Five and Dimes

Back before the Wal Marts and even KMarts and Alco's of the world, small towns had Five and Dimes. They were little stores that carried a little of this and a little of that. Clothes, craft stuff, knick knacks, gifts, toys and most important to me - candy!

I saw recently in the ANT - Atlantic News Telegraph (it was run by the Simpson family in town - another good friend of the Bullocks, until 15 years ago or so), that Mrs. Bonneson died. Bonneson's was one of the stores I frequented nearly weekly when I was a kid - at least during good weather.

Laurie Reinertson and I would walk downtown - it was a good 7 or 8 blocks, but all downhill. Back then our parents didn't worry much about us getting kidnapped or sexually abused by some perv. We walked with purpose - on a mission to get some serious shopping done. I usually had a coin purse on me - one of those rubbery things you squeezed to open up. Or a leather one my sis weaved and pounded during arts and crafts at Bar L Ranch.

Early on, Bonneson's was on the left side of main street - Chestnut. When you walked in the door you were met by a huge candy case filled with all sorts of delights Willy Wonka would have loved! Grape Bubble Gum, Lik-Em-Aids, Pixie Stix, Bottle Caps, Candy Necklaces, Wax lips and pop bottles, Sweetarts, Lemonheads, Milk Duds, Sugar Daddies, Fizzies, Bazooka Gum, Boston Baked Beans, Candy Cigarettes, Bubble Gum Cigars, Bit O Honey, Slow Pokes and more.
Oh, I didn't get all that stuff each time - but I remember getting canker sores a few times thanks to sugar overdose.

I also liked to look around the store - not at the boring stuff like fabric and womanly things. But at the toys - junky stuff you'd never buy but lusted for. Fake handcuffs, guns - you know what a tomboy I was - all those things attracted me. There was a downstairs to the little store too.

They also had a wonderful selection of porcelain horses - another huge attraction! Those were great birthday gifts - the Bullocks had a wonderful collection of them on the built-in shelves in Betsy and my bedroom. Cindy crafted yarn bridles for them and we used those little pencil eraser creatures (another dimestore purchase) as the riders - playing Bar L ranch and naming each horse Bar L horse names. Of course we had to be mighty careful of the fragile horses, and ended up gluing one or two - the ones in a trotting position were especially vulnerable!

The other store in town - Ben Franklin, was run by the Larson family. Marlette was a class behind me. That store was laid out all on one level. They had the added attraction of - gasp - hamsters and birds! I lusted after those too, but my mother wisely avoided adding either to our family. That store is where Bets and I unwisely turned in original Barbies (Cindy and Susi's no doubt) for the Twist and Turn models (I didn't even like Barbie - that had to be an impulse buy!). The store was another good place to bide my time checking out toys on slow summer days.

I miss good old main street Atlantic. But times change and we can't ever get that back. I'm sure my grandparents missed stores from their childhoods that were replaced by Ben Franklin. And so it goes...

Tom Henningsen

One of my dad's buddies passed away Wednesday. Dad grew up with Tom Henningsen in Atlantic - their parents were friends. Tom always called him Bullock. Tom was the step dad of my friend Robbie Dob.

I've blogged before about how Tom and Robyn's mom Jody rocked Atlantic with their scandalous marriage post divorce from their original spouses - all in the same friend group - in 1969. They must have truly been soulmates though, as they were married 40 years! So Dad and Tom had a few years in there they weren't close - as friends chose sides with the marriage splits. But in the last 20 years or so, they've been like grumpy old men - enjoying fishing trips to Canada and South Dakota.


One time, not so long ago - when they were already OF (Old Farts) and Tom had palsy pretty bad. Tom piloted Dad and himself to someplace in Canada. They were met by the border patrol at the airport where they landed. Something about failure to file a flight plan...the cops backed off when they saw it was just two old guys wanting to do some fishing. The next year, Tom's son Mike flew them!

After Dad had his stroke in 2002, and I was staying with him for a couple days, Tom came over and spent the evening with us. That was the most time I ever spent with him. He was an opinionated, crusty but very loyal guy and he loved my daddy.
Tom lived large - his family biz was Henningsen Construction, building steel buildings and asphalt roads. He was a pilot and he and Jody spent lots of time in the Bahamas in the winter. They loved to sail too. He liked to hunt and drink - a man's man who loved ladies and hunting dogs - and his family.

Paul and I are heading to the memorial service tomorrow - mostly to be there for my friend Robyn. I will also enjoy seeing my parents' friends - the ones that are left. I'm looking forward to that hug from Rob.

Post Script - after the Memorial Service and gathering in Tom's honor at the Airport

The hugs were worth the trip, and I was honored to represent the Bullocks at these events. Rob is looking good and she and sis Karla were watching out for their mother. Jody is now settled into Heritage House, and she expressed concern that she'll be lonely - I hope her friends remember to stop to see her and take her to lunch etc. Karla looks good - and we talked about cooking and food, as she asked about Cindy's son Colby.

The Henningsen girls Lynn and Christie still look the same - attractive women - both live in Florida these days. Their brother Mike has lived in Atlantic for a long time - his youngest daughter Beth played sports against Amy. I talked to her - she's in Phys Therapy school at Iowa - will graduate next December.

The Oakmont Condo was well represented - we got to see:

• Don Reinertson who was our longtime neighbor at 202 Crombie - his wife Rosemarie died years ago and he has hooked up with Betty Gee - another longtime friend of my folks. It was fun reminiscing with Don about their family and how I enjoyed playing at their house - the pool table and the wonderful electric box Don's brother built so we could play Jeopardy.


• Jim and Suzanne Klein - they played a lot of golf with my folks, and Jim said he thinks of Dad a lot


• Floyd and Edna Heithoff - Edna is turning 80 this year and all the kids will be back to celebrate, Floyd was such a good buddy to Dad - helping him move into and back out of Assisted Living


• Collete and Chuck Kinen - who lived downstairs from Mom and Dad, their daughter Lynn lives here with her family. They miss Dad and how he used to be the social reporter of the condo, checking in on everyone

In addition I saw

Carol Wilcox - who is the wife of dear Doc Wilcox - he birthed most if not all of the Bullocks. He used to make house calls (I recall the dreaded rectal thermometer on the "good" couch in the formal living room). And her daughter Tressa who is also a doc was there as well. Dwayne passed away years ago

Huey & Donella Ross - their daughter Barb said - Betsy you must go talk to my parents! I got called Betsy a few times - what is the name Leslie hard to remember?

I talked to Helen Hutchinson - didn't see Hutch her hubby - hope he's okay. Scott Deter was there.

The Tyler girls - Lou Ann, Amy Jo, and Janie - told me I resemble my mother, even my motions. It made me glad - not that I'm built like her, but that someone remembers her that well! Gone but not forgotten. Their brother Kirk was there too.

Don Henningsen - Tom's cousin, who also grew up with Dad, got there right towards the end. His beloved wife Barbie died this past year and he's not okay. He was glad to catch up and hear about the Bullocks.

My classmate Robin Kautz was the biggest surprise there - I'd fogotten he worked for Henningsen - 33 years now! Robyn had to whisper to me who he was, because I wasn't expecting him - and he had a beard. Like many who work outdoors - he looks old! I spose I do too - especially if I'm looking like my mother!

