Glimmers

Small town America has seen its better days. The current recession and recessions of the past have been very hard on small towns all over the country. The ones that have been able to survive are the ones close to a larger city. Most of those have, however been usurped by said cities and become almost suburbs. They don't have the same identity that they used to have. They seem to be minor extensions of the city. One boundary blurring into the next.


Those far away from the cities have not fared well. People have left. Those left behind often have to travel far to find jobs, gas prices making it harder and harder to stay.  They consider leaving, wondering what keeps them where they are.

Buildings crumbling around them many find it very hard not to move on. Yet they find a way to stay. They wonder if it is resilience or fool hardiness.

 

People in small towns have a connection to their town that city dwellers can't fathom. There is a sense of community that is unmatched. People look out for each other. People wave to each other when they drive by, even if they don't know each other. Willie loves that. He loves the friendliness. A small town is much more like an extended neighborhood. That I think is why people stay.

There is a pride that can not be denied. That leads to a hope for a better future for their home. They can still see the town as it once was. They remember the days when buses brought customers to the many antique stores. They remember the faces of the people anxious to find a bargain or a treasure. They hope the day will come again and revive their sleepy town.

There are glimmers of hope, at least here. Some of the empty buildings have been reoccupied, and some have been restored to their former beauty. There is a long way to go, but the journey has begun. Whether it can be sustained is a question only the future can answer.

There are many beautiful old homes here. Many at bargain prices. Which is probably part of the reason so many stay. They can't get enough out of their homes to make a move possible. Many of the homes that Willie and I looked at last fall are still for sale. Our home was on the market for over a year before we bought it. We have twice as much home at half the price here. I can walk to much of what  I need.  Bazinga and I can take our walks without fear, even after dark.

I can see people thinking there is nothing to keep them here. There is no shopping mall, no grocery store, not even a Wal Mart. But all of that is within a twenty minute drive. Honestly, even in a city you probably have to be on the road for twenty minutes to get to most of that stuff anyway. In the city that twenty minutes is spent fighting traffic. Here it is a more quiet drive.

It is a more quiet life in general. It takes some getting used to. It takes time to adjust. The little world that is a small town is not for everyone. But for those that grow up in it and choose to stay, their little town is worth staying in, worth fighting for. Worth hoping for a better future for the town they call home.

Lasting Beauty

Bazinga and I went for a long walk today. It is so beautiful outside I couldn't resist. I took my camera along because there are some very beautiful old churches and buildings here in our little town. Some are still in good shape some are not. Some are being rebuilt, some were destroyed in a fire a few years back.

The history of a town is found in its buildings and especially churches. Small towns in particular were and many still are very centered around their churches. The church was the meeting place, community activities were planned and carried out there. The church as a community center even more important in towns where the school was in another town. 

The Presbyterian church built in 1902

 

The Sunday School room

Rossville has four churches that were built in the early twentieth century. Two of which are still churches, two are not. It always makes me a little sad to see an old church that is no longer a place of worship, no matter what religion it housed.  It is so easy to imagine the people that once filled the building with laughter and tears. You can see their faces as they watched their babies being baptized , their children being married, and their parents being eulogized. You can still hear the songs of praise being sung by the choir. You wonder how they would feel about their beloved church now being an antique store. 

Not sure when this was built, now an antique store

Built 1903, now the Rossville Historic Society

   

As years have come and go, and times changed what looks like it used to be a fairly prosperous town at one time has become less so. Many have moved away. Businesses have closed. The churches still stand. The architecture is unmatched now. Churches, mostly because of financial restraints are found in many different forms now. Some are in prefabricated buildings, some are even in strip malls. The beauty going by the wayside. Churches have more important things to spend the every dwindling sums of money that come in through the collection plate. Most congregations, I'm sure, would prefer to have a glorious church, but understand that the services provided are more pressing.

The Methodist Church, built 1903

Even the churches with the resources to build the church that they want can not compare to the simple beauty of the old churches. No matter how grand and ornate the new building is, it is never as welcoming as the old brick country church. 

And once again my camera has freaked out on the date in these photos, they were all taken today, March 19th, 2011, not thirty years from now.

A BLOOM!!!!

Crocuses, I love them! They are the first flower that blooms every spring. Sometimes even pushing their way up through winter's last snow. They have always seemed to me to be the bravest of flowers.  They find their way through the snow and debris left over from fall. They ignore the elements as they search for the warmth of the sunshine. Once broken through, they open themselves up to the nourishing rays of the sun. They soak up every drop, until they can hold no more.

