Some of my people need to create a blog, because I've been tagged, and I need someone to tag!
The instructions are to write about myself at half my current age. That's 26. Well, and a half, but who's counting?
At 26, I was a stay at home mom, and my little Beki would have been about 3 months old now. We left the lights from the Christmas tree wrapped around the coffee table, because she loved to look at them. She would make the cutest little Ooooooo face at the pretty lights. I'd put her in the bouncy chair so she could see them really well.
Papa felt a little more comfortable with her now, and would help with the changing and feeding. And of course the playing. We had a bottle that was made to hold a jar of baby food. He would first put the food into a pan to heat up, and he'd add spices...salt and pepper, garlic powder, oregano. I'd freak out! I said what the heck! Gerber's takes out the spices to make it healthier! He said if he couldn't eat it he couldn't feed it to his baby. Silly man. When he changed one of 'those' diapers, that we called a pants explosion, he acted like it was going to kill him. He'd hold the diaper way out away from his body, and to clean her off, he held her under the shower! I don't know how Beki lived through us. I would hardly let anybody else tound her. I once gave a man such a mean looks for coming to church with a horrible cold and sitting near me and my baby--he never came back! No wonder Papa called me the old bear!
I loved, loved rocking Beki. At night and every nap. Sometimes we'd sleep together in the recliner. She nursed still, so I was doing all the getting up. For a little over 3 years, Beki was my life, my job. Papa worked and slept alot, because his job at channel 3 in Kalamazoo was an alternating shift thing, sometimes real late. Sometimes real early. So it was me and Bek much of the time. We were best buds.
I'm tagging Bethany and Denise. Step up!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
fishy story
This is absolutely a true story. No names have been changed to protect the innocent. Animals were harmed in the making of this story. And, I'm submitting it in essay form, originally written for a college English class. (perfect score, btw)
My dad is quite the fisherman. You could say it's in his blood. He and his brother used to boast about their big catches, and who had the biggest fish. I suppose my dad dreamed of having a son he could share those great fishing experiences with, but since he was blessed with 3 daughters, that wasn't possible. Only occasionally would I get to go along. I hoped that one day I'd get to put down the cane poles babies used, and graduate to a rod and reel like my dad.
When I was newly married, my dad finally had his chance to take a son fishing. Our 2 families took a vacation together, and my mother was very excited! I guess she thought she'd have a companion too. "Great! We can shop or lay in the sun while the guys fish," she said. "Yeah, that's just great," I thought. Not only was the nearest mall about 6 hours from the lake, but I really wanted to fish. I was a woman of the 70's! I could do anything men could do, right?
Wrong. We had one boat, and the fisherMEN had that all day, so my resources were limited. The dock was about twelve feet long, and the water was still pretty shallow at the end. Still, I thought fishing off the dock would be better than nothing, so I approached my dad about leaving me a rod and reel. "Aw, sure, Honey," my dad said. He thought it was a cute idea. My husband volunteered, "Do you want me to put a worm on it for you?" It was obviously his turn to be cute. "Just leave me a little bait and a rod. I'll be fine," I said. By now I was annoyed with both of them.
The weather was not cooperative that day. The temperature was about 40 degrees, and it was raining. "Ugh." I could tell this was going to be one of those gloomy all day rains. Of course the men were not deterred. The whirr of the motor woke me at 5:00 as usual. "If they can fish in this, so can I." I put on several layers of clothes and pulled on a hat. I grabbed the Chinese take-out container that was filled with worms, and headed for the door.
Mom thought I was beginning to carry this too far. "Honey, it's so cold out there! You'll catch your death of pneumonia!" Every time there was a breeze, she thought I'd "catch my death of pneumonia." Actually she brought up a good point. "Mom, will you turn on the furnace and have the cabin warmed up for us?" And just so she could do her mom thing, I added, "I could really go for some hot chocolate in a couple of hours, too."
I walked to the end of the dock and looked at the murky, cold water. I looked out across the lake. My dad was keeping one eye on the weather, and had anchored the boat about 100 yards from shore. "Don't catch a cold, Honey," warned my dad. He wasn't quite as dramatic as mom, at least. My husband, always the gentleman, shouted, "Let me know if you need any help!"
Aggravated, yet undaunted, I threw out my line and reeled it back in a few times. I love that sound. "At least I sound like a fisherman."
It didn't take long for the rain to soak through my clothes. I propped the rod in one of the dock support poles so I could regroup. I grabbed a chair from the kitchen, put on a dry jacket and took a blanket from the bed. "This should keep me warm for a while." Mom caught me on my way out the door. "Here, honey. I made you some cocoa!"
"Thanks Mom."
When I got back to the dock my line was being tugged on. "Oh boy," I thought. I gave it a yank to set the hook, and reeled it in. "Bummer." No fish. No worm. "At least the stupid fish could take a big enough bite to get the hook in it's mouth." I re-wormed and cast again. And again. And again.
The guys noticed from the boat that I might be getting some action. "Hey, Di," my dad called out. "You getting some bites?" I explained what was happening. "You probably attracted a school of minnows. Maybe we'll net some when we get back and use 'em for bait." Oh yeah, I was still cute as a button to them.
