Mt. Rushmore

It’s hard to believe Dave and I are 40 years old and have lived in North Dakota for most of our lives but just visited Mt. Rushmore for the first time today. It was well worth the wait – and the excitement the kids felt at taking it all in was wonderful. On the way they all talked about their favorite president and we talked about why Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln were picked to be sculpted. John and Sophie’s favorite is Teddy Roosevelt (in large part because of the movie, Night at the Museum, but also because he had asthma as a child, just like John) and Lucy’s favorite is Lincoln – thanks to Mrs. Sherwood and her wonderful teaching. We bought a great book, Who Carved the Mountain? by a SD author Jean Patrick and picked up a DVD geared toward kids on national parks. They earned a Jr. Ranger badge by hugging a tree (ask Dave about that one!) and taking in lots of facts and trivia about Mt. Rushmore. Finally, we went on a hike before getting back into the car and heading off to Colorado. It was a great spot to visit – and very well done.

Editor’s Note: Apparently I have been to Mt. Rushmore – during one of our family trips when I was a kid. I don’t remember that trip though, unlike the trip to St. Louis where I put a lockhold on Dad’s neck and screamed the whole way up the St. Louis Arch.

Holed up in Hotel Spearfish

At 8 am this morning:
John: Mom, my tummy hurts.
Me: Do you have to go poop? Why don't you head to the bathroom?
John (as he heads to the bathroom): It really hurts.
He stops, coughs and BLACHHHHHHHHH!

Dave (yelling): Get to the bathroom John - go, Go, GO!
John (in the bathroom): Mom, my tummy really hurts.

So there it was, our second day of vacation and John and I spent most of the day here in the hotel room, using the Holiday Inn ice bucket for a throw up bucket. (Thank God for bucket liners - remember the days when they didn't have them and we'd scoop out the ice into our buckets and put the ice straight into our mouths? How gross!)

I stayed with sick boy and Dave took the girls to breakfast. Dave, always thinking, brought me coffee and some pancakes. I knew John was pretty sick when he came over for a bite of pancakes, looked at them, turned green and threw up again. As the day went on he got louder and louder during these episodes - what is it with kids and loud vomiting? Or maybe it's just our kids? I'm sure all the hotel neighbors were wondering what in the world was going on in our bathroom, but I give the kid credit - there were at least 10 bouts and only once did anything miss the bucket. I guess as parents we've done at least one thing right - taught our kids how to aim for the bucket.

In between bouts of vomiting, I got a lot of blogging done and Dave got some time with the girls on this Father's Day. They went for a scenic drive down Canyon Road and got to sit by some rapids. Even better, by 3 pm John was suddenly done with throwing up. I'm not sure if I should give the credit to a few sips of Pepsi (thanks for the tip Mom and Dad) or if the virus had just run its course. It just seems too coincidental for the Pepsi to have worked, but who knows... if Lucy happens to wake up vomiting tomorrow, I know the first thing I'll try.

P.S. Just so you're not freaked out about hotel room cleanliness, I told housekeeping about the virus and before we leave I'll leave a note telling them to sanitize the bucket.
P.S.S. When John missed it was on HIS mattress - not on any hotel property. (When we only get one hotel room during travels, we always have "car" pillows for the kids and a crib mattress. We then put the crib mattress on the floor where one of the kids sleeps on it. This trip, it's John's turn.)

Enchanted Highway Pics

I read about The Enchanted Highway in the North Dakota Horizons magazine a year or so ago. At the time, my thoughts were, "This would be a neat place to take the kids and see, but when will we ever get all the way over to Regent, ND?" So I was absolutely delighted when we came across the sign by chance and took our own journey on the enchanted highway. Enjoy the pics and if you ever are along I-94 by Dickinson, take a detour and enjoy.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

On our recent trip to Dad’s cabin I realized just how much I’m like Dad – there was the being able to fall asleep in two seconds flat, the love for our morning coffee (usually sitting on the deck soaking up our surroundings), the organization (as in the "cabin notebook"), the “do it now” instead of later personality, and the “Curious George” thinking as in always asking questions, whether they’re any of our business or not.

