I started a paper route this week. I've had paper routes in the past, the first one being an attempt to show my son how to work properly. He wouldn't do the paper route nor would he walk the dogs regularly, so I combined the two chores. The first route I had lasted 7 years. Six days a week me and the two dogs went for a walk.
The two dogs were paper-route trained: 'Sit' and 'Stay', of course.
Wait : at intersections
Let's Go : crossing intersections
Stay By Me : if there were other dogs loose
Let's Go To Gramma's House : my mother-in-law lived on my route and we would stop and visit every couple of weeks.
One of the subscribers on the route had a day care business. My big dog would go and lean against the fence so that the little kids could touch her fur through the fence. I had to keep track of which kid got to take the paper to the subscriber. Things like that made it fun to do.
I enjoyed doing the paper route. I liked being outdoors in all kinds of weather. I liked seeing the changes that the different seasons brought. I learned to dress for all the different kinds of weather. I learned to fear freezing rain; no other form of precipitation is as dangerous as freezing rain.
Today I went out and did the new paper route in the rain. I admit, I drove the car. I didn't want 49 wet papers. Even with the car I knew a soaking was inevitable.
For wading thru the wet grass I wore my fishin' shoes. Ratty as they are, they're still comfortable to wear. Shoes that are too worn to be seen in public; well on their way to being trash, but enough protection to wear into a river or stream when you're fishing. If they fall apart you've already got your money's worth from them.
Appropriate attire for a rainy day.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Who's Laughing Now?
Who's laughing now?
You can talk to your kids about the 'real world' until hell freezes over... No need to listen to adults share their experiences. No need to heed the warnings from people who live in the 'real world'. Like your parents, for instance.
I love my daughter, but I am laughing now. Did she think we were wrong? Did she think we were stupid? I sure hope she enjoyed being a lazy-ass twit for three years.
Daughter has a job as a security guard. Her employers want to know about an 18-month blank on her job application. Her employers want to hear from someone besides a relative about that span of time.
I'd be thrilled to tell them what she did during those 18 months: Absolutely nothing.
She didn't go to Russia and become a KGB spy. No way, too much effort. Might have been required to get up before noon. Same applies to Iraq, Iran, and China. Why work if you can mooch off your folks?
She had a paper route at age 14 and that was the last job she did with a good attitude. She worked at Penney's and dissed everyone else who worked there. She worked at a Subway and knew more than the couple who managed it. She worked at Arby's and thought she could tell the manager what hours she would work.
Don't think that we didn't try to get her to work. Of course we did. She would work(a little) at jobs we provided.
She worked for me watering plants one summer and I fired her. I told her plants needed to be watered no later than 10:00 AM. After that it was too hot and watering the plants would cook them. The day she watered the plants at 1:00 PM was the day I fired her. Some of the plants dried out in the heat, wilted past the point of recovery; by the time she watered them they were no longer salable. Most of them lived, being hardy perennials, but they looked like shit. Not plants I could take to farmer's market and sell.
Kids do crap like that and then wonder why their parents are unhappy with them.
Kids run smack-dab into the real world and wonder why their parents are laughing.
You can talk to your kids about the 'real world' until hell freezes over... No need to listen to adults share their experiences. No need to heed the warnings from people who live in the 'real world'. Like your parents, for instance.
I love my daughter, but I am laughing now. Did she think we were wrong? Did she think we were stupid? I sure hope she enjoyed being a lazy-ass twit for three years.
Daughter has a job as a security guard. Her employers want to know about an 18-month blank on her job application. Her employers want to hear from someone besides a relative about that span of time.
I'd be thrilled to tell them what she did during those 18 months: Absolutely nothing.
She didn't go to Russia and become a KGB spy. No way, too much effort. Might have been required to get up before noon. Same applies to Iraq, Iran, and China. Why work if you can mooch off your folks?
She had a paper route at age 14 and that was the last job she did with a good attitude. She worked at Penney's and dissed everyone else who worked there. She worked at a Subway and knew more than the couple who managed it. She worked at Arby's and thought she could tell the manager what hours she would work.
Don't think that we didn't try to get her to work. Of course we did. She would work(a little) at jobs we provided.
She worked for me watering plants one summer and I fired her. I told her plants needed to be watered no later than 10:00 AM. After that it was too hot and watering the plants would cook them. The day she watered the plants at 1:00 PM was the day I fired her. Some of the plants dried out in the heat, wilted past the point of recovery; by the time she watered them they were no longer salable. Most of them lived, being hardy perennials, but they looked like shit. Not plants I could take to farmer's market and sell.
Kids do crap like that and then wonder why their parents are unhappy with them.
Kids run smack-dab into the real world and wonder why their parents are laughing.
Insomnia in Two Generations
Insomnia again. About four times in the last two weeks I've been awake at 2:30 AM. Usually the insomnia is associated with severe stress; this episode doesn't seem to have that association.
I get up out of bed so as not to disturb MySpouse. The dogs trek resignedly down the stairs with me. They curl up on the couch and go back to sleep. I think unkind thoughts about creatures who can sleep. I make coffee. Might as well, it'll be hours before I go back to sleep.
This insomnia isn't nearly as bad as what I've experienced in the past. I'm grateful for that. Grateful also to not have the kind of stress that precipitated the past insomniac episodes.
Yesterday I visited with a woman whose son was a friend of my son when the boys were teenagers. She asked after Nick and I answered "He's doing okay for a guy in prison." I can talk about Nick in a quick glossing-over sort of way, but I can't talk at length or in detail about him. It' s too painful. I'm honest about that with people who do want to talk about Nick.
January 1997 is when Nick was arrested. I lived in a stew of anxiety for the six months before he was sentenced in June 1997. More serious than the kind of things teens are inclined to, he was drunk and cranked, he kidnapped and raped a young lady. I do not condone what he did. I do believe he deserved to be punished.
But not so extremely. First-degree murderers get shorter sentences. Nick was sentenced to serve two 25-year sentences consecutively...one after the other; rather than concurrently...both sentences at the same time. He had no prior arrests for violent crime. No record beyond normal teenage speeding tickets.
He has served 10 years of 50. He was 18 when he was arrested. Nick will be 29 years old on April 30, 2007. The friend's mother asked about parole. I told her I don't even think about it.
If I don't hope, I will not be disappointed.
For most inmates in our prisons there's a family, a mother, siblings, cousins on the outside. Inmates without a caring person on the outside do not fare as well as inmates whose families stay involved with them. Prison is a whole different society than what's out here where we live.
Nick was as frightened by jail and prison as anything he'd ever been scared of before. There wasn't much I could do to help except to listen and explain some things to him.
When he was in jail he had a bout of insomnia. The jailers gave him Benadryl to help him sleep. He called me, all suspicious of a drug he'd never heard of before. I told him that the active ingredient in Benadryl would help him to sleep by making him drowsy. Told him he'd had the drug numerous times in the past as a remedy for cold symptoms. Nothing to fear, says Doctor Mom.
I found some humor in it. He was all worried about the Benadryl, common as it is, but not the least concerned about using crank. Go figure.
I get up out of bed so as not to disturb MySpouse. The dogs trek resignedly down the stairs with me. They curl up on the couch and go back to sleep. I think unkind thoughts about creatures who can sleep. I make coffee. Might as well, it'll be hours before I go back to sleep.
This insomnia isn't nearly as bad as what I've experienced in the past. I'm grateful for that. Grateful also to not have the kind of stress that precipitated the past insomniac episodes.
Yesterday I visited with a woman whose son was a friend of my son when the boys were teenagers. She asked after Nick and I answered "He's doing okay for a guy in prison." I can talk about Nick in a quick glossing-over sort of way, but I can't talk at length or in detail about him. It' s too painful. I'm honest about that with people who do want to talk about Nick.
January 1997 is when Nick was arrested. I lived in a stew of anxiety for the six months before he was sentenced in June 1997. More serious than the kind of things teens are inclined to, he was drunk and cranked, he kidnapped and raped a young lady. I do not condone what he did. I do believe he deserved to be punished.
But not so extremely. First-degree murderers get shorter sentences. Nick was sentenced to serve two 25-year sentences consecutively...one after the other; rather than concurrently...both sentences at the same time. He had no prior arrests for violent crime. No record beyond normal teenage speeding tickets.
He has served 10 years of 50. He was 18 when he was arrested. Nick will be 29 years old on April 30, 2007. The friend's mother asked about parole. I told her I don't even think about it.
If I don't hope, I will not be disappointed.
For most inmates in our prisons there's a family, a mother, siblings, cousins on the outside. Inmates without a caring person on the outside do not fare as well as inmates whose families stay involved with them. Prison is a whole different society than what's out here where we live.
Nick was as frightened by jail and prison as anything he'd ever been scared of before. There wasn't much I could do to help except to listen and explain some things to him.
When he was in jail he had a bout of insomnia. The jailers gave him Benadryl to help him sleep. He called me, all suspicious of a drug he'd never heard of before. I told him that the active ingredient in Benadryl would help him to sleep by making him drowsy. Told him he'd had the drug numerous times in the past as a remedy for cold symptoms. Nothing to fear, says Doctor Mom.
I found some humor in it. He was all worried about the Benadryl, common as it is, but not the least concerned about using crank. Go figure.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Freakin' Frugal
At last, we have money left over at the end of the month. We celebrated by spending some of it. It was fun to buy books and not have the nagging guilt of budget-busting to deal with. This bit of extra money doesn't mean we get to stop living frugally. Oh, no. That lifestyle will continue.
In part our interests and tolerance contribute to our frugal living.
