Walkin' with my honey

Walking with my honey - for exercise - is nothing like walking with my girl friends. This morning Paul and I walked over 4 miles in a hilly area by our house. It was a beautiful morning - light breeze and sunny.

We started at our house, and walked west, taking a loop around my favorite cemetery, Calvary - the Catholic Cemetery in town. We were both wearing iPods, cuz I knew he wouldn't be too chatty. He rarely is. At least he's nothing like my friends when it comes to words per mile! I've read where men use many less words per day then most women and I heartily believe it's true. We's just more wordy!

When I walk with my friends - when I can keep up to them - we usually start catching up on our week/night prior. I hadn't seen Patti, Susan and Deb for several days when we walked last Friday a.m. so we had lots of catching up to do! After we fill each other in, then we cover local gossip/news. Stuff that's been in the paper or on the radio. And then, the story behind the story.


Paul and I usually have already filled each other in on all of the above, so when we walk there is little of that newsy stuff, unless I think of something I've forgotten to tell him. He's very comfortable with silence, and I'm okay with it especially with my iPod filling my ears with all my favorite tunes.

This morning we walked all the way out Adams and up Dogwood to Hwy 25 and back. It was a good workout and as I said before, hilly! When we got home we headed for HyVee for a nice breakfast of eggs, hashbrowns and toast. About that time, the Sunday church crowd from Holy Spirit showed up (we went last night) and we got to visit a bit with Gammells and Kinsellas, and the Myers boys. That's what I like about living here. Homey stuff.


Now I'd better get something accomplished. Or at least go read on the deck while it's nice!


I'm thinking of my friend Deb this weekend. Her mother has lung cancer, and is terminal. She has just moved into the Hospice for an evaluation. But Deb and I talked Friday about it. There are no possible good outcomes for this. No matter what, she's going to lose her mom. I've been in her shoes - with both Mom and Dad. That's why watching someone else go through it is so hard.


You wish for a quick and merciful end to the suffering, but then feel guilty for wishing them gone. Plus the finality of it all is so tough. Once they are gone, it's forever. Deb went through this with her father too. I'm thinking of their family and hoping for some bits of peace and grace to be a part of this sad time for them.

Yukking it up

I had kind of a rough day yesterday. I had to speak at a work meeting of 100 people, including my peers, co-workers and stakeholders from across the state. I was nervous! and didn't sleep all that well the night before. Though I must say I was lookin' mighty springy in my $19 new white pants and lime green, royal blue gauzy blouse over a tee. I didn't even get barbeque on it!

A co-worker, Shelly and I were talking about an application for a new Environmental Management System pilot program we're rolling out as part of our work with a Council of solid waste professionals around the state. Since Shelly works out of her home and travels a large area of the state - up the I-35 corridor Des Moines to Mason City, we didn't get a chance to run through out part together.

I practiced what I thought my part would be several times. I visualized how it was going to go. Of course reality got in the way! Things didn't flow as I expected and that got me flustered and off my game. So I thought I sucked. I stressed about it all the way home to Creston after the meeting. I tell myself the attendees probably didn't think twice about it. But still the mental Mohammed Ali (beat myself up) the whole way home. Geez.

So I was glad to attend book club with my homegirls last evening. Best bud Deb picked Odie and me up at 7. The usual culprits - Dianne, Francie, Angie, Deb and I were there at host Thea's. Plus there was a new person who saw my poster at the library and decided to give it a try. Her name is Ramona.

This month we read "An Ocean in Iowa". It was written by an author who grew up in Des Moines in my era. So I could relate to much of the descriptive stuff in the book - elementary school classrooms, games, television. The book took me on a nostalgic stroll down memory lane.

The plot was pretty sad. The kid - whose last name was Ocean, was a screwed up kid. His Mom - an frustrated artist who lived in an era where women were supposed to be happy housewives - did not have healthy relationships. She drank and eventually bailed on the family.

I took discussion questions along to the meeting, and for the first time on a couple months we actually discussed the book for quite some time. But if you know our group - we tend to veer off into other topics easily. Book discussion ADD I guess.

But oh how we laugh! I took Odie the wonder wienie dog along. She gave everyone Odie lovin' - a wondrous thing if you don't mind puppy slurps on your face. And Thea - what a story-teller. I laugh out loud (LOL - we discussed this last night, what that stands for) thinking about her stories - usually making gentle fun of herself. And all the members are great at relating stories that often pertain to the book of the month.

Ramona - the new kid - seemed to enjoy herself! She brought along a delightful bottle of wine for the hostess. Angie brought some cheap wine that also went over quite well. Oh how I enjoy this group of women - many of whom I would never have met without the mutual love of books. We sure yuk it up!

I miss my house

the kitchen, and our house getting drilled for geothermal heating/cooling - so green!

Who knew I could grow so attached to a bunch of sticks. Okay, those sticks are put together to make my home for the last 11 years - at 1705 Port Rd in Creston. (When we moved here, the addy was 102 S Port Rd., but 911 changed all that - glad I didn't have it chisled into the concrete!).

I love the location - on the edge of town with mostly cool neighbors. There's that one chick (term used loosely as she's a former druggie/chain smoker rode hard...) that has a crush on my spousal unit. She comes up with weak excuses to talk to him. Come on!

The rest of the folks are swell. They don't party late or start their choppers at 2 a.m. (usually). I like to chat with each of them and like it when winter is over and they are out in the yard more. I try to avoid the yard and all its accompanying work (I have allergies - hey it worked for my dad all those years), but I do hang on the deck.

When we moved into our house, we didn't have to rush into doing anything to it, but through the years we have slowly changed/replaced lots of stuff. Nearly every window (just 1 left and it needs to go). Flooring - we did recycle the upstairs carpet to downstairs, and used the kitchen flooring in the hall when we re-did the kitchen with bamboo.

