My boy

I didn't know nothin' about no boys until I gave birth to one. Okay, so I wished I was one when I was growing up. As the third girl in a family of four girls, I was the tomboy of the bunch. I did like playing "dallies". Cindy tells me that's what I called playing with dolls.

My real desire was to play with stuff like guns, cars, horses and to play sports. In other words - boy stuff. That was before girls were really allowed to "cross over" to such things. Thank goodness Tommy Buck lived close by - I was able to play with his little green army men. He even gave me my very own baseball cap. Eventually I grew out of that "I wish I were a boy" stage - mostly. They did seem to have life pretty damn easy compared to girls. (And they get paid more...)

That's me - the boyish kid on the left

Dad was around (weekends, since he traveled Monday through Friday for his job marketing lingerie around the state of Iowa) - and he was a guy. He could fart with the best of them and walked about in his boxers when heading from the shower to his room. I was my grandpa Bubba's fave grandchild if I do say so myself). Still - the male species seemed pretty mysterious to me.

Dad and Bub (with my senior pic photo bombing)

Skip to Paul Goldsmith. A man who became my best friend and the love of my life. When we got married I found out what it was like to live with a guy full time - toilet seats, hunting, sports craziness and all. It was...different. In a good way. After a couple years, we had our first child - Amy. A girl.

Then 25 years ago today I had another baby - and imagine my surprise when Dr. Young exclaimed, "It's a boy!" I was shocked. Our family didn't do boys. Since my dad had been born in 1928, we'd had a run of girls - lots of girls. The four Bullock girls, my niece Leslie, daughter Amy and niece Jordan. That's how Jud ended up with his name - Judson David. Dad's name was David Judson. (Really - it had nothing to do with our great dog named Jud, whom I grew up with like a brother).


Yes - he may have a bit of a mullet haircut here, but he's adorable

Four months later Cindy and Bolder had their baby boy Colby Breton Lefebvre. The tide had turned and Betso and Wayne popped out a slew of boys (4), I had Patrick. Sarah Kohan has been the only girl born in our fam since Jud.

I had a lot to learn about raising a boy. First lesson - they can really pee on their own faces when they are a week old, and when they first pee outside when they're just getting potty trained. When their daddy isn't there too, um direct their actions.

Our boy was much more "physical" than Amy at an earlier age. He pulled the vent out of the floor when he was still just crawling. Jud was strong and had scary tantrums. When angry he was known to stop breathing - until he went limp when caused him to start breathing again. His gag reflex was legendary - we became adept at running for a pan for him to upchuck in. One time Paul grabbed the colander by mistake...what are we straining it this time?

Jud idolized his sis and was very enthusiastic about any "let's pretend" idea she came up with. It was like she was director Martin Scorsese and he was actor Leo DeCaprio. The drama they could come up with - the pillows were land - carpet, water. The stairs were mountains to climb. Jud was a bit of a sleep walker too - that could be scary.


While Amy was a bit (lot) wimpy when ill, Jud was a tough little nugget. He'd just grit his teeth - it was sometimes hard to tell when he was sick. Medicines that were supposed to knock him out would instead jack him up! He had a number of throat infections, so the doc said his tonsils should come out when he was in Kindergarten. When he was still recovering, he was in terrible pain. Later, he puked blood on the couch and had to have his throat cauterized. Before long - he was playing soccer, because he loved that sport and wouldn't miss it. My couch was never the same...

We were glad to find Mexican Donald at Epcot

Jud stopped napping at age 2 - though I'd put him in bed anyway, because I needed one. He peeled his wallpaper border off and got into other mischief. If he did take a nap, the kid wasn't tired until 11 p.m. or later - way past my bedtime! Night owl - that never changed. He's still like that.

Jud always had a head for stats and sports information (but not Spanish...). Like his daddy he loved sports from the time he was a wee boy. Paul tried to interest him in his beloved Packers, but Jud says the star on the Cowboys helmets won him over. At least he became a fan of the right college team!

I can't believe it's been 25 years since Jud was born - just after 11:30 PM. I'm glad I had the opportunity to raise a boy - my Jud. He's a special guy and I'm so proud to be his mom.