My line moved again. "Great. I'm almost out of worms, too." I gave the yank, just in case. "Hey!" The hook set. The reel whizzed as the fish ran with it. This one was big enough to run with my line, anyway. I began to work with fish, reeling it in and letting it run. Back and forth, trying to wear the fish out. My fish rolled in the water, trying to escape. The fish-less men in the boat, who had noticed that my action was getting intense, were just a few feet from the fish when it rolled. My dad gasped. "Di! You've got yourself a big fish on!" Now they wanted to get in on some of my action. "Don't lose him, Di! We'll be right in!" As if.
This fish was wearing me out! The muscles in my arms were beginning to tremble. I was drenched from the rain. It was exhilarating! It was exhausting! It was fishing!
When the men came ashore, the fish still had plenty of fight in him. I was relieved to let my dad struggle with him for a while. My arms needed a rest.
"AAAAHHHH!!" I ran to my husband and jumped up and down! "Babes! I think I've got a big one! He was so strong!" A gentleman to the end, he said, "You better get back and take over. I'll go to the boat and get the net for you." Good thinking. I hadn't considered needing a net.
The fish was still fighting, and my dad, the great white fisherman, was getting tired. "Daddy, I can take it back now," I said. He gave back the rod and cautioned, "Often a big fish is lost while netting him, so stay strong until he's out of the water." Finally I brought him to the dock. The fish and I were both exhausted. We could see his full size now, and he was enormous. In fact, he looked like he could be trophy material. My dad offered, "Di, do you want me to reel him in the rest of the way, and you can net him?" I took my dad up on his offer, but when I got the net under the fish, I could not lift him up. "Phil, help!" I called out to my husband. "He's too heavy for me!" Phil quickly dropped to his knees and had to lay right on top of me to get to the net without dropping the fish.
We laid him on the ground and just stared at him. He was huge-trophy size, for sure. My dad was amazed and proud that his daughter had caught this fish. My husband was excited for me and happy to have been a part. I was thrilled with my catch, but even more thrilled that I had earned the right to fish with the big boys.
My dad is quite the fisherman. You could say it's in his blood. He and his brother used to boast about their big catches, and who had the biggest fish. I suppose my dad dreamed of having a son he could share those great fishing experiences with, but since he was blessed with 3 daughters, that wasn't possible. Only occasionally would I get to go along. I hoped that one day I'd get to put down the cane poles babies used, and graduate to a rod and reel like my dad.
When I was newly married, my dad finally had his chance to take a son fishing. Our 2 families took a vacation together, and my mother was very excited! I guess she thought she'd have a companion too. "Great! We can shop or lay in the sun while the guys fish," she said. "Yeah, that's just great," I thought. Not only was the nearest mall about 6 hours from the lake, but I really wanted to fish. I was a woman of the 70's! I could do anything men could do, right?
Wrong. We had one boat, and the fisherMEN had that all day, so my resources were limited. The dock was about twelve feet long, and the water was still pretty shallow at the end. Still, I thought fishing off the dock would be better than nothing, so I approached my dad about leaving me a rod and reel. "Aw, sure, Honey," my dad said. He thought it was a cute idea. My husband volunteered, "Do you want me to put a worm on it for you?" It was obviously his turn to be cute. "Just leave me a little bait and a rod. I'll be fine," I said. By now I was annoyed with both of them.
The weather was not cooperative that day. The temperature was about 40 degrees, and it was raining. "Ugh." I could tell this was going to be one of those gloomy all day rains. Of course the men were not deterred. The whirr of the motor woke me at 5:00 as usual. "If they can fish in this, so can I." I put on several layers of clothes and pulled on a hat. I grabbed the Chinese take-out container that was filled with worms, and headed for the door.
Mom thought I was beginning to carry this too far. "Honey, it's so cold out there! You'll catch your death of pneumonia!" Every time there was a breeze, she thought I'd "catch my death of pneumonia." Actually she brought up a good point. "Mom, will you turn on the furnace and have the cabin warmed up for us?" And just so she could do her mom thing, I added, "I could really go for some hot chocolate in a couple of hours, too."
I walked to the end of the dock and looked at the murky, cold water. I looked out across the lake. My dad was keeping one eye on the weather, and had anchored the boat about 100 yards from shore. "Don't catch a cold, Honey," warned my dad. He wasn't quite as dramatic as mom, at least. My husband, always the gentleman, shouted, "Let me know if you need any help!"
Aggravated, yet undaunted, I threw out my line and reeled it back in a few times. I love that sound. "At least I sound like a fisherman."
It didn't take long for the rain to soak through my clothes. I propped the rod in one of the dock support poles so I could regroup. I grabbed a chair from the kitchen, put on a dry jacket and took a blanket from the bed. "This should keep me warm for a while." Mom caught me on my way out the door. "Here, honey. I made you some cocoa!"
"Thanks Mom."
