Diane's Dress & A Meme

Time for an alluring view of me standing in front of the "tire flower bed", circa 1973. Can you see the flowers? They are probably petunias......Mom always planted those in the tire. Great shadowing on my face.......looks like I have a Hitler moustache.

Its especially heartwarming that my mom saw fit to include the tether ball pole in the photo. In truth, I couldn't wait to stop posing so I could run back there and throw the ball around the pole a few times. Mom probably had some difficulty aiming the Polaroid Land camera since she was simultaneously serving as a barricade against a herd of teenage boys who were crowding around, anxious to rush forward and ask the bespectacled bookworm for a date. Quite a glowing sight I was in that yellow dress, made possibly of dotted Swiss fabric, though I don't recall for sure. Yellow is simply wonderful on me......I wear it all the time......cough, cough. In truth, its a ghastly match for my complexion, and I avoid it, along with all pastels. Fortunately, this very fashionable 1970's dress did not belong to me. On an idiotic whim, my best friend and I had decided to wear the bridesmaids' dresses from her sister's wedding to church the morning this photo was taken. Thanks for the memory, Mom.

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Gramma Ann---of more than one great blog, Ann's Quotes & Things,

My Reading Corner, and others---tagged me recently for a fairly uncomplicated meme. The requirement is simply to list 6 facts about yourself. Here goes.....sorry I couldn't keep it simple:

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1. From my baby book (Yes, I have a fairly-well completed one thanks to the fact that I was a first child......thanks, Mom.): a. My first sentence was "See the birdie", spoken on June 25, 1959, when I was one year and 5 days old.......b. At 2 years of age, some of the books Mom would read to me were Farm ABC, Outside Cat, The Pie Wagon, and Pitidoe the Colormaker. Through online used book stores, I have acquired the latter two books. I look through them and try to assess my feelings.......some of the pictures do seem vaguely familiar.

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2. When I was 2 years old, a big dog knocked me down and bit me in the forehead. Thankfully, I have no memory of this event. Stitches were required and I think the poor dog ended up sacrificing his head for a rabies test. There is a scar high on my forehead, which is noticeable only in the event that my hair is worn severely pulled back, which never happens. When I was in the throes of a depressive delusional paranoia several years ago, I showed the scar to a nurse and told her that my parents had lied to me about the dog bite and actually the scar was from an incision made to insert a radio transmitter (I thought everyone could read my thoughts.......its a common delusion.......that other people can read your mind, and one which I've subsequently brought to life by becoming a blogger and spewing my mind to the world. A few other people truly are "reading my mind". I'm convinced that delusions do contain within them a tiny grain of some kind of truth.) I'm guessing this delusion might never have occurred had I actually retained a memory of the dog bite incident.

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3. When I was 4 years old, I was with my grandparents and a cousin and we were throwing bread crumbs to ducks swimming in a pond at a cemetery near Waterloo. Suddenly, it seemed I forgot to let go of a bread crumb and into the pond I plopped. I recall sinking in the filthy water and then my grandfather's strong arm reached in and pulled me out. Several years later my cousin confessed to me that he had pushed me.......which could be possible as the cousin was (and is) somewhat of a trouble-maker.

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4. One day in third grade, while sitting with two other girls in the school lunchroom waiting to be dismissed, I---for reasons unknown---picked up a stray pea from the table and absent-mindedly tossed it towards one of the upper-grade teachers, never thinking it would be felt through her heavy skirt and sweater. For pity's sake, it was one little, cooked pea. Well.....it hit her in the derriere and, by golly, it must have felt like a bullet to her, for she whirled right around and came stalking over to where we three girls were sitting. At first I was incredulous, and then terrified, for she was the most frightening teacher in the whole elementary school. All of us kids in the lower grades were scared to death of her. She barked out the question, asking who had thrown the pea. I don't really recall, but I must have admitted to being the pea-thrower. Plus, the girls on each side of me were probably staring wide-eyed in my direction. The offended teacher right away told my teacher and they must have called my mom, for when I got home that day Mom informed me that I would have to go and formally apologize to the peaed teacher. It seems an appointment was set up for me to do that a couple days later, during a recess. It went fine. I remember picking wildflowers from the ditch and putting them in a frozen orange juice concentrate can that I had covered in flowered contact paper.......to serve as a peace offering when I walked with great trepidition through the upper-grade hallway to the victim's classroom and apologized to her. To this day, my old friends will occasionally bring up the incident......"Hey, remember that time you chucked the pea at Mrs. M___?" I wish I could say that I WAS truly sorry for what I had done, but she was a really mean teacher and maybe in a way she deserved the peaing.

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5. Every year, our junior high held a spelling contest---bee, or whatever---it was a big deal, we sat up on the stage and spelled the words out loud in front of an audience. In my seventh-grade year, I won the trophy! I was ecstatic; spelling was my favorite subject because it was so darn easy. I never had to study, other than looking at a list of words once and that was enough. I attribute my spelling abilities to constant book-reading. The winning word was "acetylsalicylic".......not a word we had studied, so I had to wing it to win.