*We don't watch TV. So there is none of that biggest, baddest, newest TV going on. No commercials to persuade us to buy things we do not need. I know MySpouse feels a little dweebish when the SuperBowl rolls around, but if he really cared about football he could follow it on the Internet.
*I hate cell phones. I don't know of any device that has made people behave more rudely. What I don't understand about cell phones is why people can't talk and drive at the same time. Truckers talk on CB radios without endangering the lives of others. Also I'm amused by people who think that it's more important to have a conversation than to prevent the accident that
they're going to die in.
*Gas engines. Way too loud for me. Neither of us is interested in boats, jet-skis, snowmobiles, motorcycles, ATV's, or 4-wheel drive vehicles. 4-wheel drive is mostly a yuppie status thing. Why do you need 4-wheel drive if you never leave the Interstate? If the only roads you drive on are paved? You don't. But you've helped to keep full-size American vehicles on the road. You've helped auto manufacturers make millions of dollars on vehicles with useless features.
Boats, jet-skis, snowmobiles, motorcycles, ATV's, are, I believe, a way to violate nature with sound and movement. I wouldn't call myself a tree-hugger, but these gas-powered toys produce too much noise for the little entertainment they provide. Like listening to a 5-year-old tell a joke they just made up.
*Addictions. Take a look at what you're spending money on. It doesn't have to be booze or drugs necessarily. You may be purchasing items to pass along to others; children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. I'm not preaching, folks. I'm currently in the throes of an addiction to Ruffles potato chips. Sounds kind of comical, I know, but as soon as I'm stressed about something I want Ruffles. It's a relief though, to want Ruffles rather than Wild Turkey.
*Credit cards and addictions go hand-in-hand, I think. Credit cards make it easier to spend money. Credit cards make it easier to spend money that isn't yours...yet. Look at the future; is that what you want to do with your money? If you're at the age that me and MySpouse are, early to mid-fifties, you probably do need to look at the future carefully. Who wants to be paying off credit card debt after retirement? Don't plan on filing bankruptcy. With the highest rates of bankruptcy ever, the laws could change any day.
Anyone who writes about frugal living will say exactly what I'm going to say now. Frugal, cheap, inexpensive doesn't mean devoid of fun. Just less expensive fun.
You want to eat out? Plan. Attend a fundraiser meal put on by a local service club in your community. You get to eat, socialize, and help out your community. Plus, donating to a charity makes the food you eat free of calories.
You want to take a break from winter? Go to a local greenhouse. February is when I feel the need to take a break from winter. It's so great to go to the local greenhouse. Green plants, moist air, the scent of wet soil, the promise of spring to come, are a distraction from snow, slush, and cold temperatures.
You're bored and lonely? Stop going to the local bar and see who calls you. Get out of the house. Go someplace where there are people. Join a service club, go to church, volunteer, attend a 12-step meeting.
Every community, but for the very smallest, has opportunities for entertainment.
In part our interests and tolerance contribute to our frugal living.
*We don't watch TV. So there is none of that biggest, baddest, newest TV going on. No commercials to persuade us to buy things we do not need. I know MySpouse feels a little dweebish when the SuperBowl rolls around, but if he really cared about football he could follow it on the Internet.
*I hate cell phones. I don't know of any device that has made people behave more rudely. What I don't understand about cell phones is why people can't talk and drive at the same time. Truckers talk on CB radios without endangering the lives of others. Also I'm amused by people who think that it's more important to have a conversation than to prevent the accident that
they're going to die in.
*Gas engines. Way too loud for me. Neither of us is interested in boats, jet-skis, snowmobiles, motorcycles, ATV's, or 4-wheel drive vehicles. 4-wheel drive is mostly a yuppie status thing. Why do you need 4-wheel drive if you never leave the Interstate? If the only roads you drive on are paved? You don't. But you've helped to keep full-size American vehicles on the road. You've helped auto manufacturers make millions of dollars on vehicles with useless features.
Boats, jet-skis, snowmobiles, motorcycles, ATV's, are, I believe, a way to violate nature with sound and movement. I wouldn't call myself a tree-hugger, but these gas-powered toys produce too much noise for the little entertainment they provide. Like listening to a 5-year-old tell a joke they just made up.
*Addictions. Take a look at what you're spending money on. It doesn't have to be booze or drugs necessarily. You may be purchasing items to pass along to others; children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. I'm not preaching, folks. I'm currently in the throes of an addiction to Ruffles potato chips. Sounds kind of comical, I know, but as soon as I'm stressed about something I want Ruffles. It's a relief though, to want Ruffles rather than Wild Turkey.
*Credit cards and addictions go hand-in-hand, I think. Credit cards make it easier to spend money. Credit cards make it easier to spend money that isn't yours...yet. Look at the future; is that what you want to do with your money? If you're at the age that me and MySpouse are, early to mid-fifties, you probably do need to look at the future carefully. Who wants to be paying off credit card debt after retirement? Don't plan on filing bankruptcy. With the highest rates of bankruptcy ever, the laws could change any day.
Anyone who writes about frugal living will say exactly what I'm going to say now. Frugal, cheap, inexpensive doesn't mean devoid of fun. Just less expensive fun.
You want to eat out? Plan. Attend a fundraiser meal put on by a local service club in your community. You get to eat, socialize, and help out your community. Plus, donating to a charity makes the food you eat free of calories.
You want to take a break from winter? Go to a local greenhouse. February is when I feel the need to take a break from winter. It's so great to go to the local greenhouse. Green plants, moist air, the scent of wet soil, the promise of spring to come, are a distraction from snow, slush, and cold temperatures.
You're bored and lonely? Stop going to the local bar and see who calls you. Get out of the house. Go someplace where there are people. Join a service club, go to church, volunteer, attend a 12-step meeting.
Every community, but for the very smallest, has opportunities for entertainment.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Ten Things I Like
I couldn't resist making a list. Or a rhyme. This is a cheap entertainment device used by writers who can't think of a topic to write about.
Here's my list:
1. Electric lawnmowers
2. Twinkies
3. Shower gels
4. Cats/dogs
5. Scrabble on the Internet
6. Plastic hangers
7. Flannel sheet-blankets
8. Coffee
9. Rocks
10. Metropolitan Home
1.) I like electric lawnmowers. I worry about running over the dropcord and getting fried, but at least I can start an electric mower. I'm really bad with gas engines. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've been able to start a gas mower. Now that I weigh enough to win the fight with the pull cord I have no need to do so.
2.) Twinkies are not health food. I think everyone can agree on that. They are as cute as bunnies; who would believe that they could be harmful, either Twinkies or rabbits? At least Twinkies don't breed and chow down on your prize roses.
3.) Shower gels, yay! Gunky bar soaps, boo! I used to buy an inexpensive shampoo and use it as a body wash 20 years ago. The places I lived tended to have bathtubs rather than showers. The inexpensive shampoo didn't cloud the water or leave soap scum in the bathtub. Then too, there was that lovely scent of strawberries to it.
4.) Cats/Dogs...Dogs/Cats. I suppose dogs would be my first choice, but I'm fond of cats also. I appreciate the different attributes of each species. That thing about each species despising the other? I can tell you why that is so. When dogs meet each other they sniff each others' butt. When cats meet each other they sniff each others' faces. Has to do with where scent glands are located in the two species. What it means in practical terms is that when they meet, a cat seems impolite to a dog and a dog seems impolite to a cat. Could this explain the continuing strife in the Middle East?
5.) Scrabble on the Internet, another of my favorite things. I believe that it has kept my marriage intact by providing me with opponents besides MySpouse. I've played for about three years at Internet Scrabble Club (ISC). That has sharpened my skills considerably. One of the most amusing things to observe is people who have never played the board game but have found ISC. One player (?) asked a helper "Is there a less wordy version?" I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. Even MySpouse appreciated the wit behind that question.
6.) I like bright colors for the most part. It's just cool to have a choice between fluorescent orange and fluorescent green plastic hangers. Maybe becuz I was deprived as a child and forced to wear plaid dresses.
7.) I remember these from my childhood. Think you can find them now? A search on the Internet only yields about 3 hits. The closest I can come these days without traveling to Europe is a matelasse bedspread.
8.) Okay, I don't just like coffee. I'm sure it's an addiction of sorts. I tried cutting down on coffee once. In my experiment I found that a cup of water had the same laxative properties as a cup of coffee. I could drink water in the morning then and still be 'regular'. The problem was that water lacked flavor. End of experiment... I drink coffee in the morning.
9.) I have been fascinated by rocks since I was eight years old. I enjoyed all my Earth Science classes in school, even chemistry. I like all kinds of rocks; little polished ones, big
earth-mover-sized ones. MySpouse and I traveling around Iowa will stop at rock piles and pick up homeless rocks. 'No rock left behind' is our motto.
10.) This is what I want my home to resemble. Simply fantasy on my part. Right now my house looks like the backroom of a Salvation Army store. Sad, sad, sad. I'd have to give up some of the six tons of clothing I have. Why, the floor would be visible! Still, that Metropolitan Home look is what I long for.
Well, for "a cheap entertainment device" it was a lot of fun to write. Maybe that's where the charm of a list lies.
Here's my list:
1. Electric lawnmowers
2. Twinkies
3. Shower gels
4. Cats/dogs
5. Scrabble on the Internet
6. Plastic hangers
7. Flannel sheet-blankets
8. Coffee
9. Rocks
10. Metropolitan Home
1.) I like electric lawnmowers. I worry about running over the dropcord and getting fried, but at least I can start an electric mower. I'm really bad with gas engines. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've been able to start a gas mower. Now that I weigh enough to win the fight with the pull cord I have no need to do so.
2.) Twinkies are not health food. I think everyone can agree on that. They are as cute as bunnies; who would believe that they could be harmful, either Twinkies or rabbits? At least Twinkies don't breed and chow down on your prize roses.
