Old Bricks

 Last month Willie and I were out raking the yard. Now it must be said that raking our yard is a week long project. With thirty-seven trees in the yard, it doesn't go quickly. We raked and raked and raked. At one point, I got a little bored with the whole process.

Between our house and the garage there were two bricks in the ground. Everyday, going to the garage I have passed these two bricks. I figured that they were what was left of a pathway that was once between the two buildings. Having lost all interest in the rake and the activity that surrounded it, I turned my attention to the bricks.

 I dropped the rake where I stood and went over and stared at the bricks. Were they the last two? Were there others still under the the grass? I decided I must find out.

I went to the garage and looked for an appropriate tool for the job. Willie has quite an array of shovels. All have specific jobs and purposes. All looked very useful and capable of handling the project. I looked them over very carefully. I imagined what would happen if I tried to dig up a brick and somehow damaged one of the shovels. I chose to use the garden claw. It seemed the safest choice.

I went back to the two bricks, slammed the claw into the ground, and started digging.

As I dug backward from the bricks toward the house, I found two more bricks. Then two more and two more. Soon I realized that the ground on the right side of the bricks was very soft, and the ground on the left was hard. I dug to the left and found another row of bricks.

I was fascinated. Willie came around the garage, saw me playing in the dirt, in the middle of the yard, looked at the rake on the ground and sighed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Look!" I said excitedly. "There is a walk way under here!"

Willie laughed under his breath, knowing full well I was not going to be raking any more leaves, and went back to his business.

My original purpose, was to just uncover the walk way. As I dug further toward the house the bricks were lower and lower in the ground. Many were as deep as six inches,  with tree roots growing over the top of them. These bricks had been there a very long time. I decided to dig them out of the ground. Maybe I could restore the walkway. Maybe I could use the bricks for something else. Maybe they were antique bricks worth a lot of money! I could sell them and buy a new camera! All of these thoughts went through my mind as I lifted each brick out of the ground.

That night I googled Danville bricks. Each brick has the Danville imprint on them. Well, I pretty much found nothing. My dreams of a new camera dashed, I started thinking about other things I could do with the brick. As did Willie.

Fifty some bricks later, my back tired and arm hurting, I gave up. I stood up, went into the house for a glass of water. I looked down at my feet and realized it was time for a shower.

Daffodils!

Not much to say, just some pictures of some pretty flowers!

Early Spring

The first bloom of spring. Always a welcome site. Always something to bring a smile on a pasty pale winter face. This year's first bloom in my garden occurred last week,  March 6th. Now, after a long hard winter a first bloom, especially an early one would be a huge relief, a sign of warm days to come. 

This year, the winter was, well, not winter. It was warm, and instead of snow we got a lot of rain. Spring flooding will not be a worry. There is no snow to melt off, there is no ice in the rivers to cause ice jams. It made for a wonderful winter of little shoveling and hardly ever wearing a winter coat. Nothing to complain about. 

Perhaps something to worry about though. Last year it was March 19th when I posted about the first bloom of spring. Here it is only March 12th and that first bloom is surrounded by many buddies. Daffodils are about to join them in the warmth and sunshine. The obvious worry, for the flowers, is what if we get a a hard freeze? Which in a normal winter, I would expect to happen. I would expect that these blooms would be blanketed with snow at some point. That is part of the beauty of crocuses though, they are tough little buggers.

 The worries of this unusual winter and spring, are more long term. If it is 80 degrees on March 12th in the Midwest, what is it going to be like come July? Are we in for a drought? Is it going to be 100 degrees on Mother's Day, 110 degrees on Father's day, and snowing on the Forth of July? What is going on with our weather? I know that all seems a little absurd. Is it though? Climate change, though heavily disputed by the great geniuses of our time, Rush Limbaugh, Rick Santorum and many other like minded folks, seems to be real.

Is it a side affect of burning fossil fuels? Is it a normal shift that occurs fairly regularly in our planets cycle. Is it Mother Nature going through menopause? Because if it is that, I can relate. Oh, boy I can relate......

 I guess the thing to ask, is, are we as a people prepared for what the climate and weather are going to throw at us. And if, just if, the REAL scientists are right, and our activities as humans are a part of what is going on, or accelerating the normal cycle of the Earth's climate, would it really kill us to change our ways, even just a little.

Some rant and rave about doing something as little as changing the kind  of light bulb they use. I'm not the biggest fan of the color of the energy efficient light bulbs. They save me a negligible amount of money on my light bill. If it is one small thing I can do to use a little less energy, what is the big deal? The real big deal is that if more and more people use them, then more and more energy is saved, less and less fossil fuels are burned. How can that be a bad thing?

 I don't get the politics of it all. I don't get why people don't understand that doing things that are good for the Earth in turn are good for us. After all, the earth feeds us, shelters us, warms us, and cools us. If we don't take care of it, I'm pretty darn sure it could do us all in and start all over. It did it to the dinosaurs, why not us?

Now, I'm not saying that you have to change your light bulbs if you really cannot stand the curly Q ones. If their color is just too irritating to you then make your own choice. Just try to find something else to do that can make a small difference. Plant a tree in your yard. Take a shorter shower. Wash your truck once a month instead of every week. If you have recycling available to you take advantage of it, you are paying for it anyway.

Is it too late? I hope not, we really have a beautiful planet. It gives us so much. Our flowers, trees and green grass are just the beginning. If we ruin the planet, I think they will find a way back, will we?