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6. My parents didn't wish to shell out money for a band instrument, but I did take piano lessons and could read music and thus was asked to join the percussion section of the school band, way back there behind the rows of woodwinds and brass horns. I played snare drum, bass drum, tenor drum, cymbals, glockenspiel, triangle, wood blocks, maracas, tympani......you name it. Percussion seemed to be where the troubled and the troublemakers ended up, though, of course, I didn't fit either category. Ahem. My favorite thing to do was pound out a song's beat on the bass drum. Maybe it gave me a feeling of being in charge, though in truth I was simply submitting to the timing as directed by the band conductor. A bass drummer, in a backgroundish way, controls the whole band by maintaining the correct rhythm. If the bass drum gets out of rhythm, the whole band follows suit. It was a pretty cool feeling......one that I miss from time to time, actually. Perhaps I possess a deeply-buried desire for power and authority. Beware.

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7. **EXTRA INFO**.......I've lived on a farm all my life. Not the same farm, but on a farm. The farm I live on now is about 6 miles from the farm I grew up on. I can read your mind......you're thinking "Wowser......whoop-de-doo......big deal."

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There, I've told you far more than you wanted to know about me. I would imagine this Six Things Meme has been around the blog block many times, but if you're a blogger and you've never done this particular meme, then consider yourself tagged.....YOU'RE IT! Get busy writing about yourself.

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Desert Rose Band

Troutay's comment yesterday about finding something frivolous and out-of-character to do--to feed the soul--really hit home for me. Thanks, troutay. Actually, starting a blog was out-of-character and frivolous for me, at the time. Now, blogging has become "in-character" for me, though its still frivolous, considering I could be doing something more useful like assembling a casserole or wiping dust particles from myriad surfaces in my house.

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In my case, the first frivolous and out-of-character activity that comes to mind is attending a rock concert. I could dig that right now. Let's see......I'm searching the memory bank here.....one summer in the early 1970's I went with my detasseling crew to see The Beach Boys at the then brand-new UNI-Dome in Cedar Falls. Whoo-ee......we were excited about that! Good vibrations were experienced by all. The following summer the detasselers decided to go to the Chicago concert at the UNI-Dome, and would you believe I considered $15 to be too much to spend on a ticket, so I did not go along. Arghh.......I've been kicking myself ever since! I loved Chicago back then......how idiotic of me not to go see them in person...... and, of course, they've never returned to this area. Arghh.

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After 1986, when we had moved here to Husband's parents' farm and started milking on our own, I became familiar with the C & W singers and bands blaring from the barn radio. Slow, mushy country songs make me want to gag, but I can handle country-rock that has a fast beat. One of such bands I became enamored with out there in the barn was "The Desert Rose Band". So much so that I somehow talked Husband into going to their concert at the Fayette County Fair in West Union, Iowa, about 40 miles or so from where we live. It may have been in July of 1988, around the time of our tenth wedding anniversary. The concert was to start at 8 p.m., giving us time to finish milking and arrive there on time. The tickets were paid for and we had arranged a babysitter for the two kids we had then. Well, wouldn't you know.......there was a problem with the milker pump that night, and for awhile it appeared we would not even be able to go to the concert. Oh, my disappointment was so great that I was shedding tears at one point. Isn't that stupid. Thankfully, we did end up going, though we were late and missed a few songs. After that experience, I vowed to never again make advance plans to go somewhere special in the evening. It was just too stressful.

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I was thrilled to see the Desert Rose Band's talented musicians perform live right before my eyes. I was especially taken with John Jorgenson's guitar playing.....at one point he played a big double guitar which was really cool. I believe this first YouTube clip is a performance of "Hello Trouble", featuring Herb Pedersen on lead vocals. I like this song......oh, to be able to greet "trouble" cheerfully:

My memento of the evening........a Desert Rose Band tee-shirt, which I've worn perhaps once.

Lead singer Chris Hillman was a member of The Byrds, a 1960's rock group from California......they had hits such as "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn, Turn, Turn", shown in this next clip:



Chris Hillman also was a Flying Burrito Brother at one time......a singing group I was not familiar with. Since his DRB days, Chris has been involved in a Gospel group, "Ever Call Ready" and other musical endeavors. I noticed Jerry Scheff of "Ever Call Ready" used to be in the band "Southern Pacific", another one of my faves from the barn radio airwaves in the 1980's. I'll have to do a post about them sometime, too.

The Desert Rose Band featured J.D. Maness on steel guitar. This next clip is of "Ashes of Love"......on Austin City Limits:

DRB occasionally collaborated with Emmylou Harris, as shown in the final clip below. Hmm....I think that might be Mark O'Connor playing fiddle in the background, too. Emmylou was not with the band at the concert we attended, however.

Did I include enough YouTube clips in this post, do ya think? Hey, the six-million-dollar question now is: What's the first frivoulous and out-of-character activity that comes to your mind......for you to indulge in to feed your soul??