I love that I can live all on 1 floor of the house - never straying into the basement. Have I ever told you about my aversion to downstairs - not just at our house...I pretty much don't like any totally enclosed basement without a walkout. But Paul finished the whole basement - framed up rooms, put in a bathroom and beautiful cabinets. At least that's what they tell me. Just kidding I HAVE been down there. I just avoid it.

Though smallish, our kitchen is gorgeous with the new cabinets and earth friendly floor. And the cathedral ceiling gives the living room a sunny look. I like to look at my wall stuff (the real walls, not facebook) and see things I've collected through the years. A postcard I had framed from Italy, a recycling poster, a photo from Cannon Beach are all hung tastefully low. Too many peeps hang 'em high. My mommy taught me that skill.

I told ya'll how Paul re-did our closet. And the bathroom is great with the terra cotta tile floor that is on a heated timer. Even Odie and Kitty Kitty have caught on to that radiant therapeutic feel.

Yeah - it's not perfect. The garage is small and the laundry can be loud since you can't close it off. But it is on the main floor. Yep, I love my house - and all the people and animals that go with it.

Long weekends

The best thing about long weekends is the short week that follows. Though I did decide to head to roomie Joan's today after shopping with Jud and Paul at Jordan Creek. That way I can get a jump on work in the a.m. since I was in Iowa City/CR last week and went home to Creston without stopping in the office.

Jud needed clothes for a summer in Ames. So we hit American Eagle - the line to try stuff on was long, so he'll try it on at home and take it back if it doesn't fit. He got a couple pairs of shorts, some shoes (Finish Line) and a couple shirts. For Jud, that's going crazy shopping! He doesn't buy much. He's been sick with a sinus infection all weekend, so I hope a few new things perk him up.

Then I looked at suits. Yep, a suit for work. And funerals I spose. But I didn't buy anything - wasn't feeling it. I need to keep looking though cuz I am a speaker at a meeting this week - nearly 100 people will be there. Yikes! I need to practice. I am talking about the application for the Environmental Management System (EMS) - which we (DNR) is encouraging solid waste agencies to adopt. After all, it's not just about trash.

It's about air, water and trash. We're all in this together, and some 30 years after Iowa's Groundwater Protection Act took effect, it's time to move beyond simply measuring how much trash we're sending to the landfill. There are better ways to encourage environmental protection.

So I need something professional looking to where Thursday to the EMS meeting. Suit pants are so damn long and I don't have high heels. I need something that looks professional, but I can wear clogs. Paul will flip if I buy another pair 'o shoes.

So tomorrow night after work - I'll be on a mission. I'm trying Valley West after work.

Hope all of you out there in reader land had a nice holiday weekend.

Just home

Just home from our latest visit to the Atlantic Cemetery. Lots of driving for a very short time.

First we met Kay Harris at Pizza Ranch for lunch. Kay was my dad's "live in" for the last couple years of his life. She took good care of him and he enjoyed all the things he was able to do even after his stroke. So even though she drives me a bit crazy (she's a busybody), I feel like I need to touch base every once and a while.

At the cemetery, Kay had stuck plastic flowers by Dad and Patrick's graves. Ugh. Dad always insisted on real flowers. We had left a wire hanging thing on the hook near Patrick's grave that was worse for wear. Rusty and battered. It was time for it to be gone. Paul used it to secure the new wrought iron firefly to the post.

I was in a sad and mellow mood doing all this today. Most days, when I'm busy with my regular life, I don't think of what I've lost. But days like today don't allow for all the distractions to cover up the sadness I feel. I'll be okay again soon, but am giving myself permission to be sad today.

Memorial Days continued...

I have a distinct memory of coming home from the cemetery one year on Memorial Day in trouble. Mom smacked Cindy's and my legs with the fly swatter. Hope there weren't any fly guts on it! It was before our house got remodeled because the kitchen was on the back of the house.

Don't know why that particular memory stuck with me all these years. I'm sure there were lots of other instances of getting in trouble with 3 sisters!

This year, I plan to head over to the Atlantic Cemetery for the first time in a couple years. It's been hard for me to go there now that our family has no base, no home. I do want to take photos of each stone for my genealogy stuff. I'd also like to stop in Anita at that cemetery to see if I can find the fam plot there.

On to more cheery Memorial Day topics. Before we had kids, our college buddies and we used to try to camp for the three day holiday. It usually ended up being the coldest freakin' holiday of the year! We only had tents in our post college days, and a mish mash of camping stuff.

Pine Lake, up by Iowa Falls is a beautiful Lake and campground. The usual culprits were Moose and Kay, Vic and Fred, and Tom and Allison. Jane and Bob may have been around too. The usual routine was the guys played golf and we girls hung out. One year was freezing cold and rainy, so we sat in a tent eating oreos and drinking bad wine.

Then, when the guys came back from golf they would say "we need ice!" and set off for the nearest town. Of course they were then gone for hours, hanging in dumpy bars drinking beer. We would drink and wait for "our men". It was so dang wet and cold one year that after attending a movie, and going to a bar, it was still raining so we packed up and drove with all our wet stuff to Ames to sleep in Behr's duplex.

When we moved to Creston, we tried to continue hosting an annual get-together and one year we put the hot tub outside for the weekend (it wasn't properly grounded to you could get a tingly feeling when sitting on the edge). All the college buddies came - even Schneid, Paul's college buddy who spent a year or two back in Iowa during this time. Our Creston friends came to the party to0 and I recall everyone being clustered around the grill for warmth.

We haven't really had a set routine since the kids were in school/activities. If they were playing softball/baseball there were usually tournies. Even though they no longer do that stuff we haven't come up with a new holiday activity. I think we need to come up with something madcap, crazy and fun. No tents allowed.

