Widdo Wegs

My name is Leslie, and I am a goofy dog talker. I’m not even reformed or in rehab! I can’t help myself. It’s just an addiction I can’t and don’t want to overcome.

I’ve explained before about my father, Dave Bullfrog (David Judson Bullock), and his way of making up names for things and people. Even my mother did that to some extent. I played basketball in high school with a girl who competed with me for playing time. She was even slower than I am. Mom nicknamed her “Lightning”.

So I come from a long line of people who played with words. So it’s not surprising baby talking pet language rolls off my tongue like lies from a gambling addict. Odie’s little legs become widdo wegs. I’ve even got Paul doing it some – now that he’s a single parent to the pets during the week.

Was it Mad Magazine (one of my teenage favorite reads) that had a “What You Say” vs. “What They Hear” feature? Maybe not, but Mad sure had some funny stuff – remember the page you had to accordion to see another picture of something funny out of another picture? And those spoofs on popular movies. “Poopside Down Adventure” for “Poseidon Adventure”. I loved the Spy vs. Spy cartoons in the margins.

Back to pet talking. I’m sure, to the pets; it’s like the Charlie Brown TV specials – when the parents speak all you hear is a tuba-like waa waa waa noise. It’s really the tone they pick up on. Paul just doesn’t have my alpha dog tone with Odie. Or he’s just a big pushover.

At least I don’t treat dogs like babies. Odie doesn’t sit on my lap while I eat. I don’t dress her up in little clothes (she’s hardly worn her little coat all year). She sleeps on the bed, but down by our feet, most of the time. Maybe I do treat her a widdo wike a kid.

Soaps/Daytime TV

Does anyone watch Soap Operas anymore? When I was in college, my roomies Sal, Jane, Vic and I got hooked on GH – General Hospital. I think it was on around 2 PM – right before the Floppy Show (AKA Duane and Friend). We were into the whole Luke and Laura thing. The plot was set at a snail’s pace. I could miss it for a week (if perhaps I had a paper due, or big test) and not have missed a thing!

We lived in a new apartment complex at 230 Campus Avenue in Ames. Our only TV was Jane’s 13 inch black and white. In the spring, we ran an extension cord out our fire exit so we could put the TV out where we could layout in the sun. Oh yeah, I’m sure glad I did that. NOT! Seeing the sun damage on my face and body makes me regret wanting to look like a sun goddess. With this lilly white skin - what was I thinking?

When I grew up (translate – graduated and moved by myself to Sioux Falls, SD to work at a grocery wholesaling firm), I had lunch at noon so I had to switch to watching All My Children (AKA All My Kids). Again – the very slowly moving story line. During lunch I hung with my homies, Palmer, Erika, Tad, Phoebe and more. I didn’t have any real friends in Sioux Falls, so these TV peeps had to suffice. I know, sad. Then I got Bucko the cat and he kept me company. Paul visited on weekends.

When I was not working this past October and November I became very familiar with daytime TV. The soaps didn’t appeal to me at all! I got hooked on HGTV – House Hunter and If These Walls Could Talk. I liked seeing homes for sale around the world, and hearing about the historical aspect of each home in the “Walls” show.

I enjoyed Jon and Kate Plus 8. Kate is very no-nonsense, which I appreciate. You have to be with that many kids! My mother Pat Bullock was known (by us, her children) as the Y(MCA) Director. She barked out rules and had a pretty strict regimen her four daughters. That was back when we only had 2 bathrooms for 6 people. We (gasp) only had one shower. Susi and Cindy had long hair which required use of juice cans for curlers, and large dryers. Yikes! So timing on bathroom use was very important!

You’d never know it by seeing me, but I really enjoy What Not to Wear. Okay maybe I'm a walking billboard for the show. Sometimes I think Clinton and Stacy are a little too brutal, but their comments are pretty funny! I also think that they need to recognize that not everyone needs to dress just alike. Not all of us women need/want to wear stilettos. But I do like how they find the best fashions to fit each body type. I’m amazed by how many women are so against cutting their hair! Of course you CAN tell by looking at me that clothes/hair/makeup isn’t my thing. Trash is.

Old friends

I got together with an old friend today - someone I knew from college. Her name is Jane (in kayak above) and she's always been a very independent, intelligent, musical and artsy person. We haven't seen each other in a few years, but it seemed like we picked up right where we left off, except with a few more wrinkles and a lot of life experience.