Gosh, this was a fun post to do......I think it fed my soul a little bit. Thanks again, troutay.......although.....whoops......I just noticed that your Blogger profile says you DON'T care for Buck Owens' music, meaning you probably wouldn't be a fan of The Desert Rose Band, either. Dang.....I can't win 'em all.

Ear Corn Picking

A glimpse into the past:

The man in the photo is my father-in-law. He left us a year ago this week, passing away on his birthday! We miss his stories of old-time farming.......he did fieldwork with horses when he was a boy and milked cows by hand.

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Here's a story from Sunday's Waterloo Courier, about an area farmer who still picks ear corn. The first photo in the story is cool.......it shows ears of corn shooting out of a cornpicker into a wagon.

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Sweet Sixteen Niece

I have a dear niece who is turning sixteen today! Happy Birthday, Lovely Girl! She was my 2-year-old son's first customer 14 years ago when he was attempting to get his baby-sitting business off the ground:

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Whoops.......at least he can get stroller wheels off the ground! Oh, his poor cousin.......what she had to put up with!

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For an extra dollar per hour, my son the babysitter would provide spelling lessons on the dishwasher door:
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And, he would hover over his charge, ever ready to provide comfort in times of distress. (It couldn't possibly be the case that he might have caused the distress in the first place.......nah......no way!)

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Once again......Happy Birthday, Niece! Kindly follow your parents' rules---they have your best interests in mind......use good judgement......drive carefully, etc.......and God bless you always!
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I Was 'Vetted Long Ago

Where I've been my whole life, I'm not sure, but I had never heard of or noticed the word "vetted" until recently in newspaper articles and editorials about the presidential candidates. In the dictionary, one of the definitions of "vet" is to subject to careful examination; scrutinize; check; test. John McCain, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and Sarah Palin have been undergoing "vetting" by journalists, other media folks, and anyone else possessing an investigative mindset.

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One time, long ago.........I was 'Vetted. Read on and you will find out when, where, and why that occurred.

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From grades seven through twelve, I participated in band at my school, which being a small school, allowed the junior high kids to be part of the high school marching band. In sixth grade, I was sucked into band because they needed a person to play the glockenspiel........and, they were looking for someone who had taken piano lessons and could read music. That landed me in the percussion section for the next seven years, playing snare drum, tenor drum, bass drum, tympani, cymbals, cowbell, wood blocks, maracas, triangle........and glockenspiel. Here's our photo from the 1976 yearbook:

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There are old Saturday Night Live spots showcasing "band cheerleaders"..........did you know a band can also have a queen? Sounds pretty silly, doesn't it. Yes, I kind of thought so, too. Back in my high school days, our school didn't participate in state marching band contest (or perhaps there wasn't such a thing, then), but we took part in the Eastern Iowa Bandmasters Festival in Cedar Rapids each year........I'm thinking it was in the spring, but I could be wrong. A host of high school bands (all better than our little ragtag band) would compete by marching and playing tunes through the streets of downtown Cedar Rapids, each band led by its "queen", who was in competition for a crown to be given away later in the afternoon.

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Ok.......I had been Prom Princess in my junior year and Homecoming Queen in the fall of my senior year.......that was enough royalness. The experiences were enjoyable, but not something I'd particularly wished for........not consciously, anyway. I didn't want to be our band's queen for the Cedar Rapids festival, either, but had a feeling it would be so. As the time for the band to vote came near, I decided to speak privately with my band instructor about this issue. I recall the day very well, even what I was wearing, because the whole thing made me very nervous. During a study hall, I went to the band room to talk to him. I asked him to please let one of the other senior girl band members be the queen, even if I was the top vote-getter. Well........he practically got mad at me........saying, "No, absolutely not, I will not do such a thing!" Stupid me.......evidently, I was blind to the fact that I was asking him to lie and commit fraud.

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Subsequently, yes, I was voted the "band queen" and experienced the one and only 'Vetting of my life! I was conveyed in a CorVETTe!! And, a nice blue one, too.......my favorite color, and my chauffeur was a handsome stranger! We're probably on First Avenue in this photo........last spring, the floodwaters would have been up to the top of the first floor windows of this Cedar Rapids building!

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Following the parade, the band members were free to wander around downtown Cedar Rapids until mid-afternoon when the queen crowning ceremony would take place in a park. For five years, I had enjoyed exploring Cedar Rapids with my friends on the afternoon of the Festival day. This time, I wouldn't get to, for I had to dress up in a formal and spend the afternoon with my band instructor........at a banquet and the queen competition. As we were walking to the restaurant where the banquet was to be held, he said, "They sure picked a seedy place for the meal." I recall this so clearly because it was the first time in my life I'd ever heard someone use the word "seedy", and I wasn't sure exactly what it meant!