3.) Shower gels, yay! Gunky bar soaps, boo! I used to buy an inexpensive shampoo and use it as a body wash 20 years ago. The places I lived tended to have bathtubs rather than showers. The inexpensive shampoo didn't cloud the water or leave soap scum in the bathtub. Then too, there was that lovely scent of strawberries to it.
4.) Cats/Dogs...Dogs/Cats. I suppose dogs would be my first choice, but I'm fond of cats also. I appreciate the different attributes of each species. That thing about each species despising the other? I can tell you why that is so. When dogs meet each other they sniff each others' butt. When cats meet each other they sniff each others' faces. Has to do with where scent glands are located in the two species. What it means in practical terms is that when they meet, a cat seems impolite to a dog and a dog seems impolite to a cat. Could this explain the continuing strife in the Middle East?
5.) Scrabble on the Internet, another of my favorite things. I believe that it has kept my marriage intact by providing me with opponents besides MySpouse. I've played for about three years at Internet Scrabble Club (ISC). That has sharpened my skills considerably. One of the most amusing things to observe is people who have never played the board game but have found ISC. One player (?) asked a helper "Is there a less wordy version?" I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. Even MySpouse appreciated the wit behind that question.
6.) I like bright colors for the most part. It's just cool to have a choice between fluorescent orange and fluorescent green plastic hangers. Maybe becuz I was deprived as a child and forced to wear plaid dresses.
7.) I remember these from my childhood. Think you can find them now? A search on the Internet only yields about 3 hits. The closest I can come these days without traveling to Europe is a matelasse bedspread.
8.) Okay, I don't just like coffee. I'm sure it's an addiction of sorts. I tried cutting down on coffee once. In my experiment I found that a cup of water had the same laxative properties as a cup of coffee. I could drink water in the morning then and still be 'regular'. The problem was that water lacked flavor. End of experiment... I drink coffee in the morning.
9.) I have been fascinated by rocks since I was eight years old. I enjoyed all my Earth Science classes in school, even chemistry. I like all kinds of rocks; little polished ones, big
earth-mover-sized ones. MySpouse and I traveling around Iowa will stop at rock piles and pick up homeless rocks. 'No rock left behind' is our motto.
10.) This is what I want my home to resemble. Simply fantasy on my part. Right now my house looks like the backroom of a Salvation Army store. Sad, sad, sad. I'd have to give up some of the six tons of clothing I have. Why, the floor would be visible! Still, that Metropolitan Home look is what I long for.
Well, for "a cheap entertainment device" it was a lot of fun to write. Maybe that's where the charm of a list lies.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Thoughts On Money
"Do you tell your spouse how much you spend?"
I thought it best to reply in the affirmative to that question. I suspect that the woman asking me is self-medicating with retail therapy.
I realized as I began to write that 'how much did you spend' is different than 'what did you buy'. Retail therapy(shopping) can be as harmful to financial health as a gambling addiction. It's about money, it's about control.
I have been under-employed since I closed the consignment clothing business I owned. The bulk of the money in this marriage is what MySpouse earns, 97% I think. I have had a paper route on Wednesday delivering the weekly shopper, pays a whacking $20.00/week, for about a year. There has been no question of my controlling the finances here. I'm okay with that.
I told the asking woman that we've been too broke the past three years for either of us to do much spending, beyond paying bills. Since the bulk of our income is his earnings, we tend to shop together. Every three months or so we'd be ahead $50 or $100 and we would go to a bookstore and each of us buy what we like to read. Sometimes we would need to go to Wal-Mart for a specific item and I would ask if I could buy $5.00 worth of yarn or beads. I used to just assume, but now I ask.
People don't always communicate as well as they should. There's some news, huh? Especially married people. Especially married people who don't want to acknowledge how deep the financial doo-doo is. Or what their part in the mess is. It's not that we lied to each other. It's that we didn't talk about it at all. We didn't talk about the mess, or how to clean it up; we didn't talk about our fears or desires or the future. Becuz, I admit, this is some scary shit.
If we wanted a future we had to talk about finances. Talking about money, dealing with control issues... difficult at the best of times. Damn difficult at the worst of times. We have a history of honesty, however, and that helped us tackle a thorny mess of wants and needs. Being honest with each other was how we started our relationship and being honest is what would
allow us to continue.
We decided that getting out of debt is a priority. MySpouse is 55, I'm 48...retirement isn't so far off. Well, these many months of denial of the pleasure of spending has resulted in a couple of the bigger bills being paid off. For the first time in three years we are current with our bills, on time with the mortgage payment. Three or four months of paying the bills on time isn't going to repair our credit record, but that is not actually our purpose.
There are a great many websites that deal with financial planning, debt reduction, and frugal living. Here are a couple of sites whose advice we've used: Simple Dollar and Debt-Proof Living.
I thought it best to reply in the affirmative to that question. I suspect that the woman asking me is self-medicating with retail therapy.
I realized as I began to write that 'how much did you spend' is different than 'what did you buy'. Retail therapy(shopping) can be as harmful to financial health as a gambling addiction. It's about money, it's about control.
I have been under-employed since I closed the consignment clothing business I owned. The bulk of the money in this marriage is what MySpouse earns, 97% I think. I have had a paper route on Wednesday delivering the weekly shopper, pays a whacking $20.00/week, for about a year. There has been no question of my controlling the finances here. I'm okay with that.
I told the asking woman that we've been too broke the past three years for either of us to do much spending, beyond paying bills. Since the bulk of our income is his earnings, we tend to shop together. Every three months or so we'd be ahead $50 or $100 and we would go to a bookstore and each of us buy what we like to read. Sometimes we would need to go to Wal-Mart for a specific item and I would ask if I could buy $5.00 worth of yarn or beads. I used to just assume, but now I ask.
People don't always communicate as well as they should. There's some news, huh? Especially married people. Especially married people who don't want to acknowledge how deep the financial doo-doo is. Or what their part in the mess is. It's not that we lied to each other. It's that we didn't talk about it at all. We didn't talk about the mess, or how to clean it up; we didn't talk about our fears or desires or the future. Becuz, I admit, this is some scary shit.
If we wanted a future we had to talk about finances. Talking about money, dealing with control issues... difficult at the best of times. Damn difficult at the worst of times. We have a history of honesty, however, and that helped us tackle a thorny mess of wants and needs. Being honest with each other was how we started our relationship and being honest is what would
allow us to continue.
We decided that getting out of debt is a priority. MySpouse is 55, I'm 48...retirement isn't so far off. Well, these many months of denial of the pleasure of spending has resulted in a couple of the bigger bills being paid off. For the first time in three years we are current with our bills, on time with the mortgage payment. Three or four months of paying the bills on time isn't going to repair our credit record, but that is not actually our purpose.
There are a great many websites that deal with financial planning, debt reduction, and frugal living. Here are a couple of sites whose advice we've used: Simple Dollar and Debt-Proof Living.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Fire Fetish
MySpouse says I have to stop trying to portray us as normal people. Did any of you actually think that?
We have a yellow daisy-shaped kiddie pool in the backyard...for dogs.
We have a cat who runs down the driveway to meet MySpouse when he gets home from work.
As per the title, I have a 'thing' about fire. It started out innocently enough.
I made friends with a young man who came to AA meetings here in town. I had two years of sobriety when we met. At the time I was one of the younger attendees, living only a couple blocks from the meeting place. For the meeting- after- the-meeting my house was convenient. When we started out all we had in common was a desire to stay sober and a love of dogs.
I'm outgoing and mouthy and my young friend thought that was all there was to me. I worked in a factory that mailed out junk mail, surrounded by people and machines, week after week. I had found some pretty, quiet places out in the country where I could go with my dogs and I took Chris to one of them.
At first I drove. As this escapism continued, he drove. He had a Nissan pickup; it was easier to wrangle dogs in his pickup than in my car. Over the course of a couple of years we had settled on a rural park south of town as our usual destination. It was rarely used and we could allow the dogs to run on their own. We'd go every six weeks or so for stress relief.
We would take a thermos of coffee. While the dogs ran around scaring the coyotes he and I would drink coffee and talk about sobriety and relationships. We would make a fire in the firebox/grill at the park. It was soothing, relaxing. We even started going to the park in the wintertime becuz stress never stops. I remember one occasion when the pond was frozen and there was no water available to put out the fire. I solved that problem by heaping snow onto the coals.
Chris was a student at Iowa State University. He worked his way up to being Doctor Chris Peterson. He hunted for a job in keeping with his education and interests and found one. He moved to Mississippi.
I know that professionally and personally he had to go, but his going left a huge hole in my life.
He was my best friend and I missed him terribly. I didn't go out to the rural park for about a year after he left Iowa. When I did go to the park again I asked my husband to go with me. I didn't want to go there by myself and cry over Chris.
During the time that Chris and I were friends I'd divorced my second husband, had a learning experience with a married guy, courted and married my third husband. MySpouse and I live in a big 100-year old house here in town. For the last three years having transportation of my own has been iffy. I couldn't get out to the rural park easily.
I adopted one of the holes that the dog dug in the backyard as a firepit. Just to relieve stress, every couple weeks I'd have a small fire. That has worked up to having a fire almost daily. There are times when it's too windy or precipitating too heavily, too cold or I'm too busy, to have a fire.
My routine is to get up in the morning, come downstairs with the dogs, let them out to potty in the backyard, and either start a fire or add to the coals in the firepit from the day before.
Partly the fire is to relax and partly to practice a survival skill. I met and talked with a refugee from New Orleans in 2005. She came to Iowa to stay with her sister after the hurricane. I felt sorry for Jean, but she also brought home to me the need to be prepared for a disaster. So I practice my fire-making skills.