Bad to the bone

Or maybe I was just bad to the fingernail...of my little finger. My freshman year of high school, Mom got it into her head that I needed to experience college life - I needed to go stay with Cindo who was a freshman at Drake University.

So one Friday when Mom had a Iowa Hospital Association meeting in Des Moines, she dropped me off at Drake University. I even went to a class with Cindy (boring...) Her roomie was gone (strange girl who only wore bib overalls), so Cindy had a party in her room - the drinking age was 19? back then, but I was...15.

Cindy was dating a very cute guy named Doug Mustoe. They took me to a John Denver concert - not sure where. It was when "Thank God I'm a County Boy" was popular. Yep, I know, I got to see all the good singers. My folks took Bets and me to the Carpenters at the Iowa State Fair one year too.

Then next night was party time. We played Chug-A-Lug - the drinking board game and I drank few beers. It was the first time I ever got tipsy. I remember being so surprised at how much one had to pee when imbibing in brewskis. And I recall (this was 1972) that Cindy had that hunky poster of Mark Spitz in his swim suit with all his Olympic medals on his chest. Yum.

Cindy got me a fake ID. It was her friend's license. Back then - a license was just a piece of safety paper with your description printed on it. So I quickly memorized who I was. We went to Peggy's - a Drake hot spot. My first bar!

I don't think Cindy let me drink too much - I don't recall puking or being hung over or anything. So that was a nicely supervised first drinking experience! My big sis - always looking out for me. (just like when she told me - "sex is fun - don't wait to have it!")

Walking on the wild side

My wild child buddies - clockwise from 8 o'clock - Robbie Dob, Chris Watson, me, Pammy, Sal and Jules

Chris Watson

Sal - around 6th grade

As much as I pretend my sis Bets is the goody two shoes of the family, I've not been much of a wild child either. Except for a couple times. One of them I'll blame on Sally.

It happened my freshman year of high school. I was still trying to find myself - who was I? Who were my friends - kids I knew from preschool? Or kids from the other grade schools in town? Was I a good girl? Or a wild child?

Sally discovered boys by our frosh year - and they sure found her. She liked a couple hoody guys her that year - Steve Comes and Tab Gaines. Both older, both with cars. Both from the "other" side of the tracks. Me - I was built - welp much like I am today. Flat, and curves but not in the best places. Not a guy magnet me.

I plunged into high school life - Espanol with Senior Seufert, Geography, Honors Algebra and English. I alternated friend groups - keeping busy. One weekend my horsey, swimming childhood friend Sally asked me to stay all night. Then she sprung the news on me that we were sneaking out so she could meet up with her current honey Tab (I think??). Her parents did not approve of the guy. They did like me a lot though.

So of course I got a lil sleepy awaiting the witching hour (I'm trying to paint myself as the reluctant bad-ass here, but hell, I could have been all for it - I don't remember all that part). Sally's room was in the basement - which made it easy to creep out after Wayne and Anna Day went to bed. We walked a couple blocks and met Sal's man in the car at the pre-approved time (pre-cell phone - we had to rely on watches...).

Then we cruised - ironically out past the very barn where we kept our horses, down a dirt road to a camping site by the Nishna Botna River. Chris Watson was there with her BF Dave Popp (or the Popper). Other assorted hoodlums were there - I was out of my league. People were eating frozen pizzas cooked over a campfire. I found out the pizzas had been stolen from the Schwann's warehouse up the road! Argh - I nearly choked on the purloined 'zas!

Sally went off to make out with her man, and I was stuck sitting there with his much older brother. Not much to talk about. Didn't want to get to know him! Couldn't wait to leave. Soon it was time to skedaddle (not sure of spelling, but it means get out of there). Tad (or Steve, just can't remember which one it was) dropped us off a few blocks from Sal's house and we began to hoof it. It was around 2 a.m. Before we got to her house, a blue Chevy Caprice with a white roof began to drive toward us. Gulp! - Wayne Rodgers in his Walnut Grove car. Busted!

He didn't say much that night. He didn't have to. I felt awful. He and Anna Day were two of my favorite people in the whole world. And I let them down. Of course we lied and told them we had been out tee peeing with Robyn. My parents made me go apologize to the Rodgers the next day - a very difficult thing to do!

Scared straight...that episode was enough to scare me straight! I quit hanging out with that particular group of people, and began to pal around with Chris D and Paula. Sal stuck with her wild ways - giving her a very bad rep - through sophomore year. And she dated bad boys throughout high school. She and I hooked up again as pals in college, after the teen angst years. Tomorrow night - another exciting episode of Leslie in the AHS years.

Olympics

Watchin' the Olympics reminds me of my first skis. Guess they were actually my only skis. Same as the Olympians - Atomics. I called 'em my nuclear fission skis. I got them in Omaha at a sporting goods store before going skiing sophomore spring break. The smartest thing I did was to get better boots (Nordica) than skis. I also got good bindings.

I guess my skis were probably as good as I was - not too. But they worked and hey, I never had to worry about them getting ripped off! I sure got my money's worth out of them - as I used them for ten years or so. Finally sent them out to the landfill a few years back - realizing they were probably a safety hazard!

Those skis were pretty good to me - helping me to avoid any serious falls. In fact I didn't fall much at all while skiing. Cuz I'm chicken shit! We of course skied differently with the guys than we did when it was just us gals. We liked shooting up through the trees - sometimes we'd get off the beaten path, where one could actually suffocate in snow if one fell just wrong in the loose packed snow.

When we were with the guys, we liked to find "jumps". They were just bumps we could ski over quickly to get some air time. One of the most memorable times we had skiing was at a smaller resort called A-Basin - knee high powder and short lift lines made for a fantastic day on the slopes.

One other memory I have from our ski trips were the trips - the drives out. The Olympics always bring back the infamous Wood River stay. The year was 1982 (I think) - we took off in the evening, because everyone knows the only way to drive across NE is at night or drunk. (haha) Around Lincoln it began to snow. By Grand Island it was impossible to see - right past GI is Wood River and that's where we pulled off and got the last motel room, a double for 7 people. Vic, Fred, Pablo and me, Moose, and ?? not sure who else...

There was a truck stop across the parking lot and we ate every meal there for 2 days - the Interstate was closed! Some people were living at the truck stop as there was no room in the Inn. The Winter Olympics were on - pretty much our only entertainment. (we took to rating farts, much like judges for figure skating...)

Finally on the morning after the 2nd night in that awful motel, the Interstate opened up and we hit the road toward heaven - Winter Park and the slopes!

Piano (continued)

You didn't think there would be more from me on piano, did you? Like many people, I wish I would have stuck with it, and could produce beautiful music on a piano today. (instead of just part of Skip to my Lou)

My friend Chris D. from Atlantic can still play. I don't even know if/who she took lessons from when we were young. Mrs. DeWulf was another popular piano teacher in town. Chris even wrote her own music - not just plucked out one note at a time tunes. She was from the musical Deardorff fam - so it ran in her genes. (I had "Go Tell Aunt Rodie" in alto/bass Mom).

When our children were born, of course we got them musical toys - xylophones etc. When Amy was about 8, we got her a battery powered keyboard. It had programed tunes in it, but she also learned to play simple songs. She wanted more. I arranged for her to start piano lessons with Mrs. Elaine Neeley, a local music teacher. Amy took to reading music as easily as she learned to read. In no time she was beyond the range of her keyboard.