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Maybe I should tell you a little bit about our band instructor. He had been a last-minute hire right before my freshman year of high school. Our former, long-time band teacher had died suddenly of a heart attack right before school was to start. This new guy was hired, fresh out of the Coast Guard Band. I still recall our first marching band rehearsal with him out on the football field.......he acted so military-like, and we were all just rolling our eyes the whole time. He didn't get off to a good start.......he didn't establish authority, and he would get flustered and turn red, and then kids would laugh. Not good. He was gifted musically, but didn't really have much of a clue about dealing with students.

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At any rate, somehow he lasted through our four years of high school. He always dressed quite formal, in black pants and a white shirt, but one day in my senior year I walked into the band room and nearly fainted when I saw him in a plaid shirt! At band lessons----which I didn't care for at all----he acted so very ill at ease that it made me feel ill at ease and nervous during my drum and tympani lessons. He always acted overly self-conscious and unsure of himself. He had come from the East Coast.......Boston, possibly; one time his mother came to visit and attended one of our concerts. One look at her was very enlightening. Her appearance and demeanor was totally intimidating.......giving me a much clearer understanding of her son after that, and I could see possibly why he had come all the way out here to teach in a remote little school in Iowa........to get further away from her!! Every one of us.......that means you, too, and me.......is molded by our parents' or guardians' effect on us in our childhood years.

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Below is the group of band queen candidates, with the former year's winner sitting down in the front. I do not recall who won.........I do recall that it was not me, which was absolutely fine and no surprise at all!


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I think the band director stayed at our school one more year after my Class of '76 graduated. He moved on to another school in Iowa, but I never heard where. Sometimes, I think of him and truly hope that he found some happiness, because I don't think he was happy when he was with us. He was single, and I think, rather friendless and lonely. We were so mean to him when he was our study hall monitor........we girls would plan ahead of time to do something all together, like clean out our purses, or some other odd thing that wasn't really against the rules, but would annoy him. One time, we were having study hall in the library and we could hear him yelling at one of our classmates out in the hall.........she came back and sat down across the table from me. I simply whispered to her, behind my hand, "What happened?", and Mr. Band Director immediately roared at ME to go sit in the corner!! Like I was a little grade-schooler! Well, OK, fine.......I did; sat there in the corner of the fiction bookshelves, the guys at the closest table glancing over and snickering for the rest of the hour. It still makes me laugh to think that the only time I was ordered to "sit in the corner" was when I was a senior in high school!!

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Anyhow, as I said........I hope the band director eventually found happiness in life. I enjoyed band very much and have many fond and goofy memories of the goings-on in the percussion "zoo" section! We were in our own world back there behind the rest of the band, and could do pretty much as we pleased......(get creative, you know)....... as long as we kept the proper rhythm and beat!!

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P.S. - One last thing........at the end of the parade, my driver turned around and asked me to stay in the Corvette so we could drive off into the sunset together and get married! That I said "No" may have been the biggest mistake of my life!! (And.......surely you're sharp enough to know that this is a B.S.P.S.!)

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B.S.P.S.#2 (heehee): The real reason I'm posting photos and info of myself as queen-of-something-long-ago is that I'm hoping someone will ask me to run for office!

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Sarah Palin was "Miss Wasilla", in Alaska, years ago! That fact may be a factor, tiny perhaps, but a factor nonetheless, in propelling her to where she is now. Did you know Sarah Palin was also a stand-out high school basketball player, leading her Wasilla team to the state championship? She was known as "Sarah Barracuda", due to her aggressive ball-playing (from Ten Facts About Sarah Palin). An interesting thing I noticed as a mother of two girls who played basketball was: in the initial years of playing----in grade school and junior high-----girls must be constantly exhorted to "be aggressive"! Even I, the nonagressive mom, would sit there in the bleachers and get caught up in yelling at my daughters and their teammates, "C'mon......BE MORE AGGRESSIVE!" (I don't recall hollering those words at my sons' teams.) Competing aggressively doesn't seem to come instinctively to most girls. Liberals and conservatives alike should look at Sarah Palin and see how risky it is to urge girls to be strong and aggressively competitive (wink, wink!)! I wasn't urged that way.......and, see how I turned out.......a career-less, duddy homebody who is so rebellious after 30 years of nonstop farmwiffery and cooking and taking care of husband/kids/house/yard, that I've turned in desperation to amateur photography and blogging. Mothers, be careful how you direct your daughters!!

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[I chose to blog some random facts about Sarah Palin.......which doesn't necessarily mean I'm supportive of her as a vice-presidential candidate. I don't know enough about her, yet. Hm-m........I wonder if Bristol Palin ever played basketball, or if her mother exhorted her to be aggressive? Or, if Governor Sarah Palin would have even had the time to pay much attention to her daughter's activities or the boyfriend! Perhaps Bristol's dad, Todd Palin, "The First Dude" of Alaska, oversees those family issues. (By the way, Todd Palin is 1/8 Yupik Eskimo........making him "of Yupik descent", but not enough to call him an Eskimo.)