Memorial Days past...

Above - 4 generations of Bullocks - now RIP at the Atlantic Cemetary

As we ready for a long weekend (pause for mental happy dance), I can't help but think about past Memorial Days. Dad's whole family, starting with his great grandfather Adnah David Bullock is buried in the Atlantic Cemetary, overlooking Nishna Hills Golf Course.

Adnah grew up in Sheridan, NY and joined up at the end of the Civil War at age 18. He headed east, and lived in Waukee (where he picked up a wife - Ella) and Rippey before settling in Anita.

Adnah's only child, Wayne and wife Lulu are there, with their two sons Max/wife Mary Lou and my grandpa Wallace Orville and my gran Zora Clayton Stewart Bullock.

Next comes Dad and his two Pats. My mom Patricia Nelle Morehead Bullock and Patricia Taylor a/k/a P2. Our baby boy Patrick is there too. So 5 generations of Bullocks, skipping my generation (hopefully for a long time). I think all the spots are gone anyways.

Adnah was a Civil War Vet, and Dad a Korean War Vet. Thanks to them and to all veterans for their service to our country. Having a son of my own makes me realize what a sacrifice it is for those who do serve and send their sons to serve.

Dad (and his dad before him) always made sure there were fresh flowers on the graves. When we were little he would take us out and we would stand there a bit looking at the stones before trotting off to see "Babyland". Creepy, huh.

Since my childhood I've always been drawn to cemetaries as quiet places I can walk, contemplate life and learn about past history. I find it relaxing to walk through reading the names and wondering what their life stories are.

I'm planning to be cremated and probably won't even have a stone in a cemetary.

Inventation

Yep, I just made that word up. People today are forever combining a couple words to make a new word that usually works pretty well in certain situations.

I was thinking about this today after I learned a new word last night while out to eat with a cool group of women at a funky restaurant in Iowa City. I was in town visiting a friend who so kindly offered to let me stay with her on IRA meeting eve.

Translation: the Iowa Recycling Association board meeting was today in Cedar Rapids, so I used this occasion to visit my pal Susan whom I haven't seen for any quality time for quite a stretch. I met Susan some 11 years ago (we must have been just babies then) prior to my first IRA Fall Conference. We started chatting at a meeting (actually it was a waste sort workshop) and decided (since we're both very thrifty) to room together at the Conference - and we've been fast friends ever since.

Last night, Susan had made plans to go out to eat with some other area women who are "in the biz" - recycling education, or similar type fields. Intelligent women and fun to talk to. While we perused the menu, we talked about being vegetarian. A couple are, but they haven't totally cut meat out of their diets forever. Someone said this is called "Flexitarian". I like that word!

I don't like all made up words. For example "Synergy" is overused and sounds fake. Believing that two groups are going to have more energy because they are working together is most likely a pipe dream. (I don't have a clue where that saying came from...)

Today - for lunch after the IRA meeting, a caterer from Marengo, Iowa (a small town about a half hour away from IC) prepared a gourmet pasta bar right there in the City Carton (a recycling company) break room.

The chef/owner from Phat Daddies had a gas burner and a small saute pan which he primed with a little EVOO (if you watch Rachel Ray you know that's Extra Virgin Olive Oil). Each person selected their own ingredients for the meal. I picked: Penne pasta, scallops, shrimp, mushrooms, tomatoes and marinara sauce. He sauteed stuff and then mixed the sauce in and added fresh Parmesan. Bene!

The whole trip was pretty good - but I need to remember to take the GPS next time I venture to the East Side. I don't drive and find places very well.

S&K Breakfast

I got to meet my homies for breakfast this a.m. I just wanted to sit and drink in the companionship. But I was too busy talking. And eating.

I miss hanging with those guys. And I even miss exercising with 'em. And my jiggly body does too. Not really - but I miss feeling like I'm in good shape. I miss bitching and moaning about the excercises. And I think my shoulder/neck problems are partly due to my lack of stretching and exercising.

We never lack for conversation at breakfast. This week Nancy is turning 50! She had been to Kansas City to visit her kids. Stories of her grandkids are entertaining. Of course that brought up topics about our kids and carseats. Aww memories.

Good to see you my friends!

Now I'm back in DSM hanging with my roomies. We're chatting about the weekend. That's fun too. Nothing like girlie friends!

After banking

When I quit my Loan Clerk job at First National Bank in Creston, I was a 33 year old mother of 2 with a puppy. Paul had a good full time job with the federal government, so I didn't realy need benefits. But I did need a sanity keeping job.

What do I mean by that? I needed a job to get me away from the kids in order to keep my sanity. Not that I didn't love the little bastards to death, but I needed "away time". My friend Denis Ritzman worked for an oxygen delivery company called Central Medical Supply. They needed someone to work about 10 hours a week, plus take some "on call" time with a beeper. So I took that job.

Working in the medical field was something I'd never strived for, but hey, the hours and pay were okay. My territory stretched from northern Missouri up to Elk Horn. I spent a lot of time on the road and visited homes and nursing homes of people who needed oxygen concentrators and supplies like tanks for mobility and nose tubes (cannula's). I had a tool that allowed me to measure the oxygen output of the machine to make sure it was working okay. If it wasn't, I switched it out.

Sometimes it was a little creepy. Nursing homes smell and are often sad places. People in nursing homes were sometimes comatose and I was supposed to switch out their cannula. Ick - touching a near dead person's nose? Double ick! Sometimes I just pretended - after all they had nurses on staff to do that stuff right?

Other people were still in their homes. Sometimes I got quite attached to them. Then I'd see an obituary in the paper, or get a call to pick up their equipment. Not a good sign. In my experience, unless the oxygen is only used at night, most people using it don't survive real long.