Having a fire is more than just a hobby for me.
We have a yellow daisy-shaped kiddie pool in the backyard...for dogs.
We have a cat who runs down the driveway to meet MySpouse when he gets home from work.
As per the title, I have a 'thing' about fire. It started out innocently enough.
I made friends with a young man who came to AA meetings here in town. I had two years of sobriety when we met. At the time I was one of the younger attendees, living only a couple blocks from the meeting place. For the meeting- after- the-meeting my house was convenient. When we started out all we had in common was a desire to stay sober and a love of dogs.
I'm outgoing and mouthy and my young friend thought that was all there was to me. I worked in a factory that mailed out junk mail, surrounded by people and machines, week after week. I had found some pretty, quiet places out in the country where I could go with my dogs and I took Chris to one of them.
At first I drove. As this escapism continued, he drove. He had a Nissan pickup; it was easier to wrangle dogs in his pickup than in my car. Over the course of a couple of years we had settled on a rural park south of town as our usual destination. It was rarely used and we could allow the dogs to run on their own. We'd go every six weeks or so for stress relief.
We would take a thermos of coffee. While the dogs ran around scaring the coyotes he and I would drink coffee and talk about sobriety and relationships. We would make a fire in the firebox/grill at the park. It was soothing, relaxing. We even started going to the park in the wintertime becuz stress never stops. I remember one occasion when the pond was frozen and there was no water available to put out the fire. I solved that problem by heaping snow onto the coals.
Chris was a student at Iowa State University. He worked his way up to being Doctor Chris Peterson. He hunted for a job in keeping with his education and interests and found one. He moved to Mississippi.
I know that professionally and personally he had to go, but his going left a huge hole in my life.
He was my best friend and I missed him terribly. I didn't go out to the rural park for about a year after he left Iowa. When I did go to the park again I asked my husband to go with me. I didn't want to go there by myself and cry over Chris.
During the time that Chris and I were friends I'd divorced my second husband, had a learning experience with a married guy, courted and married my third husband. MySpouse and I live in a big 100-year old house here in town. For the last three years having transportation of my own has been iffy. I couldn't get out to the rural park easily.
I adopted one of the holes that the dog dug in the backyard as a firepit. Just to relieve stress, every couple weeks I'd have a small fire. That has worked up to having a fire almost daily. There are times when it's too windy or precipitating too heavily, too cold or I'm too busy, to have a fire.
My routine is to get up in the morning, come downstairs with the dogs, let them out to potty in the backyard, and either start a fire or add to the coals in the firepit from the day before.
Partly the fire is to relax and partly to practice a survival skill. I met and talked with a refugee from New Orleans in 2005. She came to Iowa to stay with her sister after the hurricane. I felt sorry for Jean, but she also brought home to me the need to be prepared for a disaster. So I practice my fire-making skills.
Having a fire is more than just a hobby for me.
Teen Angst
I saw a T-shirt once that said "Forget about the Fountain of Youth. How about a Fountain of Smart?" I liked it. I don't understand why anyone would want to be young forever or even young again.
I am acquainted with someone who says her teen years were a lot of fun. She's entitled to her opinion, of course. It's just not the same as mine.
I don't remember teenhood being much in the way of fun and games. I was the oldest of six kids, which automatically made me the dogsbody, loaded with responsibility. After 8th grade I quit taking homework home becuz I didn't have time to do it. Riding herd on three kids with chores to do, babysitting the two youngest kids, washing dishes and cooking supper was a very typical after-school activity. There wasn't time for much else.
I was my mother's Girl Friday unless my stepdad was home. He was a truckdriver and I was second-in-command when he was out in the truck. When he was home he liked to sit at the dining room table, put down a twelve-pack, and bitch. One time he told me "Stop yelling at those kids. You're not their mom." I put down what I was doing and said "Okay, you yell at them." I walked away from a sinkful of dishes and a pot of boiling water that would have been tuna- and- noodles.
I went out to the woods and hid until I knew Mom would be home. Just another headache for her to deal with when she got home. That was one of his favorite things to do to me. Take away my authority but leave me with all the responsibility. How I came to hate that. Needless to say, he and I were not friends.
All of us kids knew to stay away from him if he was drinking a twelve-pack. We just found other places to be.
Our relationship improved after I left home. As I aged I learned that there was a name for people like him: alcoholic.
One good thing about having such a crappy life as a teen is that it kept me away from drugs. I'd heard about getting 'hooked' on drugs and had seen it happen to a couple of girls at school.
I figured with my personal problems I'd be a shoo-in for addiction. I avoided it during my teen years only to have it sandbag me when I was in my 30's.
Maybe I was smarter when I was a teenager. I still don't want to relive those years.
I am acquainted with someone who says her teen years were a lot of fun. She's entitled to her opinion, of course. It's just not the same as mine.
I don't remember teenhood being much in the way of fun and games. I was the oldest of six kids, which automatically made me the dogsbody, loaded with responsibility. After 8th grade I quit taking homework home becuz I didn't have time to do it. Riding herd on three kids with chores to do, babysitting the two youngest kids, washing dishes and cooking supper was a very typical after-school activity. There wasn't time for much else.
I was my mother's Girl Friday unless my stepdad was home. He was a truckdriver and I was second-in-command when he was out in the truck. When he was home he liked to sit at the dining room table, put down a twelve-pack, and bitch. One time he told me "Stop yelling at those kids. You're not their mom." I put down what I was doing and said "Okay, you yell at them." I walked away from a sinkful of dishes and a pot of boiling water that would have been tuna- and- noodles.
I went out to the woods and hid until I knew Mom would be home. Just another headache for her to deal with when she got home. That was one of his favorite things to do to me. Take away my authority but leave me with all the responsibility. How I came to hate that. Needless to say, he and I were not friends.
All of us kids knew to stay away from him if he was drinking a twelve-pack. We just found other places to be.
Our relationship improved after I left home. As I aged I learned that there was a name for people like him: alcoholic.
One good thing about having such a crappy life as a teen is that it kept me away from drugs. I'd heard about getting 'hooked' on drugs and had seen it happen to a couple of girls at school.
I figured with my personal problems I'd be a shoo-in for addiction. I avoided it during my teen years only to have it sandbag me when I was in my 30's.
Maybe I was smarter when I was a teenager. I still don't want to relive those years.
Fer It or Agin It
Before the violets and dandelions bloom, comes a bit of green, the 'winter' onions are about 4 inches high. The chives are pushing up stems also. If we want some color in our scrambled eggs or potato soup it's available now. It's not daffodils, alas, but thankfully it's not snow.
We are turning the thermostat all the way down and opening the back door. With the back door open the dogs have access to the yard. I no longer need to spend as much time opening/closing the door for them. Gosh, I don't know what I'll do with all the time I'll have now.
I confess, I am raking the yard. Just a little 3 x 3 spot or so at a time. However, I will not be hastened to uncover the perennials on the south side of the house. It always snows at least once after the robins arrive; I don't put any faith in it being snowless until the first week of April. No harm is done leaving the plants covered until then.
No hurry this year anyway. I need to move my compost heaps this spring. I will move them and distribute the compost. In the new location they can be refilled.
I see people in the fall raking up every single leaf in their yards and putting them in bags for the garbage men to pick up. Then in the spring these same people go out and spread fertilizer in the places where they raked up the leaves. I'd like to see people run a lawn mower over the leaves at least once before they rake. That would return a little bit of sustenance to the earth.
Why they cannot work with Nature instead of against her, I don't understand.
We are turning the thermostat all the way down and opening the back door. With the back door open the dogs have access to the yard. I no longer need to spend as much time opening/closing the door for them. Gosh, I don't know what I'll do with all the time I'll have now.
I confess, I am raking the yard. Just a little 3 x 3 spot or so at a time. However, I will not be hastened to uncover the perennials on the south side of the house. It always snows at least once after the robins arrive; I don't put any faith in it being snowless until the first week of April. No harm is done leaving the plants covered until then.
No hurry this year anyway. I need to move my compost heaps this spring. I will move them and distribute the compost. In the new location they can be refilled.
I see people in the fall raking up every single leaf in their yards and putting them in bags for the garbage men to pick up. Then in the spring these same people go out and spread fertilizer in the places where they raked up the leaves. I'd like to see people run a lawn mower over the leaves at least once before they rake. That would return a little bit of sustenance to the earth.
Why they cannot work with Nature instead of against her, I don't understand.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Revenue & Finance
Got a nasty-gram from the Iowa Department of Revenue and Finance. I called the phone number on the letter and pretended to be an adult. I don't feel as much fear as I used to even tho IDRF is the state-size equivalent of the IRS. Whoever I talk to is just an employee doing a job; they have very little power.
Anyway, IDRF wants to collect sales tax from 2005. They're estimating $350.00/quarter. That would be $5000.00 in sales per quarter. Something to smile about in this; if the store had $5000 in sales I'd still be in business. Why, with $5000.00 in sales, I could have paid myself wages, instead of allowing $5.00/day to eat a lunch of some kind.
I think enough time has passed that I can get out my account books and records for the business and look at them without drowning in tears. I still feel sad, but I don't feel helpless.
One of the good things about being self-employed: no job hunting. No applications to fill out, no resume, no references.
And what have we learned from all this? Never to own a business again. The State of Iowa has myriad taxes and penalties for doing so. Having to quit owning a business was very depressing; no one wants to admit that they've failed at doing something, least of all me. It was a really-o, truly-o, genuine learning experience.