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Yours Truly is one mother who definitely discouraged her own daughters from getting involved in serious romances in high school, even to the point of telling a boy to "SCRAM.....GET LOST" once. I was more concerned about my daughter than about what that boy thought of me. Afterwards, my husband stared at me in disbelief and said, "I don't know how you were able to do that, but I'm sure glad you did!" For their own good, more than for religious reasons, I absolutely did not want my daughters ending up with a teen pregnancy or having sex as teenagers, for that matter. Call me old-fashioned if you want.......to me its just good common sense that high-schoolers should not be getting involved in sexual relationships, and I, as a parent, knew that I was responsible for doing all I could to get that message across to the teenagers living under my roof. Also, selfishly, I harbor NO desire to take care of babies and young children everyday, again.........I DID MY TIME WITH THAT ALREADY! Although, I do realize there are extraordinary circumstances that can arise in any family, and I would certainly do my part to help out with children if need be.]

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Junior Year Prom Dress

Easily influenced......those two words describe me......earlier this week Kacey at WineontheKeyboard blog posted a photo from a FEW years back of a prom dress she had made for herself, prompting me to do the same........amidst a flood of memories:

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How well I recall the circumstances surrounding the construction of this dress! "Last Minute" could be my middle name.........and, I had waited until such a time to work on putting this dress together the week before prom during the spring when I was a junior in high school. Let's see......that would have been in 1975. Pastel colors and frilly styles with puffy sleeves were in fashion! (And, yes, due to my penchant for being a clutter-keeper, the dress pattern is still in my possession, as evidenced by the first photo.)

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It seems we had a few days off from school.......it probably was Easter break, and I had planned to use those free days to sew my dress. Well, wouldn't you know, adverse weather came along-----it must have been an early spring ice storm-----causing our electricity to go out for several days! We didn't have a generator on our farm; we had no livestock left by then, so my dad didn't think we needed one, I guess. Well........the sewing machine, of course, certainly did need power in order to work, so I was up a creek without a paddle.

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But......where there's a will, there's a way........we asked one of my grandmas if we could move the sewing machine to her house in town so I could work on my dress there. That was OK with her, and the sewing machine in its cabinet was transported to the spare room in Grandma's house and I stayed there for the next few days, sewing like mad. At one point, my hurrying turned to carelessness and while trimming off threads at the end of a seam, I managed to snip a hole in the fabric. Oh, man, I was about sick about that! It was on the front side of the bodice, but fortunately near the arm area. I found some iron-on bonding stuff which would adhere to the inside of the rip to hold it together; it was still visible, but when the dress was worn, the damaged area was pretty much hidden by my arm and not noticeable to anyone else. (The proof of this----the dress itself----is in a box in the storeroom upstairs.)

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Being at Grandma's house for a few days was a treat, of course. (This was not the grandma who had been a country school teacher.) She was a very quiet person, never smiling much, but loved to cook, so I would have been a very well-fed seamstress for those few days! She made super-yummy chocolate chip cookies and tapioca pudding which she always served in pretty green glass pudding cups that had a clear pedestal base. I've seen sets like them at a collectible shop, and someday hope to buy a one if possible......just for the sake of memories of Grandma. (Years later, my aunt got rid of all of Grandma's dishes, for some reason, without offering them to any of us in the family!)

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Grandma had been born in northern Wisconsin, in 1901, to a farming family eking out a living in an area of poor farmland. They eventually moved to Waterloo, Iowa, but not before Grandma had survived a bout with polio at a young age. She would later relate that she saw angels filling her room when she was so very sick. The polio left her with one leg smaller and shorter for the rest of her life. She wore a special shoe and walked with an awkward limp. Maybe that's part of the reason she didn't smile much; the other being that Bell's Palsy caused one side of her face to droop when she was in her early 60's, and her smiles looked lop-sided after that.

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Grandma's house was neat as a pin, and she would hum a funny little tune while doing laundry. She wore a housedress and apron everyday; and enjoyed watching game shows and BOXING matches (of all things) on television. Grandma loved her coffee, too, and one time when there were rumors of an upcoming shortage, she bought many cans of her favorite coffee and squirrelled them away in her top kitchen cupboards! Grandma never drove a car, either, and often rode along with us to go shopping.

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Like I said, Grandma was pretty quiet, in the way she lived her life, and, literally, in her speaking. When she did say something, it came out rather quick and abrupt. Perhaps she had long ago learned to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself, and dedicate herself to cooking good meals and keeping an orderly house.

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It is just a blast digging into the old photos in my closet! I haven't looked at them in years, and when I gaze at myself in these scenes from long ago, I can hardly recall being even remotely acquainted with the person I was back then. Years and years of busy, exhausting motherhood and farmwifery carried me far from whoever that girl was. Would I even want to get reacquainted with her? I'm not sure........

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Hey, if any of you have old prom pictures or other high school photos lying around........why not post some for the blogworld to see!! You're among friends........we won't laugh at you........(yeah, right!!).

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Nests We Spring From

I appreciate the kind comments on the previous post! Thank you! In connection with that subject is this post:

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Here's what Miss Kitty's little family looks like right now.........sporting their newly-opened eyes!