Listening to local radio KSIB (and that's a whole nother blog or two) one day, during the Trading Post portion of the show, I heard someone offer a piano for free- as long as someone would come and pick it up! My kind of price! I called the number given (overcoming my phon-a-phobia for a good cause) right away and claimed it.

Paul arranged for his buddies to help him pick it up from some rural location, using Steve's pickup truck. All we had to pay was a few beers and pizza (that was our usual assistance payment) Of course we paid back folks by helping with their moving causes.

From what I recall, Paul said the piano was in a barn. It was covered with years of dust and some bird poop. It was missing some ivories and hadn't been tuned for many years. This finish was beyond help.

I decided it was spongeworthy - it was the 90's and I had sponge painted the dark paneling downstairs (at the old house). I used a cream color for the base and some pretty dusty rose and country blue. It came out pretty good if I do say so myself. The sound...not so good. So I called and arranged for the local piano tuner to fix 'er up for something like $60.

In the meantime, we had purchased some piano music for Amy beyond her own John Thompson type books. For some reason we got her the theme to Friends - the TV show. "I'll Be There For You". Forget an uninsulated basement - our house was open - the sound just shot up the staircase. She played that song over and over - it was her Cotton Blossom, her Skip to my Lou.

Amy learned a great deal from Mrs. Neeley - who was no Mrs. Sandhorst. Early on I would stay and read in the front room of her older two story home, while Amy had her lesson. Mrs. Neeley was married and had a red haired heavyset music prodigy son Eric who was a couple years older than Amy. Amy made us proud at her first recital, out at a music room at the college.

One day I dropped Amy off at Mrs. Neeley's door and ran home, planning to pick her up in a half hour. Amy showed up hoofing it the 5 or 6 blocks from Neeley's about 10 minutes later. Mrs. Neeley wasn't home! The next week we tried again - nobody home. We'd gotten blown off.?

I called Elaine after that - and found out she'd moved out of the house and was getting a divorce! Color me shocked. Amy went to a few lessons at her new home on Walnut Street, but it just wasn't the same. And Amy was getting into the saxophone - so she gave piano up.

We left the sponged piano at the old house when we moved - it couldn't have made the turn on our staircase here. And it wasn't an upstairs piano. I gave the piano away the same was I got it - on Trading Post. The new owners were delighted to get it.

Piano

Not sure what got me thinking about piano lessons this week. Perhaps it was hearing a piano player at Von Maur - the department store a couple times lately. Yeah, right, I sounded like that. NOT

The Bullock girls - Susan thru Leslie took piano lessons from Mrs. Sandhorst, my classmate Tom's mother (Tommy was the kid who peed around the floor tile clock in Kindergarten - Mrs. Christensen wasn't happy). I think Cindy also had a Sandhorst classmate (Nancy? - don't believe any peeing by her, at least in public).

The Sandhorsts lived in a modest home just a few blocks from our house. I started taking lessons in third grade. In decent weather, I would put my piano books into the white wicker basket (I ditched the plastic flowers) on my cool stingray bike and pedal over for my lesson.

At Mrs. Sandhorst's, the piano was in the front room - complete with a metronome on top. At first I was so thrilled to be doing what my big sis's were doing, making beautiful (maybe not...) music. Then practicing got to be a drag.

We had to do scales of course and learn to read music. We also had John Thompson piano music booklets - they were red. Oh how I loved some of the songs in those books. Of course I would sing along.

Our piano was in the playroom. Not sure why Mom and Dad didn't ever insulate that sucker - the playroom that is. You could see the floor joists - and the sound would just shoot right upstairs to the bedrooms from there.

When I was young, I didn't even consider the sounds I was producing. But the whole noise thing was distinctly brought to my attention when home from college, sleeping in with a hangover. Betsy was in the high school musical - can't remember the name. Bets was always an early riser, so there she was playing "Cotton Blossom" over and over again, singing along. Arghhh Betsy took lessons from my classmate Candice Drake.

Back to my piano playing days. I was happy to learn to play the ol favorites - that song you play with your fist. Chopsticks. And I like dinking around on the piano. But I was petrified about playing for recital! I'm proud to say I can still play a bit of one of my recital songs - Skip to my Lou - cross handed. I think Mrs. Sandhorst through me a bone there and gave me an easy song. By sixth grade, Mom realized I wasn't into it. I wasn't ever going to be Liberace. I was into horses and sports. She got tired of fighting the practice thing. So she let it go.

I never did learn to play the guitar, like Susi did at Camp Lake Hubert and lessons in Atlantic. Or the ukulele like Cindo did - it's on her wall at her house as a decoration now. I did enjoy Dad's bongo drums though- they were in the closet under the stairs. And that zippy zither fish thing he got in Mexico - it had ridges on it and you could run a stick across it to make noise. I wish I would have gotten a drum set - I coulda rocked at that - but looking back, the uninsulated playroom would not have been good for drums!

dippered

Dr. Schmolck

Have you ever heard that deal about how each one of us is like a pitcher - and things in our lives either ladle good stuff in or dump it out. We want full pitchers (of margaritas preferably!) in our lives.

This week, at work, my pitcher felt like it got dippered. A lot. I think a great deal of this is simply my own self-perception and high expectations for myself. I allow others to make mistakes and to not nail each and every paper/meeting/project - not expecting them to do everything absolutely right. But not ME!

So I feel I had a less than stellar week. I won't bore you with the details - I already bored Pablo with them, but he's a public servant and soil guy. So he feels my pain.

Since I took the DNR job I've felt so good about the job I am doing there. I've felt I valuable and worthy. (not sponge-worthy, but still...pretty worthy). This week...not so much. It's not like work people expressed disappointment in my actions or work. My loss of joy juice from my pitcher just came from me.

I think a lemondrop martini is in order tonight. Or two. But not three!

I stayed in DM last night in order to see a new doc - a neurologist about my frequent migraines. I had tried to see her on the 9th - but my f-up. It was really the 19th. I really liked Dr. Heike Schmolck - she's foreign born - Dutch? Norwegian? But does not have much of an accent. She wants me to try a drug I've read about - Topamax - a preventative med.

The drug was developed for epilepsy. It was a few weird side effects - I'm hoping to lose a few pounds, but that doesn't always happen. I probably won't like drinking pop as it does something to carbonation. Hope it doesn't make me dopey/drowsy. I've got enough of that already. I'll keep you posted on the results - it will take a few weeks to work my way up in dosage.

A woody

My woody experience is a failure. Get your mind out of the gutter - not that woody. Woody the hairdresser at Hair House (I know - what a name...I picture a house made out of hair - creepy!).

I had such luck with Amber there. You may recall I sadly broke up with my longtime hairdresser, cute Sheri Keefe from Hair Designers (see, much better than a house o' hair). I just couldn't keep going to Corning while commuting to Des Moines - it's the wrong way. Patti recommended Amber - not sure why as she didn't go to her...

So a year ago I began seeing Amber for my minimal hair care needs - a trim every 4-6 weeks and hi/low lights every three months. Amber up and got married in August, and decided to actually live with her husband in Bettendorf - I know, weird who would do that?? So she moved away on me.