But instead of always being on the go, I like my downtime. That, too, I noticed at the cabin. Whereas I preferred to sit and read a book, Dad was always working on something. One night he yawned his way through supper and went to the loft for a quick nap – his snoring was heard within minutes. But as soon as he woke up (less than 30 minutes later), he was back at it – sanding away on the outside wall of the cabin and applying some kind of varnish to protect it from the elements.
Don’t get me wrong – Dad likes to relax too. But it isn’t the “go play a round of golf” or “head to Happy Hour with friends” type relaxing. It’s more the read a book, look at trade magazines, go out to the shop and fiddle around on a truck (note his "Still Plays with Trucks" sweatshirt), or play Solitaire on the computer. So, even there I guess Dad and I are alike – and that’s a wonderful thing for me. Happy Father’s Day Dad – I love you! Marci

To Dave

When I look at our three kids I often see glimpses of their cousins – Brooklyn in Sophie, Kylie and Ben in Lucy, and Gavin in John. But when I watch them, really watch them for any length of time, I see Dave and his “happy-go-lucky” attitude. Last night this was so very evident – there we were five hours into our roadtrip to Colorado and they were watching a movie. We made a sudden decision to detour on the Enchanted Highway and I told Sophie to pause the movie. They oohed and ahhed over the Geese in Flight sculpture right off I-94 but it was when we turned onto the two lane Enchanted Highway they really got excited – for there were curves and hills. All three of them, movie forgotten, arms raised and smiles galore giggled and laughed as we went up and down the hills. Dave and I, of course, joined in on the smiles.

The thing is, Dave had the whole drive planned – and the Enchanted Highway wasn’t part of it. We’d already left an hour later than planned and he was tired, but when I saw the sign I got all excited and asked just like a child, “Can we go? Can we go?” He gave a small sigh, turned off at the exit and said, “OK navigator, figure out how to get us to Highway 85.” And there we were – enjoying the wonderous metal sculptures set against a beautiful North Dakota prairie sky. Thanks Davey-baby – Happy Father’s Day!

I Hate Snakes

As a homeowner, I'm never surprised by what I might find - sometimes it's an old dishtowel stuffed in a wall to hold back a cold breeze while other times it might be a bra in the laundry chute. When we lived in Lakeville I investigated Dasher's barking and was shocked one rainy spring night to find a turtle standing almost upright against the sliding glass door - scratching and trying to get in. (I even videotaped it because I knew Dave, who was working the late shift at Applebees, would never believe me.)

The other night, (of course a dark and rainy one with Dave out of town) I looked through the window and saw it -a snake poised to strike, wrapped up in the vines and leaves that cover the chimney. My heart raced faster and faster and I peered closer and closer - knowing that at least there was glass in between us. And then I figured out - it wasn't a snake after all but a rather large vine twig that did, after all, have the appearance of a snake. Needless to say, I didn't videotape it for Dave, nor did I tell him. :)

Are you ever too old for a playdate?

What makes summer? My answer is cool treats and friends. We spent the late morning and early afternoon with a friend, Carrie, and her two daughters last week - the kids don't really know each other that well but as I told Lucy, she should feel a big connection with Carrie because when I was pregnant with her Carrie and I walked three miles almost every morning. The joke back then was that I couldn't walk straight; it was a good thing Carrie was quick on her feet because every few steps I weaved right toward her. Unfortunately with two kids at home and a husband that traveled quite a bit, we found it harder and harder to get together for our morning walks. Then as my life was settling down Carrie had Lydia and then Ella... and then they moved across town ( a whole 10 minutes away, but in Grand Forks that can seem like the other end of the earth).
So, it was a real treat to get together - Lucy and Lydia really hit if off after some initial shyness and even though Ella was quite quiet at first she warmed up to John. During snack he boasted to the other kids, "I heard Ella talk!" We even played outside in the warm drizzling rain for a bit. There's something heartwarming about sitting around with a good friend watching your kids become friends too - not much is better than that.

As we pulled out of the driveway, with Lydia, Ella and Carrie waving to us, Sophie asked, "When are you too old for playdates? I hope I'm never that old." I laughed and reassured her that one is never too old for playdates - as we get older we just call them by different names... coffee, dinner, golf, walk, etc...

Locks of Love

Sophie gave up her long hair today and we're sending off her ponytail to Locks of Love. She's different from a lot of kids as she just grew out her hair and then decided, upon Grandma's suggestion, to donate it to Locks of Love. After two years of fussing over brushing and snarls, I was only too happy with her decision - and it looks wonderful. Now we'll see more of her humid-weather curls and more of her sparkling eyes. Good job Sophie girl!

Papa's Cabin

Even though it was at least ten years between visits, the cabin still felt like home. Not the kind of home where there are smells and memories of childhood, but a home where you've seen someone's dream come true.
Dad first saw this beautiful, uninhabited lake and island (known to our family, friends and the pilots as Miller Lake) over 25 years ago; his good friend Terry (along with his youngest child Gretchen) happened upon it during an afternoon hike. My understanding is the group then camped out on the island for the next few years. It was Dad's dream to build a log cabin and this seemed like the place to do it. Even though the project was started 18 years ago and a few summers after that the cabin was "finished," there's always something to do - and Dad can never just sit still. He and Dave got the floating dock back in shape, repaired the second dock, and even built a boat ramp. For the cabin itself, Dad pulled out the sander one night after supper and took care of some worn spots with some sealer.


