ride with a stranger on a ski lift and have their life story by the end of the ride) and someone who loves to travel. I, on the other had, am less outgoing and like to travel.

Our freshman year Vicki wanted to ski during spring break - because "you can lay on a beach when you're old!" (yes, that's why I'm going to Florida in 3 weeks) Luckily my big sis - Cindo had just moved to Vail, Colorado the year before after graduating from Drake University with a degree in Art Education. Cindy lived with 2 other Drake grads in part of a house.

Vicki and I were nerdy ISU Freshmen. Cindy was cool and sophisticated college grad in Vail. V and I packed pretty much all the clothes we had for the trip - we flew into Denver and took a bus. I took hanging clothes for God's sake! We had to take the shuttle bus in Vail to Bart and Yetti's (restaurant named after 2 dogs) where Cindy worked. How embarrassing! We slept on the foldout couch. A Teaching Assistant from ISU stayed with one of Cindy's roommates stayed in her room and smoked dope. It was very eye-opening. Skiing was fun, as was hanging with my cool big sis.

Our sophomore year Vic and I saw a sign on the 'vator (elevator) in our dorm - looking for girls to ski in Breckenridge. So Vic (the outgoing one in the group) called the number and that's how we met the Big O (before it meant THAT - at least to me!!). Jolene McGill was highly Organized and kinda bossy, which lent itself to her major elementary education. So we went with 5 girls to stay in a nice condo in Breckenridge. They were quite thrifty and we cooked most of our meals at our condo in a crock pot which they had brought along. Impressive, no? We stayed friends with those girls thru the rest of college.

Our junior year we talked our flatmates Jane and Sal into giving skiing a try, along with an Atlantic friend, Jennifer. The week before spring break, Moose and Hauser surprised us by agreeing to go too. It was quite different having dudes along - they pushed us to our skiing limits, dragging us up to the Horseshoe Bowl, a sheer drop that was scary as hell. Vicki and I booked a semi-private ski lesson with a guy named Olaf - we pictured a hunky young Norsky dude, but he was yeah, about 80 or so (at least in our 20 year old eyes).

Our senior year was the topper - we had over 20 people in the group, including my new hunny bunny Paul G. Goldsmith. We slept in a top bunk built for 1 person, but hey young love. Vic and Fred (who got shitfaced after driving us all the way to Breckenridge thru the snow) got the wider bed down below. I rode out to ski in Fred's dad's huge Lincoln - 7 people, no seatbelts. One morning Paul ate 17 pieces of french toast, only to have Mike Huston eat 18. We had a great time, doing jumps, hiding wine and cheese on the mountain each morning to enjoy on our last run of the day.

Man I was lucky to have friends, like Vicki who insisted we ski for break each year! This year it's Marco Island with Paul and Cindo - and Coronas and books.

Passin' thru

Robyn (aka Robbie Dob) wasn't slogging down a martini when she broke her leg at pre-school.
Top left - Robyn, Amy and I do Rob's patented "no lips, no handicap" look.

Life is ever-changing - which makes it interesting, you know? All through our lives, people are passing through. It begins when we're quite young. Early babysitters, daycare providers, and teachers are a few examples.

When I was a tot, I attended Mrs. Lewin's Nursery School on the edge of Atlantic. I'm not sure how old I was - 3 or 4 I suppose. Mrs. Lewin would pick us up in her station wagon. We sat in the back with the seat down, no seat belts needed back then - our heads must have been harder then these pansy kids today! I remember we'd sing "Way Down Yonder in the Paw Paw Patch" and she'd call out my name when we got to my house, singing "where oh where is my friend Leslie?"

Mrs. Lewin's house was like a dream come true for any little kid. In my memory, it was like Disneyland all in a basement and backyard! She had a table that was recessed on top and filled with water or perhaps sand. There was a big wooden block collection - one time Tommy Sandhorst (or someone similar whose name I don't remember) nailed Kyla Huett in the head with a block and made her bleed.

Mrs. Lewin always served a nutritious snack consisting of koolaid and graham crackers with - I kid you not - sugar cubes! They were yum yummy dipped in the koolaid.

Out back, along with the arm and leg breaking playground equipment, there was a little train we could sit on. I remember it going around on a track. But that vision could also be my imagination, or wishful thinking.

I've mentioned before how I broke my arm there, jumping off the top of the huge (to a 4 year-old) slide during a wild game of boys chase girls. I was also on board when Robbie Dob broke her leg (if she was Odie it would be widdo weg) - getting it wedged under the pedal of the glider. Can you imagine the uproar and lawsuits if any of that happened today?