The life of a crocus bloom is a short one. Their heroic journey ends quickly and quietly. The delicate nature of the tiny bloom withers away in an instant. You have to be vigilant if you want to enjoy their beauty. You need to watch for them everyday. If you skip a day you will miss them, which would be a shame. I was so happy when we found these in our garden. We were lucky to find them still blooming.

Spring is here!

A Day in the Life of Bazinga

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," Bazinga whimpers as he scratches at his kennel. Bazinga, being  a very polite little fellow wakes us every morning with quiet little noises. He has never once found it necessary to bark or howl us awake. Good for him, if he woke me that way we would probably both die. First me of a heart attack and then my ghost would probably kill him. He lets us know he is ready to start the day and thinks it is time for us to be ready, too. Unfortunately, he doesn't always understand that he doesn't need to be up and moving as soon as the sun comes up. They really need to make clocks in dog language.

Up and moving we start the day with a trip outside. Some mornings he finishes quicker then others. He likes to roam and investigate his little world and be sure that everything is as it should be. I like to go out and come back in, I'm still sleepy, he is not. It is not the best combination, I'd like to think I win these struggles, but around the whole yard we go. Bazinga, is quite a thorough investigator. He sniffs and checks, what seems like, every blade of grass and every piece of dirt. "Look at this! Can I eat it? Oh, no look at this! Can I eat it? Wait, wait, wait, you HAVE to look at this! Can I eat it?"  Yeah,  that will surely come back to haunt us later.

Back inside he eats his breakfast and starts searching the house. His goal, Mia! Bazinga loves his kitty. Kitty is his most favorite toy EVER! He looks in the kitchen, he looks in the bedroom, finally there she is! She is sitting on a dining room chair. He runs up to her, "you want to play? You want to play? You want to play?" He asks excitedly. He pops his head up and peaks at her on the chair. He tries to nibble on her foot. She growls and bops him on the nose. She pretends to hate him. He jumps up and nips at her again. She clobbers him, and bites him on the nose.

"Get lost, brat!"Mia yells at him. She jumps down from the chair and runs to the stairway and waits for him. He runs after her and bites her on the tail. She runs up two steps, he runs up three. "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you!" He nips at her, she clobbers him. She runs up two steps he runs up three. "I'm not touching you!" King of the hill seems to be a favorite game of theirs. They get to the top of the stairs and both seem baffled at what to do next. Neither of these animals are all that clever. Bazinga decides that a nip on the nose is in order, and Mia replies with a hiss and a slap. She runs into the bathroom and jumps up on the toilet seat. She lays down, he jumps at her. She is a very lazy fighter. She always finds the high ground, lays down and bats at Bazinga below. Bazinga has not yet figured out that he can jump up on things. This works well in Mia's favor.

Bored with Mia and her lazy ways, Bazinga moves on. He has several toys that must be killed on a regular basis. These toys forget their place in the world quite often and must be reminded. The only way to remind them is to attack them and shake them until they are dead. He quite often kills his toys in front of Mia. "This is what I will do to you! And this, and this" he says as he shakes his toys into submission. Mia looks at him, clobbers him and moves on.

"You will have to get me first," she grumbles. That dog forgets his place in the world quite often and she must remind him.

Unscathed, Bazinga, now exhausted from his very productive morning must pass out. He comes up to the couch and asks to be picked up. Once up, he conks out.

Ten minutes later he is up and ready to go out again. Around the yard, grass, dirt, leaves. Back in, eat, search, bite Mia, kill toys. It is a very busy world that Bazinga lives in. He has much to do and no support to get them all done. We humans even have the gall to take his toys and throw them when he is busy trying to kill them. It ruins his rhythm. It throws his whole day off balance. What's a dog to do?

Unwelcome Guests

I had a visit from my two least favorite friends today. Loreal and her best friend forever Vanity. They are crafty folk. They come, they taunt, and they over stay their welcome.

Vanity is the worst of these two evil witches. She shows up first. She looks you up and down and points out every flaw you have. She finds your weaknesses and preys upon them. If you have been worried about a little weight gain, she makes you feel even worse. She can make five pounds feel like fifty. Make ten pounds feel like one hundred, and anything more than that, you need to be lifted out of your house with a helicopter.   Noticed a few new gray hairs, she will make them glow in the dark. One or two multiple to one thousand and exponentially reproduce before your very eyes. That little wrinkle by your mouth, the grand canyon, getting deeper and deeper with every uncomfortable smile. She is very sly with her criticisms. She hones in on your deepest, darkest fears, sweeps in and devours what little confidence you may have. She leaves you feeling empty, deflated, a popped balloon after a fourth of July parade.