It was during a drive while delivery O2 equipment that I had an epiphany. I should have another baby! I sure don't know what came over me - popping out another kid wasn't ever in my plans before that. Amazingly, Paul was not hard to talk into it! He was (is) always up for that activity. So before I knew it, I was with child - baby due in December 1991.

Central Medical went through some changes, and I was laid off. I kinda thought they didn't want someone who was preggers on staff. So it was the one and only time in my life that I received jobless benefits. I even had to do a phone hearing on it as CMS tried to deny my claim - and I kick their asses. So I was off work for the last 3 months until Patrick George was born December 2, 1991 via C-Section as he was breech.

He made quite an entry into the world, and then, due to hypoplastic left ventricle he left way to soon - after only 6 days of life. It was a life-changing experience for Paul and me, and Amy too was much affected. Jud was not yet 3, and he doesn't remember much about it. Despite the sadness and sense of loss, I'm glad we had Patrick. I wouldn't take back that epiphany for anything.

Time Bomb

Above:

Time Bomb and one of my birthday parties shortly after my folks remodeled out screened in porch to become our family room.

I'm reading the book selected for my reading discussion group (aka Book Chicks - at least until any guys join). The book is "An Ocean in Iowa" by Peter Hedges who also wrote "What's Eating Gilbert Grape". Hedges grew up in Iowa and is just a few years younger than I am. In this book - I'm about half done - he has my childhood pretty much nailed.

In the Ocean book, Scotty Ocean is 7 years old, living in West Glen Iowa, which back then was its own little town not a place of upscale shops, houses and a fancy country club. It sounds like it was a lot like Atlantic where I grew up. He also mentions other Des Moines suburbs and Wakonda. His mother is a chain smoker - ah memories of my mother...

When Hedges describes the classroom at his school and some of the activities during each day, I can see the same things in my mind's eye. The fake clocks the teacher handed out so we could learn to tell time (they didn't tick so we knew they weren't real). Learning to tie our shoes. Desks lined up in neat rows. Story time.

This was the boomer era and there were tons of kids - some 30 or so in my classroom and Washington Elementary (there were three elementary schools in A-town and Washington was the newest) had two of each grade. I have lots of memories of recess, teachers and friends.

With that many kids in each class, we celebrated a lot of birthdays. And I attended lots of bday parties. I would dress up in a little cotton bday dress and Mom would deliver me to the birthday child's party - ususally held at their house, but sometimes at a local park. We played games like pin the tail on the donkey and carry an egg in a spoon race. There were prizes and cake with punch. Then the bday girl would get to open the many presents she got. One year I received 3 identical piggy banks - 1 red, two blue. I bet my mom got awful tired of buying cheap crap for bday parties for her 4 daughters!

In an "Ocean in Iowa" Hedges describes Scotty's 7th birthday party - such a walk down memory lane for me. He received a Time Bomb game. I had one of those! It was a rather nerve wracking exercise to play. The red wick part could be wound and the thing started ticking, and much like hot potato, you didn't want to be stuck holding it when it went off! It was made of firm black plastic and I was worried it would break getting lobbed around in our un-carpeted basement.

Is this was growing old is like? Does one just get increasingly nostalgic about one's past? I don't think I'm stuck in my past. I look forward to seeing and learning new things. But I do enjoy remembering stuff I had and things I did. I don't think it hurts to remember where we've come from.

Pet synergy

I really think the word synergy is pretty hokie. It's a phrase I hear in meetings now days. I don't think anyone really knows what it means, we just use it cuz it sounds like it would be good. Maybe it's a combination of sin and energy...hmmm.

I worked at home today and with pets Odie Pearl and Kitty (Samantha). They provided great synergy. I got a lot done.

The pets didn't bother me by talking loudly in the next cubicle. They didn't make snot noises or clear their throats over and over. I did hear a little snoring though. They usually cluster around me - especially when it's storming like it was today. Odie doesn't like thunder.

But the pets didn't bring treats like someone did at our office yesterday - some kind of bars with cream cheese frosting. Yum. So there are benefits of working with other people. Plus I still have a lot to learn about my job from others who have been doing this stuff for a while. So I don't think it would be good to work at home all the time.

But today - the pets and I were digging it!

Gramma Mazur

I've been listening to Janet Evanovich novels these past couple weeks. I want to grow up to be Grandma Mazur!

She's a real Pip. If you're into Evanovich, you really should listen to a book or two instead of reading. The narrator is fab. I think her name is Lorelei something.

I found myself wondering if she goes through and reads each part separate of the others, because it would be hard to keep all those characters' voices straight. Lula, Morelli, Grandma, Connie the office gal who is all Jerzy.

Back to Gramma M. She wears polyester pantsuits and white tennies. At times she packs a pistol (illegal). She's up for most anything - gaming on laptops, digging for treasure and of course her fave activity - going to funeral viewings. I love her "La Vida Loca" attitude. I want to get me some of that by the time I'm in my 70's.

Today I toured Liberty Tire in Des Moines. They recycle all types of tires - shipping good ones off to Mexico for re-use, and chopping up others into various sizes for further use. Some get made into athletic tracks - made by mixing the crumb rubber with glue. Larger pieces can be used for playground materials and some goes to be a drainage layer for things like landfills. My boss Al and co-worker Kirsten went along. It was a good trip.

Tired

I'm vewwy vewwy tired. That's what a little girl I know said about her dad when he had a terrible hangover. She's couldn't say Rs very well.

But I don't have a hangover. I just had a busy long day and didn't sleep too well last night, worrying about my busy long day to come.

I went on a road trip to Lake Mills after 2 department meetings this a.m. Kathleen went along so we passed the time chatting. I drove both ways. I didn't get regular meals. I'm a bit out of sorts and crabby.