The inside of the cabin is just beautiful - most of the furniture including the kitchen cabinets, table and benches, bookshelf, coffee tables, and the four poster bed and its bedside tables were homemade. As you can see, from the pictures, one of Sophie's favorite places to read was perched on the ladder up to the loft where she, Lucy and Dad slept.

Last week during our visit a Game & Fish Warden and pilot dropped out of the sky for a surprise visit and Kurt, the warden, asked Dad if he'd ever built a log cabin before. Dad smiled his crooked smile, put his head down a bit and offered, "Well, haven't all little guys? I used to stack one Lincoln Log right up on top of another." Kurt, Hap (the pilot) and Dad all chuckled and Kurt said, "Well you did a mighty good job for your first one." We all agree.

Residue of the 1997 Flood

The kids and I spent most of yesterday cleaning out the basement - not regular organizational cleaning but the kind of "pick up an item, determine if it's salvagable and either toss or save it" type of cleaning. Yep, you guessed it, we had a wet basement and most of the carpet for the kids' toy room area got wet. Unfortunately we hadn't cleaned anything up before bedtime so there were papers and toys strewn about the entire carpeted area. I spent most of the afternoon hunched over the wet vac trying to suck up the water from the carpet, but by suppertime I realized I just wasn't making much progress. So after a phone call with Dave (he's in Alaska) I got out the utility knife and started cutting up the carpet and hauling it out to the garbage. (That's the first picture - the basement with 2/3 of the carpet gone and the 1911 concrete showing its age.)

Then I called Yvonne and Jim, some friends from church, and asked if they could use a dresser, nightstand, headboard and various other furniture items for the annual garage sale in a couple of weeks. Hence the second picture - some of the stuff heading to Holy Family's garage sale.

When a friend came over later I think she was surprised by the determination in which I decided to tear out the carpet and give away furniture. I was way too tired to articulate anything last night at 9:30, but here's what I came to during my sleep - it's all related to the 1997 flood. At that time we lived 1 1/2 blocks away in a wonderful house with a dry basement. When warnings of a flood came, we prepared for seepage and put everything (including two couches and the washer and dryer) up on 2x4's and moved things up off the ground. I distinctly remember taking my rollerblades off the floor of the closet and putting them up on the top shelf so they'd be safe (yeah right). In the meantime Dave and Dad spent their time building a ring dike around the house. Suddenly the Red River of the North crested eight feet above predictions, the basement completely filled with water, I hauled my 7 1/2 month pregnant self off to Mom and Dad's, and Dave stayed south of town so he could keep working.

Once the waters receded Dave had the job of pumping water out and hauling out every single thing from the basement and placing it on the berm for pick up at a much later date. Out went the couches, the coffee table, the fridge, the air conditioners, the washer and dryer, boxes and boxes of my second grade teaching supplies, and all our Christmas decorations. Then the basement was sanitized, we moved back in a month after the flood, electricity was then restored, I defended my dissertation and became Doctor, Sophie was born, the berm pile was hauled away, new grass was planted where all our belongings had sat, the Salvation Army finally stopped making meal deliveries in our neighborhood, and exactly five months after the flood we got heat back on for the first time. So, I guess you can blame the Flood of 97 for my distaste of wet basements and my willingness to get rid of belongings we no longer necessarily need or use. At least this time they don't need to go to a landfill - they'll help support our church, its mission and people in need.

What the laundry chute holds, one never knows...

After reading Rachel's blog, I decided to write my own laundry chute story. Two and half years ago we moved one block east and 1/2 block west to this house - our second house with a beloved laundry chute. Within a month, the inevitable happened and one of the kids put three too many sheets and blankets down the chute at one time. Armed with a broom, a long stick and a mop, three of us stood guard at the chute doors - Lucy on the second floor, me on the main floor and Sophie in the basement. The mass finally came down with a plop onto Sophie's head. As we were transferring everything into the washer Sophie told me there was a bra hanging from a wire in the chute. Indeed, upon further inspection, there most definitely was a bra. It proved much harder to get out but after standing on a stool with 3/4 of her body in the chute, Sophie managed to get it out.

Surprise, surprise - it wasn't mine. Still, soon enough, it went in the wash with the other delicates and the next time I saw Sarah (the previous owner) at a writing project meeting, I handed it back over to her, along with a few pieces of mail.