100 Years Of Girl Scouts in America

From Life Magazine

Today is the 100th birthday of the Girl Scouts of America. Started by Juliette Gordon Low on March 12th, 1912, after a trip to England. There she saw the beginnings of the Boy Scouts and, happily, for 50,000,000 girls in the United States, she brought the idea back to Savannah and started the first troop with her niece, Daisy Gordon ( the adult pictured with a young scout.)

Girl Scouts has been an influential part of millions of girls lives for 100 years now. For many it may have been just a few years in Brownies and Juniors. For others it becomes a life long passion. Either way, the experience of being a Scout never really leaves.

Whether memories circle around friendships, camping, community, or crafts, some part of Scouting becomes a part of a girl forever. It is a time always remembered fondly. A time when respect  for self and others is instilled deeply into the soul.

Nancy, Julie, JoAnna, and me

Much of my time in Scouting was spent with the women in this picture. Julie, Nancy and I were together from the beginning. Brownies scouts, who happily did crafts and cookouts. Julie's mom, Mary, was our leader, and my mom was our assistant leader. I remember in the earliest years meeting in someones basement. As the troop grew we moved to a local church. As Juniors JoAnna and her family moved to the neighborhood. At that time, JoAnna's mom, Jan, our friend Tari's mom, Pam, and my my mom led our troop. We took trips to places that I am sure I would have never gotten to go to without Scouts. One of my favorite trips was to Tennessee. We went to Nashville. We saw the Grand Ole Opre, went to Orpe Land and spent days with other troops from all over the country At the Opre Land  Girl Scout Jamboree. We learned that The Desperado song was sung many different ways than how we learned it. We traded patches and stories with girls of many backgrounds different than our own. We made new friends, if even just for a few days.

Camp Sacajawea

One of the most important and long lasting effects of Girl Scouting is learning self reliance and independence. That is where camp comes in. You know all those cookies you have bought over the years? Scouts use the proceeds from selling those to help them pay to go to camp. They earn their way to camp. They learn that working hard, selling those darn cookies could help them get to camp. They learn they can rely on their own hard work to get to a goal they have set. Not just expect someone else to give it to them. 

At camp, girls get their first experiences of being away from home for more than a night. They learn to make friends outside their comfortable little circle back home. They learn to work together for common goals. Even if that goal is as simple as starting a fire to make S'mores. Girls can be  fickle creatures. Getting a bunch of them to work together, especially as teenagers, can be a challenge beyond all others. Girl Scouts teaches that this can be done. Sometimes starting that fire, on a rainy day, is the only way to get to eat supper, so get along, work together and start a fire must be done. Once the fire is started, supper made, and tummies are full, there is a feeling of accomplishment that is undeniable. It is the start of independence, the start of self accomplishment. The start of becoming an adult. One that can be strong, self reliant and personally responsible for their own actions in life. 

Part of that cookie money also goes to the troop. That money is spent on activities for the girls as a whole. Like that trip to Tennessee. With that girls learn that their hard work can also help others, the whole troop. Maybe a girl, who could never afford to go on a trip like that will get to go because everyone in the troop pulled together to help her get to go. That happened to me as a Senior Scout. My last year of high school got very busy. I had a job, was in drill team and was a wrestling cheerleader. Scouts meetings were hard to get to, and I missed many of them. I didn't have the time to sell cookies. I had resigned myself to the fact that I would miss the trip that year. I hadn't earned my way. I knew it wasn't going to happen. It made me sad too, the troop was going to Wyoming. A place I had always wanted to go. As it turned out, one of the other girls, couldn't go. I don't remember why, but her trip had already been paid for by the troop. Carolyn, my leader at that time, called my mom, I would be going on the trip after all. That trip meant more to me than an other. Though I hadn't earned my way, my troop decided they wanted me there. Though I hadn't been to many meetings that year, my troop still thought of me when the other girl couldn't go. I was over whelmed. I was so grateful, and I enjoyed that trip like no other. I tried very hard to pitch in and get things done. I found myself not dreading the things I dreaded on on other trips, like washing dishes, finding firewood, putting up or taking down camp, or even just getting up in the morning. I looked forward to doing these things as a thank you to my troop. I may not have earned the money for the trip, but I would earn the trip while I was there. I grew up a little because of that trip. I learned not to take for granted a gift given by others. I started to see that there were things beyond my little world to be grateful for, like my fellow Girl Scouts. 

The most important Girl Scout in my life, my mom

Mr. and Mrs. Berry's Reception

December 10, two days after Josh's birthday and two days before Caitlin's the happy couple got married. The wedding was beautiful, very traditional. For more about that see A December Wedding. This is about the reception. Though, I did feel it absolutely necessary to include two pictures from before the ceremony. First, of course the bride and groom. Just minutes before seeing each other right before the wedding. Second, the flower girl and ring barer. How could I NOT post these two pictures.

Josh and Caitlin waiting with anticipation to see the other. Josh had not seen even a picture of Caitlin's bridal gown, and had no idea what to expect.



Kahlen and the ring barer, well, they are just to cute, if I do say so myself. As I said before, they did an excellent job and just need to shown off.

The reception was a lot of fun. It was in a restored barn in Johnston, Iowa called The Simpson Barn. I don't remember the whole story behind it, there are details of that night that are blurry. We were up late the night before decorating. We were aiming for a winter wonderland effect, which I think, with the help of many, especially my friends Dawn and Kelley, I think we achieved.

Dinner was catered by a local BBQ resteraunt. If you ever watch Man vs, Food, you may have seen it, Jethro's BBQ.  It was tasty and filling, and relaxing not to have to worry about it.