I'm going to bed. I like what my friend Thea put in her Facebook post - like Cathy in cartoons used to say. Accck! (not sure of spelling)

The good news? I'm going home at noon tomorrow! My honey vacuumed.

Review

I had a job review today - imagine that! It's been a while since I worked at a job where I didn't just do a self-review. It was kinda nice to hear from someone how they think I'm doing. Plus Al, my boss, said nice things about me. I'm kicking trash's ass. And I get a raise in a couple weeks. Can't beat that - unless I get to do this and NOT commute!

So, I'm sure you're thinking, how did you get to this point Leslie? (prolly not really but guess you're gonna hear anyway) You've heard about my career up through my job at Fox River in Osage. When Amy was a few months old, Paul began to eye other jobs with the Soil Conservation Service within Iowa - jobs that presented more of a challenge, in parts of the state that had big deer. (I know, a pretty strict set of requirements).


There was an opening for a District Conservationist in Creston - only an hour from my hometown of Atlantic, and in the same athletic conference. I didn't know much about the town, but I figured it was as good as anyplace to bring up a kid, plus it was close to my folks place. Paul got the job so we headed to town to find housing. We ended up buying a place at 201 East Prairie - a nice 3 bedroom ranch.


Paul started work in November of 1986 and I was home with a 1 year old, not knowing anyone. I didn't even know my way around. It was kinda lonely. Jobs were few and far between. Somehow I heard of a job at the bank we got our house loan from - FNB. After one interview I was hire! As a bookkeeper at like $6 an hour. A lowly job and wage for a college grad, but I was a mom. So I took what I could get.


We lucked out finding daycare with the wonderful Frank family just a couple blocks from our house. And I began my Creston career, in the bookkeeping department mostly with a group of women around my age - Sandy Hysell, Pam Grey, Jodi Krings and Cathy Lacina. They were fun to work with, and sitting around stuffing bank statements into envelopes helped me learn all the area surnames and pronunciations. Like the name Ripperger is pronounced Reebarger. Huh?


I got to know all the tellers and my "bank job" helped give me some people to hang out with. After a year or so in bookkeeping I applied to be the loan clerk (sounds much loftier than bookkeeper, right?). My boss was Dick Anderson - whom I soon nicknamed "the Dickster" as he could be kindof a Dickhead. I got to know all the loan officers and became close with Lamona - who was quite a bit older than me, but was a great listener.


After I popped out another kid (Jud was born 1/30/89) I wanted to cut back to part time, but the Dickster said nope. So I quit to find part time work - even though I had no desire to stay home full time with the little cherubs, I wanted them to get to spend more time at home instead of rushing off all the time. And we took this time to get a dog - Moki the wonder dog has been described earlier. FNB was a good first job for me in Creston.

Into the woods

Whilst I did my 3 mile walk tonight I began thinking about the Woods. That's what we called the 10 yard wide strip of trees that ran along our property line by our house at 202 Crombie in Atlantic. On the east side of the woods, there was a steep hill that led to the neighborhood called Fairlawns that was near our house.


We wore a path through the Woods where we cut through (unless it was rainy - then we had to go around) on our way to school each day (and home at lunchtime for peanut butter and lettuce sannies). We'd make forts in the woods and pretend we were pioneers. Some of the trees were perfect for tree houses. One time Robbie Dob climbed up and freaked. Her Mom Jodi had to come rescue her by "talking her down". Betso ended up with stitches from ringing the pretend doorbell on one fort. The doorsill fell on her head.


We had a lot of fun playing in the Woods and our group of backyards. Of course we knew everyone on the block and across the street. Our next door neighbors were the Germaines, who eventually sold their house to the Reinertsons, Don and Rosemarie and their kids Bonnie, Donnie, Kathryn, Laurie and Annie. Across the backyards were the Freeses - Eddie and Bev, and their kids Kent (Kenner) and Barb. Next to the Freeses were the Mormans - Paul ran the grocery store (aptly named Paul's). They had grown kids and eventually adopted two more children.


Our yards were big and a row of those bushes with the little non-edible berries - orangish red separated our yard from the Woods. We were so lucky to have a playhouse - a really cool little building that our grandfather( a contractor from Cedar Rapids) had built and brought in on a flatbed truck. It was stained and had a flat roof just like our real house. There were working windows and a cute little latch on the door. The front porch had a roof overhang. We had cardboard kitchen set in it until the Mallon boys decided to burn it. Laurie Reinertson and I even took all our kids books out to the playhouse one summer and made the place into a library. Always the reader!


We were glad when the Reinertsons moved in next door. Their kids were close in age to all of us, and we played with them a lot - especially Laurie and me and Annie and Betsy. Their house had an attic above the single car garage. You had to climb up a ladder built onto the wall to get up there and it was like a clubhouse. Their house also had little cubbies built into each closet. The Morman and Freese kids were older so I didn't play with them much (though Kenner had one of those football games that plugged in - the players vibrated by each other, and he had the hockey game where the players spun around and wacked the puck).


It was a pretty idyllic childhood. The 6o's and 70's were a fun time to be a kid. No bike helmets, seatbelts or playground safety - I wonder how we lived thru it!

Flip side

Our parish priest, Father Joe Pins was back this week. He's pretty new as priest go - is around 38 years old, and a priest for some 3 years or so. In my view he's a "by the rules" toe the party line kinda guy. Quite a switch from Father Art McCann, rabble rouser who has not run a parish for many years (perhaps because he's "out there" on church issues). Last week Fr. Art filled in at Holy Spirit as visiting priest and thanked me for my Letter to the Editor supporting same sex marriage.


This week the readings were about Jesus saying "I am the vine, but my Father is the grower". Something to that effect. Fr. Pins used that background to say God would prune back anyone not "of the vine". He mentioned topics like marriage being for one man and one woman as viney type views as he glanced my way (okay maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt that way).