Today she started with my hair. "Your roots," she started, "your roots are showing. And that frizz, really, what are you thinking." I tried not to listen. I hate dying my hair. It is stinky and messy. "Really, isn't it time to hide those age spots?" I try to not be a vain person. I hate wearing make up. I hate the way it feels on my skin. My eyes tend to be itchy and watery, putting make up on them just seems to be asking for trouble. Besides, if God wanted my eyelids to be smokey, he'd set fire to my cheeks. Yet, Miss Vanity finds a way to make us think that if we don't look exactly as she says we should, we fail as human beings. Fail miserably, beyond any hope for recovery.

That's when BFF Loreal sweeps in. Loreal is pure beauty. She is flawless and perfect. Not a blemish or gray hair, never an ounce overweight. She looks at you with a "poor baby" smile, and strokes your cheek. "Oh, Honey" she coos as she shakes her head. She lures you closer. She draws you in. On the outside she is perfect. She leads you to believe that with her help you could be too. On the inside, she is the definition of faux. Her soul empty, false, chemically reproduced. Her goal, get you to cover everything that makes you, you and get you to try to be just like her. She sets this goal very high. High enough that you can never reach it. Her beauty is airbrushed, not real, lofty. It is manufactured, not natural, phony. We are still to reach for it. If we don't we are unkempt, frumpy, a loser. If we do, we are disappointed, making us try harder, just to be disappointed again. We get sucked in. We buy into the impossible dream, again and again. It is a viscous cycle of humility and shame.

I gave in to Vanity and Loreal today, fixed my roots and spent a ridiculous amount of money on makeup. I have an interview on Thursday and Vanity convinced me that if I don't look youthful, I won't even get considered. She convinced me that pushing fifty is a sin against nature, and it must be covered up.

I like to say that if growing old gracefully was good enough for Katherine Hepburn, then it is good enough for me. Most of the time I truly believe that. Most of the time I am comfortable in my own skin. Most of the time. Grace is normally my shield against Vanity and Loreal. Today, grace fell by the wayside and the sinister sisters found their way in. They succeeded.

YUM!

I love to bake. I am not the best at it but I like to give it a good try anyway. When I do bake I usually use a mix. I am, it seems, prone to forget an ingredient every once in a while. That's why I like a good mix, less chance of leaving something important out.  For instance, one Christmas I decided to make bread pudding for breakfast. I had bought a beautiful loaf of panatone  bread at Panera just for the occasion. I followed the directions in the recipe, or so I thought. I soaked the bread in the custard mixture for an hour. Poured it all into the pan and into the oven. It came out perfect. I scooped up its deliciousness and dolloped it with a spoonful of homemade whipped cream. With anticipation I took the first bite. Something was very wrong. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't right. I tried to figure out what I had done wrong. I went through all of the steps in my head. What did I do. Instead of bread pudding it tasted more like french toast. I forgot the sugar! Of all things to forget in a bread pudding I forgot the sugar! We decided since it tasted like french toast we would just put pancake syrup on it. Not what I had imagined for Christmas morning but it ended up just fine.

Sunday I decided to try my hand at making cinnamon rolls from almost scratch. In other words, I bought a hot roll mix and made it from there. This is a step up, I usually make them from a tube. Valerie had made cinnamon rolls this last Christmas and they were wonderful, so I had the confidence to give it a go myself. I followed the directions on the mix. I heated up the water and poured it into the mix.

I forgot the yeast. I looked at the mix with the water sitting in it. I looked at the yeast. I was supposed to mix the yeast in before I put the water in. What to do now? I knew for sure with out the yeast they would be ruined. I went ahead and threw the yeast in, and mixed it into the flour that was still dry and hoped. I followed the rest of the directions, reading them three times for each step.

I kneaded the dough for exactly five minutes, I used the timer on the microwave just to be precise. I know that baking is a science as much as an art. When I cook, I throw things in willie nillie, I don't tend to measure. When I bake, I follow the directions. I figure people smarter and more experienced then me figured this all out. I rolled the dough.

I made the filling. Now here, I did my own thing. I knew this was not a part of the chemical process. I had fun. I softened the butter and stirred in some vanilla extract. I spread it all over the dough. I mixed brown sugar, pumpkin pie spice, and some nutmeg together and spread that all over the butter. I used the pumpkin pie spice instead of just cinnamon for the extra flavor. I wanted something crunchy. I didn't think to buy nuts at the store. What to use? I remembered I had sunflower kernels in the freezer. I didn't know how that would turn out, but I didn't know if they were even going to rise right so I figured what the heck and tossed them on.