I let my hair grow for the past 6 weeks, and then last week couldn't take it anymore. I panicked and called Woody - he owns the joint where Amber worked. He's very nice. But dang - he gave me a bad doo.

I explained my lack of the hair doing gene. He whipped out his curling iron whilst he was cutting. Now that's just not right - don't be doing something I won't be doing to it. Yeah, I know, he was working around my unfortunate hair incident (involving manicure scissors and my bangs). But it's kinda mullet like.

I'm going to have to break down and get me a big city hair doer. One that understands my needs.

And...as a side note - I had my massage needs met this week by Chris of Soul Essentials. Damn she is a magic worker - my neck/shoulder is in good hands with her. I only did a halfie (half hour) this month - but it did the trick! Tomorrow night I will be under the tender touch of Pablo the Pool Boy. He won't be concentrating on my back! (avert eyes you youngens).

Here's what

I'd love to write:

Dear Editor,

Lois Monday is a crazy lady. She is a piss poor writer to boot. Plus she doesn't check facts - serving only to stir up the old farts at coffee. If you want to get the real truth about anything - don't believe Lolo!

Recently, at our house I found a stack of dirty cartoons on our printer/copier/fax. At first I thought "Why is Jud printing these sleazy cartoons on our printer?" because Paul said he didn't do it! Then I noticed the small Lois Monday Realty signature from the fax machine that sent them to my printer. What the hell was that about Lois? You owe me for a printer cartridge cuz you wasted lots of my black ink. And that's wasteful. Good thing I recycle printer cartridges.

Anyone who thinks the landfill should still be open should talk to Adair County - they tried to stay open and are now closing...too expensive!

Open letter to Lois-
Remember when you showed up at the Grand Opening of the hazardous materials facility in your curlers Lois? Now that was embarrassing! I had to introduce you to a couple people and you kinda looked like a crazy lady (et tu?)

Okay enough effort on that topic.

My children have used my as a MomMapquest. Sometimes I think cell phones make it too easy for older children to dump their problems on parents. I want to be here for them, but come on - try dealing with stuff yourself.

Jud had to drive to Moline, IL today for a 10 minute appointment to sample his hair for illicit drugs. I think it seems kinda silly to make someone take 6 hours out of their lives to do that, but perhaps that's one of the hoops they make young people jump through in order to test their mettle.

Jud didn't attempt to get his car ready for the trip until last night (despite advice days ago to do so). Lesson learned -
car frozen to the ground in a snow bank
after he got it out, his gas tank lid was frozen shut
Then after all that, this a.m. his car was dead - so he ended up driving his roomie's car, thanks Jeff!
Then around noon today, he called me asking where he was. He whiffed past Moline and was someplace past it not sure where. Good thing my webinar was over and I could talk and pull the map up on my computer. Perhaps I should have GPS locaters placed on my children so when they call to ask where they are, I'll know!

Finally I figured out that he was south of his destination and sat on the phone while he maneuvered turns and finally was on track to his John Deere drug testing location. He made it back to Ames after that with no locater calls. Phew!

Damn Lois

I see my name has been taken in vain by Lois Monday in a letter to the editor.
http://www.crestonnewsadvertiser.com/articles/2010/02/11/r_owxu41edrkg5jzwoxpdig/index.xml
Biatch! And you can't write on top of it. It's one thing when you write about Mike King, but I'm OFF LIMITS!

Beware - don't mess with me, especially when you don't know what the HELL you're talking about. Trash is my life - and you just ARE trash. Hoo Ha.

Bestest movie

Sister Mary Debra, Fr Art and me

Disclaimer - think I blogged about this before...but it is a damn good story!

Another frozen Sunday - Pablo and I resorted to watching movies from our huge (not) movie library yesterday. We watched my fave movie of all time "The Sound of Music". I've also got the CD recently uploaded to my iPod - so naturally I couldn't resist singing along. (I thought I detected Paul also singing along during certain songs).

Watching the show, I couldn't help but remember the time Deb P and I went to "Sing Along Sound of Music" at the Civic Center in DM. It was perhaps five years ago. Attendees were to come in costume - and we wasted no time in rounding up nun costumes. Deb, naughty Planned Parenthood manager that she is, has her own nun costume from the time the PP workers went out for Halloween dressed as the "Smokin' Drinkin' nuns".

I borrowed Deb's co-worker's costume, unfortunately I didn't have the handcrafted foil wrapped cross on a string like Deb did. She must have been the reverend mother...But we did look pretty good. It was funny, parking at the old library and walking across the street in the nuns costumes - wimples (sp?) and long gowns.

There were lots of other good costumes and other folks who just came to sing. We got a packet of goodies when we bought our tickets - some edelweiss, a party favor that pops (for the big celebration at George's house) and more stuff I don't recall. Similar to Rocky Horror Picture Show, there were instructions - such as Hiss when the Baroness is talking.

Of course everyone sang along throughout the movie - I love each and every song! One time, on my way to a job interview, I played "I Have Confidence" to help pump me up. (can't remember what the job was and whether or not I got it, but by golly I remember that!).

At Intermission, Deb and I went down on stage for the costume contest! We were on the freakin stage at the Civic Center! There were some awesome costumes - people wearing lederhosen, Marias, and my fave - people dressed as Alps, complete in green felt mountain. (they ended up winning).

Deb and I also ran into a Catholic priest who grew up in Creston, Fr. Art McCann - he was an usher at the Civic Center. He was the chaplain at Methodist when Patrick was rushed there for diagnosis - and he baptized and confirmed our baby boy. So I have a special place in my heart for the guy. (see my blog about gay marriage and the church where he is also mentioned...) Deb and I got our pic taken - he in his tux and we in our nun outfits!

After the show, we stopped, still in costume, at Olive Garden. They were quick to seat us and we got lots of stares. I was glad to get the gear off in the end. I wish they'd do it again - we could get a big group to go! Or what about Sing Along Wizard of Oz? Good time!

Another fave

Another one of my favorite authors has passed away - one I've been reading for the past 30 years or so. Dick Francis combined two of my loves, horses and suspense/mystery. He lived to be 89, and at the end wrote with his son Felix.

I so loved his love of horses, and his description of the racing and steeplechasing. His characters always had big hearts, and were so likable and agreeable. I wanted to be friends with them (especially if I could ride their horses). The characters often had problems/injuries. One character who appeared in more than one book had a racing injury that left him with a mechanical hand. Others were widowers or recovering alcoholics. I love a good character with a flaw...

Farewell, Dick Francis - I hope you get a good ride in heaven.

Val Day

I know - Valentines Day is the most hokiest and contrived of holidays. Hey, maybe it will be good for the economy. Those sagging candy and flower sales.

Paul and I went to the movie Valentines Day last night with Joan and Greg Weis. I saw that it got panned by the Register's movie reviewer - only 2.5 out of 5 stars. And the reviewer closed his article with something like - if you take a first date to it, you don't deserve a second date! Yikes!

None-the-less, we were in the mood for a breezy entertaining movie - the eye candy didn't hurt. Lots of stars, including Julia Roberts, Ashton Kutcher (still adorable, can't help but like him), Drs McDreamy and McSteamy, Topher Grace, Jennifer Garner, Jessica Biel and more.