Those types of views are exactly why the Catholic church is withering on the vine. You can't grow the same grapes year after year and expect them to thrive! You can't hack off all healthy grapes that don't quite taste the same without damaging your vine. You need some hybrid vigor and to change your growing methods through the years.


Just think how many parishioners our church would have if anyone who didn't follow the natural family planning only rules of the church. Not many I'm guessing. Our church is already dominated by old folks. Very few young families attend church each week - I know because I'm usually there. Hmmm - prune all those people and who is left? You might as well hold mass at the nursing homes and meal site!


I understand that the church can't just go with popular views, changing each year to fit the times. Part of what I do like about the Catholic faith is the framework and basis of the mass. But come on - the rules were made up by celibate men from the times when men ruled the world. It's time for church leaders - (not just men) to talk about where the church is headed. We need women priests. We need to have a serious discussion about condom use, and what constitutes a sin when it comes to birth control. I won't argue abortion - but I will argue our right to put our views on everyone else through law.


Me, I will continue to go to our church because it makes my husband happy. I admit often enjoy the time I'm at mass. I use it to reflect on my week, to sing and to think of spiritual things. I feel connected to the rabble rousers out there, not the party line spewers.


I'm glad I spoke out in favor of gay marriage in our local paper. I don't care if it gets me the hairy eyeball treatment by the priest or others who don't agree. I've gotten several supportive comments on my letter to the editor. I can't stifle myself.

Mommy

Amy (age 23) still calls me Mommy. I thinks it's sweet. To Jud (age 20) I've been Mom for quite some time. They are both titles I'm very proud of. My kids are my bestest accomplishment.


Sometimes I talk like parenting is/was a big chore. But the days our children were born were the most amazing joyful days in my life! You kinda get to know each child while they're in the womb, but giving birth is like opening a present (all except for the bloody painful part). Who is in there? Such promise - so many stories to be written.


These days I'm not around little kids much - except in stores and restaurants when they seem to be screaming and shrieking. I forget how cute they can be. Babies are kinda scary. They're so needy and vulnerable. I didn't babysit and wasn't around babies much until I had my own. I did a lot of reading about what to do when. It was a lot of work. But oh, when they smiled that first smile - clouds parted, exhaustion lifted.


As they hit toddlerhood, the funny/cute things they said overcame the bratty tough times. Such energy - it was hard to keep up with! I recall parking Amy in front of the TV during multiple viewings of the Elephant Show just so I could rest. For Jud it was GI Joe and Inspector Gadget. They played together really well - and had wonderful imaginations! I loved listening in on their antics - trying to escape the bageyes (bad guys).


When they were school age our lives were ruled by their activities - mostly sports, but we tried piano (fabulous recital), dance (Amy was a pickle, in a green leotard, reused as Halloween costume), Scouts (too much competition and testosterone going on) too. Jud played soccer shortly after tonsil surgery, a few days later he threw up blood and had to go bad under anesthesia to get them cauterized. Amy had a triple play as pitcher on her softball team.


The kids had a lot of friends over to play. And they had fabulous slumber parties with artistic birthday cakes. We put together wonderful imaginative Halloween costumes - something I'm really proud of since that type of stuff really isn't my thing. Having kids pushed me to do things I never would have otherwise, just because I loved them.


And yes, I've basked in the reflection of their glory. And laid awake nights when things didn't go so well for them. It's hard to let go and let them live their own lives, but yet they are. And I like my newly re found independence. But on this Mother's Day weekend, I miss my kids and having our family living together, being a part of each other's daily lives, good stuff and bad.

Back to toys

The rest of my week was uneventful so it's back to toy talk.

So we've established that I was the family boy. I loved boy stuff and visiting friends who had brothers. I must have been around 10 when I got my first GI Joe, along with Buddy Charlie. They were the read action figures - 12 inches tall with twisting, turning limbs. They were NOT anatomically correct - I checked that out!

At Christmas, I got a GI Joe Jeep that was the most awesome toy ever! Notice the rocket launcher (bet Mom was glad I got projectiles to shoot at my sisters) and a Morse code flasher light that went thru D batteries like mad. The hood opened up and a little whirly thing went around (more batteries) representing the motor. Man I wish I hadn't given the whole set to my cousin Richard when I got boobs! I'd love to have that toy today.

Back to the

big bad city. I know, I promised to talk more about fave toys of my childhood. And I will when I'm again at a loss for a topic. But for now I need to tell ya'll about my trip to the Southeast. Part of the great state of Iowa that is.

I took a road trip this week. First to visit the solid waste facilities in Fort Madison - nearly to the very SE corner of the state. Then it was on to Muscatine, but first I drove through the nearly wiped off the map by the floods of 2008 town of Oakville. In fact Oakville has been socked by floods time and time again. And FEMA and the state of Iowa have decided it's time for Oakville to go. So I wrote a letter recently authorizing the waste to leave Louisa County to go to the Fort Madison landfill. Yeah - it's a very heady experience having the power of trash at the wave of my magic wand (computer/printer combo).

I decided to pop off the main highway in the state car - through the signs said "road closed" I took a chance that they were exaggerating and I just kept going east on County Road X99 - right up to where the levy broke, and quite recently there again was water across the road. I was lucky to get through. The town is indeed devastated. Some 50 homes are to be torn down and transported to Fort Madison to the landfill. They all have to be treated as asbestos containing, so the demolition will be done by trained contractors and waste will be wetted and will go into plastic lined bins and wrapped like a burrito.

Then it was on to Muscatine, where I shopped at their tiny little Younkers store and purchased some lovely Clarks sandals on sale. Registration started at 11:30 a.m. and many of my trash peeps were already there. It's always good to see them - after all I've worked with many of them for 10 plus years. It's a bit strange to now be a DNR person.