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Here's the nest I sprang from:
It was the summer of 1975; we were making a swing through the West, taking in major sites and attractions: The Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, Devil's Tower...........and Yellowstone National Park in northwest Wyoming. This photo was taken at Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone, near the north entrance to the park. I am standing behind the bratty Little Brother.

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Actually, the photo's setting is very fitting for our family. We sprang from a marriage that was like a volatile pot of stew, often rocked by the mixture of binge alcoholism, denial, and a co-dependent who was very able at enabling and glossing things over. When a marriage pot rocks like that, it sloshes over, affecting things in its vicinity.........such as the CHILDREN in the household.

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I don't intend to say much more on the subject.......except that: if there is one factor in my childhood which may be partially to blame for the traits I have, it is the FEAR that I often felt as a child. Don't get me wrong........my parents were not child abusers, but our household often knew FEAR. I was extremely aware of it, which probably established abnormal sensitivities in my psyche.

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'NUFF SAID!! Except for: I'm not looking for sympathy, but this might be part of the explanation of my weirdness. By the way, the parents did divorce, bitterly, many years later.

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Homecoming 1975

Well, September has arrived........time for cool nights and high school football games, and memories of the same from the mists of the far distant past. Yes, as odd and fluky as it may seem, and, indeed, it DID seem fluky to me at the time.........I was a Homecoming Queen in September of 1975.

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Above is the Queen (me, at the back of the float) and her court, sitting atop a decorated hayrack float in the middle of Main Street in Dunkerton, Iowa, participating in a community pep rally!! Can you hear my mother hollering from the somewhere in the crowd: "DAUGHTER........SIT UP STRAIGHT!!!" In the background is the old bank building which was torn down a few years ago; there's actually not much left in the downtown area anymore, due to several rounds of serious flooding in the last twenty years.

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Before the marching band and the float paraded downtown, there was a coronation ceremony in the school gym, with most of the grades, K-12, in attendance, plus parents and anyone else who wished to be there. In the photo, I'm being crowned by the previous year's Homecoming Queen. Following that, I had to say a few words........(gulp)......"Uh.....uh......thank you very much......this is definitely a surprise!" Then a schoolmate named Kent, who had a beautiful voice, sang "May You Always Walk in Sunshine", an annual tradition at the coronation ceremony. (I have a photo of Kent singing.......in his double-knit sportcoat, plaid pants.......and 70's hair style!) Also, the Boy's Glee Club sang "The Yellow Rose of Texas", in honor of our football coach who was from Texas! There was a special speaker, too, a former standout athlete from our school. Then we all paraded downtown for the community pep rally!! (Hey, formal dressing for high-school girls was a bit different back then, wasn't it?! Less skin........more fabric!)

Truly, it was a complete surprise to me to end up as the Queen, for I had not even made the "Bottom Five" as a junior. The voting process at our school involved the whole high school first voting for ten junior and senior girls (we didn't have Homecoming Kings back then). The top five vote-getters were the "Top Five" and the others were the "Bottom Five". Usually, if you made the "Bottom Five" as a junior, you could be assured of making the "Top Five" as a senior. Thus, I was stunned to have made the "Top Five" that senior year........the votes from the incoming freshman class must have pushed me to the top; my sister was in that grade, and alot of her friends knew who I was. We voted the final time on the Friday before Homecoming Week; and during the following week, a couple times when I passed our stern-faced principal in the hall and no one else was around, he would start whistling the "There She Is......Miss America" theme song. I just rolled my eyes at that; I thought, "NO WAY!" (Besides, he probably whistled that the other candidates that week, too.)

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In this next photo, I am surely shouting, "Mighty Raiders.......Ye had better win ye olde Homecoming football game tonight, or ye will be thrown into yon dark, dungeon-like coal bin behind ye olde boiler room at ye olde school!!" Yes, I was determined that my queenly reign would be authoratative.......no wimpy royalness for me!! Our team did win that night, but it was the last victory of the season-----our excellent quarterback was sidelined for the rest of the season after spraining his ankle in this Homecoming game. We ended up with a winning season that year, but I think it was one of the last ones the school has had since then........they switched to 8-man football this year, and had a big win last week, so perhaps they'll earn their first winning season in possibly 30-some years! (And, yes, I firmly believe that bloggers should post only VERY "attractive" photos of themselves on their blogs.......one should attempt to put forth a good impression at all times!)