We're heading for vacation...

While Dad, Dave, Sophie, Lucy and I head 650 miles north to the wilderness and water of Canada, John will stay here with "Big Carmyn." Remember her? She's like a seventh aunt to the kids and a great friend to both Dave and me. All the neighbors have agreed to help her out, have them over for dinner, and provide plenty of playdates.

Dave's rule for the kids being big enough to go to the cabin is that they have to be able to read chapter books - that's why Sophie and Lucy get to go and John stays. This will be Lucy's first time, Sophie's third time, my third time (although the last time I went was before I was pregnant with Sophie), Dave's eighth time and Dad's fortysomething time.

So, unlike this last time, there will be a "real" reason for the blogging hiatus. We will, after all, be staying on an island where there's no human civilization for miles and miles, we bring in all our own supplies (except for the fish we'll be catching and eating) and have no electricity by which to blog. What we do have though is assured rest and relaxation, lots of books to read, and an awesome log cabin to stay in - one that was built by Dad and a host of others (including Dave) over 18 years ago. We're off - next time I see you there'll be lots of pictures of our time "up north at the cabin."

Busy, Busy May

After doing so well for two weeks, I once again took a long hiatus from blogging. I’ll sum everything up here, and then, if you’re interested you can scroll down and take a look at all the pics.
Ballet recitals, end-of-school-year picnics, buying presents for the teachers, wrapping up the art auction by writing ten million thank you notes, Sophie’s 1st communion and confirmation (she and Dave did the readings for it - they were awesome!), attending “same-day” graduation parties of two nephews (one in Willmar, MN and one in Moorhead, MN), Dave traveling to Pennsylvania, Texas, and Fargo, the end of school year itself, helping friends pull up 70’s shag carpet, co-hosting a “Summer’s Here” picnic for the entire neighborhood, forgetting about a dear babysitter's own "baby shower," hosting two bookclubs, and packing up for a six day vacation on a deserted island…whew, those were just a few things that have happened here in the past two weeks.

Unfortunately, none of these events will get the posts they deserve - but at least there'll be a few pics to remember them by.

Coffee Philosophy

Today at my (almost) weekly coffee date with Karen we both found ourselves with tears in our eyes after a simple statement made by a Bolivian acquaintance, Roger. When Karen commented on how often he and his wife Galia have coffee together after dropping off their youngest son at school, he said something like, “But if we don’t, then I don’t get to see her until evening.” The thing is, he was genuine; he was serious – not trying to score points with Galia or Karen. This hit both of us deeply – as evidenced by the tears. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think it is a cultural thing. Some couples just do always seem so “together” - in the manner of love songs even. Are these the people that are soul mates? What defines soul mates from people in love with one another? Are soul mates always soul mates or do they go through rough patches?

Roger's comment reminds me of one of my favorite songs by Jack Johnson, Banana Pancakes. One section is, "…we got everything we need right here. And everything we need is enough. Just so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms."

Whenever I hear the words, I get all mushy on the inside – the whole world fits inside of your arms. Wouldn’t our world be a better place if that’s what we all reached for, desired in our lives? So, today, take that significant other out for some coffee because you know what, otherwise you won’t get to see him or her until evening.

Happy Mood - thanks, in large part to former students

Last night I had the wonderful opportunity of participating in a book club discussion with three former undergraduate students - what a blast. These three were excellent students - Nate was a student three different semesters, Lindsay for two, and Angie one - and I totally felt like I got to watch them grow up. But, wow, the growth they've undergone in the past year has been amazing to see.

After graduation, all three of them applied for a resident teacher program co-hosted by our university and the school district - and all three of them were accepted. For the past school year, they've held teaching positions at Sophie and Lucy's school: Angie as a Kindergarten teacher, Lindsay in grade one, and Nate in grade two. During their year as resident teachers, they worked alongside an excellent mentor (and former first grade teacher) Jana. (Jana is on the right in the pic above.) The resident teacher program is awesome for first-year teachers as it combines teaching, mentoring, and Masters' study all within a cohort of nine other first-year teachers. I've worked with the program in various capacities since 2001 and can honestly say that the people who come out of the resident teacher program are absolutely some of the very best teachers I've seen.

In March of this year I approached their principal with the idea of hosting a professional book club with teachers from the school. My purposes were two-fold: to help the teachers at the school see what types of professional development the Red River Valley Writing Project can offer and to get teachers engaged in professional discussions about writing. It was a deal he couldn't refuse - I provide my services as book club facilitator, the teachers choose a book that has to do with the teaching of reading and/or writing, the Red River Valley Writing Project pays for the books, and Voila! - professional development occurs for those who are interested.