I rolled them and cut them and got them into the pan. Now, the hardest part of all, time to let them rise. I covered them with cellophane and a towel and set the timer for thirty minutes. Would they rise? Would all of this effort be rewarded or be in vain. I went and found other things to do for the eternal thirty minutes.

Beep, beep, beep. I went to the kitchen. I lifted the towel. They hadn't risen. There was a little puffiness but they were not double the size. My heart fell.

I have a double oven that I love. I had been preheating the lower oven for the rolls. The upper oven was warm but not hot, I decided to put the rolls int there to see if I could get them to rise. I put the towel back on. I put them in the oven and shut the door. I set the timer and waited, less then patiently, once again.

Beep, beep, beep. I go to the kitchen, I open the oven door. Slowly, I peal away the towel peaking under it like I was expecting something to pop out at me. TAH DAH! They raised! I clapped in glee! I happily put them into the lower oven and went to do something else. And forgot to set the timer.

 Luckily, I remembered soon enough and kept a good eye on them. I pulled them from the oven and they looked scrumptious. I happily made the glaze and poured it all over them. The brown sugar had caramelized on the bottom making them crunchy, and gooey and delicious! The sunflower seed kernels worked very well giving that nutty goodness I had wanted. Despite almost forgetting the yeast, the project was quite a success!

Daylight Savings Time

Spring is, as you may have guessed, my favorite season of the year. The flowers, the warmth, the longer days all make me feel as though I have been brought back from the edge of darkness. I love the sun staying out longer. Being able to pull out the grill after work, (when I had a job), throw on some burgers and not have to use a flash light to finish cooking them. The sunlight is infectious. It gives me a sense of well being, a weight lifted from my shoulders.

Then, daylight savings time sets in. Daylight savings time is a good concept, thought up by Ben Franklin. His reasoning was to keep people from wasting the daily sunshine by sleeping through it. He also considered the idea of setting off a cannon at a certain time every morning to wake people, again to keep them from sleeping through the sunshine. Of the two, I believe daylight savings time was the better choice. If someone shot off a cannon every morning, I'd have to hurt them.

We are a very fickle people when it comes to daylight savings time. The first week of it is when we have our most mixed emotions about it. First we lose an hour of sleep the first night of it. It occurs on a weekend, so many Americans at least have the next day off, but most do not. Those that have to work that first Sunday have a hard time of it. They may even forget to change their clocks and end up late for work that day. That lost hour of sleep making them groggy and a little cranky. It doesn't end there. Even those that don't have to work until Monday have trouble resetting their inner clock to the new time. Suddenly, it is dark in the morning again when getting ready for work. That, itself, is disconcerting. Coffee is just not enough to jump start the morning. We feel all jumbled up inside, trying to get through a normal day.

Somehow, we get through the day that seemed longer than normal. We get ourselves together and leave for home. We walk outside, and there it is, the daylight we are saving. It lifts our spirits. We consider what we can do outside when we get home. We enjoy our drive home and look forward to the evening. We stop at the drive thru for supper so we can have a little extra time to bask in the sunlight. We play with the kids or take the dog for an extra long walk before we eat. We spend a little extra time looking at the sunset. We enjoy daylight savings time. Until tomorrow morning, when it will be dark again when we have to get out of bed. We are a fickle people.

Willie and I took advantage of the first day of daylight savings time yesterday. We raked  leaves, stinky ginkgo fruit and other debris from our back yard gardens. We found many plants slowly scraping their way to the sunlight. I imagined what I would plant as the weather warmed. Impatiens, snapdragons, daisies and alyssum flowed through my mind the way a spring flows through a forest.

Willie found new homes for some of our favorite statuary, including the windmill that Joshua made in high school and the butt frog that he hated. Willie started his yearly Where's Waldo with his beloved Iowa Hawkeye rock that the kids had gotten him one year for his birthday. He moves that rock from place to place every year trying to find the perfect place for it. I don't think I have ever seen it in the same place for more than a week at a time. We got a lot done yesterday, and rewarded ourselves with a trip into Danville to Penn Station. Willie ordered his favorite chicken teriyaki sandwich. I decided to be a little healthier than normal and ordered a grilled vegetarian sandwich. I felt I needed to, I had made big old cinnamon rolls for breakfast and ate two.

We got home, and what Willie likes to call "a good tired" overcame us both. Willie started a fire and we settled down to watch movies we rented on the way home. Our first day of daylight savings time was a success.

I Have a New Mission in Life!

