Minnesota Getaway

Above - Paul and sister Connie with Carol behind. Connie passed way in 2007 from breast cancer.

But not for me! Paul and my 'lil buddy Judson went to Minnesota today to visit Paul's eldest sis Carol. She has a beautiful place on Long Lake at Park Rapids - around an 8 hour drive from Creston.

Carol is 18 years older than Paul. So he really didn't get to know her until he was all growed up. But since then we've both gotten to know and love her. She's not had an easy life. Around when Paul was found under a cabbage leaf (born after 8 brothers and sisters) Carol was moving to Dubuque to go to nursing school. While she was at school she met and married Irv Meyer - known as Hap, from a small town just outside Dubuque.

Soon she was preggers - like good Catholics of that day. Carol and Hap's first child, Joseph, was born with fluid on his brain, and he died shortly after birth. Since is was the 60's, it was the era of "let's pretend bad stuff didn't happen." So the church women rushed to Carol's house and wisked away all the baby stuff. After a few month's Carol was pregnant again, and 9 months later, Tom was born followed by Terry a year or so later. Barb brought up the rear.

My impression of Hap is that he wasn't the easiest guy to be married to. When he was in his early 50's Hap starting acting very strange. The bank discovered he didn't have as many dairy cows as he was supposed to. He began repeating things that he said - acting kind of crazy. Carol was afraid he was drinking. After many months of this, Hap was diagnosed as having an early onset type of Alzheimer's Disease. He was soon institutionalized, and died a couple years later.

Carol was a widow before age 55, but she still had a lot of living to do. Even while Hap was alive, Carol found ways to keep busy - otherwise she would go crazy. The kids were out of the house by then - and they've all gone on to become very successful, wonderful people. Carol began riding her bike and went back to school to get her master's degree in nursing.

Then, a year or so after Irv died, Carol decided to ride on RAGBRAI (Iowa's big bike ride across the state) with Paul and their sis Jean and spouse Dave Fox. That year the ride went near Northwood, Iowa where one of the Docs Carol worked with in Dubuque grew up. This Doc talked Carol and her biking posse into staying with his widowed father Bud Kragenbrink. When Carol and Bud met - it was all she wrote. Bud's wife had passed on a couple years prior after a battle with cancer. Bud had 5 kids, and before long Carol was invited into the family. We attended their lovely wedding in Farley where Carol lived. Storybook!

Carol sold the Farley farm and bought her place on Long Lake in MN, and Bud and Carol lived the rest of the time in Northwood. They loved their lives together - traveling to all their kids (who all got along great, amazingly) homes. Sadly, Bud died of a heart attack in January of 2007. So Carol is again alone. She lives full time in Park Rapids now that she sold the Northwood place. She remains close to Bud's children, and travels to her kid's homes often - California, Idaho and Des Moines.

Here's to you Carol Goldsmith Meyer Kragenbrink. You're quite a lady!

Most excellent Sunday

Today was pretty good as post-holidays go. Usually there is a bit of a letdown. But it's nice when the 4th of July is on a Saturday or Sunday. You get a transition day that way. I enjoyed today.

Woke up at 8 a.m., grabbed a bowl of cereal. I remembered that I forgot to get dog food Friday. Damn - you can only get Science Diet 2 places in town and they are both closed Sundays. I called Creston Vet Clinic and I got lucky and caught the new doc there doing chores, so I buzzed out and got a couple bags before picking up Paul for church. Father Pins must have had a picnic to go to as he flew through mass. In fact I had to ask Paul if there was a sermon cuz I missed it! Must have been deep in holy thought. Something like "gee what should I eat for lunch?"

After church we sat on the deck and read the paper while drinking coffee - in my case fattening cappuccino. Did I mention it was beautiful out? The fog the weather people mentioned didn't happen. Sunny, light breeze. Our deck was heavenly. I did a bit of computer work, started some laundry and had a leftover burger for lunch. With avocado. Yummy!