A learning experience is not the same as a mistake. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Anyway, IDRF wants to collect sales tax from 2005. They're estimating $350.00/quarter. That would be $5000.00 in sales per quarter. Something to smile about in this; if the store had $5000 in sales I'd still be in business. Why, with $5000.00 in sales, I could have paid myself wages, instead of allowing $5.00/day to eat a lunch of some kind.
I think enough time has passed that I can get out my account books and records for the business and look at them without drowning in tears. I still feel sad, but I don't feel helpless.
One of the good things about being self-employed: no job hunting. No applications to fill out, no resume, no references.
And what have we learned from all this? Never to own a business again. The State of Iowa has myriad taxes and penalties for doing so. Having to quit owning a business was very depressing; no one wants to admit that they've failed at doing something, least of all me. It was a really-o, truly-o, genuine learning experience.
A learning experience is not the same as a mistake. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Pancake Feed
I'm glad that's over. When I got home I was so tired that I couldn't say 'Elizabethan'. For me not to be able to talk, that's some serious shit. My knees feel fine. My feet feel like they been run over by a truck.
It went well. Everyone did their part. Most of them have done their parts before so no reflection on my abilities. Most of what I did to make it happen involved having a nice man with a pickup to do my bidding. Hopefully we made some money for our Lions Club.
One of the Lions Club members asked me at 1:30 PM what our expenses were. I answered "I have no idea. Why don't you ask me later, when my feet don't hurt?" I wasn't being sarcastic. Ask me when my feet don't hurt, when I haven't been flat-out busy for 10 hours, when I can think. Times like these make me realize I'm a long way from 20.
Next week the treasurer and I will have some numbers and figure out how much fundage the fundraiser raised. Then we'll have to figure out what to do to raise more funds. It would be really cool to raise enough money to ship all the members of the Kiwanis Club to Uzbekistan
for a year.
Later...
Had a nap and a bath. Feeling way more human. Had my legs akimbo soaking in the tub; I'm only stiff and sore, not injured.
Well, there's a feeling that brings back happy memories.
It went well. Everyone did their part. Most of them have done their parts before so no reflection on my abilities. Most of what I did to make it happen involved having a nice man with a pickup to do my bidding. Hopefully we made some money for our Lions Club.
One of the Lions Club members asked me at 1:30 PM what our expenses were. I answered "I have no idea. Why don't you ask me later, when my feet don't hurt?" I wasn't being sarcastic. Ask me when my feet don't hurt, when I haven't been flat-out busy for 10 hours, when I can think. Times like these make me realize I'm a long way from 20.
Next week the treasurer and I will have some numbers and figure out how much fundage the fundraiser raised. Then we'll have to figure out what to do to raise more funds. It would be really cool to raise enough money to ship all the members of the Kiwanis Club to Uzbekistan
for a year.
Later...
Had a nap and a bath. Feeling way more human. Had my legs akimbo soaking in the tub; I'm only stiff and sore, not injured.
Well, there's a feeling that brings back happy memories.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
You're Bloody Well Right
Ain't it great to be right? My experience of several years of weather here in central Iowa turns out to be dead-on accurate. (See the post on March 10, 2007.)
When I woke up this morning I wondered how late I'd slept. The light coming thru the bedroom windows was very bright. I did a double-take when I looked out the window. Oh, it's snow!
The robins are indeed disgruntled.
You might wonder why I'm so fascinated by the weather. Probably becuz I grew up on a farm surrounded by other farmers' kids. MySpouse is the same way. I tease him, "You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy." Although I've lived in this small town for twenty-five years there's still rural in the girl.
When we travel we stop to look at cows, horses, pigs, or other livestock. We probably look like Susie and Sammy Suburbanite. Driving a Ford Taurus, and all. MySpouse can't drive by an implement dealers' lot without craning his neck to look at what's there. We'll take pictures of frisky foals and cute calves. We're not stopping to look at these critters becuz we have no experience with them. It's becuz we do have experience with them.
We've ridden horses and ponies, milked cows, fed hogs, assisted with birthing various animals. We admire animals that are in good health and well cared for. I don't know about MySpouse but I still recall most of what I learned about conformation of cattle and horses.
When I took Vocational Agriculture classes 32 years ago I was one of three girls in 9th grade who chose to take the class. In 10th grade, I was the only girl. I joined FFA. Voc Ag was so much more fun than Home Ec.
In Voc Ag I finally learned how bull semen is collected for artificial insemination.
When I woke up this morning I wondered how late I'd slept. The light coming thru the bedroom windows was very bright. I did a double-take when I looked out the window. Oh, it's snow!
The robins are indeed disgruntled.
You might wonder why I'm so fascinated by the weather. Probably becuz I grew up on a farm surrounded by other farmers' kids. MySpouse is the same way. I tease him, "You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy." Although I've lived in this small town for twenty-five years there's still rural in the girl.
When we travel we stop to look at cows, horses, pigs, or other livestock. We probably look like Susie and Sammy Suburbanite. Driving a Ford Taurus, and all. MySpouse can't drive by an implement dealers' lot without craning his neck to look at what's there. We'll take pictures of frisky foals and cute calves. We're not stopping to look at these critters becuz we have no experience with them. It's becuz we do have experience with them.
We've ridden horses and ponies, milked cows, fed hogs, assisted with birthing various animals. We admire animals that are in good health and well cared for. I don't know about MySpouse but I still recall most of what I learned about conformation of cattle and horses.
When I took Vocational Agriculture classes 32 years ago I was one of three girls in 9th grade who chose to take the class. In 10th grade, I was the only girl. I joined FFA. Voc Ag was so much more fun than Home Ec.
In Voc Ag I finally learned how bull semen is collected for artificial insemination.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Peaceable Kingdom...NOT
Don't mind me, I'm just here to vent.
Leapin' lizards, what a day. This was the kind of day that makes me glad I don't own a gun. Cuz I'd kill someone. In fact, there were a couple of people today that I might have killed twice just for the sweet pleasure of their no longer existing.
I quit drinking booze for this?
I swear, dealing with these other people made me feel like the only sane person on the planet.
Started out with MySpouse getting up at his usual time, 4:30 AM. He had today off from work and he was looking forward to spending time with his computer. Except that his computer wouldn't cooperate. All he could get were sites that were on Google servers. My computer wouldn't cooperate either (no Scrabble site) but I wasn't as upset about it as he was.
He tried some things and no go. Called the ISP and found out they weren't open until 2:00 PM. then he proceeded to obsess and fuss. He wouldn't listen to me, basically ignored me.
Let me tell you, hell hath no fury like a woman ignored. First I was angry, then I was hurt, and finally PISSED OFF.
He realized he was tired by 9:30 AM and went up to bed for a nap. I think he'd been in bed maybe 20 minutes when I decided that I was peeved. I went upstairs and sat on the bed and asked him "So, do I look like chopped liver to you?"
Guys, there is no right answer when a woman asks you that. Just go ahead and apologize. At some point she'll tell you what you're apologizing for...
We talked. I explained. He apologized. Even though we love each other, we are two different people. We have different viewpoints and different priorities sometimes. Truthfully, we seldom fight and when we do it's usually becuz one of us is tired.
Today was going to be a busy day and I didn't want to start it out in such a negative way. I hate when that happens. We each have an Advertiser route that we do on Wednesday. For me, Avon delivery every other Wednesday, Lions Club two Wednesday evenings a month. This Wednesday was the one in which all three things landed. In between the paper route and Lions Club we were going to take time to cut up a fallen tree branch.
We did our paper routes. Cooked a frozen pizza for dinner. Went outside and cut up the tree branch. Busy morning, but with a couple hours available for a nap in the afternoon. MySpouse laid down for a nap and I told him I would lay down after I bathed.
I didn't want to go to bed until my hair was partially dry, so I came downstairs to work on a sign-up sheet for the Lions Club fundraiser. Take about 20 minutes, I figured. Time enough for my hair to dry a bit. I don't like that Bride-of-Frankenstein look that I get from sleeping on wet hair.
I'm typing away, wearing only a bathrobe and a frown, when the dogs start barking. I thought 'Please don't let it be the young gal from down the street stopping by. I'm too tired to be social'
And hey, whadda ya know, it wasn't the young gal from down the street.
It was my rapscallion BrotherTwo followed by five other people. One of the people, a young man, walked in carrying a cigarette in his hand. I told the young man with the cigarette "If you light that up in my house I'll shove it up your nose." I think all six of them smoke, but I don't, and they're in my house. I really was too tired to be social, and frankly, too tired to be nice.
My brother took it upon himself to make coffee. I hunted up some pop and snacks for the other members of his party. BrotherTwo has worked in construction for 20-odd years now. He may do some roofing for us. Toward that end, and to smoke, we went outside to look at the house. I'm willing to let him know all about construction, but when he mentioned landscaping, I cut him off straightaway.
He's talking about landscaping, I said very firmly "I'll take care of the landscaping. Don't say another word." He made a sound of protest, kind of shuffled around a bit and I took him by the elbow "Now get your size 10's out of my iris bed. Stand by your friend on the sidewalk and stop killing my plants."
He may not lecture me about landscaping. I have always been interested in growing plants and gardening. I had the opportunity to attend a community college for two years and I chose the Commercial Horticulture curriculum. I kept all my textbooks. When MySpouse isn't on the Internet he is also interested in gardening and plants.
Both MySpouse and I really like rocks. Spring of 2006 we built ourselves a little rock wall out front. It won't win any prizes for landscaping but we like it.
By the time BrotherTwo and his entourage departed it was too late for a nap. I finished the sign-up sheet.
Then off to the Lions Club meeting. The president of the club this year is a guy who is old enough to be my father. He treats me like a 1950's bimbo cheerleader. I'm overweight, opinionated, outgoing, outspoken...but I have never been a cheerleader.