When I got back to the dock my line was being tugged on. "Oh boy," I thought. I gave it a yank to set the hook, and reeled it in. "Bummer." No fish. No worm. "At least the stupid fish could take a big enough bite to get the hook in it's mouth." I re-wormed and cast again. And again. And again.
The guys noticed from the boat that I might be getting some action. "Hey, Di," my dad called out. "You getting some bites?" I explained what was happening. "You probably attracted a school of minnows. Maybe we'll net some when we get back and use 'em for bait." Oh yeah, I was still cute as a button to them.
My line moved again. "Great. I'm almost out of worms, too." I gave the yank, just in case. "Hey!" The hook set. The reel whizzed as the fish ran with it. This one was big enough to run with my line, anyway. I began to work with fish, reeling it in and letting it run. Back and forth, trying to wear the fish out. My fish rolled in the water, trying to escape. The fish-less men in the boat, who had noticed that my action was getting intense, were just a few feet from the fish when it rolled. My dad gasped. "Di! You've got yourself a big fish on!" Now they wanted to get in on some of my action. "Don't lose him, Di! We'll be right in!" As if.
This fish was wearing me out! The muscles in my arms were beginning to tremble. I was drenched from the rain. It was exhilarating! It was exhausting! It was fishing!
When the men came ashore, the fish still had plenty of fight in him. I was relieved to let my dad struggle with him for a while. My arms needed a rest.
"AAAAHHHH!!" I ran to my husband and jumped up and down! "Babes! I think I've got a big one! He was so strong!" A gentleman to the end, he said, "You better get back and take over. I'll go to the boat and get the net for you." Good thinking. I hadn't considered needing a net.
The fish was still fighting, and my dad, the great white fisherman, was getting tired. "Daddy, I can take it back now," I said. He gave back the rod and cautioned, "Often a big fish is lost while netting him, so stay strong until he's out of the water." Finally I brought him to the dock. The fish and I were both exhausted. We could see his full size now, and he was enormous. In fact, he looked like he could be trophy material. My dad offered, "Di, do you want me to reel him in the rest of the way, and you can net him?" I took my dad up on his offer, but when I got the net under the fish, I could not lift him up. "Phil, help!" I called out to my husband. "He's too heavy for me!" Phil quickly dropped to his knees and had to lay right on top of me to get to the net without dropping the fish.
We laid him on the ground and just stared at him. He was huge-trophy size, for sure. My dad was amazed and proud that his daughter had caught this fish. My husband was excited for me and happy to have been a part. I was thrilled with my catch, but even more thrilled that I had earned the right to fish with the big boys.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
why I got the kitties
I've taken a little heat for getting the kitties. Okay, they were expensive (800 for 2 kitties). I had to drive to Chicago and meet an unknown breeder from Iowa (as luck would have it, she was not a serial killer). They're not rescued (they're registered Ragdolls). I don't need them (debatable). There absolutely is a reason for these kitties.
Each time one of my girls has left the nest, I've been so lost. Of course we raised them to be independant and find their own way. Still, there's an empty place in my home when they fly. And my heart hurts. And it gets quieter. And then I'm the only girl.
So, my youngest moved out in December. Very exciting for her, very lonely for me. The oldest has been out for a few years, and has brought a new joy into my life (that's another blog). I told my husband I need to have a pet! I desperately needed noise, cuteness, being needed and loved, tricks to laugh at, babies to worry over. All the things I shared with my girls.
My search started. I looked at all the different breeds. I looked at pounds and shelters. I talked to other cat people. I don't like my stuff to be just like other people's stuff, so pound kitties were out--too common. Hairless kitties were out for their devoid of cuteness. Aggressive breeds out. Breeds prone to illness, out. I fell in love with Ragdolls for their disposition, their coats, their cuteness. And I found a breeder who was downsizing. A match made in heaven...believe it or not, I do pray that they will be a good match for our family.
They've been with us 2 weeks, and I feel so much better. Of course kitties can't replace people! But I'm calmer, I'm not depressed, I have someone to laugh at, someone who needs me.
Each time one of my girls has left the nest, I've been so lost. Of course we raised them to be independant and find their own way. Still, there's an empty place in my home when they fly. And my heart hurts. And it gets quieter. And then I'm the only girl.
So, my youngest moved out in December. Very exciting for her, very lonely for me. The oldest has been out for a few years, and has brought a new joy into my life (that's another blog). I told my husband I need to have a pet! I desperately needed noise, cuteness, being needed and loved, tricks to laugh at, babies to worry over. All the things I shared with my girls.
My search started. I looked at all the different breeds. I looked at pounds and shelters. I talked to other cat people. I don't like my stuff to be just like other people's stuff, so pound kitties were out--too common. Hairless kitties were out for their devoid of cuteness. Aggressive breeds out. Breeds prone to illness, out. I fell in love with Ragdolls for their disposition, their coats, their cuteness. And I found a breeder who was downsizing. A match made in heaven...believe it or not, I do pray that they will be a good match for our family.
They've been with us 2 weeks, and I feel so much better. Of course kitties can't replace people! But I'm calmer, I'm not depressed, I have someone to laugh at, someone who needs me.
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