After dinner there were of course the speeches. The best man's speech, was probably my favorite. He predicted children for them soon, and that they would be great parents. How could I disagree with that?The came the bride and groom's first dance.

Their eyes only on each other. Oblivious to all of the eyes that were upon them, watching as they held each other tenderly. They moved on the dance floor, not in a well trained dance, but on a cloud of love. 

After that it was Caitlin's dad's turn to take the new bride on the dance floor. He, was the proud papa. Dancing with his youngest daughter, now a married woman. Each very proud of the other. A kiss on the cheek ended the dance. 

The next dance, Josh and the mother of the groom, me. I got to dance with my son. At Alyssa's wedding I watched from the side and cried with joy as my husband danced with our daughter on her wedding day. This wedding was my turn.

I picked a Barry Manilow song. I Am Your Child. With lyrics like, "Where ever you go, you take me too. Whatever I know, I learned from you, whatever I do, you taught me to do. I am you child." "And I am your chance, whatever will come, will come from me, tomorrow is won, by winning me, what ever I am you taught me to be, I am your hope, I am you chance, I am you child." How much more perfect could it be. I cant believe I didn't cry through the whole song. Looking up at my grown son, dancing with him at his wedding, was one of the most amazing moments of my life. One I will never forget.  .Next up on the hit parade was a dance by the wedding party. I don't remember the name of the song, but I do remember they had a lot of fun. They wiggled and danced and made a few of the older folk blush, but most thought them entertaining. The groomsmen also did a dance of their own. They all seemed to have a very good time. 

 

Willie and I danced during the aniversery dance. We almost ended up being the last ones up there too. We were beat out by one year. So, close, twenty seven years just didn't quite make it. We danced happily with our perfect little granddaughter. I think the music was a little loud for her, she seemed to want to be held a lot. Which I had no problem with. I knew my chances for holding her were slowly coming to an end for a while. I always miss her so much.  Shane and Alyssa, still newly weds themselves took the chance to enjoy the evening. As did Valerie and Joel. Valerie danced with her brother during the dollar dance. The party went on until all were exhausted. 

After all were partied out, the time for clean up came. Everything went down faster than it went up, though with exhausted worker bees it didn't seem like that. 

Perhaps.....

I think, maybe, just maybe, it might be...... yes, yes, it just might be..... I think perhaps it is...... that most special time of the year! That's right, it is almost Let's All Pretend It's Spring Day! I have declared that Tuesday will be this year's Let's All Pretend It's Spring Day!!! I had almost forgotten about it. This year winter has had such crazy weather it just slipped my mind. How, oh how, have I let that happen! Without Let's All Pretend It's Spring Day, how will winter know that it is no longer welcome. That it is time for it to move on and let spring flowers bloom. This could have been bad, very bad. We could have ended up with two feet of snow in July had I not remembered.

Here's a photo from last year of what
I am looking so forward to now

It won't be as hard to pretend it is spring this year. I already have daffodils that are about six inches tall in my garden. They look like they could bloom any day now. Maybe they will bloom on Tuesday, that would be awesome, huh? I can't wait! I have been looking all over the yard for early bloomers, haven't found one yet. I can't wait until I do. Although, I admit it is really freaking me out that these flowers are already up. The way the weather has been this year, I'm not sure if it will bee 120 degrees in July, or if we might just have snow on the ground. That alone makes Let's All Pretend It's Spring Day all that much more important!

We need to show the year 2012 who's boss. We need to get spring on its way and chase all of the doomsday predictions out of here! 2012, you are going to be a good year! That is all there is to it!

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you are looking at are going to change." - Davy Jones

My Heart Is A Little Broken

In my life time I have heard of the passing of many entertainers. Often it was people that I really didn't know. People from my parents', or even grandparents' generation. People like Katharine Hepburn, James Stewart or Cary Grant. People that I'd heard of, but at the time of their passing, had very little knowledge about their talent. As I have grown and found the Turner Classic Movie Channel have  learned to greatly admire and enjoy their work. I have found myself watching movies like The Philadelphia  Story, or Harvey, or Arsenic and Old Lace over and over again. Thank goodness for DVD, to keep these wonderful talents at our beckon call.

Sometimes it was people I did know but had no real connection to in anyway. People like Bob Hope, Harry Morgan, Maurice Gibb, or Elizabeth Taylor. People who's work I had  greatly enjoyed, and upon hearing of their death thought "how sad," but then went on with my life. Kind of like losing a distant relative. One you never really knew, but you knew it made your mom or dad sad and you were sad for them.

Once in a while it was someone like, John Lennon, Michael Jackson, or Whitney Houston. People who were  a little more from my generation. People who's work had touched me in someway. Maybe it was as simple as dancing to their music at a school dance or a party with friends. Maybe it was growing up with them in my life for so long. When they passed away it sent a little shock through my system, it made me think about mortality, and the loss of great talent. I might have paused to think about their lives and what I knew about them. It was a little more personal. I had watched them rise to fame, and now saw their demise. It was weird, and a little unsettling, but not personal. I was still fairly young in 1980 when John Lennon passed away. Though I grew up listening to the Beatles, via my sister, It wasn't the same for me as I'm sure it was for her.

That more personal feeling of loss came for me yesterday. Wednesday  February 29th, leap day. A day that has a certain whimsy to it. A day that only comes around every four years. It makes it a little special and fun. Not fun in a party it up way, but fun in getting to write 2-29-12, silly little things like that. I have a forty-four year-old cousin who celebrated her eleventh birthday yesterday. What an odd thing it must be to have been born on such an unique day.