It has been months, it feels like, since I have had a good nights sleep. It is making me a little punchy, and just a tad bit violent. Poor Willie is walking on pins and needles, on top of egg shells, on top of thin ice not knowing when I am going to lose it completely. Every morning I get up and feel ready to kick the crap out of anyone who gets in my way.

Why? Why, you ask? HOT FRICKEN FLASHES!


I know, I know, you have heard this from me before. But I spend all evening freezing to death on the couch under a blanket. Then, after wasting an unbelievable amount of time online, I find myself ready to go to bed. I go upstairs. I brush my teeth, wash my face. I put on my pajamas, I wear summer pajamas all year long now a days. I get into bed still feeling a little chilly. I climb under the blanket. I snuggle up next to Willie, and close my eyes. 5... 4... 3.... 2... 1....... AAAUUURRRGGGG!!!!!! The blankets come flying off! The cat flees in terror! The dog whines in horror! The sweat starts forming all over my body, the nausea overwhelms me! I lay there in bed holding my stomach waiting for the dreaded hot flash to subside. I feel helpless and anxious.  I consider the idea of sleeping in the bathtub, or the refrigerator or better yet the freezer in the basement. Yeah, yeah, thats it, the freezer..... I consider getting up to head down to the basement, and finally it stops. I drift off to sleep.

Ten minutes later....... I am now fricken freezing to death! I wake up shivering. The sweat that covered my body has turned against me. It feels as though it has turned into a layer of ice covering every inch of my skin. I yank the covers back on. Again, causing the cat to flee and the dog to whine. I burrow in next to Willie in a desperate attempt to get warm. Finally, I drift back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later........ Are you KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!! Blankets fly off, cat flees, dog whines...... This pattern repeats at least five more times. Somehow, Willie sleeps through it all. Which I'm glad of, he works hard and needs his sleep. I finally doze off again, this time maybe for a WHOLE HOUR....

5:00 am...... BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! Willie's alarm is going off, and going off, and going off...... Yes, he sleeps through that as well. I consider, for a moment, letting him know his alarm is going off by grabbing him by the hair, ripping his head off and throwing it at the alarm clock!!!! Then I remember his hair is only 1/4 of an inch long, this plan will not succeed. So, I opt for the gentle nudge, he still snores. Perhaps a subtle push off the bed would work better..... I try the gentle nudge again, this time it works, he gets up and turns off the alarm. I drift back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later..... yeah, yeah, you know the drill.

Finally, I get to sleep again. The dog starts scratching at his kennel and whimpering. It's now 7:00 am, he needs to go out. I get up, we go down stairs. It is 29 degrees outside. Do you think I'd get a hot flash NOW? You know, when it would be USEFUL!!! Of course not! We go out, I freeze, he poops. We come back in, yeah, I'm not going back to sleep now.

So, what is my new mission in life? What is the one thing I plan on dedicating my entire life to? I plan on finding out that one element of nature that thought hot flashes were a good idea, hunting it down and destroying it! There must be some (male) fairy, troll, or magical being somewhere that inflicted this upon us women of a certain age that I can dismember. First, I will pull off its stupid little wings, then, then, its little whiskers, one by one by one......  ha ha... hahaha ha ha...... HA HA.... mmmmwhaaa HAHA HA HA!!!!!!

Ok, forgive me, but I must now go to my happy place....

Changed the Look

What do you think? Leave a comment if you like. I think it is a little easier on the eyes. I like the way it puts a white boarder around the photos. Reminds me of the old polaroids my dad used to take when I was a kid. These are just some old photos I took years ago with my blackberry.

Hometown

Valerie by our old house in Booneville, Iowa

A friend of mine, Amy, posted a question on Facebook yesterday, "Your "hometown".... would that be where you were born or where you spent most of your childhood or where you graduated high school or where you have lived the past 14 years?"

That got me to thinking. It is easy for me to name my hometown, Des Moines, Iowa. I was born there, I went to school there, I got married there, you get the picture. I have only really had four years of my life when I didn't live in or around Des Moines. All of my good memories are in central Iowa. I lived in Waterloo, Iowa for two years while I was in college. That was a very hard time, no money, no car, but luckily, I had Willie and good friends to help me through.

Alyssa tooling around our old neighborhood

As I said, I automatically think of Des Moines as my hometown, not a blink about it. So, I was surprised to look at my kids' Facebooks and see that they have Van Meter, Iowa listed as their hometown. No reason for it to seem weird, that is where they grew up. We lived in Van Meter for years. Valerie graduated from Van Meter High School. For some reason however it still took me aback to think that my children do not consider my home town as their hometown. Why? I'm not sure. Is it just a self centered view that made me think that my children would think of my hometown as their hometown. Is it just that my idea of home is so ingrained in my very soul that I just assumed that my children would feel the same? Is that what home means?