The school has a small staff so I was hoping for a group of 6-8 people... and honestly I was a little disappointed that four of the six people that signed up were involved with the resident teacher program and the other two were Sophie and Lucy's teachers. I felt like I had, perhaps, forced a hand or two into signing up. That really wasn't my intention, but from the turnout, that's how I felt. I felt better once I talked with them and they choose a book, Writing Essentials by Regie Routman. It wasn't they felt they had to do this because of fear of disappointing me, but because they were anxious for the professional discussion.

Our first meeting was in mid-April - a busy time of year for everyone but almost everyone managed to make it and everyone had read the first half of the book. It was eye-opening to see the three residents talk about curricular issues and classroom practices right alongside veteran teachers. The sharing of ideas was fast and furious and I think we were all surprised when 1 1/2 hours had passed.

Tonight's meeting was just as powerful. At one point Angie was talking about a district-wide assessment writing sample she did with her students today - she was feeling poorly about it because the kids were so used to having choice with their writing (YEAH!) that they were a bit off when given the prompt to write about their favorite memory of Kindergarten. I loved it when Lindsay jumped in to encourage her and spouted off research about how usually it's just the opposite - that kids are so used to being told what to write about that when given a free choice topic, they freeze up. I was soooo proud of them at this moment - and then I looked over at Jana who has helped them in so many ways throughout the year. She deserves so much credit for helping them make the connections between what they learned at the university, their gut feelings, and real-life teaching. It was a great night - more than enough to alleviate my bad mood for a few days!

So, my only question is: why can't we keep them forever?!?!

Bad Mood

I've been in a bad mood for a very long time - so long that I know it can't be due to any hormones (or lack thereof), allergies, or being overtired. I'm afraid it's become part of who I am - a part of me I can certainly live without (and I'm sure Dave feels the same).

So, what kinds of things are bothering me that don't usually create that "C'mon people! Think!" feeling? Rather than bombard you with daily blog entries ranting or raving, I made a List. Here it is, but please read it with caution and know that many of the things on the list don't normally bother me.

1. Sending reminder emails (yes, I know I've already ranted about this one.)
2. Getting calls on my cell phone when most people that actually have that number know I never, ever actually have it on.
3. Business phone calls on the weekend.
4. People using their blinker to make a lane change and then forgetting to turn it off.
5. Barking dogs (OK, you're right, they always bother me.)
6. Making supper - especially when, on any given night, only two people will actually eat it.
7. Washing clothes, drying clothes, folding clothes, and then starting all over the next day.
8. Sneezing twenty times in a row.
9. Peeing my pants after the fourth sneeze.
10. Putting kids' hair up in buns for ballet recital night - no matter how long their hair is I can never get it to stay in for the duration of the recital.
11. People talking during ballet recitals.
12. People texting during ballet recitals.
13. The overabundance of treats, gifts and flowers given to ballet dancers as young as three. (You should have seen some of the presents for the dancers.)
14. People asking for advice but then ignoring it.
15. Trying to find the right change for a babysitter.
16. People who wear fragrant lotion and don't shower before they enter the pool for lap swimming.
17. Cell phones.
18. Salespeople who don't trust you when you say you don't have the receipt but that you can name the date you bought the outfit and know you paid full price for it. (By the way, I did go home, find the sales receipt and did, ultimately, return the blouse and necklace for a total refund of $64 vs. the $32 offered.)
19. People who have made it necessary for stores not to trust their customers.
20. People who are always in a bad mood.

Yep, I know I totally fit that last one. I think I've spent more time apoligizing to people in the last few days than any other activity. I'm trying, I really am, to get out of this funk but am having trouble. So, if you have any "surefire" ways to get out of a bad mood - methods that last more than a few minutes, please let me know. I promise I'll give ALL suggestions a try... well maybe I'll do a little screening of suggestions since I'm sure I know one thing Dave would say to try!

View from the Hammock

I took this picture one morning last week as John and I hung out in the hammock. It reminded me of the following entry from my writer's notebook, dated April 18, 2002:

About a month ago I was walking on campus - hurrying toward the union for a meeting. I looked up and saw the kind of clear blue, bright blue sky that reminds so much of Sedona. Maybe it was the way the red brick buildings met the sky - much like the red rocks and sky converging in Sedona. A lady was walking by, hurrying with downcast eyes. I said, "Isn't the sky beautiful?" She stopped and said, "What?" I said, "Look at the beautiful sky." She paused, eyes towards the heavens for a full five seconds and said, "Thank you, thank you very much." I guess my sister Tori was right when she said you can see "Blue Sedona Skies" right here in North Dakota.