About then Paul came in from putzing in the yard and said Bobbie and Jeff were stopping by for a bike ride. So I got my bike stuff on and wiped the dust off my bike - something I'd neglected to do after a long dusty winter. When they showed up we took off on a nice leisurely ride around town, after which we sat on the deck and chatted for a while.

They took off around 4 and I ironed clothes for the week and packed my bag. We ate supper - brats, melon and snap peas. I packed up some food for the week - ready to snatch from the frig in the a.m. Paul is leaving tomorrow too on a trip to MN with Jud to visit his sis Carol. So he was busy packing too. I read my book on the deck.

We took Odie for a walk and then went to the bank after supper, Odie riding on my lap sniffing the lovely evening wind. Tomorrow she'll go to Lila's for a few days - the puppy spa. I hope it's a good week for all of us!

Fave holiday continued

So the weather still isn't cooperating. I've decided to continue my holiday blog in hopes that tomorrow is so beautiful I won't have time to do it!

I graduated from college in May of 1980 - nearly 30 years ago. Crazy to think it's been that long. As I explained before, my job in Sioux Falls was a great learning experience. Mostly I had to learn to live by myself since I didn't know one soul in town besides my workmates. I was dating the future Mr. Poolboy, and his good friend Mike asked a big group of us to camp at his parent's cabin in rural Ridgeland, Wisconsin so we could tube the Apple River.

Sounded good to me, though it was something like an 8 hour drive. I drove to Albert Lea, MN and awaited friends to pick me up. I can't remember who it was that year - Moose perhaps? Or maybe it was Paul and Brad. We pulled into the Huston home place - quite rustic by my standards. A two seater outhouse. No running water. Mike's folks - Clark and Joyce were there along with his three sisters and one brother all younger than our group of about 12 or 15. The first few years, Clark's father Russell would come out from his apartment in town to sit with us. We shared the same birthday so he always remembered me.

We sat around the campfire that first night and got all loaded up. Then we drove into the big city of Ridgeland - 500 people, 3 bars and a small grocery store. Hustons had a huge tent that many of us slept in. It was all the usual suspects - Vic & Fred, Jane, Hauser, Mike, Tom, Brad, Catfish, a girl we called Hotsy Totsy, Bob and Jane E. And a few more I can't think of.

The next day Hustons cooked us some of the best breakfast grub I've even had in my life! They worked for Oscar Mayer and brought bacon, sausage - the whole 9 yards. We all pitched in to clean up, using water boiled on the ancient stove top in the cabin. Then we took off for the Apple River, some 45 minutes away. It was a raucous good time. We had lots of beer - tied to our tubes in a cooler. Back then there were huge targets along the river route for us to throw our cans at. There were few port a potties.

Jane had a good time as I recall, pretty much swigging the same beer the whole time. I imagine there was some recycled beer in there! Ick. It was a pretty calm ride until the end, when there was a riffle that swallowed poor Paul's glasses, and I sliced my leg on a rock. Good thing all the alcohol in the river cleansed the wound. Paul ended up wearing Lori Huston's glasses the rest of the weekend. On the way back from the river, we stopped at Teresa's - another little bar in the middle of no-where. We played redneck songs on the juke and drank more beer.

The rest of the weekend we hiked, explored an abandoned house nearby and mostly sat by the eternal campfire. Moose and Hauser put on the fireworks show with a box of fireworks Dad brought back from Missouri for us. There was a little battle ship that we floated in the horse tank and tank that flipped and fired into the crowd. We made s'mores of course, and I became a Turtle - you bet your sweet ass I am! One red hen, two cute ducks - I'll never forget it. I also learned the dirty Boy Scouts version of the Beverly Hillbillies song from Moose.

I have to say that first time at Hustons was such fun. Clark and Joyce were younger then than I am today, and they were people I looked up to. Great parents - demanding yet a lot of fun. They sure could drink! I grew to love the whole family.

Through the years, we went to Ridgeland many times for the 4th of July. Sometimes it was rainy. Other times too cold to tube. But we always had fun. We even took the kids for several years and introduced a couple Creston families to the joy that was Huston's Ranch. Writing this blog makes me yearn for those days. But I've grown to love 10,000 Crestonians and it's a lot closer to home!