President Twit has no experience with retail sales, promotion, or running a business . He gives me no credit for my experience in those areas, which results in my feeling really frustrated. When I go to area businesses and solicit donations on behalf of Lions Club I know what I'm asking of them.
At the board meeting on March 5th the organizing of a fundraiser to be held March 18th was given to me. It's a fundraiser that the club has done for many years so having less than two weeks to put it together isn't a huge deal. Really.
One of the things I've done for the fundraiser was to go and order sausage from a local business.
I've known the receptionist casually for years. That helps with communication. She asked at least three times if the business was donating the sausage to Lions Club. I told her no, in the past we had paid for it. I know; I wrote the check for it last year when I was treasurer. I told her the club would pay for it this year, but I would get an opinion from club members about accepting a donation next year.
If I had kept my yap shut at Wednesday's meeting President Twit wouldn't have insulted me in front of everyone present. He started out by asking the man who was no longer in charge of the fundraiser for a status report. At least the former organizer had the grace to be embarrassed. He referred President Twit to me.
I gave a report. Began passing the sign-up sheet around. Then my big mistake, I asked for input about accepting a donation next year. President Twit said to me, "That's a no-brainer. Take the donation. Go back and tell them we want a donation." Does he realize that representing the club does not give me blanket authority? It was not my decision to make. It's something that the members need to know about, discuss, and decide.
He has no idea how stupid that would make his Lions Club look. I told him no. I'd made a deal with them on behalf of the club and we needed to stick to it. For next year we can make a different deal with them.
I'd like the local businesses to have a good opinion of Lions Club.
Toward that end, I wait impatiently for President Twit's term to be finished.
Leapin' lizards, what a day. This was the kind of day that makes me glad I don't own a gun. Cuz I'd kill someone. In fact, there were a couple of people today that I might have killed twice just for the sweet pleasure of their no longer existing.
I quit drinking booze for this?
I swear, dealing with these other people made me feel like the only sane person on the planet.
Started out with MySpouse getting up at his usual time, 4:30 AM. He had today off from work and he was looking forward to spending time with his computer. Except that his computer wouldn't cooperate. All he could get were sites that were on Google servers. My computer wouldn't cooperate either (no Scrabble site) but I wasn't as upset about it as he was.
He tried some things and no go. Called the ISP and found out they weren't open until 2:00 PM. then he proceeded to obsess and fuss. He wouldn't listen to me, basically ignored me.
Let me tell you, hell hath no fury like a woman ignored. First I was angry, then I was hurt, and finally PISSED OFF.
He realized he was tired by 9:30 AM and went up to bed for a nap. I think he'd been in bed maybe 20 minutes when I decided that I was peeved. I went upstairs and sat on the bed and asked him "So, do I look like chopped liver to you?"
Guys, there is no right answer when a woman asks you that. Just go ahead and apologize. At some point she'll tell you what you're apologizing for...
We talked. I explained. He apologized. Even though we love each other, we are two different people. We have different viewpoints and different priorities sometimes. Truthfully, we seldom fight and when we do it's usually becuz one of us is tired.
Today was going to be a busy day and I didn't want to start it out in such a negative way. I hate when that happens. We each have an Advertiser route that we do on Wednesday. For me, Avon delivery every other Wednesday, Lions Club two Wednesday evenings a month. This Wednesday was the one in which all three things landed. In between the paper route and Lions Club we were going to take time to cut up a fallen tree branch.
We did our paper routes. Cooked a frozen pizza for dinner. Went outside and cut up the tree branch. Busy morning, but with a couple hours available for a nap in the afternoon. MySpouse laid down for a nap and I told him I would lay down after I bathed.
I didn't want to go to bed until my hair was partially dry, so I came downstairs to work on a sign-up sheet for the Lions Club fundraiser. Take about 20 minutes, I figured. Time enough for my hair to dry a bit. I don't like that Bride-of-Frankenstein look that I get from sleeping on wet hair.
I'm typing away, wearing only a bathrobe and a frown, when the dogs start barking. I thought 'Please don't let it be the young gal from down the street stopping by. I'm too tired to be social'
And hey, whadda ya know, it wasn't the young gal from down the street.
It was my rapscallion BrotherTwo followed by five other people. One of the people, a young man, walked in carrying a cigarette in his hand. I told the young man with the cigarette "If you light that up in my house I'll shove it up your nose." I think all six of them smoke, but I don't, and they're in my house. I really was too tired to be social, and frankly, too tired to be nice.
My brother took it upon himself to make coffee. I hunted up some pop and snacks for the other members of his party. BrotherTwo has worked in construction for 20-odd years now. He may do some roofing for us. Toward that end, and to smoke, we went outside to look at the house. I'm willing to let him know all about construction, but when he mentioned landscaping, I cut him off straightaway.
He's talking about landscaping, I said very firmly "I'll take care of the landscaping. Don't say another word." He made a sound of protest, kind of shuffled around a bit and I took him by the elbow "Now get your size 10's out of my iris bed. Stand by your friend on the sidewalk and stop killing my plants."
He may not lecture me about landscaping. I have always been interested in growing plants and gardening. I had the opportunity to attend a community college for two years and I chose the Commercial Horticulture curriculum. I kept all my textbooks. When MySpouse isn't on the Internet he is also interested in gardening and plants.
Both MySpouse and I really like rocks. Spring of 2006 we built ourselves a little rock wall out front. It won't win any prizes for landscaping but we like it.
By the time BrotherTwo and his entourage departed it was too late for a nap. I finished the sign-up sheet.
Then off to the Lions Club meeting. The president of the club this year is a guy who is old enough to be my father. He treats me like a 1950's bimbo cheerleader. I'm overweight, opinionated, outgoing, outspoken...but I have never been a cheerleader.
President Twit has no experience with retail sales, promotion, or running a business . He gives me no credit for my experience in those areas, which results in my feeling really frustrated. When I go to area businesses and solicit donations on behalf of Lions Club I know what I'm asking of them.
At the board meeting on March 5th the organizing of a fundraiser to be held March 18th was given to me. It's a fundraiser that the club has done for many years so having less than two weeks to put it together isn't a huge deal. Really.
One of the things I've done for the fundraiser was to go and order sausage from a local business.
I've known the receptionist casually for years. That helps with communication. She asked at least three times if the business was donating the sausage to Lions Club. I told her no, in the past we had paid for it. I know; I wrote the check for it last year when I was treasurer. I told her the club would pay for it this year, but I would get an opinion from club members about accepting a donation next year.
If I had kept my yap shut at Wednesday's meeting President Twit wouldn't have insulted me in front of everyone present. He started out by asking the man who was no longer in charge of the fundraiser for a status report. At least the former organizer had the grace to be embarrassed. He referred President Twit to me.
I gave a report. Began passing the sign-up sheet around. Then my big mistake, I asked for input about accepting a donation next year. President Twit said to me, "That's a no-brainer. Take the donation. Go back and tell them we want a donation." Does he realize that representing the club does not give me blanket authority? It was not my decision to make. It's something that the members need to know about, discuss, and decide.
He has no idea how stupid that would make his Lions Club look. I told him no. I'd made a deal with them on behalf of the club and we needed to stick to it. For next year we can make a different deal with them.
I'd like the local businesses to have a good opinion of Lions Club.
Toward that end, I wait impatiently for President Twit's term to be finished.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Just Sitting
Uffda. I'm glad that's over. We can all draw a deep breath now. I can't believe how tired and sore I am when all I did was sit most of the day.
SisOne had her surgery today and it went well. The 'sentinel' lymph node had no cancer present. Of course there is still a bit of danger in recovery, but, hey, not dying on the operating table is a positive thing.
After SisOne was installed in a semi-private room the whole throng of visitors was allowed in...six of us. Every one else whispered to her, but I spoke right up and told her a funny story. I was granted a tiny bit of a smile. Pretty good for a gal who just had five hours of surgery.
The story I told her was about my second husband's grandmother. Gramma O had abdominal surgery. To keep abdominal muscles from stiffening the nurses want a patient to cough. Coughing is painful, to say the least. Gramma O had worked in that hospital as a nurse's aide for years so she knew very well what they wanted. She played possum. One of the nurses told us outside the room that Gramma O wouldn't cough for them, so could we tell her a joke and get her to laugh? Because laughing uses the same abdominal muscles that coughing does...
A quandary for us: What jokes did we know that we could tell an elderly lady? Finally grandson decides he can tell her the 'Frayed Knot' joke cuz it doesn't have any dirty words in it.
As soon as the nurse was gone Gramma O opened her eyes and I scolded her for being so unhelpful. She just smiled at me. I told her she still had to listen to the joke. Grandson told it well, and she did laugh. And it did hurt. But probably not as much as coughing.
It's good that the story about Gramma O made SisOne smile. It was twenty years ago that I heard the 'Frayed Knot' joke and I don't remember the punchline.
SisOne had her surgery today and it went well. The 'sentinel' lymph node had no cancer present. Of course there is still a bit of danger in recovery, but, hey, not dying on the operating table is a positive thing.
After SisOne was installed in a semi-private room the whole throng of visitors was allowed in...six of us. Every one else whispered to her, but I spoke right up and told her a funny story. I was granted a tiny bit of a smile. Pretty good for a gal who just had five hours of surgery.
The story I told her was about my second husband's grandmother. Gramma O had abdominal surgery. To keep abdominal muscles from stiffening the nurses want a patient to cough. Coughing is painful, to say the least. Gramma O had worked in that hospital as a nurse's aide for years so she knew very well what they wanted. She played possum. One of the nurses told us outside the room that Gramma O wouldn't cough for them, so could we tell her a joke and get her to laugh? Because laughing uses the same abdominal muscles that coughing does...