We did tours all afternoon- Musco Lighting - they make most lights for athletic events, and even lit the White House recently, reducing energy needs for outside the White House to 27% of what it had been prior. The next stop was Muscatine Power and Light and the solid waste facilities for the area. That night it was 2 free drinks and a taco bar, plus a fundraiser for the scholarship fund. The last day was pretty uneventful and I headed back to DSM mid morning - stopping briefly at the mall once again - this time mostly to get camo jeans for my beloved Pablo the Pool Boy.

I'm a ramblin' gal

Fess Parker was Davy Crockett, Indian Fighter!

Which reminds me of the discussion in Tom Anderson's cubicle, which is adjacent just west of mine in the Wallace Building in the Big City of DM. The convo involved two guys - around my age, talking about TV shows of our youth.

To further digress, this discussion stemmed from a phone call another woman (Linda) in our department got from her mom, who is a widow who lives on the outskirts of DM. Early yesterday a.m. just outside her house a coon was moving babies around, and it was freaking her out. Linda to the rescue! Which caused Tom to say, "if I only remembered the words to the Davy Crockett song" to sing to you. Which caused me to get that tune in my head.

So the conversation about TV shows followed that. The other participant in the cubicle chat, Rodney, it seems only got one TV station where he lived in West Virginia - so he watched Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom and the Walt Disney Show on Sunday nights. It's a shame he didn't get Bonanza!

We discussed how we loved those Walt Disney movies - Three Lives of Davy Crockett, Thomasina, Big Red, Old Yeller, That Darn Cat, Babes in Toyland and Monkey's Uncle are a few. Plus those nature stories with the wonderful narrator with a voice that sounding like he was talking just to me, like a kindly uncle. We watched each episode over and over. Because we didn't have options - or ADD like today's kids seem to.

I was thinking about this stuff during my road trip today - from Des Moines to Fort Madison, with a brief stop (only time to purchase a belt and 2 basic Tees) at the Williamsburg outlet mall. It was a beautiful day for a trip, and I'm driving the state's Honda Hybrid. I've used only 1/2 tank after driving 3.5 hours. Pretty cool!

I toured the Great River Regional Solid Waste facilities - landfill, recycling facility, yard waste and more. I've known Wade, the guy who runs the facility for several years. He was with Christine, Wendy and me in DM for the trash conference when I had my first blowjob - (the shot, which is quite yummy)! Then I texted my college-aged daughter about it. Such a role model!

Bestest toys ever

Ooh Chatty Cathy is scary looking - kinda like Chuckie!


Facebook offers an opportunity to list your Top 5 of pretty much anything you can think of. This week I named the Top 5 Toys of my Childhood. By now you know what a tomboy I was (am).








I played with dolls early in my life (my sister Cindy says I called them dallies). I had one that I think was as big as me! I had a type of Chatty Cathy (Charmin Chatty) with changeable records, so she said different things when you pulled her string. We also had Thumbelina and a variety of Barbies - I traded our original Barbie for a Twist and Turn Barbie at the Ben Franklin Store during a promotion. Geez I wish I had the original one back - she was much cooler looking.








But dolls weren't what I lusted after. I wanted boy toys! I'm sure may parents were a little concerned that I didn't get the whole gender thing. Yep, I was pretty much a boy until I sprouted breasts and even then I was in denial for quite some time. Obviously they were not encouraged to grow.








Anyways...my parents were the best ever at toy selection - I should say my Mom was. But Dad got stuck on the assembly duty - I remember him cursing when I got the metal garage with little tabs that cut his fingers.





Travel and toys will be my topics this week. Exciting, huh?!?

Father Art

Picture - St. Malachy School, Creston

Father Art McCann made my week last night at mass. Paul and I are Catholic - something that often pains me, thanks to the history, politics and actions of the church hierarchy. I'm so wishy washy on the faith that it's surprising I still go to church at all. But I do.


I was raised somewhat Catholic by my mom Patricia Morehead Bullock who was also raised that way. We liked to say Dad was Country Clubian - on Sunday mornings he went to the Country Club to play golf (or pitch in the winter). Mom had to sole chore of raising us to be little fish eaters - making sure we got to church (with doilies on our heads pre-vatican 2), Cathechism, and did all the sacraments. Dad went along for midnight mass at Christmas.


Something happened along the way - by the time I got to high school, Mom ran out of steam. I believe she got disillusioned with church stances on birth control, women's rights, and more. She continued to donate to church but didn't attend or make us go. So we didn't! While attending college, I only went to St. Thomas Aquinas once or twice.


Paul Goldsmith was raised in the Catholic stronghold of Earlville. His parents lives and all extended families' lives were based on the church and church activities. It was the center of their world. They did the rosary together and didn't miss church except upon their death bed. Paul attended Catholic school through 12th grade.


When I began dating Paul I realized how important faith was in the Goldsmith family. Every one of his married siblings except 1 had married a Catholic in the church. The one that bucked the system caused a major ruckus! When I moved to Sioux Falls, I even checked out the church in my neighborhood on my own. Paul and I usually attended when he visited. Then we were married in my home church Ss Peter and Paul in Atlantic. When we lived in Osage we didn't attend there too much as we were often traveling. Plus the priest was kind of a jerk. But Amy was baptized there.


Once we got to Creston, we've been very active in the church - Holy Spirit, and mostly the school, St. Malachy - which I'm a huge fan of for various reasons. Jud was baptized here by a wonderful priest and man, Fr. Gerald Stessman. Our baby Patrick, who only lived 6 days, was the reason we became friends with Fr. Howard Fitzgerald (Creston's priest) and Fr. Art McCann (the chaplain at Iowa Methodist Hospital who baptized, confirmed and gave Patrick last rites).