When I went to lunch yesterday at about three-thirty I turned on my iPhone and opened up Facebook. That's when I saw it. If I hadn't been at work I'm sure I would have started to cry. I felt the pit of my stomach trying to rise into my throat. I had to swallow hard to keep my composure. I had never had that kind of a reaction to the death of a celebrity. Not even Michael Jackson, but maybe that was because he had gotten so strange and unrecognizable. No, this one hit me, it hit me hard.

Davy Jones and the Monkees have been one of my very favorite groups, my entire life. The Monkees have actually, been the subject of this blog twice now. When I had heard they were on tour last spring I wanted to go see them again, so bad, it hurt. Putting it in blog helped me to deal with the fact that I was going to miss this tour. Listen to The Band put my hopes in writing. Monkee Brain helped me get to sleep one night while my thoughts swirled about how to get the money to get a ticket to their concert in Indy. When I knew all hope was lost, I looked forward, I might get to see them later in the tour. Maybe they'd add Des Moines. Then abruptly, the tour ended. There would be no Des Moines concert added. "Maybe, just maybe, they would resolve whatever happened and get back on the road at some point," I allowed myself to think.

Davy Jones will be missed. Not just by me, but by millions of people. He brought us happiness, and giggles. He made some swoon to the point of fainting. He made others dance and sing along. OK, maybe the Monkees weren't the Beatles. A comparison that had been made over and over again. The Monkees were a fabricated band, who weren't even allowed to play their own instruments, at first. "They don't write their own music!" Was written in many music magazines. "They don't play their own instruments!" They were called the prefab four.

Then again, the Beatles weren't the Monkees. Though modeled after the Beatles and A Hard Days Night, The Monkees, as a TV show brought music, and zaniness and laughter into American households week after week. The Monkees as a group grew out of the show. Magic happened, magic that still sparks to this day. Rolling Stone Magazine, where once the worst of the Monkee bashing had begun, even gave a great review to their last tour.

Their. Last. Tour. Such final words now.  Even if Peter, Micky and maybe Mike toured again, it wouldn't be the same. There would be a definite hole. It would be the same if it had been Micky or Peter. The three of them together, that made the Monkees. Mike left himself out for so long that his hole was filled well by the other three. Davy though, I know that Peter and Micky know that he cannot be replaced in anyway. Two without the third, it can't be done.

To Davy's family and friends I'd like to say how sorry I am. To lose someone you love so young. To his children and grand children, especially, I'd also like to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your dad and grandpa with the rest of the world. Thank you for loving him so long and so well that while he missed you dearly out on the road, he knew, you knew how much he loved you. Please, know that his fans loved him greatly, and we will miss him. The hole in our hearts, while much, much smaller than the hole in yours, will never be filled.

We will miss you, Monkee Man.

Lent

 I had a hard time deciding what to give up for Lent this year. I'm not Catholic, but I think it doesn't hurt anything or anyone to try and give up something you enjoy for a certain amount of time once a year. It is a challenge and challenging ourselves is always a good thing. I tried to decide between red meat, fast food and chocolate. I woke up on on Ash Wednesday and forgot all about it. The first thing I did was eat a piece of chocolate. "Ah, crap," I thought to myself. "I guess I'll have to choose one of the others.

Thinking hard I decided against red meat. I do the cooking and Willie just wouldn't like going six weeks with out beef.  Fast food would be easier. Then I thought about it some more. Easy isn't what it is supposed be about. I thought again about red meat. Again, I decided against it. This is something I am doing for me and my faith. It isn't fair to make Willie do it, too, just because I cook the most.

I went back to the impossible. I went back to the one thing I will have to actually think hard about. The one thing that would be a big deal to me. Chocolate. Chocolate is my friend. Chocolate makes me happy. Giving up chocolate, now there's a challenge. Challenge? It will be a an out and out battle of my will. Will I win or will the chocolate win?

Well, since I'd already screwed up first thing that morning, I knew it wasn't enough to just give up chocolate. I needed to give up something else, too. Something to make up for that last piece of chocolate that I ate after Lent had started. What to do? What to do?

"Fast food it is!" I said to myself. That one is not as hard as chocolate, but it is something I will have to remind myself about. Something that won't be automatic. After all, stopping at Micky D's or Taco Bell on the way home after getting off late at work is easy and quick. It won't be as hard as chocolate but it will be a challenge, especially if I end up on a road trip for any reason.

To this point I have not had either chocolate or fast food. Yeah, I know, it has only been a week, but that's a long time for no chocolate milk.  A VERY long time. Where some people smoke, or have a beer after work, or drink coffee all morning, chocolate milk is my drug of choice.  Chocolate milk has the effect on me that coffee has on others. It wakes me up, it makes me feel better and it helps me start my day. Silly, you say, strange, you think? You give up your coffee in the morning and then laugh at me. Caffeine is a lot easier for me to give up. In fact, now that I think of it, I haven't had any caffeine since I gave up chocolate.

The fast food hasn't really bothered me.... yet. Though, on the way home Friday I almost did, out of habit, run to a fast food place. Then I remembered and drove the other way home, no big deal. When I got home and couldn't make myself a chocolate milk, though, now THAT hurt. Oh, how I miss my chocolate milk!

Is It Ever Too Late?