A quandary for us: What jokes did we know that we could tell an elderly lady? Finally grandson decides he can tell her the 'Frayed Knot' joke cuz it doesn't have any dirty words in it.
As soon as the nurse was gone Gramma O opened her eyes and I scolded her for being so unhelpful. She just smiled at me. I told her she still had to listen to the joke. Grandson told it well, and she did laugh. And it did hurt. But probably not as much as coughing.
It's good that the story about Gramma O made SisOne smile. It was twenty years ago that I heard the 'Frayed Knot' joke and I don't remember the punchline.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Reality Live
I'm not much troubled by reality. We don't watch television, subscribe to a newspaper or magazines, or listen to radio. So do you think I'm out of touch?
Most of the news we get comes from the stuff we read on the Internet. Okay, MySpouse reads things to me while I play Scrabble or Tetris. He's a blog-o-holic. At least he's cut down on the number of political blogs he reads. Mostly he reads to me the items that make him laugh.
Last Sunday MySpouse got a free newspaper when he gassed up his pick-up. I read the comics, looked thru the Target flyer, and read an article about how some news organization had NO items about Paris Hilton for a week. The news organization found out that no one really missed Miss Hilton.
Okay, she's rich and skinny. Is that it? Is that all? I'd say she's young, also, but that's not true. At 26 she's closer to 30 than she probably wants to be.
And what, precisely, does she do?
I come from a long line of doers. I don't waste my time like I did when I was 20-something.
He drives, I crochet. I have an appointment with a doctor, dentist, or lawyer - I take
my knitting to work on. My daughter calls to rant and I play Free Cell while she natters
about her shit of a husband.
I do things that are productive and creative. I'm sure Miss Hilton could hire someone to knit or crochet an item, but it's not about paying someone to do something. It's about learning a skill and using it in a positive way. I'm hoping some day to crochet as well as my mother does.
So maybe I am out of touch. If a Paris Hilton sighting was the high point of my day, I might be better off.
Most of the news we get comes from the stuff we read on the Internet. Okay, MySpouse reads things to me while I play Scrabble or Tetris. He's a blog-o-holic. At least he's cut down on the number of political blogs he reads. Mostly he reads to me the items that make him laugh.
Last Sunday MySpouse got a free newspaper when he gassed up his pick-up. I read the comics, looked thru the Target flyer, and read an article about how some news organization had NO items about Paris Hilton for a week. The news organization found out that no one really missed Miss Hilton.
Okay, she's rich and skinny. Is that it? Is that all? I'd say she's young, also, but that's not true. At 26 she's closer to 30 than she probably wants to be.
And what, precisely, does she do?
I come from a long line of doers. I don't waste my time like I did when I was 20-something.
He drives, I crochet. I have an appointment with a doctor, dentist, or lawyer - I take
my knitting to work on. My daughter calls to rant and I play Free Cell while she natters
about her shit of a husband.
I do things that are productive and creative. I'm sure Miss Hilton could hire someone to knit or crochet an item, but it's not about paying someone to do something. It's about learning a skill and using it in a positive way. I'm hoping some day to crochet as well as my mother does.
So maybe I am out of touch. If a Paris Hilton sighting was the high point of my day, I might be better off.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Robin: Harbinger of Spring
I saw a robin today. Right up front, on the sidewalk. That is semi-exciting as a harbinger of spring. I'll be a bit more excited when I see a dandelion bloom. Dandelions aren't so prone to misjudging the timing of spring in Iowa.
Tomorrow I can expect to see five robins now that the first one has appeared. In about a week we'll have snow again and I can expect to see dozens of robins. All walking around looking pissy.
It's as if they've gone on vacation thinking the weather will be nice, only to arrive in the Arctic. As if they lived in Maine and went south... to New Hampshire, expecting it to be warmer there. Too much hassle to fly back to where they came from so they stay and gut it out.
But they don't like it. If you've seen the photo of 'The Mad Bluebird' you know how peeved a bird can look.
The birdie body language of these too-early robins makes it clear what their birdie thoughts are: "Eeeewwww! Ick! What's a nice bird like me doing in this frozen hell called Iowa?"
They're probably hungry, which doesn't improve anyone's mood. There might be some box elder bugs available for snacks, but I've never seen a worm crawling around in the snow.
So they probably are entitled to their bad mood. The weather sucks, food is hard to find, they're not smarter than the food (happens to me all the time), all the nesting material is covered with snow, just a crappy deal all the way around.
Eventually the snow will melt and they will stop looking so peevish. Dandelions and violets will bloom and I will know it is truly, finally spring in this part of Iowa.
Tomorrow I can expect to see five robins now that the first one has appeared. In about a week we'll have snow again and I can expect to see dozens of robins. All walking around looking pissy.
It's as if they've gone on vacation thinking the weather will be nice, only to arrive in the Arctic. As if they lived in Maine and went south... to New Hampshire, expecting it to be warmer there. Too much hassle to fly back to where they came from so they stay and gut it out.
But they don't like it. If you've seen the photo of 'The Mad Bluebird' you know how peeved a bird can look.
The birdie body language of these too-early robins makes it clear what their birdie thoughts are: "Eeeewwww! Ick! What's a nice bird like me doing in this frozen hell called Iowa?"
They're probably hungry, which doesn't improve anyone's mood. There might be some box elder bugs available for snacks, but I've never seen a worm crawling around in the snow.
So they probably are entitled to their bad mood. The weather sucks, food is hard to find, they're not smarter than the food (happens to me all the time), all the nesting material is covered with snow, just a crappy deal all the way around.
Eventually the snow will melt and they will stop looking so peevish. Dandelions and violets will bloom and I will know it is truly, finally spring in this part of Iowa.
Yard Work
Our back yard is enclosed with a fence. The fence looked okay when it was new. Of course, when it was new we had different dogs. We added two feet of height to the fence because my young male dog, Jackson, could jump over the original 4-foot fence any time he wanted to. He would wander around the neighborhood and eventually return by jumping over the fence into the yard.
Not a good thing becuz we live on a busy street.
Then we found out that Jackson would climb over the 6-foot fence. Any time a strange dog should wander by, invading his territory, don't you know. So we lined the inside of our fence with an electric fence. That worked, but the first victim was Lilac, his sister. All she wanted to do was bark at the neighbor's dogs. Lilac is about as likely to jump as oh, say, a dump truck.
We raised the electric fence to a height of about five feet.
Finally Jackson got a taste of electro-shock treatment. He got bit by it twice and we have had no further problems with his jumping or climbing out.
Jackson and Lilac are true to their heritage, tho. They are half-Lab and half-mutt. People use the abbreviation 'Lab' without thinking about it overly much. 'Lab' is however, the short form of 'Labrador retriever' and that's the tradition that Jackson and Lilac maintain. They retrieve.
Lilac more so than Jackson. She's as persistent with her retrieving as someone who says "you know" in every sentence. As soon as she wakes up in the morning she picks something up and carries it around in her mouth. Usually one of my dirty socks. I've resigned myself to her sock fetish. It's either the socks or something more valuable; books, eyeglasses, shoes, undies.
The socks will survive a trip to the yard, not so other items.
Another favorite thing to be retrieved is the empty cores of toilet paper. I've been trained to set them on the floor near the toilet to be retrieved at a later date. Jackson and Lilac will tussle over the toilet paper cores. Makes for some interesting expeditions to the bathroom.
If we have company both dogs will retrieve...something. Usually something paper-ish since the dirty laundry is confined to the bedroom and bathroom upstairs. A wrapper, a bit of newspaper, to greet new arrivals. And of course all the normal dog gyrations of greeting.
If we are outdoors with our company many people make the mistake of thinking that retrieving is the same thing as fetching. It isn't, is it? At least, not here. Lilac didn't pick up that cheese wrapper and greet you with it just to have you pull it out of her mouth and throw it across the yard. She won't go and 'fetch' what you've thrown. Why should she when there's a perfectly fine piece of a Ruffles bag right here by your feet?
The yard work part of this is that many items that have been retrieved are abandoned in the back yard. I patrol regularly for socks but other items tend to accumulate. Wrappers of various kinds, Ruffles bags, toilet paper cores, ice cream boxes that MySpouse gives them. A colorful mess now that the snow is melting. A mess that I'm going to clean up in the next day or so.
Most of the project will consist of taking things away from Lilac and depositing them in a garbage bag, never to be retrieved again.
Yard work, yes. Any excuse to be outdoors on a 50-degree day.
Not a good thing becuz we live on a busy street.
Then we found out that Jackson would climb over the 6-foot fence. Any time a strange dog should wander by, invading his territory, don't you know. So we lined the inside of our fence with an electric fence. That worked, but the first victim was Lilac, his sister. All she wanted to do was bark at the neighbor's dogs. Lilac is about as likely to jump as oh, say, a dump truck.
We raised the electric fence to a height of about five feet.
Finally Jackson got a taste of electro-shock treatment. He got bit by it twice and we have had no further problems with his jumping or climbing out.
Jackson and Lilac are true to their heritage, tho. They are half-Lab and half-mutt. People use the abbreviation 'Lab' without thinking about it overly much. 'Lab' is however, the short form of 'Labrador retriever' and that's the tradition that Jackson and Lilac maintain. They retrieve.
Lilac more so than Jackson. She's as persistent with her retrieving as someone who says "you know" in every sentence. As soon as she wakes up in the morning she picks something up and carries it around in her mouth. Usually one of my dirty socks. I've resigned myself to her sock fetish. It's either the socks or something more valuable; books, eyeglasses, shoes, undies.