Happy Mother's Day

Things I love about Mom:

1. Her medical advice: Holding my hand and telling me to point my toes together everytime I had to get a kenalog shot in the butt. She still always has advice for us. A few weeks ago when John hurt his foot I called her up and asked her advice. Later John asked, "Is she really a doctor?"

2. Cooking Eccentricities: The way she pushes her tongue to the corner of her mouth when she beats batter by hand.

3. Writing Eccentricities: She has this thing where right before she actually puts pen to paper she "air writes" it - the pen hovers right above the paper and moves in circles. Tori, Roxy and I joked that if she had to write a research paper she'd write it all out in the air first.

4. Cleaning Advice: White vinegar is still the best "all in one" cleaner around.

5. Washing clothes: As soon as you take the laundry out of the dryer (or off the clothesline), you fold it... no ifs, ands, or buts. And if you're folding towels, you'd better do it the proper way!

6. Her Career Advice: Do what makes you happy.

7. Her sense of organization: Create systems that work for you and your life will be easier. (My friends will all attest this is one thing I'm really good at and I know I learned it all from Mom!)

8. Her obvious caring for Dad: Public displays of affection aren't a bad thing - they're just somewhat embarassing to your children.

9. Her independence: She taught me that I needed to learn how to use a screwdriver, a lawn mower, and a paintbrush. Women don't need men to get things done - it's just that it's often more fun to get things done together.

10. Love: Just because you love someone, it doesn't mean you have to agree with him/her on everything.

Glessner Family Traditions

Growing up, my family was never really big on candy; we were (and still are) definitely more dessert people. Give us a pumpkin pie, apple pie, sheetcake brownies, banana bread, or chocolate chip cookies over M&Ms any day. The Glessner family, on the other hand, is all about candy - no family gathering is ever complete without at least one bowl (usually 2-3) of candy.

The first time Dave and I hosted a family event I purchased all the ingredients for the Thanksgiving dinner: potatoes, butter, cream cheese, corn, fresh cranberries, sugar, pecans, pumpkin, Pillsbury pie crusts, evaporated milk, etc... Dave was in charge of purchasing the pop, beer, and the turkey. I was quite surprised when he came home from shopping with five large bags of M&Ms - three plain and two peanut. It hadn't even occurred to me that with the pumpkin and pecan pies I was making we would also need candy. Apparently I hadn't been paying very much attention to Glessner holiday gatherings - there was always candy around. The thing is - you can't take the dessert out of the girl so I still insist on making pies for the family events, only now I've learned no matter how big the gathering is, I only need to make one pie.

So tomorrow when we go to Fargo for Amy's college graduation party I'm sure there will be lots of bowls of candy spread around the house. And next week, when we host everyone for Sophie's first communion I'll make sure to include M&Ms on my grocery list. It's taken me almost 20 years, but I am learning.

It's never too late to start enjoying fiction...

In the almost-twenty years Dave and I have been together I’ve never known him to read a fiction book; in fact I’ve only known him to read a few “business” books along with tons and tons of trade magazines. This isn’t an adult habit, I’m thinking he’s always been this way since the only children’s book he entered into this marriage with was Fabulous Facts about the 50 States. When I was teaching at the university I once started to use him as an example of aliteracy but suddenly realized (as I was talking) that he doesn’t fit the definition at all – it’s just that he reads totally different material than I do and in my biased world I was thinking I was the "better" (as in stereotypical) reader.

Still, imagine my surprise when he went to my office and picked out a fiction book to read, finished it within a few days, chose another one, and has kept going for the past month. In fact, when he recently traveled to Dublin for a business trip he packed his usual trade magazines AND a fiction book.

I don’t know what brought about this change in Dave, but I surmise it might have something to do with seeing how much the rest of his family love books. One night before he left for Dublin the five of us sat around in the family room for a half-hour – each of us with a book in our hands and me with a big smile on my face. It was wonderful – now if I can only get him to go on a Barnes and Noble “date” with me…yeah right, don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.

Reminders (Note: This is a rant!)

Yesterday I had a regular (as Carmyn called it) "sh--fit" regarding sending email reminders to people. I refuse to do so but as this refusal has bit me in the butt a few times I guess I should reconsider my stance on email reminders. Just so you know, here’s my stance:

You are a professional. You signed up to be a part of this _____________ (insert one: book club, conference, writing group, committee). Part of your job when you sign up for something is to be a professional – as we know you are. So, for goodness sakes, mark the event down in your calendar. Don’t rely on me, the person who hates sending email, to send you a reminder email about a meeting that you should have written down in your calendar as soon as it was planned. I am not your babysitter; I am not your schedule maker – that is your job. You are a professional.