In junior high and high school I spent my time with a group of friends that I adored. We did every thing together. We were a group of less than popular kids. How we found our way to each other was, well, a miracle. Without the love and support we received from each other we each may have been scared, lonely  and isolated teens, and that is never a good thing.

We made it possible for each to grow and even prosper and bloom in an environment that otherwise would have beat us down. We allowed ourselves to play like children. One mother liked telling the story of how she walked in to her kitchen one day to find us, four high school juniors, sitting on her kitchen floor, finger painting. Through each other we found it possible to dig and play in the snow while the other "popular kids" looked down their noses at us. Because we had each other we found ways to be ourselves, do what we enjoyed, and not worry about the bullies who never took the time to get to know us. We were able to stretch our childhood just a little longer, while maturing at the same time. This is something that teens now don't seem to get to do, I find that sad. Childhood disappears quickly enough without rushing it even more.

It was actually amazing,  the size of our little group of misfits became to be. It started out as a merger of two groups, for me anyway. There was my group of friends from Girl Scouts, I'd know most of them since fourth grade at least and some even longer. Tari was the smart one. She enjoyed new age things, Ouija boards, seances, and well, went out with my arch enemy,  Buck! I thought she was insane. I spent most of seventh grade hating Buck. He spent most of seventh grade pre-algebra class saying things like women belong in barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen, (you know much like four presidential candidates are saying now a days.) I kicked him in the shins many, many times, (if it weren't for the secret service, I'd like to do that to those four men.) Then in eighth grade much to my horror, Tari, (remember, I said she was the smart one,) started "going with" Buck. I was horrified! Tari, my best friend, with Buck the man of my nightmares! It was all just wrong, wrong I tell you. But that was how Buck, ended up in my circle of friends. And I am so glad he did. He ended up being one of those strong sources of support in what could have ended up being a lonely time of life.

Buck, it turned out was just saying all of those things about women to rile me up. He didn't really believe them. He, also was very smart and interested in all things new age. He and Tari were a very good fit. He was very quirky and well a little bit strange, but once you warmed up to him, you never had a more steadfast friend. He was a huge fan of Mork, from Mork and Mindy. Robin Williams was one of his heroes, I think. Buck could always make us smile, and grimace at the same time. His personality ranged from telling dead baby jokes, which I always found revolting, (remember we were in junior high), to Star Wars geek, (he saw that movie at least 7 times that I know of, and this was at a time when you had to stand in long lines to see a movie, no multiplexes, and it was only showing at one theater.) He was a very unique personality, one that I have never encountered since, and never expect to again. I know I will never look at another person and say "you remind me so much of my friend Buck." It just can not happen.

Tari and Buck stayed together through ninth grade. That's a long time for a junior high romance. During that time I became friends with Kathy. Kathy was a gentle soul. She was very very kind to me when I insisted on arguing with her one day that her name was not just Kathy. It had to be the shortened form of Kathrine. I, very arrogantly continued arguing with her about her own name. Why she ever stayed friends with me I will never know. I also argued with her that she had to like tomatoes. There was no way someone could NOT like tomatoes. Seriously, I argued with her about that too, again, why she stayed my friend baffled me. I am so glad she did, she ended up being one of my three closest friends all through high school. She was creative, independent, fun and an inspiration. I looked up to her, I respected her, she was braver than anyone I knew. Not brave in a "let's bungee jump off a bridge", but brave in a personal, "I am who I am" kind of way. She was the mother of the group, the one who would listen intently and let you cry on her shoulder. She was one of the four found finger painting on the kitchen floor with me.

Through Kathy I came to know Dawn. Dawn at that time, was a tiny, kind of mousy little thing. In fact our nick name for her came to be Mouse. Our previous contact had mostly been fighting over a chair in social studies in seventh or eighth grade. It was good humored fighting, nothing mean or evil. She got mean and evilness from others. The ones we all ended up protecting each other from. Dawn was a huge target of the school bullies. Especially Paula. Paula was mean, Paula was big, Paula was strong. Paula was the ever popular girl athlete that found it necessary to make Dawn's life a living nightmare. She did everything you know bullies will do. She would taunt, tease, push and hit. She picked up and threw Dawn over two rows of seats in the auditorium on day. We hated Paula, and her friends as well. Here's the thing about Dawn though, the more they pushed her the stronger she became. She stood her ground, she never backed down. She often ended up with bruises and bumps for it, but she always stood back up. She was a ferocious defender of her friends and what she thought was right. If someone was doing anything to hurt one of her friends, you would see this tiny little whirl wind come out of nowhere to defend and protect them. Where Kathy was the mother of the group, Dawn was the mother lion of the group. Dawn was brave in the bungee jump way. Her bravery also impressed and inspired me. Her bravery combined with her creativity made for some very fun and unique times.

Through Dawn, came Kelley. Kelley was the pretty one. She always had a boyfriend, she had a sensuality to her that boys liked. Not one that she flaunted, I don't know that she even knew she had it, but the boys saw it. She was a little rebellious in someways, but had a controlling mother that kept her from really getting out of hand. As much as Kelley pulled against that control I think perhaps now Kelley is thankful for it. I had known Kelley before, she was in my Girl Scout troop in fifth or sixth grade. We hadn't really become friends then. It wasn't until ninth grade that the third of my finger painting cohorts came into my life. She was the one who liked fashion, and wore makeup everyday. When us girls would be getting ready to go to a school event it was she and Dawn that would turn me in to a My Size Barbie and dress me up and put make up on me and make me presentable to the world. Something I never really cared much about, but it was fun and I always felt good when they were done. Kelley was kind, caring and generous, and is still to this day.