I'm quite sure these black & white photos were taken by my classmate, Sara, the yearbook photographer; she let me have quite a few of the extra photos from that school year of 1975-76. (Sara has been a lawyer in California for many years, but is moving back here to allow her kids to finish out their growing-up years in Iowa!) I was yearbook co-editor, and had arranged for a professional photographer to take pictures at our Homecoming ceremony; we had contracted with his studio to cover special school events thoughout the year. Well......guess what.......he snapped photos throughout the ceremony with NO FILM IN HIS CAMERA!!! Yes, he called a few days later to tell us what had happened. Great......just great. I can even recollect what spot I was standing in in the yearbook advisor's room when the news was told to me, and my initial extreme consternation. We decided to ask around to see if anyone else had taken snapshots at the ceremony. Fortunately, the dad of one of my classmates was an avid photographer-----actually, we thought he was a bit loony for taking so many photos all the time-----and he saved the day by providing us with snapshots for the yearbook, though they weren't nearly as crisp and clear as what the professional ones would have been......IF the "professional" guy had been on the ball!! We did the best we could with the layout of those Homecoming pages, but the photos of the ceremony are fuzzy. It makes for an interesting memory, at least! (And, this fact suddenly comes to mind: My parents' nickname for me when I was very young was "Fuzzy Bear", due to the fuzz on my baby head. How fitting!)

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In this scene we're parked on Main Street in front of the general store in town, with a tavern next door. Across the street was the old drug store, of which there is a photo of in this blog's sidebar.

I was provided with a tin-foil-covered scepter, a banner to wear, and a glittery crown. The dress was one I really liked.......we bought it at the Miller-Wohl clothing store in Oelwein, back when downtown Oelwein was quite a shopping mecca, boasting several dress shops, shoe stores, a Penneys, Sears, Monkey Wards, Spurgeon's, and two dime stores----Woolworth's and Ben Franklin. All those stores are nonexistent in Oelwein now.

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My Homecoming crown is still in existence, though, even after being played with over and over by my two daughters and their friends when they were little. Now the teddy bears have to fight over it........(until little granddaughters come along, perhaps)!

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In honor of our old football coach from Texas, I'll hum the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas".........I'm unsure of most of the words, except for these: "You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosalee-ee........but the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me!" The coach was single and drove an orange Carmengia; after our class graduated he married the art teacher and they moved back to Texas! He talked with a thick Texas drawl, which we made terrible fun of. He taught History and Government classes, and one time we were taking notes and he started talking about "pension grabs" and it sounded like "pinch & grab", in fact that's what I wrote in my notes at first! We never let him live that one down.......he was a good sport, though, smiling his way through all the teasing.

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And now, just for you blog readers:

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May you always walk in sunshine

Slumber warm when night winds blow

May you always live with laughter

For a smile becomes you so.

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May good fortune find your doorway

May the bluebirds sing your song

May no trouble travel your way

May no worry stay too long.

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May your heartaches be forgotten

May all tears be spilled

May old acquaintance be remembered

When your cup of time is filled.

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And may you always be a dreamer

May your wildest dreams come true

May you find someone to love

As much as I love you.

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(By Larry Markes & Dick Charles)

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I'm singing those words to you right now! Have a sunshine day!!

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Dirt Road Prairie

This is a post that keeps getting pushed aside in the queue........I must get it published before summer is completely over with!!!

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Not far from where I live is a testament to a bygone era.........a never-graded dirt road, one mile in length. Why was it never graded? I suppose because it has no houses or farmsteads along its length. Why has the county left this road open all these years? I don't know for sure, but I'm glad it IS open, although, truly, it leads NOWHERE. Maybe its kept open for fans of mudding.......there are some of those crazed guys around the area.......they thrash their pickups through here after heavy rains.

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This crazed blogger appreciates the dirt road's continued existence because of the prairie plants growing there. It isn't difficult to envision a horse-drawn wagon or buggy making its way through here years ago:

One day about three weeks ago, before my son's wedding, after running errands in our small town, I took the long way home by way of this dirt road. Oh, look, there's company up ahead........click the photo above to better see the rabbit!

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One of my great-great-grandfathers was a farmer/veterinarian in this area........he most likely traversed this road many times. He had received his veterinary education in Berlin, emigrated to the U.S.----to Pennsylvania----and later, to Iowa, to farm and work as a vet in the German communities in southern Bremer County. A very elderly lady, now long deceased, a lifelong resident in this neighborhood, once told me that she could remember his buggy coming to their farm when she was a little girl.......that would have been in the 1890's. I've been told that, although he was a veterinarian, he also did tonsillectomies........on HUMAN children!

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Along the road, there was a nice patch of Prairie Sage, conspicuous with its dusty, whitish appearance. When I did a Google search for Prairie Sage, this IonExchange website came up.......its a seed company from Harpers Ferry, Iowa, up along the Mississippi River. Cool! I had not heard of IonExchange before.

Here's their page for Prairie Sage.........the information detailing the uses of this plant by Native Americans and early settlers is interesting. It was used in ceremonies and burned like incense.

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Here's a white flower, unfamiliar to me........I'll have to look it up in the flower book........done.......that took about five minutes: It is Whorled Milkweed, I believe.

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Waving in the breeze was Big Bluestem Prairie Grass:

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Oh, wow! This dirt road prairie must surely boast the township's mother-lode of Queen Anne's Lace (AKA Wild Carrot)!

This old avenue with its prairie plant borders would be a lovely spot in the evening, cast in the sunset's golden glow.......or even at sunrise. If I one day find the gumption to drive over to this lonely place at dusk or dawn, you'll be the first to see the photo evidence.