My husband was an army brat. He moved from place to place, country to country. He was born in Hawaii, but still feels his hometown is Des Moines as well. Why? He didn't spend all of his childhood there. He didn't even spend most of it there. That is where his parents families were though. It is where his grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins were. That is where his parents called home. Even though he moved from place to place his idea of home was derived from his parents idea of home.

Joshua taking a break from the races

It's funny to me that while Willie got his idea of home from his parents, my children did not. I'm sure it is because of the very different up bringing. Willie moved from place to place, my children, for the most part lived mainly in central Iowa, and they spent their elementary years mostly in Van Meter. Is that the age where the idea of "hometown" begins? Since I lived in the same house from the day I was born until the day I left for college, I guess I will never know.

Being far away from home has definitely enhanced my feelings about hometown. While the place its self is important, I think home has more to do with people. Our friends, our families. Where we spent the most time with them, where we have the best memories of them. Maybe our true hometown is really in our soul, our very being.

This is how I answered Amy's question, "Your hometown is the place that makes you happiest to think about, and that gives you warm, happy feelings inside. The place where your heart first woke up and wants to go back to when you aren't there." So, instead of Des Moines in particular, I would have to say that central Iowa in general is my true hometown. Des Moines, Van Meter, Altoona, all are my hometown. I grew up in those places, I raised my family in those places. I made great and lasting friendships in those places. One day I hope to return to one of those places to spend many more happy years with my family and their growing families.

Willie, Alyssa and Joshua in "the circle"

On a different note, with the disaster that is occurring in Japan right now, please stop to say a prayer for all of those in harms way. Let us hope that most will return to their hometowns safely, wherever they are.

I Need Some Inspiration

As some of you may know I am having trouble finding a new job here in my new home. I have put out many applications. The only one I heard back on was for another pharmacy tech job. I know this will sound very selfish in such a poor economy but I truly, truly just do not want to work in another pharmacy. I found it turning me into a very cynical person. Dealing with insurance companies that don't want to pay for drugs that a patient needs, being yelled at by drug seekers, watching a parent smoking in his car while selling him an asthma medication for his child sitting next to him.  I really think I am just done with all of that. We moved here to decrease Willie's stress, I don't think I should have to increase mine.

My friend Dawn has given me a lot of good ideas for working from home. This would be a great option. My grand daughter is the light of my life and I don't do well when I can't see her on a regular basis. With two weddings coming up this year, and my brother and father being in fragile health, having a flexible schedule would be the best. Something that I could bring with me, if needed, and do work from Des Moines as need be. I also, being the fair minded person that I tend to be (which doesn't always serve me well), don't think it is right to ask a new employer to give me the time off I need for the weddings and for emergency situations that may arise if my father or brother need me to come home. It's a six hour drive, at best speed. A trip home takes time.

Now, what could I do? There's the rub. I'm thinking about trying to make something and sell it online, but what? I love making things. I just don't know how to make any one thing well enough to sell. So, that means learning something new and practicing until I get it right. I've thought about candles. The thing is, they would have to be unscented. I could learn to make decorative candles, but would people buy them with out scent? I can not be the only person in the world that coughs up a lung when she is around a burning scented candle. I love burning candles but since they almost always are saturated by a thick, overwhelming and yes, throat closing, lung collapsing fragrance, I can't. So, is there a market for beautiful but UNSCENTED candles out there? Maybe, this is something I should find out.

Of course the next problem is that I have no idea how to make candles. As a child in Girl Scouts I made hand dipped candles and sand candles, but a decorative candle, not so much. Must learn. Anyone know any good websites that can help me learn? I googled last night and seemed to only to find sites selling the materials, which of course will be helpful, too, eventually.

What else to do? What other ideas are out there? Dawn, suggested dog grooming. While I get a long with my crazy little dog, I'm a little afraid of other dog's teeth. Even the Dog Whisperer gets bit now and then, I can't imagine I would fair any better.

Gramma Needs a New Camera

Valerie got me a camera for Mother's Day a couple of years ago just before Kahlen was born. I like the camera a lot. It is a small Kodak camera, it fits in my pocket, I can take it anywhere. I love all of that. I have used the camera extensively. I don't want to replace my little camera, but would love to have one that has more creative control. I wish I could have been able to zoom in more on the variations of color caused by the rain on this tree. I thought they were fascinating.