As life does, it took friends to different places. In between ninth and tenth grade Tari moved to Kansas City. That devastated me. I missed her terribly. She had been my friend since she moved to the neighborhood in fourth grade. Buck was even more devastated. I like to think his friendship with the rest of us helped him make it through that time. Every day after school we would go to Dawn's house, where fresh oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and Pepsi always waited for us. We would all joke and talk and sometimes cry together. Others joined our group of friends. Usually as boyfriends of Dawn or Kelley's. Buck was very good friends with David, Kelley's boyfriend. I know that friendship helped keep Buck grounded. Then after tenth grade Buck moved to Denver. That left a hole that could not ever be filled and we never tried. No one could ever replace Buck.

Through high school  we all stayed close. Us four girls especially. If I were somewhere Dawn, Kelley and Kathy were there, too. As we all strived to become independent our closeness sometimes seemed to get in the way, but never to the point where we stopped being friends. Even fighting over boys could not drive us apart. In the times when we thought we might hate one or another, our friendship always won out and we'd end up even closer.

Over the years since high school lives got busy and drifting occurred. Families have been raised, challenges triumphed over. The one constant I have always had, since then, was Dawn and Kelley. They have been my rock through hard times and my laughter in good. I know if I need one of them they will come through in ways way beyond my need. They helped me get through two weddings in three months with my sanity intact. Even the distance in miles has not changed that.

I have recently reconnected with Tari, which I am very excited about. I hope it continues. We may find out that we no longer have anything in common, but at least we have the opportunity to find out.

Sadly, the drifting from Kathy has gotten wider and wider. I miss her. She, Dawn, Kelley and I were the four musketeers. We were the finger painting high schoolers. We were inseparable. I found out the other day that her birthday is coming up. So, I got a card and wrote her a letter. It has been such a long time though. Is it ever too late to try to reconnect with old friends?

The Bathroom

Those of you who have been following my blog for the last year may remember that when we moved to our house the Bathroom was, well for lack of  better words, a 1960's nightmare with pink walls and ceiling, a bathtub with no real shower and a snotty nosed sink.

After some major elbow grease and a lot of time, we had put in a shower, and replaced the snotty nosed sink with a vanity and marble sink. Willie had torn the drywall off part of the walls, and put up some green board in its place. Then, we basically ran out of money. We lived with the bathroom in this half finished state for the last year. With two children getting married, and many trips back and forth to Des Moines needed, (and gas prices ridiculous, ) money just had to be spent elsewhere. So, a half done bathroom was calmly tolerated.

Then something remarkable happened. Willie had decided to take a careful look at his pay stub at the beginning of December.  His workplace had still been taking out taxes for the state of Iowa. We live in Illinois. They were taking taxes for both states. We only lived in Illinois. Once corrected we had a small windfall of cash, after the weddings, of course. We used the money to pay off an ER bill, and finally FINISH THE BATHROOM!!! 

The first order of business was to get the rest of the greenboard up. Willie did this all by himself while I was in Des Moines for my dad's birthday. He had never done drywall before and took his time. I'm sure he got frustrated and angry at it from time to time, but he got it done. Not only did he get it hung, but he got it mudded and sanded and primed as well. I was very proud of him when I got home. Even with only that much done, it looked a thousand times better.


With the hard part done, it was now my turn. It was painting time. For the most part, I enjoy painting. I love the instant gratification as the wall takes the new color and changes quickly from something undesirable to something much, much improved. I like stirring the paint and watching it recombine after separating while sitting and waiting for me. I love the feeling of the paint going from roller to wall. The sound of the roller as it glides across the wall. I pretty much like everything about painting. With the notable exception of the smell of the paint, and taping.

Willie and I carefully picked colors to match the tile in the shower we had built last year. I wanted three colors, one for the ceiling and trim, one for the main walls and one for the two small walls. It's not like I wanted purple, magenta and neon green, but Willie wasn't sold on the idea of three colors. I talked him into it, though. We ended up with a brown (two small walls), a dark tan ( the main walls) and a cream, (ceiling and trim). Though Willie was still not sure he let me have at it.

We decided to do the ceiling first. I don't know if that is the proper order, but I'm glad that is what we decided. I removed the shower curtain and rod, and everything else from the bathtub. I covered the tiles and tub with plastic and tape. I didn't have to worry about getting paint on the floor, and that was bliss! I didn't have to tape the walls at the top and that was even better. I was a happy painter.





I donned my favorite painting clothes. This pair of jeans and t-shirt have about every color from every house we have ever painted on them. I am a very messy painter. If I get paint on my hands, I wipe them on my jeans. I quite often forget and lean up against wet paint and get it on my t-shirt. Wearing the same clothes every time I paint just makes sense. I usually get paint in my hair, and on my face and arms and.... well you get the idea. Somehow, somehow, I did not get paint on Bazinga though. Not that he didn't try.

 After two days the main painting was done. Next up was the new door frames, and crown moulding. I took my time on them, to the point that I think I put Willie a little behind on what he wanted to do. I didn't want the paint to fill the groves in a way that made them disappear. He found other things to do as I was working on those. Now, while everything that needs painted is done, the frames and moulding are not up yet. We also plan baseboards. Sooooooo, I wont be posting photos until it is entirely finished. We are almost there though. I think we are done moving the vanity in and out of the bathroom. Willie got the flooring in while I was still painting the mouldings. It is shaping up very nicely and I cant wait to post before and after photos!