A Fairy Tale

A story right out of the Grimm book. You remember Grimm's fairy tales - dark and dismal. This one is sure to have a good ending. But the story is still being written.

There was a girl named Merry Sunshine who had a talent for growing beautiful flowers. She thought about opening her own flower store, but she was young and inexperienced - so she went to work for a fella we'll call Snidely Whiplash. He had a business growing and selling flowers - employing just a few people.

When first Snidely talked to Merry, he filled her full of excitement about the possibilities about the job! Though she would start as a part timer, she perhaps could someday even be a part owner of the flower business if she helped it grow. She was disappointed that Whiplash Inc. didn't need her much to start out with, but she threw herself into doing whatever she could attract business to the company - even on her own time. She enjoyed the plant growing process especially.

Snide wasn't around all that much - especially at first. He took several vacations. The office seemed happier somehow what the guy wasn't around. When he did come in, he praised Merry for her work growing plants and asked for her advice on projects. In the meantime, he berated another flower grower, Nelle, when she arrived late for work due to an ill family member. Merry became uncomfortable with Snidely's uneven treatment of employees. When she discussed the issue with Nelle, somehow Snidely found out and called her into the Principal's office for a long chewing out.

After a couple months of this - enjoying her work growing flowers, but feeling very uncomfortable with the working atmosphere, Merry considered her options. Sometimes Snidely tag-teamed against employees with his brother Boris Badenoff. The stress was getting to her.

Friends and family advised Merry to quit. She finally decided to explain to Snidely that she had a dream of starting her own flower business - a small one. She didn't want to tick the guy off by telling him the real reason she wanted out. At first Mr. Whiplash was understanding - even enthusiastic about Merry's move. He didn't demand that she march right out the door. He needed her to finish up some gardeny projects and she was happy to do so - professional to the end. Nelle evidently wasn't up to the task.

On her last day, Merry took a few snapshots of her best work for her files. Garden stores always show that stuff on their websites. She emailed them to herself from her work email, said goodbye to the gang and began her drive home. Before she even arrived at her place, Snidely phoned her, yelling that she'd stolen from him by sending herself those files - as if she'd stolen the very plants themselves! Snidely is a scary guy - who looks a bit like a pirate.

Merry didn't know what to do. She felt she was within her rights to have those photos. Gardeners keep collections of their plants in order to get jobs. Over the next few days Snidely made her life miserable by emailing her and leaving messages on her phone threatening police action. Merry was filled with angst - would she go to jail? She finally contacted her kindly Uncle Macaroon for advice. He told her to ask Snidely to stop contacting her.

For a while nothing happened. Then one day a constable knocked at Merry's door. Snidely Whiplash had filed a complaint against her - claiming she'd stolen plant pictures. She was told she was not allowed to have a copy of anything she signed at the Whiplash company. Merry filled out a report of her side of the story. The constable stated that he didn't like Snidely one bit. But now the reports will be viewed by a supreme being who will be the decider. Uncle Mac continued to consult with Merry regarding ongoing events.

Merry, wishing to put this behind her finally emailed Snidely to say she had decided to destroy all copies of the pictures of plants. She was worn out by the saga. But that wasn't good enough by Snidely. He sent her a scroll with a number of demands - some of them outrageously dating back to flowers she grew for employers before she even knew Mr. Whiplash. He also wants to tie her to a train track.

If his demands are not met and she is not put in the dungeon by the constable, Whiplash has vowed to take Merry Sunshines rupies ($$).

So that's where the story stands. A bully has threatened our heroine in several ways. He seems threatened by a young gardener who simply wants to grow a few flowers. Merry Sunshine is supported by her family, friends and Uncle Mac. It doesn't seem fair that a bully can get away with this type of behavior in fairy tale land. Does it?  



  

Weather people

Gripe alert. It's not their fault that we're having lousy weather. But I'm tired of the endless days ahead forecasting of bad weather. Late last week they started saying ominously that today and tomorrow would be "even worse than last week!"