Jane grew up in the town next to Earlville where Paul grew up - they went to the same Catholic High School, and Jane was friends with Paul's cousin. I know - it's way too incestuous, but everyone in that area is Paul's cousin. Double cousin even.

I met Jane in college through another friend and we ended up going on ski trips together a few times. A good time was had by all.

Back when I was college age, I viewed people my age - 50ish as old. Now in my elderly wisdom, I know just how damn interesting people my age can be. We're salty, and we've got experience! I enjoyed our lunch Chef Joe's.

Then I got to head home to Creston, where my heart is!

Next weekend, weather permitting, we plan to head north to Northfield, MN to visit some other college friends. Wilts (live near Chicago) are taking their daughter up to check out U of M for college next year. Behrs live in Northfield, MN and hope to also see Hausers who live just north in Eagan. Haven't seen these guys in over a year, so I'm really looking forward to it. Here's a photo of me with Vicki Behr and Kay Wilt - taken a few years ago at Behrs house. When we get together, it's like old home week. After all I've known them all some 30+ years!

How do you spell relief?

Methane gas. And I didn’t have it – the cow manure did. Today I ventured out of my cubicle (along with my boss Al and a co-worker, Jim) to tour a couple cutting edge enviro-projects. The first one was at a big beef farm. It’s a big operation – over 1,000 head. That’s a lot of poop!

They scoop the barn out and put the fuel (translate poopy material) into a truck and haul it down the hill to the staging area. Then they slowly feed it into a pit with dirty water and two sticks of margarine. Okay, I’m just joshing about the margarine, but they do add in some special stuff that is sugary that will help the good bugs begin the process.

Big pumps push the resulting sludge into the methane production area – which is about the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool. The lagoon “cooks” and emits methane gas. The gas is pumped into giant engines that produce heat and power. Some of the power is used on-site and the rest is sold to the local power cooperative. The watery bi-product of the gas runs through a press, where the liquid is separated from any solids. The liquid contains lots of nutrients and can be used as fertilizer on area fields. The solids look much like compost and are used for bedding. It’s a pretty cool system!

When we left the facility, we all had the feeling we reeked of cow poo. Plus I got my new shoes muddy. Damn! Oh well, we had a nice lunch at the Red Frog in the Czech Village in Cedar Rapids. Then it was on to the next adventure.

Cedar Rapids is this site of a Plasma Arc pilot project for dealing with flood debris. The pilot unit is mounted on a semi trailer, and can gasify 1 ton of trash per day. It sounds like a cool thing – magically vaporizing garbage. It is done at temps over 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit. That first blast of heat melts out all metal and turns inorganic materials into glass. The organic stuff becomes vapor – some of which turns into a type of fuel. The estimated price tag for a facility that can burn 250 tons per day? $50 –$80 million.

On the way back I talked Al into letting me stop briefly at the Vanity Fair outlet to buy underpants. Now that I’m a traveling working woman, I needed new ones. I had to choose quickly so I hope I chose wisely. (not butt cutters, as my dad would call the ones that creep up your ass) When we got back to the Big City I learned how to gas (E85 not methane) up the state car at the state pump. Exciting!

Now you know a little bit more about my world. I dig learning about stuff like that. And scored some undies!

Lane changer

Walking down memory lane - publishing blogs from my first years as a blogger. When two people read them. One was probably me. Back when I lived in Waukee part of the week and Creston the other part. I had more time to think about sh...stuff.

Are you a frequent lane changer?

I think the way a person drives says a great deal about their personality. People who hop between lanes like lost bunnies irritate me. Do they really think switching to the middle lane, when the left lane has slowed to a crawl will improve their commute? Is that how they go through life – rashly changing courses without a plan? Don't they realize that once they change lanes, the one they are now in will slow down?

When I drive, I like to invest in a lane, plan ahead even as to which one I should be in at a certain time. I realize unknowns can pop up. A slow driver in my lane, or a large vehicle that I can’t see around will cause me to switch – at least until I get around the offender.

During my early morning commute, I am now familiar enough with the route to know where I should be when. In fact I am beginning to know it so well that I sometimes lose track as I listen to a book on CD and have to “come to” and check my surroundings to figure out just where I am. So far I’ve not missed any of my exits.