My hope is to one day get a new Nikon 35 mm SLR digital camera. Are they still called SLR? I never thought I would like a digital camera. I have to admit that the instant gratification of the digital camera has won me over. I'm not the most patient person.

I would love to have more control of depth of field and focus especially. I was looking out my window today and saw a tree branch with water droplets hanging on to its buds. I wanted a picture of it. I tried and tried, but my little camera just wasn't made to get in close. It also wanted to focus on things that I really did not want to focus on. It made me sad. I loved the little droplets and the way the light hit them. This picture was the best I could get.

I did get one picture that made me happy though. I was raking the stinky ginkgo fruit and the probably two years worth of leaves outside the back door yesterday when I found these. The leaf debris had left them starved for sunshine. I believe them to be daffodils. I can't wait to find out for sure. We have found other patches of plants that are growing up through the leaves and pine needles. It has been exciting. Not just finding the plants, but because it means spring is really truly here.

The new camera will have to wait. Other things are more pressing. For some reason bills need to paid first, go figure. I will keep taking less then perfect pictures with my little camera. I will keep posting them here. Please, be kind when looking at my take of my little world. It is the only world I have right now, it makes me happy to share it.

International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day. I'm not sure when it became a special day to look at women's accomplishments, I'm sure it was probably back in the 70's when the fight for the Equal Rights Amendment was strong. I remember much of that time. I remember women marching in the streets on both sides of the argument. I couldn't understand why anyone would march against people having equal rights. Any people anywhere. I know that some argued that it was unnecessary that the Constitution protected the rights of all. Others said that the fact that it specified that all "men" are created equal was simple proof of the need for the amendment.

I remember one woman in particular that was fighting against it. I don't remember her name, I do remember her being older and wearing very high collars. She was adamantly apposed to the ERA as it came to be widely known. She was not one saying that it was unnecessary because it was just wording. She wanted to keep women at home and in the kitchen. This baffled me at the time. The way I saw it this woman was out and working and not at home taking care of her family but wanted to make sure that other women didn't have the same choice. She was the dictionary definition of the word hypocrite. She was out doing exactly what she wanted to do, but no other woman should be allowed that choice. She and her cronies at the time did find a way to defeat the ERA, but she did not defeat the movement.

I look back, I had choices my mother would have never had, my daughters have even more choices then I. It is not a perfect world this is true. Women are still given a hard time in male dominated fields. But women are in these fields. I remember very vividly thinking that men were doctors and women were nurses as a child. Even when my oldest child was born 26 years ago there was still that expectation. It was getting much better, there were many women doctors by then. However, I had bought my daughter a doctors kit for Christmas, and a play tool set. I though they were wonderful gifts. My in laws, they asked me why didn't I get her a nurse's kit. I was shocked to say the least. They actually thought my choice of a doctor's kit was wrong, to the point that they went out and bought Valerie a nurse's kit to have at their house. We as a people have advanced.

That was the generation that they grew up in. They truly thought I was wronging my daughter by letting her think she could be a doctor. Our children and grandchildren know they have choices now. If a woman wants to be a doctor, there is no reason that she can not reach that goal. On the flip side if a man wants to be a nurse, he can also do that. Unfortunately there is still a stigma chasing him down. It is not a "you can't do that" it is an "why do you want to do that" stigma. The fight for equal rights wasn't just about women, it benefited men as well. There are more men in traditionally women's fields then ever. It is still more of a shock to see a male nurse then a female doctor though. I'm not sure if that is a plus for women or a negative for men.

I sometimes worry about the fact that so much emphasis has been put on girls in the schools. There is so much worry about girls math scores, girls science scores, to which I am not apposed. If the emphasis on girls scores comes at the expense of the boys scores, then I worry. Equality can not be gained at the expense of another  group. Especially when that group is still in school. Isn't there a way to lift both groups with out leaving one behind?

Our country has come very far in the reach for equality among the genders. Again, it is not a perfect world, but it has come along. We can chose to become what we would like to be in most cases. There is still a long way to go, sure, but the ground work has definitely been put down and is becoming more stable with each year that passes. In this country.

Other countries, especially in the developing world, women are not so lucky. Not only are they denied the right to choose a profession, they are denied the right to schooling and even thinking for themselves. They have no rights. They can't own property. Their children can be stolen from them if the father decides he wants a new wife. The are mutilated as children so that they will not enjoy sex, so that they are less likely to sleep with anyone but their husbands. They can be stoned to death for anything that men in their lives decide they have done wrong. Due process is a far away dream. I don't know how to help these women. They are in  male dominated societies, they have no hope for the future.