Crimonently. Stop already.
Huge storm coming
Coldest ever
Terrible
Awful storm...

and one of the worst storms we've had a couple Thursdays ago in Des Moines, they f'ing missed totally! Sigh. Bring back Connie McBurney (former TV 8 Weather lady).

Connie is behind the typewriter in the light top

We had a fun day Saturday. After straying to Perkins a couple weekends ago for breakfast, we went back to the Waveland Café that a.m. It was nice to hear the patter of the usual staff talking about the stuff they do. Real people. And decent food.

The men inside the window wondered what the heck I was doing...

Glad we got to see the Cyclones get back on the winning track that afternoon against Kansas State. Later we attended Mass at St. Francis and ate pancakes at home. Yep - breakfast twice in one day! We finished chewing just in time to head south to Creston to the Lobby for Dean Leith's surprise birthday party.

It was a nice chance to see our pals. Of course the weather geeks had predicted crappy weather coming around 10 p.m. so we didn't want to stay too long. (It didn't ever really materialize - jerks!) Oh well...it kept us clean and sober. McKims, McFees, Crittendens, Deb - sans Larry who was writing up stuff about the wrestling meet that day, Susan and Brian, Piels and of course Patti and the birthday boy.

I got to dance to Love Shack before we left. Patti made sure the girls danced - she wanted her grand daughters got to boogie with her friends. Evelyn is 4ish is Caleb's daughter. Dean's granddaughter - Kayanna? who is around 8. She is Dean's daughter Ashley's child. Amy played softball with Ashley for a year or so. They now live in our first house in Creston. I enjoyed talking to Kayanna about her room. She said she loved the house but mentioned something about rats. Huh?

The only problem when we lived there was the guy that gave his "snake" an outing while he was supposed to be servicing the hot tub. And that was technically after we had moved out and were awaiting the closing with our buyers who were renting the place. The new Mrs. wasn't impressed with the technician's "tool".

We also danced a line dance "Electric Slide". Yay for Sheriff Rick Piel for shakin' it with us. The rest of the men (and Rick's wife Jeanne) were wimps. I stood by Diana so I could follow her steps. I'm slow that way.

I enjoyed sitting by Deb and catching up a bit - though I really didn't get to talk to anyone too long. And I had some great birthday cake. We headed home before 10 p.m. before things got too crazy. It was nice to wake up with no hangover.

Paul's sis Carol stopped by Sunday. She was in town to see her granddaughter Mandy perform in Dowling Catholic's Show Choir. Carol has offered to make us a quilt for our quilt hanger - so we discussed patterns and colors. I know what I like - but not the lingo. It's going to be beautiful! Whenever I figure it out.

Bacon Dad, Bacon

The Des Moines Register Iowa Life section today features an article entitled, Bacon Memories. Mmmm. I'm not one who covets bacon all the time - but I do enjoy it occasionally. Paul is cooking some up  in the cast iron skillet as I type this.

The Blue Ribbon Bacon festival will be held next Saturday at the Iowa State Fairgrounds. Am I attending? No. Tickets for that event go like hotcakes...and bacon. They're sold out in scant minutes. Only people who truly love bacon deserve to attend. Not me.

But (strike up the Wayback machine) I do have my own Bacon Memories. Breakfast at the Bullock house as the little Bullfrogs grew up held a great deal of variety. Some of it included bacon, especially when Dad was home on weekends. He liked cereal too though - puffed rice. Ick.  I don't know anyone else who ever liked that stuff. Bets and I preferred Capn' Crunch and Count Chocula. Sugar!

We had interesting breakfast apparatuses at our house - special little cups with stems for soft-boiled eggs. Dad liked those eggs a lot. Mom mostly ate toast and smoked, whilst doing the NYT Crossword puzzle. We also had spoons for sectioning grapefruit - wedge-shaped.

Mom probably fried bacon in a pan originally, but I remember her trying oven frying. Then she got the microwave and that was the next big deal. Mom liked bacon crispy - so that didn't last. And just like with any food, Mom could make that bacon crunch lustily.