My fave holiday

I'd have to say the 4th of July is my fave holiday. After 3 inches of rain and now on-going mist, it's not looking too festive this year. Fingers crossed that it quits by fireworks time about 10 PM tonight.

When I was a kid, we always attended the fireworks display at the Atlantic Golf and Country Club. We'd take a blanket and plop down around fairway number 8. The fireworks crew set up in front of the green. Before it got dark enough for real fireworks, they'd shoot those sonic booms. We'd begin creeping down the fairway in the dusky light, only to run back and dive onto the blanket when the boom happened.

The fireworks were so beautiful, but I remember the the most wondrous thing about the holiday was the family stuff. A couple years we went to Okoboji to my cousin's cabin. They were really second cousins - Dad's cousin CB Stewart and his colorful wife Eloise. My cousin Craig turned me on to the love of all things explosive! Black Cats, Ladyfingers and M-80s you could light with a punk. We played lots of games in the screened in porch. It was a good family time.

My parents had a lot of great friends in Atlantic. Several years we got together with them - including the Thedes, Ray and Virginia. Ray lost all the fingers on one hand due to an accident, yet could still golf. And Sheriff Ben Magill. I spent time at Thede's house looking through their son Bill's old Mad Magazines. Now those were entertaining! Remember the little drawings in the margins of the pages? The sheriff was entertained by tossing ladyfinger firecrackers at us while we shot off the illegal fireworks in our possession.

So the 4th was always a good memory in my childhood. No blown off fingers or drunken brawls. Stay tuned for tomorrow's installation - 4th of July post college. I hope you can sleep tonight - I know the anticipation is great.

Pumping Ethyl

While I've shared much of the story of my life as an employed person, I've not yet shared my first job story. As with all my jobs, the biggest thing about this job was the people. In this case, it was one person, my boss Harry Hjortshoj - pronounced Yortsoy.

Harry was a great guy of about 55 years of age. He had a ring of hair that tended to stick out below his bald pate. He had a very peculiar nasal tone to his voice, but his voice had a lilt to it that was always jovial and good natured, and he had a twinkle in his eye.

Harry ran the gas/service station our family frequented for some 20 years or so. It was a Standard Station first - when I was just a little girl. I liked to go there because he had one of those machines you could put a penny or nickel into and get a handful of nuts. You don't see those around any more. And he would let me stand on the hoist while he made it rise a few feet into the air - probably not too safe, but exciting for a tot!

When I turned 15, my parents wanted to get me out of the house more. I played softball but that was an afternoon, evening activity and back then we didn't play 50 games a season. So Dad asked Harry if he needed some help, and I began working a couple hours each morning at Hjortshoj Fina (after Standard pulled out of Iowa). I rode my bike down the big hill to work each day. Fun on the way there - not so much on the way back!

In those days, people didn't use credit cards for purchases - they had charge accounts that small businesses kept track of. As a car driver it was great! We could pull up, Harry would wipe our windows (usually with a greasy cloth) and pump the gas. Then we'd say "charge it" and drive off.

That was the era when gas had gone up from like 30 cents a gallon to around a buck. Harry had 2 pumps - 1 was regular and 1 was ethyl - the more potent stuff, a little pricier. The old pumps didn't have a way to price gas over a dollar, so the ethyl pump showed 50% of the actual price. The first tough lesson I learned was, remember to only put in half of what customers told me. It was embarrassing to tell them I screwed up and put in $10 worth when they only wanted 5$.

I also kept the books and did statements at the end of the month - all by hand. I worked a big adding machine and ran a ticket. Some people charged a bunch! Sometimes, when another person manned the station, Harry and I would run to get people's cars for service. Often, Harry would drive us to the home in his old Chevy pickup that had tire strips on the front bumper. I soon found out why those strips were in place, when I stopped at a stop sign, and Harry would ram into the bumper of the car I was driving - on purpose! Then he'd smile and wave!