Spousal unit, Paul plans ahead even farther than I do! He will go so far as to go a certain route in the Big City so he doesn’t have to turn left without a light. Of course, this is the same guy who didn’t like to walk to close to the edge of the sidewalk in college – lest he turn his ankle. A very cautious man is my Pablo.

Every once in a while I wish I were a bit more impetuous. Not when it comes to driving, but when it comes to life. It seems like it would be so easy to be someone who flies by the seat of my pants. Taking off for trips without checking the map or the weather.

Alas, I know I’ll never be that person – except for right after I consume a couple lemondrop martinis!

Missing link

I think I got gypped out of part of my girl genes. Some women, girls even, are just born able to apply makeup and operate curling irons and other female tools. When I try to use a curling iron, I get a Mohawk. Eyelash curlers turn into instruments of torture – nearly poking my eye out. My makeup can fit in the palm of my hand. It’s a mystery to me what all those products my weekday roommate Kristina possesses in our shared bathroom are for.

My niece Jordan can take a piece of cloth and whip it into a most stylish looking scarf. Remember the 80’s? How could we forget – there was a scarf craze then too. But when I tried to do the little knotted scarf, it would wind up looking like a choker with a lump on the end. Dorky!

At Atlantic Jr. High, when I was 13 years old, we girl students had to take Home Economics. We learned about such things as cooking, makeup and sewing. What was my mother thinking, allowing me to purchase brown corduroy fabric to make a jumper? There has to be easier stuff to sew than that.

Our teacher Mrs. Elming took pity on me, and helped me a little. Even then, the garment wasn’t wearable and ended up smashed in my locker for the rest of the school year. I did learn a valuable lesson on sewing buttons on that has served me well through the years.

I don’t think the cooking/baking lesson took real well either. I sometimes have problems with the part about reading the recipe. One time when I was baking brownies, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t put the eggs in. Too bad the batter had been in the oven for a while. When I tried to quickly add the eggs, well yep, they fried. Yum. Chocolate batter eggs.

Another time I put a roast in the crock pot without removing the last layer of shrink wrap. Oh, it was cooked by the end of a long work day. But it didn’t look real good. We tossed it. Sadly.

I was born a tomboy, and often feel inept when it comes to some of that girl stuff. My sister Betsy had a doll that was a giant Barbie head that was “Nice and Big” (that’s what the TV commercial said), and she could put makeup on it and curl its hair. I had GI Joe and his Buddy Charlie and their Jeep with missiles.

I guess I’ll never be a girlie girl.

Another book

So there is another kind of book in my life. Facebook.

After years of stalking Amy and her friends on her Facebook (I know her log-in), I started my own page. My sister Betsy (AKA Betso Bean) started one. And she "Friended" my kids and my nieces and nephews. I knew this because I saw it while logged onto Amy's Facebook.

I figured what the hell, she's my little sis, if she can do it, so can I. Besides, people (Amy's friends) were starting to try to talk to me on Facebook IM, thinking I was Amy. That freaked me out! And there isn't such a thing as "WrinklyFacebook," yet anyway...

So I began building my page. It was fun. It was a good way to share pictures and store them as a backup to my hard drive too. Facebook isn't just for kids anymore! I found some high school classmates on there, and friends from Creston too. I "Friended" Goldsmith nieces and nephews - some grown up with their own kids. I'm Friends with some of my Bullock nieces and nephews - others are still pretty young and might not want their old auntie to be in on their Facebook chatter.

I was a Friend of Jud, my own son, until I made the mistake of posting some of his adorable baby/childhood pictures on my page. So his friends got to see how cute he was and made fun of him. Then he "broke up with me" and is no longer my Friend!

I still don't understand some of the applications on Facebook. All that "your friend threw a snowflake at you" kinda stuff. Or the "post 182 things about yourself and send it to 182 friends" thing. I don't like to be invasive to others. If they don't like getting information about me, I hope they secretly "unfriend" me so it doesn't hurt my feelings!

There are some funny lines when it comes to being friends with people on Facebook. Somebody told me their high school aged kid got freaked out because a pastor wanted to be their friend. How do you say "no" to a pastor? And why would you want them to read your friends' smart ass comments about and to you?

So I'm still feeling my way through this Facebook thing. I'm a newby. I'm not able to access Facebook as often these days, since I'm out of town during the week - away from my wi-fi. But I do enjoy seeing what my "Friends" are up to when I can.