The theater (Creston theater is pretty basic, saggy seats and I was disappointed in the popcorn) was pretty full. Dates and singles in attendance. I didn't get bored with the plot and it made me laugh. What more could you ask for in a fluff move? At the end, a small plot twist with two of the hunks caused one woman in attendance to yell out "Noooooo"! Funny stuff, that.

After the movie we hit A&G for a drink and then home. A nice quiet 2/13. Got up today and my val made me breakfast - he cooks my egg in its own pan cuz I don't like mine in the bacon grease like he does. Awww, that's true love. And he gave my the rockin' purse (I selected, Dooney and Bourke - on sale Von Maur) and some chocolates. I gave him chocolates - as he'd scored some new ISU clothing the same day I got the purse.

I am staying home tomorrow, working half and taking furlow the other half. So today isn't quite as depressing as Sundays usually are. The light snow isn't even going to be a downer today. Home with my honey.

8 Below

Blubber - that's what the dogs that got left behind in Antarctica ate to stave off starvation in the corny movie "8 Below". And that's what I did watching the last hour of that corny movie yesterday afternoon.

I can watch movie characters die right and left with nary a tear shed (sometimes - it does depend on the character...). But hurt an animal, and my heart breaks.

Could stem from my Dad - the torturer. He'd say - "Oh no, Lassie's really not going to make it this time!" as we watched that TV show. "She dies in the well". Oh how we'd panic - until Mom would yell, "Dave cut it out!" I think even Dad cried on Old Yeller. Remember all those Disney shows featuring animals? Thomasina, That Darn Cat, 101 Dalmations, Black Beauty. And on. I loved 'em all!

I am a real softy for animals. Always have been. I treat my animals much better than I do some people. No comments from the peanut gallery on that one (that's you Amy). Most animals deserve it more than some people!

My pets are always there for me. First, my Juddy dog, then horses Frosty and Jack. Then Bucko - yeah he was mean and neurotic, but he did love me best. That's why he bit me. Then my beloved Mokster - Moki the wonder dog. Samantha the Pantha, a/k/a Kitty. And my loyal Odie Pearl. I love how jaunty she gets when I reward her with a "chewie" rawhide.

So don't make me watch horses get tripped and shot in battle. The bad guy can shoot people - just don't hit the dog. Unless you want to hear me blubber.

New friends (2)

We met our new old friends the Goldsmiths - Paul and Leslie (Alternative Paul and Leslie) last night. You may recall we first met them last fall after some twenty years of hearing of and being mistaken for them.

It's funny - in my own mind, I thought we'd finally meet these name doppelgangers and that would be it. I'm sure they probably were also thinking along those lines. We could then each say, "why, yes we have met them!" when someone asks if we knew there were another pair with out name out there.

When we finally did meet last fall, at Lakeside Casino in Osceola on a work/school night (LG is a teacher), I felt like we didn't have enough time to talk! The couple hours we sat in the bar went by quickly and was filled with conversation. We related OPL (Other Paul and Leslie) stories to each other. Told about each of our histories and families - kinda like a first date! But there was no embarrassing stilted conversation (or worry about a first kiss!).

After our meeting, LG and I continued to exchange emails. You may notice she posts comments on my blog sometimes. We decided we needed to get together again sometime - on a weekend when we didn't feel the need to rush off. Neither of our PGs put the kabosh on the idea. My Paul (aka Pablo) was rather enthusiastic actually. How many people can say they've become friends because of their names? OMG I believe we've become friends with ourselves!

LG and I made plans to get together this weekend as they were staying in DM last night so she could get up and walk with friends in the YMCA fundraiser Red Flannel Run. We ended up meeting at Court Avenue Brewing Company - it was a busy weekend due to Val Day so reservations at a decent time were hard to come by. PGG and I had thought about staying at Joan's (we even had Lila lined up to get Odie), but decided our own beddie bye sounded better so we wanted to eat fairly early (we're ever so old).

We took off from Ctown around 3:30 PM, our drive up was filled with work talk - explaining our challenges at our jobs - stuff we don't take time to talk about while at home. PGG and I got there around 6ish after stop at Jordan Creek so Paul could have visitation at Scheel's with the new archery bow he thinks he wants but isn't yet willing to pull the trigger (bow string??) on. $600, so I'm not pushing. I figure that's a very personal purchase - like the thrill of tracking down the perfect shoes. Shopping is half the fun. I got 2 pairs of socks for $14 - you know I do love socks!

So we got to the appointed place a bit early and had a drink whilst we awaited their arrival. Though we do love our Friday nights with our mateys at A&G in Creston - it sure was fun to be someplace new (a without yellow ceiling tiles from 1978, and we nice restrooms). We even scored a table - Paul had a nice Pale Ale and I went with Vodka Tonic. (I already knew from experience that CAB's lemondrop does not measure up to A&G's) Plus I didn't need that much liquor - my Creston friends are used to me, but I'm still trying to make a good impression with these new friends...)

The GSmiths arrived shortly after we got our second drinks and we sat and chatted until our table was ready. If you're in Iowa, you may have heard what PMG is up to this week - a tragic shooting in Lucas County, where he is the County Atty. A twelve year old boy (as a teacher, LMG knows who he is but he was in 6th grade and she's a Jr. High teacher - I know, that says a great deal about her fortitude!). So Paul was understandably a bit frazzled from that tragic turn of events. We discussed the situation some - Paul threatened to give the press my Paul Goldsmith's cell number as a contact! Man they would have been confused when he started talking about soil!

The GSmiths are heading to Fort Myers for spring break to take advantage of Spring Training there. Both the Pauls enjoy the Twins. I filled LG in about the fab outlet mall there - Miromar. Columbia outlet store - need I say more? The evening again passed quickly! Both P and I like hanging with these folks - and I think they like us too. Hell - you can't have too many friends, can you?!? Especially during a rough winter like this one. Friend up everybody!

Raindrops on roses

My Westie pitcher and Mom's flamingo both hold a place of honor right by the television in the living room. (TVs are muy importante in my family)

I know...things are just things. But being surrounded by my things...and most importantly the memories those items help me recall, brings joy to my life. Living in Waukee during the week - I miss my boy and my doggy. And my things.

In the dregs of winter, I thought I'd take time to document a few of my favorite things (sung in the Sound of Music tune...poorly by me) around my house.

I love my Moki cream pitcher. I purchased that pitcher in Galena, Illinois on a trip with my mother. She and I always had a great time when it was just the two of us. We laughed a lot. I appreciated her historical knowledge and she always did her research before trips and was the tour director. She liked my driving skills.

That trip, we first met up with Paul's sis Pat and her daughter Sarah who is Amy's age. Amy went with them and Mom and I went on our little journey. We started in Galena - touring General Grant's home there. The town's main street had a lot of cute shops - and I first saw the pitcher - a Westie just like our Moki dog - then. Mom scoped out a flamingo at the same antique store. She purchased her find, but I was hesitant to spend $50 on a pitcher - so I left it.

After a night in Galena, we made our way on the Illinois side up to a little town in Wisconsin that Mom had read about. There was a ferry there - an out of the way spot, that few people would ever find. Leave it to Mom! You had to press a buzzer to let the pilot know that people were waiting. Even then, we had to sit for a while. A carload of old women drove up - they were on a day trip from Dubuque. We enjoyed visiting with them. Finally the ferry drove up.