I attended school with some kids (like Robyn) from preschool all the way through to high school graduation. (our paths split then as she went to the University of Iowa and I, to the highly superior Iowa State University) During our school years, some kids moved away and I lost track of them. Others moved in - which seemed very exotic to those of us who had only lived in Atlantic. Friends, just passing through.

Remember, when we were kids, how easy it sometimes was to just start playing with a kid who seemed fun? At the Country Club pool we ended up playing games like Shark, Nibbles and Freeze Tag with other pool rats like us. BFFFH (Best Friends For a Few Hours) Or somebody would bring there cousin along and we would be fast friends for that week and then never see them again! (or if they came back at an awkward age, we'd struggle to make conversation)

College was the same way. We hang out a bit with someone on our dorm floor just because they were there. But when we moved to an apartment (the Big 4, of which I was a part) lived on Campus Avenue. We flirted harmlessly with the guys who lived above us the first year. Now I don't even remember their names - except for the one we called 3B, which stood for Bad Breath Brad. Guess nobody we hung with married that guy!

I've had a lot of jobs through the past 35 years or so, and made a lot of temp friends. I try to stay in touch, but with some people it's really just the job you have in common so eventually you let most of them go. I still get together with some ladies I worked with at Gits Manufacturing from 1995-1997, even though only one of us even works there now!

My book club (reading discussion group) is a cool bunch of ladies I met through my love for books. Well, I guess I did already know Deb before (afore mentioned workout stud and excellent BFF), but the rest of this group I met through the club. Mary has been a nice recent addition - and now she's moving on.

Good thing she joined Facebook so I can keep track of her!

L Word

I'm not a lesbian but I may play one to get books. You see I used to go to Creston's Matilda Gibson Public Library (or Libary as my sister Cindy says Mom pronounced it) each week. Nowdays, living in Waukee during the week puts a crimp in my library time.

I need to go check out the Waukee Public Library to see if I am eligible to check out books from there. I may have to tell them I'm Joan's lesbian partner to get a library card. Or maybe they'll have a simpler solution and I'm just fretting about it needlessly - making life more complex than it really is.

I'm also a big fan of the cheap hardback books I can get at bookstores. I refuse to pay $8.99 for a paperback. (unless I'm desperate - like an addict chasing that next crack high) But paying $5.99 for a hardback is okay - especially if I take advantage of Taco Tuesday and only spend $1.98 for supper. (yes, that's me justifying my addiction in a totally illogical manner)

Tomorrow night I'm heading home - yabba dabba do! I'll go to A&G tomorrow night for a send off to a newer friend who is moving away from Creston. Mary has been in our bookclub for the past year+. She started out pretty quiet, but soon began feel comfy enough with the group to share her views on each book and participate in the chatty stuff we usually end up talking about after the official discussion.

We'll miss you Mary!

Is it Wednesday yet?

I hate it when my internal time clock is off. This week, since I came to Des Moines on Sunday so I'm one day ahead. It should be Wednesday! Guess I'll have to suck it up and survive 2 more days until I get to go home.

One a happier note, I did get wireless Internet set up at Joan's house. Yay! Sitting in the recliner, bloggin' What a life!

I love those cheetos commercials with the cool cheeta. In one, the lady wipes her cheeto hands on the obnoxious lady's sweater, and one the other one she tosses cheetos under an annoying chick talking on her cell phone. The pigeons attack.

Which reminds me of a funny Jud story. He's blocked out his childhood so I've dedicated my life to remembering all those embarrassing things for him. He's always had a hair-trigger gag reflex. One time he was eating cheetos when he made a mad dash to our sink. Then he puked and rinsed it down with the garbage disposal, gasping "Icky Cheeto"! It seems just the thought of eating something icky makes him frup.

Which reminds me of another thing - nothing to do with vomit or cheetos. Amy (waitress to the stars) served Kenny Loggins at Beanos Cabin in Beaver Creek today. She said it was weird running his credit card through the machine. I asked her if she mentioned that her mommy has him in her CD player right now.

Larping through life

Have you heard of LARPers? It stands for Live Action Role Playing people. From Wikipedia:
A live action role-playing game (LARP) is a form of role-playing game where the participants physically act out their characters' actions. The players pursue their characters' goals within a fictional setting represented by the real world, while interacting with one another in character. The outcome of player actions may be mediated by game rules, or determined by consensus between players.

I may be (am) lacking in imagination - but what are these people? A bunch of mime wannabes?