We as a country forget about these women most of the time. We go on with our lives and maybe think about them once in a while when there is something on the news. We gasp in horror about the stories we hear. But we feel helpless, it is so far away.



If you are like me and live in a loving household, be thankful and let your loved ones know how much you love them.

We live in a country full of possibilities. Let's remember those without.

Milkshakes and Shopping

 Kahlen and I decided to go shopping one day last week. We went to the "mall" in Danville and had a good time going from shop to shop. At first, Kahlen was not in the mood to hold hands as we went into the stores. I however thought that keeping her close was a better idea. The first store we went in she pulled away and would not let me hold her hand. I turned us around and told her that if she didn't she couldn't go into the store. She was willing to hold my hand out in the hallways, so I tried a different store. Again, she tried to pull away. We turned around and left the store once more. That must be when the diva in Kahlen came through. Suddenly shopping was more important than walking on her own. We went back in the store and she cooperated beautifully. 

We had a good time looking at all of the things we couldn't get. The pretty Easter dresses, the cute little shoes, and then there were the things for Kahlen, too. We drooled over the clearance coats and boots, but had to pass them by. Funding for our shopping trip was meager, but it was still better than sitting at home. We did end up buying a plate and a spoon and fork for Kahlen. They were very springy. They had butterflies and pink flamingos, very happy, very Kahlen. 

After our not so productive but fun shopping trip we were both hungry. We decided to go across the street to Steak n Shake. We waited for our turn to be seated and ordered our drinks, ice tea for me and chocolate milk for Kahlen. We had our lunch and decided to order ourselves a chocolate covered strawberry milkshake. MMMMMM it was delicious! We took turns drinking it. We both enjoyed it very much! Until......

Suddenly, there they were. the crazy eyes.  I'd seen them before. They are not the sign of good things to come.


Soon after the crazy eyes popped up the wiggles started. Kahlen started shimmying and shaking in her chair. She started pulling herself back and forth to the table. Yup, it was the sugar high. It was hitting hard and it was hitting fast. Life in the sugar high world moves like bald tires on an icy road, at the speed of light and unpredictably. It was time to leave. We got back in the car and went to take Grandpa some lunch. The drive consisted of loud singing and lots of giggles. The shoes and socks were ripped off of the feet.

We got to Grandpa's work and the sugar high had set in %100. She was ready to run. We went to the break room and Kahlen set to rearranging the chairs. This seemed to be just the ticket for the sugar high. She moved chairs all over the break room. She chatted with Grandpa, and whoever else would listen. She ran back and forth until the crazy eyes started to fade away, being replaced with the sugar crash cranks. This timed out perfectly with the end of Grandpa's lunch hour. We said goodbye to Grandpa and headed home. The drive home..... quiet, the sugar crash had set in %100.

Nap Time

Naps, as children we hated them. We did whatever we could think of to avoid them. We kept ourselves awake as long as we could, while our parents yelled at us to lay down. Kahlen is no exception. She does not like going down for a nap. To her it is a waste of time, much like a diaper change. It cuts into an otherwise productive day and ruins the flow. I think it literally breaks her heart to have to take a nap. Without one though, life would not be good for anyone else. She still takes two naps a day, and needs them both. She plays so hard in between that sometimes she just passes out while playing. 

Nap time, as adults we love those two words. We look forward to those two words. Not just for our children and grand children. True, the break from the constant moving, and noise and spontaneous combustions of children is pure bliss. As adults, though. the idea of naps, for ourselves, is like a day at a luxury spa. Taking the time in the middle of a busy, crazy day, to just lay down and relax..... Heaven on Earth.  

We stop getting to take naps after kindergarten. Remember your nice little nap mat? You probably hated it back when you fit on it. Can you imagine if they made an adult sized nap mat. You could roll it up, stow it in your desk or locker at work and at 1:30 every day, every body would unroll their mats and take a nap. Would there be a loss of productivity? Maybe, or maybe, with everyone refreshed, production would increase. Think of a toddler after a nap. Battery recharged, on the go all over again. People often say if they could bottle the energy of a toddle they could make millions. Could it be that the secret isn't in a pill but a pillow?  Could it be that caffeine is not the answer? That the beverage companies have conned us in to thinking we can't live with out their addictive stimulants, when all we really need is a nap? Of course our way of life does not allow for nap time for adults. Unless multiple studies come out that prove that productivity is increased by napping it never will. If a nap can't make money, a nap we shall never have. 

Ah, nap time, we never appreciated you when we had you. Now that you are gone, we wish we could be held in your warm embrace once again. We miss you!