On a completely different note, look who's coming to see me tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!! I can't wait! Though, I guess, wait I must...... EXCITED!!!!!!!

Ever So Distressing News

 A week or so ago I heard the most terrible news. It frightened me to my very core. My soul was shattered and left scattered about the floor. I find myself compelled to share the news. I worry that you also will be shaken, and disturbed, but it is something you must know. The fate of America and everything we hold dear is in dire straights. If we can't reverse this horror of horrors, our children and grand children will be deprived of the most important of American traditions.

What could have happened to put such a terror through my very being? Brace yourselves, this news is very hard to hear. If you have children in the room you may want to turn the computer away from their sight line. Those who are easily set to tears may want to stop reading now.

Ok, here goes. A beloved American institution, has filed for bankruptcy. Hostess, the company responsible for Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Ho Hos may not be around for much longer. A shudder just went up my spine just thinking about it. There is something sad and dismal about the thought of a future America with out Twinkies readily available. What will state fairs shove on a stick, batter, deep fat fry, and and sell to fair goers? Ok, ok, bad example, state fairs do that to everything. Especially, the Iowa State Fair, that's why I love it so.  But I digress.....

My personal favorite of the Hostess treats are the Raspberry Zingers. The artificially flavored and colored raspberry goo, covered with coconut surrounding a cream filled Twinkie is a taste sensation that cannot be replaced. Zingers have gone through this before. The company that originated the Zinger, in an attempt to cut into the profit margins of the Twinkie and make some bucks themselves, Dolly Madison, went broke years ago. For whatever reason, Hostess decided to save the Zinger from total extinction. I was very grateful for this. Dolly Madison may have disappeared but my  Raspberry Zingers lived on. Who out there will save them this time?

Who will make these fabulous, if totally absent of nutritional value, snack cakes if Hostess can't find a way to survive? Who out there has the technology to create fake cream filled, pretend sponge cake wonders with the shelf life of an uncut diamond? How will Kahlen ever know the joy of digging into her lunch bag on a class field trip to find a squished up Ho Ho? Remember those special moments? First the disappointment of seeing your snack mushed up by the apple sitting on top of it, but then the excitement of pealing it off of the card board liner and licking the smashed remains off of the cellophane wrapper.

We must stop this tragedy in its tracks. Please, if you are reading this, stop! Get up and go to the store, buy a Twinkie, or Suzy Q, or my happy little favorite, a Zinger. Let's stop Hostess from going the way of Dolly Madison. You don't have to eat them, just buy them. Put them in a safe somewhere and one day you will have them for your great grandchildren. They will still be in perfect condition, barring a nuclear holocaust. Even then I hear that cockroaches and Twinkies will be all that survive.

A December Wedding

Photo by Katharyne Dunn Photography

My son got married on December 10, 2011! This year I have been the Mother of the Bride AND the Mother of the Groom with in three months of each other. Quite the year of strong emotions, crazy busyness and happy times. There were times the year flew at the speed of light and times I thought it would never be done. I honestly tried at one point to talk Josh and Caitlin into having their wedding in January or February, just to have a little more time between the two. They had their hearts set on December 10, two days after Josh's birthday and two days before Caitlin's, (something I think they will one day live to regret what with Christmas being in December as well. Ah, but they knew what they were doing.)

Photo by Katharyn Dunn Photography
If you have an event or want family
photos in the Des Moines Area
Look this Photographer up!

Caitlin had hoped for a snow storm a day or two before the wedding for pictures. A storm didn't happen, but we did have a little bit of snow on the ground, she had to have been freezing in this picture!

Josh and Caitlin's wedding was different than Alyssa and Shane's. Caitlin had always wanted to get married in her grandparents' church. With a church wedding comes a little longer ceremony, a little more tradition, and a bit more formality. As different as the two weddings were, both were so perfect.

The church was decorated for Christmas with large wreaths on the walls and very tall Christmas trees at the front. The colors used on the trees and wreaths were the same as the colors chosen by Caitlin for here bridal party. A happy coincidence, not planned in anyway. The church was beautiful, ready and waiting for a storybook December wedding.

The rehearsal the night before was a strange experience, I think in some ways all wedding rehearsals are. It was being run by two wedding coordinators from the church. One was a strange little man who was a bit of a control freak. And when I say bit, I mean complete and overwhelming, and when I say control freak, I mean ego maniacal dictator. That said, he did know his stuff. He just wanted things a little more formal perfect than the bride and groom. For instance, he told the groom, best man, groomsmen to stand up at the front like little soldiers with their hands at their sides, practically at attention. He barked his orders at them, "Ok, now, men, you are to stand up their, hands at your sides. No, Adam and Eve (he demonstrated by holding his hands together in front of him), no hands behind the back, no folded arms." They looked uncomfortable, and awkward, so Caitlin told them to practice the way he told them, then they all decided to hold their hands in front of them for the ceremony. They looked more comfortable, but I heard the wedding coordinator was not amused.

Mr. Coordinator also wanted Willie to follow Josh and I down the isle as he escorted me down to my seat. Willie didn't like that, so we decided to have him walk down with us with me in the middle. (Not the worst thing ever, I was wearing heels after all. )

The wedding the next day was beautiful. Josh looked every bit the grown up man about to be married. He was glowing as much as the bride. His tux fit him perfect, and as he stood up on the alter waiting for his bride to walk down the isle I was so proud of him, a tear welled up in my eye. His happiness filled the room.