Lots of people, including my grandpa, would stop for coffee each morning at the station. It was a regular hang out! Then Harry would yell "Lessie" (he couldn't say my name very well) "How about you go for donuts!". Then he'd slip me a couple bucks and I'd walk a couple blocks over to the donut shop. I learned to love fresh from the fryer plain cake donuts. Yum. He'd also send me for parts at the NAPA store. I learned to love that service station smell - kinda oily, tire scented. I still enjoy that today. Kinky, I know.

At the station, we had an Coke machine (of course - Atlantic Bottling had a monopoly in that town), but instead of pop in every slot, there were a couple cans of beer in one for when Harry closed up in the evening. He taught me how to fill out forms for tire adjustments. I ran the car when he balanced wheels. He had a few "bad" jokes he'd tell often - like when people wanted air in their tires, he'd say "we have a special today - colored air!" Sometimes they'd fall for it!

I've mentioned before that I am a former (maybe not so former) tomboy. I had my hair short even then. Harry knew I'd get dirty at work, so he gave me some of his striped work shirts with a Harry name patch to wear. Several times people asked him if I was his son. He'd just smile and say I was Dave Bullock's daughter. He paid me in cash, so I guess that job was off the books!

You can probably tell, I loved Harry. He was a good guy and I'm glad I had a chance to work for him at my first job. I hope I bring the same energy to work with me each day that he did.

Screamin' meemees

I had the brief bad fortune to be around kids acting like, well kids yesterday. I did see some cute babies while awaiting my ultrasound at the Gyno/Obstetrics office. One little guy was just walk that in that lurching Frankenstein (hmm 2 references to 'ol Frankie in 2 days) style. He was cheerful though.

The other kid I sat by, for most of the hour I waited, was an active 3 or 4 year-old. I actually blame the Mom and Grandma for that one. They didn't take along anything for him to play with besides a cell phone. Nonetheless he was bugging me - grumpy old lady awaiting word on her saggy baggy uterus.

Later in the day, when I went to Kohl's for a doormat (had a $10 coupon so it was only $5), shrieking boy was in the store. He too was 3 or 4. His mom was making idle threats that weren't working one bit. They were everywhere I went.

I felt her frustration. I remember wanting to smack my kid when he (yeah it was usually Jud) when he snapped like that. I was embarrassed for the mom, and for myself all those years ago when I lost it just as badly as said tantrum throwing child. Mea culpa, mea culpa.

Tipped tea cup

I must have been 10 or so when Mom had her hysterectomy at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. I remember asking Dad, "what's wrong with Mom"? He told me she had a tipped tea cup. Hmmm I guess I uterus could be considered a type of tea cup. NOT! Back in the 60's people weren't big on using proper names for organs of a sexual nature. I'm surprised Dad didn't tell me Mom had a problem with her tinkler.

Mom also had to endure several painful vein stripping surgeries for varicose veins. I am sure that had to be tough - to go from a hottie to someone with Frankenstein stitches all over her legs. Mom had to wear leg wraps for a long time after her surgery.

Back to me. After 3 hours in search of the cause of my recent female medical issues, today we have a diagnosis. I was lucky to get into see a partner of Dr. Turner who did my ablation two years ago. This was the first time I'd met this Doc - Dornbier is his name. Turns out he's the brother of Anita Studer in Creston. Small world here in Ioway. After Dr. Dornbier did an exam and heard my symptoms at his office on Westown Parkway in West Des Moines, he sent me back downtown for a vaginal ultrasound.

The waiting room at an obstetrics/gyno is an interesting place. Lots of pregnant women and their support systems - mom, husband, signif other. Lots of babies. And then there's me - a dried up old woman. I could tell the ultrasound tech was measuring something during my procedure. When she was done she told me to go back to West DM to see the Doc again. Good thing I'm enjoying my book on CD.

Dr. Dornbier said I have a polyp in my uterus. So it's NOT a tipped tea cup. Choices - hysterectomy or another D&C. One would be permanent and require an overnight at a hospital and 2 weeks off work. The D&C not as much, but not as sure a thing.

After my appointment, I felt down. I am feeling old and worn out and fat. A little pity party for myself. But sometimes one needs that. I'll get over it. But for now, allowing a little self-pity.