When we were visiting our friends in Northfield, MN my little buddy Lauren, college frosh at St. Olaf told about LARPers at her school. It seems they have a secret lair near her dorm and have sword fights in her dorm hallway. Her first roommate also played a ukulele, keyboard and harmonica. She practiced all hours.

Guess I'm fortunate I went to an Ag school like ISU, not a liberal arts music school. I'm sure ISU had it's own LARP types, just not in such a concentrated formula.

Prayers: Our nephew Joe (late 20's, engaged to Heather) from Port Washington, WI was in a bad car accident yesterday and is sedated with brainswelling. Prayers needed!

Frozen Tundra

Just back from visiting some of our college friends in Northfield, MN. That's where it snows 9 months out of the year. Not really, but they do seem to be about a month behind us when it comes to weather. At least in the spring. In the fall they're a month ahead!

See, here in balmy Southern Iowa it's already been 70 degrees. All the snow has melted - more than once. I was chilly the whole time I was up there. But those Minnesodans are a hearty lot! They just bundle up.

Anyway - we got to see 3 couples we have known for 30 years or so. Moose and Kay, Vic and Fred and Hauser (Steve) and Ann. Jeez - 30 years. That sounds like it should come from someone who IS old, and I don't feel that way. As I've said before in this blog - there is nothing like an old friend. They know all your stories, but laugh anyway (or perhaps because they thought it was funny 30 years ago and they still do).

I like that we can pick up where we left of with old friends - no need to wonder if they are some psycho-flake, who might seem like a cool person we'd like to know better, but turns out to be nothing like we thought. We know our friends' families, siblings, parents and pets.

Our friends' kids seem like nieces and nephews. We've celebrated each of their births and milestones like graduations. While our own chillins couldn't attend this trip, we did get to see some of the kids.

Kelli is the eldest - belonging to Vic and Fred. She was the "trial child" who all our children looked up to. She's now 24 and was kind enough to buzz down from the Twin Cities to see us. V&F's 2nd child Lauren is now a college frosh, and while usually quiet, she regaled us with stories of campus life at St. Olaf - a liberal arts college in Northfield.

M&K's Jaime was pretty much the reason for this wintry trip north. She is a high school senior and was visiting the U of M as a potential for her undergrad years. (I hope she is as lucky as I was in finding friends!). Jaime is a bit of a genius - scoring a perfect 36 on her ACT. We always knew she was intelligent, but WOW! Alyssa is her lil sis, and they seem to pretty close for sistas. Alyssa is outgoing and has always been quite a character. She's now a high school frosh.

We didn't get to see Steve and Ann's fam, as it was adults only at Buca de Bepo - a family style Italian joint in the Cities. It was a lot of fun and much like a family meal, we sat at our table long after the main course was devoured. The Hauser kids sound like they're doing fine - all growing up quickly as kids tend to do. Rachel, Ethan and Gracie keep their parents busy.

After we got home, we played Wii - my first time. Yep I was a Wii virgin. (don't worry I used protection - Vicki made sure we sealed the safety cord around our wrists so we didn't throw the controller thru their new flat screen). I sucked at cow races, and Paul was the worst archer ever.

I hope to post photos of our night as soon as someone emails me the evidence. Our drive home thru - gasp - snow, sleet, rain was not fun. We stopped in Ames to take our #1 son to lunch. He's turning out pretty good if I do say so myself. Then I talked to #1 daughter after I got back to my home away from home in Waukee. Sounds like all is well in Vail Valley.

Can't wait to go home Thursday - until then, there be garbage dragons to slay...

Jesus comes first

I got stood up by a priest for a lunch date today. Yep, a guy with a collar (Fr. Howard Fitz) failed to meet me at Chef Joe’s today. We were supposed to meet at 11:30 a.m., so by 12ish even the waitress was feeling sorry for me. I’m sure they wondered why I wasn’t calling him on his cell. I would have, if he had one!

So when I finally did order and made my way back to work after lunch, I called his office to see if there was some religious emergency – perhaps last rites were needed, a rush job. Jesus does come before Leslie, the sometimes doubtful one.

But he emailed back and said he’d had a nice lunch at a place called Alba – down the block from Chef Joes. He’d forgotten my cell number and I guess the name of the restaurant we were meeting at. Oh well, I forgive him! He does have important stuff on his mind. I haven’t seen him for years though – so I hope we make another date real soon. This time we’ll go somewhere in his neighborhood, so I make sure he shows up.

I had a hot supper date with my roomie Joan and our friend, former Crestonite, Cyndy. Joan and Cyndy grew up not far from each other, but hadn’t seen each other in years. It was very enjoyable, and social after my solo lunch deal. I had a lovely lemondrop martini and a taco salad. A good time was had by all.