Next we visited Governor Larrabee's Mansion in Clermont, Iowa - another historic site. We stopped at Bily Clocks Museum in Spillville - very interesting, and ticky tocky (lots of clocks). We headed to Marquette, Iowa next where I had my first visit to a Riverboat Casino - $2o in losings. We stayed on a hillside of the river there at a place with a pink elephant by it. Mom did her homework! Who know one could have such fun vacationing in Iowa? Mom didn't overdo it on the alcohol on our trips.

The next day we headed to Independence, Iowa where Mom spent many childhood summers at relatives. We spent quite a bit of the day, walking through the cemetery looking for graves - finally, in defeat with visited the local library to look up the location of the graves. Mom told me more about her childhood than I'd ever heard before. I wish I would have paid more attention. I thought I had lots of time.

If I recall correctly, Mom and I then met Pablo and Jud in Earlville at Paul's folk's place. Mom took off for home and Paul, Jud and I headed to pick Amy up in Freeport, Illinois at the Vorwald's. On the way back we went through Galena and I got my pitcher - so glad it was still there! I had lusted after it ever since I spied it! The kids got stuffed animals like they did on many trips back then - Beanie Baby times ya know.

That fall, Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. A death sentence it turned out. I dearly treasure that trip with Mom and the treasure I found on that trip.

Roll me away

I worked until 5 PM today - busy one. Got caught in the gridlock that is I-235 leaving work. It's wall to wall cars until you get to 73rd/8th Street, then things seems to loosen up. (unless there's a wreck)

I decided to head to the Waukee Library on my way home to Joan's, so I went out to the Jordan Creek Parkway exit and turned left on University. The sun was just going down. The book on CD I had selected was a story set in the south, with a male reader with a drawl, and it took the author the whole first chapter to describe the boat he was taking his wife on for her birthday. Too flowery. Reject!

I popped in a music CD. Bob Seger and the first song was "Roll me Away".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0Jt4J1FPLg
I wanted to roll away - and just keep going, just like Bob does on his motorcycle. Like Bob, I'm sooo ready to hit the road. It's been another long week (and it's only Wednesday) in a looong winter. My living situation isn't ideal. I'm homesick. I want to live with my husband and my dog in my house. Not out of a suitcase.

Life is about trade offs, and this is one. It won't be forever, I tell myself. But something's gotta give- I don't wish to live like this for years. For now I will just look for ways to be home more. Since I have a doctor's appointment next Friday, I'll have to stay here Friday night. So I'm going to take furlow time and stay home Monday, working in the afternoon. I'll come up Tuesday a.m.

And tomorrow after my presentation on Environmental Management Systems for the RCC meeting (the hazmat people) I'll roll me away home!

Dana Stabenow

Just finished listening to a Dana Stabenow book on CD, "Whisper to the Blood". This is one of her Kate Shugak novels. I've been reading those books for the past several years, and have really learned to enjoy learning about life in Alaska. Stabenow must have real life experience with Alaskan life at least it sounds pretty real to this Iowan.

Main character Kate is an 30-something Aleut - a native Alaskan who lives on a 160 acre farmstead in a generic park (Alaska is full of National Parks) with her half wolf dog Mutt, Johnny the 16 year old kid she's guardian to and Jim, her Park Ranger honey. The people who live in this area call themselves Park Rats.

The book narrator was very good, and I greatly enjoyed the way she read the author's narratives from Kate's Aleut aunties. English is a second language to them, and they are very tight-lipped besides having their own particular way of expressing themselves.

I like hearing about how Mutt, the dog is so wise. When they ride the "snow go" together, Mutt gently grips Kate's parka with her teeth. The author is also good at describing people and their personalities. In this book, Kate stops to check in on an elderly proud man whose sons have pretty much left him alone in rural Alaska with little food. Softy Kate stops back later, sneaking supplies onto his porch and driving off without awaiting acknowledgement.

The main story line (there are lots of little dramas going on) is that a big mining company has struck gold and copper in the area. A mine will bring lots of jobs to the area, but will also have repercussions. Two murders happen during the course of the book, and a group of marauding snowmobilers are ripping off people moving supplies along the river. They make the mistake of hitting Kate's boy Johnny and his friends. Also...Kate has been drafted to head up the Native Association Council. By the end of the book, one almost feels like you know the people of this village.

Yep, the sex is hot too. Ranger Jim is a ladies man, but he's fallen mightily for this self-assured and sexy woman. Jim calls himself a "dog", but avoids falling in bed with a sexy woman representing a mining company courting the area.

This series is becoming one of my long-running faves.

Phon-A-Phobia and the Big Freezy

You'd think this would cure me. Alas I'm beyond curing. My name is Leslie and I'm a phone-a-phobic. While I don't mind talking to loved ones and chatting with friends on the phone, I detest making most calls.

I always have! I remember back when I was a tot (okay I was a teen) and Mom made me call my own damn 4-H leaders - adults, for information. Can you believe she didn't do it for me? Okay, that was probably smart of her, but it didn't help. I got cold sweaty palms then, and even today I drag my feet before dialing. I'm glad my daughter didn't get that tenancy from me. She's a good phone talker.

Today was the day I've been waiting for - a visit to my new neurologist to talk about my migraines, which have been bad this winter. My DM med person - Nurse Practioner Sheryl Young's nurse called me with the appointment after I called Sheryl for a referral. I wanted to see a female neuro, as I haven't been to one since my last one - she who shall not be named, cuz I can't remember her name - retired. I liked her too - she was the first one to really understand that hormones do come into play when it comes to headaches!

So Sheryl's nurse called me with the appointment details, Dr. Heike Schmolck - German, who has an office at Mercy in the East Tower. Google Maps, and other quests for location only netted the basic Mercy Medical plaza. The hospital where my inner nether parts were removed (hysterectomy) in July.

I left work at 10 a.m. for what I thought was a 10:30 a.m. appointment. Due to "winter of constant blizzards - 2010" I trudged through snow and cold to my car and drove on very slickery streets to Mercy. I didn't see a blinking sign saying "east tower park here!" So I ended up entering one of the two parking ramps attached to the complex. I nearly drove all the way to the top and had to walk the full length of the ramp, through the cold to get into the building.

Then I did a good rat in a maze imitation, but I am proud that I overcame my manlike tenancy to not ask directions. A nice volunteer lady (I want to be her when I grow up) told me where to go. I only had to ask one other person on the way too! Hospitals give me the creeps...

When I finally got to my destination - at 10:25, what timing, I was chagrined to find out from the receptionist that my appointment is actually set for the 19th, not the 9th. Hmmm I had considered phoning ahead, as I hadn't heard from the Doc's office with a reminder. But Hell I though - they probably called my home in Creston. So I talked myself out of it.

One phone call could have saved me that awful trip. When I got back to the DNR parking ramp, I was forced to park on floor 4 - nearly on the top!

The day did end better than it started though- I scored a cardigan sweater (cream color) and a long sleeve tee for a total of $14.98. Yes, ladies and gents the thrill of finding a bargain is back! Lookout Pablo!