Despite all these things I has serious issues with the church. I know all churches have issues and politics going on. You don't get a large group of people together without that. I'm in line with the church's teachings on capital punishment, though Paul isn't. I understand the reasoning behind their stance on birth control, though I don't believe most of us can make natural family planning work. Sex is a powerful urge, and most of us have to have such control in so many other parts of our lives, that we won't take the time and use the restraint necessary.


But to go to Africa, where AIDS is rampant and preach against the use of condoms is criminal! Those people have NOTHING except their bodies. Women can't refuse their husbands, but they might get them to use condoms if they didn't have the excuse that the church forbids it. It's disgraceful. Just the idea of a bunch of celibate men making these decisions is wacky!


The church's stance on gay marriage is also something I don't understand. How can you base anything in today's world on strict interpretations on bible teachings? It's a book written by men long ago. So to use the bible as the reason two people should not be allowed to be legally wed is stupid. Yet many Iowans are all up in arms about the recent Supreme Court ruling that gays can be legally wed in Iowa. This law does not say that every church must allow this. It's a legal ruling, not one for religions (separate, remember??).

And don't get me started on choice issues - I contend that places like Planned Parenthood make the world better and safer. But they are considered the crux of all evil to the church. And so my best friend Deb, Planned Parenthood manager recently left the church. It makes me very sad, and confused. She and I share many beliefs. She has always seemed much more Catholic to me than I am! Except for her career choice of course. And now she's chosen to go somewhere that is more welcoming to her. If our church isn't for Deb, is it for me?


So of course the Catholic Church came out spewing against the same sex marriage ruling, calling for a state vote. Priests have railed against it from the pulpit. I disagree! Our local newspaper has had a few letters to the editor condemning homosexual love and marriage. I decided to share my views and that letter was in the paper Friday May 1. I told Paul that I'd probably get some dirty looks in church - and our present priest seems pretty conservative.


What I didn't know is that Father Art McCann was visiting priest last night. We shook his hand warmly on the way into church. (One of my earliest blogs shows him with me and Deb when we attended Sing along Sound of Music - we in nun garb, he in penguin suit (he moonlighted as an usher there). He was so sweet and caring when Patrick died, I'll always love him. I've always thought his views were probably too liberal for the Des Moines hierarchy - he's not been a parish priest for many years.


His homily was on a speaker he saw this week who lived through the Holocaust. It was very touching. Then, during the sign of peace he came down the steps and shook the hand of the people in front of us. Next he shook Paul's hand and mine and looked me in the eyes and said "thank you for the letter you wrote to the paper this week". I got tears in my eyes. That's why I stay Catholic. There has to be people like us and priests likes him to fight the good fight for our side and our beliefs! Thanks Fr. Art for re-affirming my faith that there are other Catholics like me.

My liver

My liver is not very happy with me today. You see I'm somewhat of a binge drinker. I don't drink every night, or even every week. But sometimes I over-indulge. And last night was just one of those "perfect storm" drinking nights. Oooooh doggies! (remember Jed Clampett used to say that)


It all started...(cue wavy picture to show memory at work)...yesterday. I'd had a long week of work and life in general. I made my first enemy at work (see earlier blog from this week), my car needs expensive work and I elected to do the bulbs myself, my boss told me Wednesday a.m. that I was going to have my performance review that after noon - then he ran out of time (now I have time to get nervous), my little buddy Jud (he's 6'1" ft. tall be he'll always be my little buddy) was traumatized by his summer job falling through, and I had a big meeting Friday where one knucklehead continues to make decisions difficult.


Friday afternoon I cruised home on what was turning out to be not such a bad afternoon - though chilly and not "sittin' outside" weather. I caught up on newspapers, unpacked and watched Oprah. Pablo came home around 5 and came in with a frosty Corona. Lightbulb Moment (thanks for that phrase Oprah). I bought lemons last weekend. When life gives you lemons, what does one do? Make lemon drop martinis of course! So I mixed one up. It was perfect! Yummy. So Paul phoned our friend Jeff to see what was the haps for the night? Paul told Jeff that I was now on my 2nd lemon drop and he'd have to catch up quickly - Jeff was on his way home from doing chores. A few minutes later, Jeff's wife Bobbie drove up - straight from work - she'd heard there were lemon drops to be had. So I mixed her one too. Paul started another brew.


Bobbie went home to get Jeff (freshly showered and chugging a beer to catch up) and came to pick us up to venture to the local Elks Club for chicken night. Wow - there were cars everywhere! McKims drove up while we were walking in and we got the word inside the door that the chix was gone! We decided to have a drink and ponder the situation, and sat down with McKims, McFees and Sharps. I ordered one drink (vodka/tonic/twist - Elks don't do lemon drops), and during the time I sat there two more magically appeared in front of me. Geez - I hate to be rude, so I began sipping. Sometime during the lively conversation - yes when I drink I begin to imagine that I'm am very clever and funny. I'm glad I don't have to watch a video of the reality of it! I did mention to Bobbie that perhaps we should hydrate, and kindly she brought me a water.


Sometime during this drinkfest, the Elks volunteers discovered another box of chicken but we had to wait for it to be cooked. It took a long time. Finally we ate. Jeff was determined to go to Sidetracked - a small bar on the south side of the train tracks. But nope - I was done! That was all my liver could stand (it couldn't stands no more - remember Popeye saying that?). We went home and to bed. Things were a little spinny but I managed to go to sleep. I woke up 3 am ish and took my migraine med - anticipating a dinger. Plus I drank a can of ginger ale. Paul did not pop out of bed at 4 am to go turkey hunting - he over Corona'd apparently. I haven't spoken to B&J to see how they felt.


So I've done my share of drinking for a few months. I told Paul "I needed that" - and wondered what people who don't or can't (recovering alcoholics) drink to relieve stress. He said "beat their wives". I'm glad he likes beer.