It will be a busy next few days as I go home tomorrow night, back to the Big City Friday a.m., Pablo the Pool Boy is picking me up here for a trek to Northfield, MN to visit our college friends – 3 couples. I’m excited to see all my old friends that knew me when I still had nice tight skin and no age spots! I’ve got more character now…right?

OMN

Old Man Noises

You hear it in the distance, in cubicleland. Those snarky, snotty Old Man Noises (OMN). The noises can come from a woman, but I've noticed that men mostly make them. Old ones, though younger ones can make some pretty impressive noises of their own.

My dad had a sneeze that could break the sound barrier. But he didn't make that sucking sinus noise. A guy I used to work with (old guy) used to make a weird OMN with his mouth somehow. I mostly noticed it while we were driving. I don't think he even knew he did it.

I'm sure I make some of my own strange and individual noises. I'm just used to 'em.

Headaches

I've gotten a migraine headache each of the last 3 days. So that's why I'm not real wordy. The pain seems to rob my brain of its creativity. Oooh I almost put it's. I hate it when I use it's/its and you're/your incorrectly.

My roomie Joanie and I are meeting a Creston buddy Cyndy for supper tomorrow night at the Club Car. S/b fun! Plus I'm meeting my old pal Father Howard Fitz for lunch. Hope he gives me some Catholic kudos.

Paul's Prime Rib Recipe

Paul makes this for special occasions and it's fabuloso!

4 lb. will trimmed beef rib eye roast
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cracked black pepper
1 tsp dried rosemary leaves, crushed

Sauce: 1 jar (12 oz) brown beef gravy
1/4 cup currant jelly (he uses Welches Grape - not fancy, not currants but it works)
1 1/2 tsp dry mustard dissolved in 1 tsp water

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Combine garlic, salt, pepper and rosemary. Press evenly onto roast. Place on rach in shallow roasting pan. Insert meat thermometer so bulb is centered in thickest part, not resting in fat. Do no add water or cover. Roast approximately 18-22 minutes per pound for medium rare to medium doneness.
2. Remove roast when thermometer registers 140 degrees for medium rare, 155 for medium. Let stand 15 minutes. (temp will continue to rise)
3. Meanwhile in small saucepan, combine sauce ingredients; cook over medium heat 5 minutes, or until bubbly, stirring occasionally.
4. Carve roast into slices, serve with sauce 8-10 servings.

Breakin' up is hard to do

Photo at left shows me with my sisters - demonstrating that they got the hair gene that I'm missing. Left to right Betso, Me, Cindo and Suso. (youngest to matriarch).

Breakin' Up

I had to break up with my hairdresser this week. (Are we supposed to call them that? Or are they all stylists now?). It’s not her, it’s me. I just can’t drive to Corning for my monthly ‘do now that I’m commuting to the Big City.

It WAS hard to do – we’ve been together now for some 10+ years. We took a break a couple times – when she had babies. But we always got back together – because she cared enough to write me and invite me back. I worked in that area each month so it wasn't a special trip just for hair.

Letting someone invade my personal space isn’t easy for me. I don’t let just anyone touch my head! Add to that, the fact that I’m inept when it comes to doing hair, which is embarrassing in a way. Since I am a girl and we’re supposed to be good at that stuff. So when I get used to a hairdresser, and they understand that about me, I usually stick with him/her.

During the past twenty two years that we’ve lived in Creston, I’ve really only gone to three different people. Last Friday, I just knew it was time, so I dialed Hair House in Creston after consulting with Patti about potential hair-doeers during our a.m. walk. I made an appointment with Amber who was very nice and did a fine job on my locks. So today I wrote a short “Dear John” note to Sherry to let her know I won’t be back. It’s was the right thing to do, but I’m kinda sad though. I enjoyed hearing about her young family and filling her in on mine.

Alas, my hair is now getting gray enough that I can’t just highlight it to hide the cursed offending hairs. Sherry had been preparing me for this day for the past couple years. And Amber at Hair House confirmed it. Time to move onto Lowlighting and Highlighting. Shit! Wonder how much that’s going to cost?

I wish I had the type of hair that just turned a pretty silver overnight. I could live with that. But no, it’s a butt ugly salt and pepper, blotchy and wiry. Gray hair and wrinkles I curse ye! (that’s me having a moment, disturbed by signs of aging) But that doesn’t make them disappear. So I’ll continue, at least for now, my battle through the miracle of chemical enhancement. With my new hair guru.