My next bacon memories are from college - ski trips. Guys gotta have their bacon. The year we mashed 20+ into the Breckenridge condo, Paul, Mike Huston and Fred Behr had a contest to see who could eat the most French Toast. Guys were in charge of cooking breakfast. They each ate over 10 pieces plus bacon of course. For the first couple ski runs, when on the lifts, Fred leaned out over the side when he coughed in case anything solid decided to come out...

Paul with Joyce Huston - lots of coffee went with bacon in Ridgeland





Camping always makes food smell and taste better. Why is that? We camped at Mike Huston's folk's place for the first 10+ years after college over the 4th of July to tube the Apple River. Clark and Joyce Huston worked for Oscar Mayer - Bingo! Pile on the bacon. Boy was that good. There was no running water there so we'd heat up the wash water on the fire afterwards - penance for the meaty bliss.


I'm not sure where Amy was in this pic.
 

Headwaters of the Mississippi

In 1991, Behrs, Wilts and Goldsmiths decided to lease a cabin "up north" in Bemidji, MN in June. We beat the season prices that way. It was a rustic cabin - the walls didn't go to the ceiling - even for the bedrooms. Of course the Behr kids were morning sleepers. Jaime Wilt was a wee one. Our children. Not so much. Little Juddy was 2 1/2 years old. He needed his own dome of silence. (Amy must have slept in). He created my most vivid bacon memory that week.

Of course Jud woke up bright and early - as the rest of us tried to sleep in. Paul offered to get up with him, but it was chilly out. So they couldn't go outside. Paul decided to start cooking breakfast - bacon. Jud marched around the kitchen chanting loudly, "Bacon Dad, Bacon" over and over. Paul tried to quiet him to no avail.

Needless to say, it was an early bacon morning for everyone. Good thing they were all good sports (right Vic?). Ever since that day, the word bacon brings that chant back to me. Later, through his teen years Jud claimed not to like bacon. Today he's back on the stuff though - no chanting.

I like thick bacon - a bit chewy. Dream BLT - great toasted bread, summer tomato, meaty bacon with good mayo or similar tasty sauce. Paul and I discovered Des Moines Bacon Company at the Farmer's Market. Hmm no website. Looks like they need AEG Design Company to help them do a website.

I don't like bacon on everything - like most sandwiches. It overpowers the other flavors. And bacon beer is just icky! Where do you stand on bacon? (insert Oscar Mayer whistle sound)

Dance dorks

I wanted to give you an update on the ballroom dance lessons Paul and I are taking. In a weak moment, Paul agreed to sign up for 8 weeks of classes. He was feeling guilty from his hours away hunting - on trips with pals and deer hunting - especially around my birthday. Yep, I always lay on the guilt trip thick then.

from a pheasant hunting trip with Tom Sullivan

The classes are held above the West Des Moines Community Center in the 2nd floor ballroom - a large space with a newly refinished wood floor. We attended class the last two Sundays, and again last night. We're switching to Thursdays - which is a smaller class size.

We will get more attention from our teachers that way because we are (currently) awful dancers! We've even practiced. Just like in any sport, (and - this does seem like a sport) practice helped. We are moving through the dances at an amazing rate. Too fast really. Why don't they offer remedial classes? 

• Merengue (pronounced merengay)
• Fox Trot
• Swing 

Classes are an hour long. We start each with one dance step and start the next at the end of class. Hell, we can't remember the merengue stuff already! Thank God for YouTube. We purchased the dance music CD from the teachers for $3 and practiced our Fox Trot at home Wednesday night in preparation for Thursday's class.

We were still pretty lousy. In our defense, I wore the wrong shoes (due to the cold weather). They stuck to the floor and the music was too slow. Yeah, that sounds pretty pathetic, doesn't it? I must fight the tenancy to lead - which I've done throughout our marriage anytime we've slow danced. Paul has to fight his "heavy hands" yanking me around. We must remember all our prior dancing experience often relied on alcohol. I guess that's why we always thought we'd be good at this...