There, that’s my stance. Apparently, I’m in the minority. It seems the common thought is professionals need to be reminded two, three or even four times. And even then there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll forget about the event. Or, as illustrated by one case that happened last winter, people will think that since they didn’t receive a reminder about the meeting it must have been cancelled so they’ll schedule a lunch date with another committee member during the time of the meeting. Upon being reminded of the meeting, they’ll decide to show up – but will sit at said meeting with arms crossed and pouty faces throughout the entire event. Please don't do this; remember – you are a professional.

I do apologize for all the ranting. I guess I’ll stop now because I need to – guess what – send out a reminder email about an upcoming meeting.

Glory to God and Goliath

One of my favorite parts of church right after Easter is the sprinkling of the waters of baptism throughout the entire congregation followed by the singing of the Gloria. It starts with Glory to God in the highest, sing glory to God. Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on Earth. There’s something so very powerful about feeling the voices of 300 people reverberate throughout the church. Lately, I’ve particularly enjoyed looking at the kids during the hymns and seeing them singing along.

John’s version of the Gloria is quite a bit different than the intended version. His is Glory to God and Goliath, Sing Glory to God. Now, if you’re Catholic, grew up Catholic, or attend a Catholic church during the Easter season you’ll be able to sing this in your head… and John’s version does closely resemble the real one. Good for him though to be puzzled and wonder why we would praise Goliath, who was (in John’s words) a "bad guy."

In another hymn misinterpretation, my friend Shelby grew up thinking that the entire church congregation was saying her name during certain hymns; it wasn’t until she could read she saw the version people were singing (shall be)and everything finally made sense to her.

What are your examples of songs you've sang all your life only to hear the "real" words later? Post them here so we can all share in the remembering and laughter.

Swimming Again

I did it! Approximately 6 weeks after my foot surgery, I was back at the Y pool for lap swimming. Even though it was only 20 laps, even though my foot felt funny, even though I swam quite gingerly (which most definitely isn't easy to do), it felt wonderful. That, in itself, was a big relief for me. You see, I was nervous about getting back into the pool for two reasons - the obvious one being because I didn't know how my foot would do and I wasn't up for being disappointed in my progress.

The second reason might seem rather odd to some of you - but I seriously did worry about it. It's just that a few weeks ago a lap swimmer died right in the pool while doing his laps. His day more than likely started like all of ours - a little slow, maybe wishing he had time for that second cup of coffee before heading to the Y for swimming, but overall just a normal day. He gets to the Y, checks in and grabs a towel. Once in the pool area he tells the lifeguard good morning, smiles at the swimmer resting up in the lane next to him, slides into the pool, adjusts his goggles and starts off on his warm up laps. At some point in the next 15 minutes things go from being normal to tragic. As he's in the deep end of the pool ready to make his turn he realizes something isn't right - he heads over to the side, trying to pull himself up and out of the water but it's too late. He falls back into the water and sinks. The lifeguard jumps in, three other lap swimmers head over to help and they all get him to the shallow end and out of the pool. But he's already bluish purple, already gone. Even so, the lifeguard starts CPR as others get the defibrillator machine ready. The pool empties, swimmers cry and hug, and the ambulance comes to take him to the hospital to pronounce him dead.

That man died in the pool - not from drowning, but from a heart attack. I don't know his name, I don't know his family but I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. As I recuperated at home, I guiltily felt so very thankful I wasn't at that particular lap swim. I wondered who it was - was it the red speedo guy? The swimmer/walker dude? The kickboard/flipper guy? or the Tshirt man? I know the names of none of these men but I still know them. I know who wears what swimsuit and what his lane of choice is. I know who is good at flip turns and I know who likes to have a silent underwater race with me. I know them each - as a fellow lap swimmer.

I wondered what it would be like to swim in the same pool, possibly even the same lane, touch the same side of the wall as he did as he tried to hoist his body out. Is his spirit still there? It was with me yesterday, as I'm sure it is with all the swimmers who know. It wasn't with me the whole time, not even most of the time, but as I silently slid through the water I remembered him and wished his family well.

The Many Faces of Dave

On Easter I let the kids have control of the digital camera. As I looked through the 150 pictures later on, I couldn't help but laugh at what was most important to them... pictures of the two dogs that attended the Easter function, the bowls upon bowls of candy, their cousins, and their Daddy. So here you go - the many faces of Dave, as viewed by the kids. Look closely and guess which one really isn't Dave. Have fun!