Winter driving veteran

I didn't even have sweaty palms this a.m. as I drove through the latest storm from Creston to Des Moines. (and I didn't have to pee - which also helped..) I just put on my game face and trusty Ru (my trusty Subaru) to get me thru. Poetic, no?

My roomie and landlady Joan is outta town. She's on vacation with her husband Billy in sunny California. Well, it might not be sunny, and perhaps it's not so warm - but at least it's less sucky than Iowa. So I got to thinking (dangerous...no?). This is like when my parents went away and left us kids "home alone".

My sister Cindy had a party at our place at 202 Crombie one time when Betso was around 9. Cindo talked her into sitting in the front window watching for our parental units to come home. I'm not sure if she gave Betsy a code phrase to belt out if they drove up. Something like "the Eagles are landing!", so Cindy's friends could shoot out the back door and into the woods.

Another time, Betsy, the little goody two shoes herself, drove Dad's Lincoln Continental something like 50 miles when Mom and Dad were out of town. Little did she know he kept track of mileage. Hmmm wonder if Joanie knows how many miles are on her brand spankin' new pimped out Jeep? Since she leaves it in the garage, the mileage is still way low. I spose she'd notice if it went from 78 to say 178...and Jeff (Joan's bro) tells me her beer is like 6 years old. So a party is out!

Cleaning

Pablo the Pool Boy headed indoors to help clean for our Super Bowl Partay today. I'm always surprised how little he knows about cleaning. He's been helping me clean since we were married - some 27+ years.

I was chagrined to have to explain how to use the MopNGlo. He was pleased with himself as he dusted the legs of the dining table, saying "I bet these have never been done since we've had this." Uh...I do that every time (all of 2 times a year but hey...) we entertain. He's never noticed. The man who can relate what most of the farmsteads in Union County look like. The guy who knows every move the Green Bay Packers make...Ah priorities. You could say that about me when it comes to outdoor stuff.

I had to teach myself to clean through the years, so I probably don't have the most professional methods myself. When I was a kid, we always had a cleaning lady. The first one I remember was Mrs. Grey. She was the first black person I was ever around. I think they were the only African American family in Atlantic - that must have not been easy back in the 60's. I was fascinated that the palms of her hands were so light, and probably stared at her during lunch - we always ate lunch with our cleaning people. Mom cleaned right along with them - and did the laundry when they were there too so they could help make up the beds.

The next cleaning lady I remember was Leona Wheatley - who became almost a part of the family. On deep cleaning days - windows, hardwood floors - Leona's sis Et (probably short for Etta but I never asked) would come too. Leona was quite a character - married to a man my parents said was a mean drunk. Leona was funny and never shy - she helped with all of our big family events, like weddings. Leona didn't drive so when I got my license one of my jobs was to run her home. She lived not too far from my Grandparents place at 909 Poplar.

Lots of my friends and neighbors have cleaning people. Thea always laments about having to clean for the cleaners. That's probably what I would feel like - embarrassed to have somebody see what I slob I am. I sure appreciate people who keep things spotless! But I'm not one of them - not sure you can be with pets. Plus I don't have the energy nor drive to put that much effort into something that will just get dirty again!

I'm an "each thing in its place" kinda person though. A bit neurotic about it. Just ask my fam! I am not comfy watching TV in a room with untidy piles of crap laying about. Though my tolerance has gone up as years go by - and I had to forgo that rule when the kids were small and their toys were everywhere.

Looking forward to the Super Bowl gathering today - and the place is clean!

Unfortunate hair incident

I recently had another unfortunate hair incident. It's my own fault - not to self, do not trim bangs on the spur of moment using fingernail scissors when your hair is wet! I got 'em a lil short.

It reminds me of a couple other unfortunate incidents - like when I had Cindo cut my hair when she was home for the summer from college at Drake. She carved it up pretty good. I should have remembered how she had made our extra Skipper doll (Barbies little sis) into Skip. Oh well, it grows back - well mine did, but Skip's didn't.

Then there was that time I made an appointment to have my very first perm while I was in college at ISU. I made the appointment at Younkers Downtown for some strange reason!?!? that I don't remember. When I showed up for the perm, my hairdresser was - (very un PC) an African American woman. I thought - how is she going to know how to do my hair?

I was on my way home to Atlantic after the procedure - if you have ever had one, you'd know what I mean. Curler thingies and chemicals - quite the smell. The hair person told me not to wash it for something like 3 days. When I got home, I took one look in the mirror at my hair and I popped right in the shower. It was a Fro!

I'm waiting for my bangs to grow out a little bit before I go to get my hair cut. Yep, I'm embarrassed - feeling like a 3 year old who got a hold of the scissors.

Whistling past the cemetery

Last night was the wake and visitation for Jessica Moeller, 30 year old daughter of our friends Pat and Steve, and brother of Jud's classmate Steven. She died of a drug overdose and was discovered Monday at her home in Decorah. If you read my blogs this week you know this tragedy brought out a lot of grief feelings from our own tragic loss some 18 years ago.

It was good to finally see the family - and to hug them. And to cry with them. Jess's cousin stood up after Monsignor Stessman (he was pastor here when we first moved to town and baptized Jud, filling in for Fr. Pins who was on retreat) did the prayer service. He talked about when Jessica lived in San Diego with his family during a college summer. It was very touching.

We saw many of our "class of 2007" friends at the visitation and decided we should head to A&G for badly needed drinks and pizza. When life gives you lemons - drink lemondrop martinis - I had 2. (just under the 1 martini, 2 martini, 3 martini floor limit). And better yet, we got to visit with not only Bobbie and Jeff, Donnie and Dee - loyal friends in good times and bad, but with Hydes, Weis's, Lents, Millers.

We are all so sad for Moellers. And if you're like me, we were also breathing a sigh of relief (whistling past the cemetery) that this time, it wasn't me in front for the visitation. I know - it's selfish - but a natural feeling I think. We laughed after we cried with Moellers - Dan Miller is so damn funny. It was much needed.

Today I felt kinda selfish. Yes, I cried for the family and their loss. But I also cried for myself at the funeral mass. I couldn't help myself. Though I really could have sobbed at times, and I didn't resort to that. That situation - and the funeral in our church where Patrick's funeral was - with On Eagle's Wings playing - was just too close to home. It hurt. I hurt for the family.

I'm glad it's over with. Pat, Steve and Steven have a long way to go, but they've got this step over with. Prayers to them.

Water my solace

I love the water. It's very therapeutic for me - like a massage, or meditation. I needed the water this week. It was a long one. Work was difficult - only to be dwarfed by the sad news about Jess Moeller.

So this a.m. I headed out to the good 'ol Southern Prairie YMCA for a dip! My foot - yeah the one I broke - bothered me for the last week or so. I know not what happened - no clumsy trauma on my part that I recall. Maybe I just overdid it walking at the Y the week before - I did do a little jogging. I know - totally unlike me to run. This week my foot felt like just after I got out of "the boot".

The pool was a good way to get some exercise without stressing it too much. I didn't life weights, or walk to warm up - just popped into the water at 6 a.m. sharp. Water aerobics was happening in the shallow end, so I did short way laps - fake breast stroke (not using my Sunnyside Pool record-setting form - using my "don't get my hair wet because it's chemically enhanced form) alternating with deep water walking.