Swing seemed more natural to us than the first two dances - like something we might actually do when dancing at a wedding. We may head to Creston tomorrow for a party with a DJ. Paul already warned me - "we aren't doing any of this stuff there"! He's not ready to break out the moves yet. While our moves on the dance floor aren't always synchronized, our thoughts are simpatico on this one!

Pardon me all to pieces

There were 40+ in attendance at the workshop at the Ramada on Merle Hay

I've been doing this all wrong! I attended a marketing workshop today, put on by my work peeps. It was much needed and really good. Trash people need help finding ways to get the message out to people about just what it is (bury trash, deal with household hazardous waste, run recycling programs and more) they do. I should know - I used to be one of them! People think it's still the dump.

Mark Mathis talks to a group from across the state

In the small world department, it turns out the marketing firm that presented at the workshop is run by Mark Mathis - the husband of Liz Mathis, former TV broadcaster from KWWL in Waterloo and High School classmate of my college roomie Vicki. They were DeWitt class of 1976 grads. Kumbaya!
This is Mark's blog on marketing. One-Minute Marketer.

The first thing I took away from the workshop is that my blog is way too long. Oops! Sorry readers. I just pump them out. I heard that takes a minute for people to read 200 words. This Internet thing that Al Gore invented - it has resulted in reading ADD. I will try to do better. Or less. Twitterize it, Mark said. At least I'm not marketing what I write...even though I saw that I could have made $784 last year as my blog was ranked the 11,485,988th blog. But you'd have to look at ads. Yuck.

I DID find out why Paul doesn't know most of what I've told him - and proceeds to repeat it to me like a new fact a few days later, "Did you hear that...?" Why I told you that a few days ago...People only absorb 18% of the information coming at them - in that staff meeting, at church, at home when their wife is telling them important stuff.

There is a great deal of clutter in our lives. Mark Mathis told us

• We were hit with 570 messages a day in 1970
• 3,000/day in 2008
• 5,000 today

And those darn marketers - they just keep finding ways to squeeze in their products. It takes 12 ad exposures before purchase and 47 days. Workshop participants received a great deal of information to help them figure out the best ways to get the best methods to reach their customers - and then evaluate the results (my favorite part). They will be able to receive follow up training over the next few weeks. Our department is helping Iowans get information about safe disposal of the things they have to get rid of. Yay us. That's why I work there. Woot, woot!

Dave Bullfrog pants

Surprise! Plaid pants are BACK - and not just for old guys...

Walking through Younkers yesterday I saw plaid Izod pants on sale. I thought of my dad right away - Dad - your pants are dialing you up from Des Moines. Man how he loved the bright plaid pants - mostly primary colors. Add a white leather belt and loafers - and a nice golf shirt (likely from a club in Beaver Creek, Colorado) and zing! Dave Bullock signature outfit.




They aren't wild, but they're plaid...

I entertained myself at the mall yesterday afternoon. I'm somewhat of a loner, really. Love my girlfriends - but am perfectly happy hanging by myself. At least for a day. Paul was ice fishing in Orient, Iowa with Wade - the guy who replaced him at the Creston job. Yep. Sitting on ice with a line hanging through a hole - like Grumpy Old Men. Except he was happy!

We both had the day off thanks to Martin Luther King Day. I love Mondays off. It was a leisurely a.m. then off the YMCA. I'm still stiff today after utilizing the weight machines - getting used to those things.

I headed to Valley West Mall for a pedicure. There were only a couple young women in the place having pedis too and I really didn't listen to them until they positioned themselves by me under the "dryer". They were friends who looked to be in their upper 20s. One was asking for coaching from the other. My nail artist looked up at me to see if I was listening when the one mentioned she owes more than $50,000 in student loans. Jeepers! So glad my kids aren't saddled with debt.

Once my nice newly blue nails were dry, I decided to head to Von Maur to check out the shoe room. On my way by Victoria's Secret I overheard an guy tell his wife "ask them if I can come watch you try them on" as she walked in the door. And she was no spring chicken. Neither was he. Guys...they're always so hopeful! I chuckled all the way to VM.

I enjoyed myself trying on shoes at Fit to be Tied. But I showed great self-control and walked away. It was a great day at the mall.