The Mother of the Bride was escorted to her seat. Once there she and I went up to the alter and lit the candles that would be used by the bride and groom to light their unity candle. The candles that we were to light had the family names, Bair and Berry on them . As we got up to the candles we noticed that the candles were backwards. So, we quickly and quietly switched them, lit them and returned to our seats.  The bride's maids, Alyssa being one, and matron of honor entered and took their places. Alyssa looked very beautiful in her long burgundy dress and champagne colored sash. Her hair was up and to the side. It was curled in a way that framed her beautiful face, just so. Kahlen, the flower girl, wearing a champagne dress with a burgundy sash, and the ring bearer came marching down the isle, big toothy grins on both faces. Each bursting with pride, knowing that they were stealing the show. After all, Kahlen was an old pro at this sort of thing. She knew exactly what to do and how to do it. They both cooperated grandly, especially for being two year olds.

The intro to the wedding march signaled the arrival of the bride. Everyone stood up and watched as Caitlin, with her father at her side came down the isle. The lights on the wreaths, which had been dark, came on one by one as the bride and her father passed each one. She looked stunning. Her long veil flowing  gently behind her. Her dress sparkling but not as brightly as her eyes. Each step she took her smile grew wider as she looked at her groom waiting for her.  His eyes fixated on her, until finally she reached the alter.

The ceremony went well, their vows spoken, rings put on each of their fingers. Friends and family smiled and weeped tears of joy as the new bride and groom committed their lives to each other. Josh's sisters quietly watched and wiped their eyes as their only brother became a husband. Willie and I held hands, with Kahlen on my lap, as we witnessed another milestone in our only son's life.

I'm not sure who took this one...

Shane and Alyssa's Reception

Yes, yes I know that on the 24th Alyssa and Shane will have been married for four months. Time has slipped away so quickly this year. With two of my children getting married, then Christmas I lost all track of time. And for a while the idea of sitting at the computer to write anything was just one more thing to do in a time of too much to do, hence the long absence of blogs. Things have calmed nicely and many wonderful things have gone on. Now, I am going to try and catch up a little, even if it means talking about things from four months ago.

Going for the garter

I have learned something about myself through the past year. Though I love to take photographs, when I am in the middle of something, like my child's wedding, I forget to take pictures of my own. All of the pictures on this blog were taken by others. I haven't been able to get a hold of the photographer's photos yet, so most of these were taken on cell phones, except for two taken by my friend Dawn.

 The evening went very well. Except for one detail. You may remember from a previous blog that I made 300 meatballs and sauce for the reception. They were fine, as was the chicken alfredo provided by Shane's mom, Anita. The noodles that went with them, the noodles were, well, disgusting. They were an overcooked pasty nasty mess. It was my own fault though, I bought thin spaghetti, thinking they would be easier to cook, and cook faster, and well, that they did.

Father Daughter Dance

The rest of the evening was perfect though. There was music and dancing and friends and family. The bride and groom's first dance was perfect. They looked so happy. Kahlen danced around them as they danced. People watched from the tables and some eyes welled a little, ok yeah mine. They looked so beautiful and in love. They both were finally able to just relax and enjoy their wedding, and their day. The overwhelmed bride and groom to be, quickly settled into the excitement of being the new husband and wife. A calm washed over both of them and they took time to just be a couple.

 I have to admit though, it was the father-daughter dance that got me. I watched from the side as my husband and our beautiful daughter danced to Billy Joel's Lullaby. Willie had listened to many songs trying to pick a perfect song to dance to with Alyssa. He decided on that one. As they danced Kahlen danced and circled around them. As I watched them I couldn't help but weep. Weep, yeah right, I was out and out bawling the whole time.  It was so beautiful. Alyssa looking like an angle, Willie so handsome and dapper in his tux, and Kahlen fluttering around like a little happy pixie. It was my favorite part of the night.

Kahlen spent much of the night running around the dance floor. She ran and ran all night long. Every once in a while I would chase her down, take a cookie that she had grabbed of the food table, out of her hand, put a vegetable in her hand and send her on her way again. She would eat the vegetable, but soon had another cookie in her hand again. Eating was not her top priority, eating well was not on the agenda at all.

No, Alyssa did not use this fork to eat with.

When Kahlen wasn't running around happily, she spent a lot of time on the dance floor studying. She watched intently as people danced around her. She listened to the music, watched feet and hands, and then would try to dance along. She boogied the night away. She was the energizer bunny of flower girls. She never stopped. And somehow, and to this day I have no idea how, she never spilled anything on her dress. It was like she just knew that this was a special night, not just for her mommy and daddy, but for her as well. She seemed to understand that her family was celebrating the most important thing in her life. She was as happy as the bride and groom.

If this picture was a little clearer it would be one of my favorites.
I love the way Kahlen is watching us.

 And, Willie danced with me! Now, you have to understand, that was a big deal. Willie does not like to dance. He hates it as a matter of fact. I, on the other hand, love to dance. Not that I do it well, but I love it none the less. So, when Willie said he would dance with me, I was thrilled. Being the rare thing that it was, people got up and started snapping pictures. Alyssa even made the photographer get her camera back out to take a picture. As flashes went off around us, Willie got self conscious. He also hates having his picture taken. I kept telling him to just ignore them and look at me. We laughed and it was a wonderful dance.

As the night ended we cleaned up the hall and Alyssa and Shane sat down to breath. Both happy with the way the day and night went, they prepared to leave. They chased Kahlen down and got her to stand still long enough to give her hugs and kisses. Then, leaving her with Willie and me, they left for a night to themselves. Now husband and wife, a new life in front of them.