More on Presents

In my opinion the best Valentine's Day present I ever gave Dave was a heartfelt rendition of John Prine's In Spite of Ourselves. We first heard the song one Saturday night a few years ago - a friend got married and prepared a CD of love songs for everybody on the guest list. Dave and I, after a few glasses of champagne and a little dancing, came home from the wedding and put in the CD. I'm not sure if it was alcohol induced but when In Spite of Ourselves came on, we laughed and laughed and played it over and over until we knew all the words.

Fastforward one month- instead of grading papers, I sat in my office revising the words to the song to fit Dave and me. I think one part was, "Even though your back's all hairy, you still manage to drive me crazy. You're my baby, I'm your honey, never going to let you go."

Fastforward another month and there I was with my friend Lori, in a practice room at the Hughes Fine Arts Center. She, bless her heart, had figured out how to play the song on the piano and, by doing so, became my official accompianist. I had a cheap tape recorder, my sheet of handwritten notes, and good intentions... just not the voice. After several singing attempts and another attempt at bribing Lori to do the piano playing and the singing (she declined), I finally managed to get through the song and be somewhat satisfied.

A few weeks later, on Valentine's Day, I presented Dave with the typed up lyrics and played the song for him. His only reply, "Geez, you must really love me to put this on tape." Yes, yes I do.

Now, just in case something happens to me all you blog readers need to promise this tape will not suddenly surface at my funeral or anywhere else for that matter. All that would do is prove my 6th grade music teacher correct - no matter how hard I try I certainly can't sing in tune. But, I can, once in a blue moon, give a pretty darn good present.

Introducing another blog by the kids - GKids

Sophie, after seeing my blog entry about her messy room, was most anxious to write her own entry about it - giving her perspective. So began the new blog - GKids. To access it, you can try the link on the sidebar or go to it directly, Gkidsathome.blogspot.com. Enjoy reading about our household ups and downs from the perspectives of a nine, seven and five year old.

Shortlived Household Organization

In the weeks before my surgery I went on a crazy organizing kick - similar to that of the nesting instinct they talk about with pregnant women. The bathrooms were all stocked with plenty of toilet paper and clean towels, the beds all got clean linens, the laundry, instead of being a heap on the floor, was all clean, folded and put away, and the kids had clothes laid out for the upcoming week. The fridge and pantry were well stocked and I even cleaned the kitchen junk drawer, organized the laundry room and got the kids' toy room in tip-tip shape. You get the idea...

I can tell it's been a week since then - yesterday John wore two mismatched (as in one blue camoflauge and one white) socks to daycare while Sophie wore a fleece pullover she's been wearing for the past six years and Lucy wore her Sunday dress to school. On more than one occassion I've been thankful I had the foresight to put toilet paper in the bathrooms as the roll has run out in the middle of a job. And I've given up venturing into Sophie's room with my crutches for her good-night kiss - it's just way too much of a mess to navigate. (The pictures can attest to the mess.)

So, tonight's the night - cleaning time for this family. I'll bark orders from the couch while they get busy stacking and putting away papers, toys and water glasses. I'll probably hear it from the peanut gallery, but hey, a clean house and a good night kiss should be worth it for all of us.

Healing in Process

The dreaded foot surgery is over and the healing has begun. The surgery was Wednesday afternoon and when I woke up at 6 pm I found myself very thirsty, but in no pain. That's the way it's been since - not a heck of a lot of pain. I've only taken one pain pill at a time and spread it out to eight hours between doses. It's not that I'm trying to be a martyer, but the nausea and dizziness caused by the medicine is something I can do without. So, as of this morning, I'm down to only tylenol. Here's hoping it goes well.

The surgery itself was supposed to only last an hour, but besides the hammer toe repair on two toes, they did find a neuroma to take out as well as a tear to repair so it took 2 1/2 hours. When my doctor came to talk to me I had just woke up so I'm still kind of foggy on the details, but I'll see him tomorrow morning and find out more.

I've spent more time on the couch in the last four days than I think I have in all the last ten years - and it feels strange, very strange. Until today reading was making me dizzy, so I've spent the majority of time either watching TV or napping. The other night Dave came into the family room and said, "Thank God - the TV is on a channel other than TLC or HGTV!" I think he might be worrying that I'm getting remodeling ideas from all that television.

There's been lots of visitors - thanks for stopping by everyone! Today my big day brightener was Michelle and Theo - Emmett's little brother and a guy after my own heart. Isn't he just such a sweetheart?!?! He's the one I got to watch most Friday mornings while Michelle took Emmett and John to gymnastics. She got to run around after two preschool boys while I got to cuddle with a baby... hmmmmm, I wonder who got the best end of the deal? Definitely me!