The socks will survive a trip to the yard, not so other items.
Another favorite thing to be retrieved is the empty cores of toilet paper. I've been trained to set them on the floor near the toilet to be retrieved at a later date. Jackson and Lilac will tussle over the toilet paper cores. Makes for some interesting expeditions to the bathroom.
If we have company both dogs will retrieve...something. Usually something paper-ish since the dirty laundry is confined to the bedroom and bathroom upstairs. A wrapper, a bit of newspaper, to greet new arrivals. And of course all the normal dog gyrations of greeting.
If we are outdoors with our company many people make the mistake of thinking that retrieving is the same thing as fetching. It isn't, is it? At least, not here. Lilac didn't pick up that cheese wrapper and greet you with it just to have you pull it out of her mouth and throw it across the yard. She won't go and 'fetch' what you've thrown. Why should she when there's a perfectly fine piece of a Ruffles bag right here by your feet?
The yard work part of this is that many items that have been retrieved are abandoned in the back yard. I patrol regularly for socks but other items tend to accumulate. Wrappers of various kinds, Ruffles bags, toilet paper cores, ice cream boxes that MySpouse gives them. A colorful mess now that the snow is melting. A mess that I'm going to clean up in the next day or so.
Most of the project will consist of taking things away from Lilac and depositing them in a garbage bag, never to be retrieved again.
Yard work, yes. Any excuse to be outdoors on a 50-degree day.
Friday, March 9, 2007
The C-word
I wasn't sure I could write about this.
And firstly, it's not my C-word, but someone close to me.
It's frightening and it's not even happening to me.
Somehow that seems worse to me; to have to stand by, helpless, powerless, fearful.
Probably not as fearful as the person to whom it is happening.
I had the good fortune to marry a nice man on my third try at matrimony.
MySpouse also happens to come from a nice family. A fairly large family of six siblings.
MySpouse and his five younger sisters.
His sibs think I lack, umm, polish, but they accept me as I am.
Becuz they care for me, I have come to care for them.
MySpouse's oldest sister, SisOne, had a mammogram with less than wonderful results.
Not cancer yet. Could that be less terrifying than 'cancer now' ?
I'm thinking probably not much.
So she has had, as we say in Iowa, a shitload of fear to deal with the last three weeks.
'Not cancer yet' would be enough to send anyone else running for the Jim Beam.
Besides the fear that any other woman would feel at the thought of cancer followed by a mastectomy, these sibs are still coping with the loss of their youngest sister.
SisFive was ill and died within four days.
She was hospitalized with chest pains.
At first, the chest pains seemed to be a heart attack.
But heart attacks come and go fairly quickly; they don't linger for two days.
More tests, another diagnosis, a move to a larger hospital in a larger city for surgery.
Only then did a doctor know the source of her chest pains.
And when the surgeon knew what caused her illness there was no treatment
that could save her.
The inner lining of her aorta had come loose and was blocking the flow of blood.
The surgeon could not repair it.
Something I never want to see again is a piece of someone's aorta.
The surgeon showed us how the inner lining had come loose on a piece of SisFive's aorta.
Among us, her 12-year-old son.
I hope he didn't have nightmares.
"Like a hose de-laminating", MySpouse said. I thought it was an apt,
albeit macho, description of what happened to SisFive to cause her death.
Her life ended so suddenly that somehow it didn't seem real.
I can still hear her voice in my mind and I only knew her for 8 years.
I can't begin to imagine what MySpouse and the remaining four sisters hear.
But I know they still hear her voice becuz it's only been 20 months since she passed away.
Now with SisOne having major surgery the demons are frolicking. SisOne is dealing with insult added to injury, fear upon fear.
Some of the siblings were at the hospital when SisFive died on the operating table.
Some were not. I know tho, that all of them will be at the hospital
when SisOne has surgery.
None of us want another loved one to slip away without a chance to say goodbye.
Please keep these nice people in your prayers.
And firstly, it's not my C-word, but someone close to me.
It's frightening and it's not even happening to me.
Somehow that seems worse to me; to have to stand by, helpless, powerless, fearful.
Probably not as fearful as the person to whom it is happening.
I had the good fortune to marry a nice man on my third try at matrimony.
MySpouse also happens to come from a nice family. A fairly large family of six siblings.
MySpouse and his five younger sisters.
His sibs think I lack, umm, polish, but they accept me as I am.
Becuz they care for me, I have come to care for them.
MySpouse's oldest sister, SisOne, had a mammogram with less than wonderful results.
Not cancer yet. Could that be less terrifying than 'cancer now' ?
I'm thinking probably not much.
So she has had, as we say in Iowa, a shitload of fear to deal with the last three weeks.
'Not cancer yet' would be enough to send anyone else running for the Jim Beam.
Besides the fear that any other woman would feel at the thought of cancer followed by a mastectomy, these sibs are still coping with the loss of their youngest sister.
SisFive was ill and died within four days.
She was hospitalized with chest pains.
At first, the chest pains seemed to be a heart attack.
But heart attacks come and go fairly quickly; they don't linger for two days.
More tests, another diagnosis, a move to a larger hospital in a larger city for surgery.
Only then did a doctor know the source of her chest pains.
And when the surgeon knew what caused her illness there was no treatment
that could save her.
The inner lining of her aorta had come loose and was blocking the flow of blood.
The surgeon could not repair it.
Something I never want to see again is a piece of someone's aorta.
The surgeon showed us how the inner lining had come loose on a piece of SisFive's aorta.
Among us, her 12-year-old son.
I hope he didn't have nightmares.
"Like a hose de-laminating", MySpouse said. I thought it was an apt,
albeit macho, description of what happened to SisFive to cause her death.
Her life ended so suddenly that somehow it didn't seem real.
I can still hear her voice in my mind and I only knew her for 8 years.
I can't begin to imagine what MySpouse and the remaining four sisters hear.
But I know they still hear her voice becuz it's only been 20 months since she passed away.
Now with SisOne having major surgery the demons are frolicking. SisOne is dealing with insult added to injury, fear upon fear.
Some of the siblings were at the hospital when SisFive died on the operating table.
Some were not. I know tho, that all of them will be at the hospital
when SisOne has surgery.
None of us want another loved one to slip away without a chance to say goodbye.
Please keep these nice people in your prayers.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Trite March, Lion or Lamb?
Weather. The human species is addicted to it.
The Internet is a wonderful thing(even if Al Gore did invent it). Internet access allows people from Iowa, US to chat with people in New South Wales, Australia about the weather.
Weather is a popular topic becuz it's safe. Neutral; much more so than religion,
politics, and in some cases, sports.
Since I have no interest in religion, politics, or sports, I'm quite happy
to chat about the weather. It's refreshing to talk to an Australian about weather
becuz their seasons are opposite the US's. When it's bitterly cold here in Iowa, it's torridly hot in Queensland, Australia. We're wearing parkas and snow-pacs, they're
on the beach in bikinis and huaraches.
In Iowa we'll be eating turkey and mashed potatoes for Christmas dinner.
An Australian will be "having a banana daiquiri while the kids eat watermelon" is what one woman told me.
Any Iowan at the end of February would admit that is refreshing.
March here in Iowa started off with a couple of major storms. The first storm (actually in February) was truly debilitating, providing an example of every type of precipitation possible in Iowa. Let me name the ways in which it precipitated: snow, rain, hail, ice pellets, freezing rain...
Freezing rain. The words bring fear to my heart, and I'm no coward.
I've lived in Iowa all my life; experience tells me that any winter storm that
combines ice and snow is going to be frightening.
People being people and all, some people went out and got dead.
As far as I'm concerned they got what they deserved for being prideful and stupid.
Whatever it is that seems so important, it's not worth getting dead about.
Make emergency workers' jobs easier.
If you're not on the county road crew, STAY HOME.
My daughter called on Saturday, February 24th and said she would be
spending the night at her place of employment.
I told her good idea. She had a reliable caretaker for her 2-year-old.
I reminded her that getting home ain't worth getting dead about.
The Internet is a wonderful thing(even if Al Gore did invent it). Internet access allows people from Iowa, US to chat with people in New South Wales, Australia about the weather.
Weather is a popular topic becuz it's safe. Neutral; much more so than religion,
politics, and in some cases, sports.
Since I have no interest in religion, politics, or sports, I'm quite happy
to chat about the weather. It's refreshing to talk to an Australian about weather
becuz their seasons are opposite the US's. When it's bitterly cold here in Iowa, it's torridly hot in Queensland, Australia. We're wearing parkas and snow-pacs, they're
on the beach in bikinis and huaraches.
In Iowa we'll be eating turkey and mashed potatoes for Christmas dinner.
An Australian will be "having a banana daiquiri while the kids eat watermelon" is what one woman told me.
Any Iowan at the end of February would admit that is refreshing.
March here in Iowa started off with a couple of major storms. The first storm (actually in February) was truly debilitating, providing an example of every type of precipitation possible in Iowa. Let me name the ways in which it precipitated: snow, rain, hail, ice pellets, freezing rain...
Freezing rain. The words bring fear to my heart, and I'm no coward.
I've lived in Iowa all my life; experience tells me that any winter storm that
combines ice and snow is going to be frightening.
People being people and all, some people went out and got dead.
As far as I'm concerned they got what they deserved for being prideful and stupid.
Whatever it is that seems so important, it's not worth getting dead about.
Make emergency workers' jobs easier.
If you're not on the county road crew, STAY HOME.
My daughter called on Saturday, February 24th and said she would be
spending the night at her place of employment.
I told her good idea. She had a reliable caretaker for her 2-year-old.
I reminded her that getting home ain't worth getting dead about.
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