I have a long history with pools - stemming back to childhood when my mamma was Spiro Agnew to Betty Pellett's President Nixon. Betty was the grand puba of Red Cross Swimming lessons in Atlantic. Mom helped with those and we also headed to Griswold to the Boy Scout Camp (now a Catholic camp) to teach the little rural Cass Countians to front float.

I have vivid memories of that summer - I must have been 9ish. The pool at the scout camp was in a park where there was a cave where Jesse James hid. Big stuff for someone my age! That summer I was learning to do the elementary back stroke. When the instructor (not my mother or Betty Lou) showed us on land how to do the whip kick, she of course left one foot on the ground. So that was exactly how I did it in the pool - and losing track of where I was, I smacked my head into the pool wall. (yes, an excuse for my behavior today...)

I remember listening to Herman's Hermits "Henry the 8th" during the 20 minute drive to Griswold. There was a commercial on the radio for Dad's Old Fashioned Root Beer, but I thought they were saying Razzle Frazzle Root Beer. I was very proud that my mommy was one of the important people at the pool.

And that is just one of the gazillion memories I have - joyous times that involved swimming. Today was one too - my best bud Debbie joined me. So I could exercise my mouth as well as my body. Deb is therapy just like water! My swim today was good.

The good part

There is a good part to the Patrick story - though it's taken a long time to truly appreciate it. It was the people. All the people who rallied around us during that awful time.

They started coming to our house right away, after the word went out that he was terminally ill. Church ladies stopped by with coffee and paper products. Others brought food - homemade and meat trays from the store. Some just dropped things off with whomever opened the door (we had relatives helping) and others came in for a hug and a chat. Others just wanted us to know they cared - and showed us with a card and a smile and a word.

Everyone helped with Amy and Jud, who were nearly 3 and 6 at the time. Making sure they ate, keeping them entertained. My sisters did Amy's hair for the funeral.

Father Howard, on one visit, expressed concern about how we would pay for the funeral and medical expenses. He whipped out an envelope full of several thousand dollars in cash and insisted we take it - and pay it back when we could. It was from someone who preferred to remain anonymous he said. (I still think it was him...)
Our parents helped us with funeral expenses, so we paid it back shortly - it made us nervous.

After the fog of the events of Patrick's birth, short life and death followed by the funeral, I took the most solace in talking with other parents who had lost children. They were the ones who showed me how to do it. How to be a parent of a dead child. Pat Pokorny was one of those - a survivor of three babies and infants due to birth defects. And to add to those sorrows, the Pokornys also lost a teen to a tragic motorcycle accident. Pat ran the Friends of New Parents program.

Methodist Hospital hooked us up with a couple other grieving parents - some who were a bit farther down the path than we were. One took the time to call me - and we shared our stories with each other. That was very therapeutic for me. We also attended a couple grief groups - one included someone from the family that lost the daughter the day Jud was born.

I wish I could fast forward through the worst of the grief process for the Moellers. Alas it can't be done. Each of us has to work through the tough time ourselves. But the people help. They help us get through it.

When Paul and I started going out in public again, after Patrick's death, I felt like a glowed in the dark. Like I had a sign on me saying "sucky parent". I didn't want to smile lest those who knew would think I was over it already. I couldn't make my body dance - that was too joyful for someone grieving.

This too shall pass. But it takes a long time. Steve, Pat and Steven need us to help.

Surreal

Have you ever had one of those surreal occasions? A time in your life where it almost seems you're watching yourself in a situation, outside your body watching. This has happened to me in both good times and in bad.

When our baby Patrick crashed in Greater Community Hospital a couple days after he was born was one of those times. I remember hearing a baby crying during the night - I was still in the hospital after my C Section. I wondered why the nurses didn't do something!

Then one of the nurses came in to tell me that Patrick was in tough shape. What they didn't know was why. Life Flight was on the way and Father Howard Fitzgerald had been called. They tried to call Paul but he wouldn't answer the phone, so they called some neighbors who woke him up from a sound sleep and they stayed with Amy. He rushed to the hospital just in time to shoot up to Des Moines following the helicopter to Blank Children's Hospital.

During that moment, when the nurse told me it was Patrick in trouble, I shot out of my body - in denial that it was me going through this trauma. It was fucked up! Howard and I sat in my room the rest of the night with Fr H, making idle talk, trying to pretend it wasn't me - it was a mistake - he was going to be fine. Even now, when I hear of others getting bad news like that - it takes me back to that awful time. I get that dreadful feeling. I'm so sorry anyone has to go through that.

I've had that happen to me in funny situations too - in my current funk I can't come up with any specific ones. But they can be quite funny - though not always right at the time. When telling them later they're a hoot though. I'll try to think of some. Anything to think happy thoughts...

The club

I got one of those phone calls today. The kind that upset one's world. You know how it is, you put everything in its place, and sooner or later a chunk pops out (big or small) and upsets your world is rocked - and not in a good way.

My friend Pat's daughter was found dead yesterday, apparently of a drug overdose. Those are the only details I know right now. She was in her late 20's - a great student athlete from Creston. I didn't know her well, but appreciated her talents. She was a good friend to our neighbor Abbie, and our former babysitter Erin.

Pat is one of my homies - somebody I do things with in groups. She in our walking/breakfast group and of course that group has come up with lots of other excuses to get together lately. Girls need their friends. Pat's son Steven is Jud's age and there were at Malachy classmates. He went to Marco Island one spring break with us a few years back.

Jessica attended Luther College in Decorah, and then I believe went on to grad school at the U of I. Lately, last I know she was back in Decorah working as a waitress, living with several people. But Pat's pretty quiet about her children, not volunteering much. Her husband Steve is just plain quiet.

Pat has a very close knit family - I am sure she'll need their support to get through this awful time. Sadly, when something this happens, all I can think is - now there is a new member of the club. The one that no one should ever belong to - the deceased child club. It's like that Eagles song Hotel California - you can never leave.

I write this with a heavy heart. Please keep Pat and family in your prayers.

Dryer sheets

I went a little crazy recently and purchased some flavored (scented) dryer sheets. That's pretty wild for me, because with our fair skin, and Pablo's penchant for hunting, I usually stick to the unscented sheets.

Our fair skin breaks out and rashes up easily! One time Jud broke out in huge hives from eating holiday Lucky Charms - all that green and red dye. Plus scents sometimes bug me due to my migraines. Okay now we sound like seriously genetically challenged, or at least hypochondriac-like. But don't get me started about some chicks and their perfume...

So, with all that background, you now know what a stretch it was for me to get almond vanilla dryer sheets. Every time I smell them....I think of my grandpa, Bubba, and his pipes. Smokin'

Bub smoked a pipe right to the end. The last time I saw him, he was in the Atlantic hospital, using his flame thrower pipe lighter to light up. Nearly getting his eyebrows instead. He spent a lot of time lighting pipes - more probably than he actually smoked them.

Bub kept his pipe collection in a special case that sat right by his chair in their home at 909 Poplar. I loved to open up the lid and get out each pouch of tobacco and take a deep whiff. Such a mellow aromatic tobacco smell. The pipes themselves had a smoky ashy smell. But those pipe cleaners were fun to play with.

So Bubba, wherever you are - every time I do laundry I think of you!