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Hey.........this quiet, secluded old road would be a perfect place for "PARKING"......... in one of those vintage cars, for sure (wink,wink)! I'm sure none of you readers would step forward to 'fess up to ever doing that! Hahaha!! Although, "parking" needn't necessarily involve anything immoral........it might simply be about sitting in a car and talking.

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The Stolen Bride

Yes, a True Confession coming right up.........I look really concerned about doing such a thing, don't I......probably because I have nothing exciting to confess, other than I'm the typical Lutheran garden-variety "poor, miserable sinner".

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First of all, a confession of stupidity........look at the photo and consider how idiotic I was back then in 1978: It was the middle of JULY.......there I was in a long-sleeved wedding dress, with a collar up to my 20-year-old double-chin and short neck. Whatever was I thinking?

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Actually, the scene in the photo is of when I threw my bouquet, out in front of the Baptist church; and a wimpish, paltry throw it was, landing just a few feet behind me. The girl who nabbed it, I believe, has never married!!

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Here's the who, what, when, where, and why of the theft of Jeannelle the Bride, a little over thirty years ago:

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A bit of background on "bride stealing", what I believe must be an old, old tradition, probably dating back to Cave Man days when Ogg would come to Ugg's cave with club and clobber Ugg over the head and drag his woman by her hair back to his own cave. He'd of had trouble getting a grasp on my fine, thin tresses, that's for sure!

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My Husband's people all came from northern Germany; perhaps bride-stealing was customary there, a tradition from the Dark Ages, when a nobleman would steal the poor peasant guy's bride and hold her for ransom; there was a ransom involved in my kidnapping, in fact. Or maybe a Viking gang from the next village would come to pillage and grab a bride for good measure.

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At any rate, I, the blushing bride of just a few hours, was innocently conversing with guests at our wedding dance, when suddenly I was picked up by the feet and the shoulders by several men and hauled outdoors and stuffed into the backseat of a waiting car. Not to worry.......the driver of the car was a good friend, and my sister was there on the passenger side. We drove to the next small town and went into a tavern. I, of course, was in my wedding dress, and had no shoes on; the bleary-eyed beer drinkers at the bar grinned and stared. We may have sat at a booth for awhile and had a drink, I don't really recall. It seems like maybe we shot some pool, too.

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Meanwhile, back at the dance hall in our absence, cash for a ransom was being collected in my shoe, being passed around the room. Much to my chagrin, my wedding dress had arrived way too short, so I had to wear completely flat ballerina slippers to the wedding. That conjures up a romantic image.......a silly, little, flat shoe being passed around.......an alluring high heel would have been better. But, it was only recently that I learned that cash during bride thefts was collected in a shoe; the cash had been given to us in a cigar box after the dance, so I had assumed that was used.

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My captors and I stayed at the tavern for maybe a half hour, then headed back to the town where the dance was going on. There weren't DJ's back then; we hired a very local band to provide music at our dance.......real, live music!! Another memory that stands out about the evening was when my nine-year-old, Baptist brother gaped at me with wide eyes, incredulous that I was holding a can of beer and actually sipping from it! Good grief; I was thirsty, for crying out loud! Alcohol was outwardly a no-no in the household I grew up in, you see. 'Nuff said. I've never been more than a very light drinker, but certainly am not into teetotaling, as my brother is to this day. Our wedding dance indeed was the clash of two cultures........the imbibing, dancing German Lutherans VS the teetotaling, anti-dancing, goody-two-shoes Baptists. They had to mix sooner or later!

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One more oddity........at the dance hall, I had kicked my shoes off onto the pile of other womens' shoes, and at the end of the dance, I could find only one of my shoes. Well, no matter.......I wasn't planning on wearing the dumb things again, anyway. About three weeks later, in the mail one day, I received a box with no return address on it, and inside, wrapped in newspapers, was my missing shoe! I have no idea who had it and then bothered to send it back. Maybe anonymous shoe-stealing is a wedding tradition I'm not aware of. Or was it about kicking a Goody-TWO-Shoes attitude?!

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Maybe, just maybe........a SOLE-mate had the shoe!!

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I'm wondering if bride-stealing still goes on anywhere? Or shoe-stealing? It didn't occur last weekend after my son's wedding. Is it a dying tradition? Too much of an invasion of the bride's privacy, perhaps. She has to be a good sport about the whole thing. Honestly, I didn't mind being stolen.......it was fun, and gave me a break from the crowd at the dance hall.

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Have a great day!!

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[If you were a STOLEN BRIDE, or if you ever STOLE A BRIDE........oh, do tell in a comment!]

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Summer Fling

Yeah, that's right.......every summer I have a fling with this handsome dude, and he can do some awesome flinging, let me tell you.......of grass clippings, of course!!

He and I get it on at least once a week, and more often when the weather is maintaining a certain hot, muggy pattern. Don't worry.......this physical relationship of ours is sanctioned and encouraged by Husband, because if it wasn't ME getting involved with this fella, then Husband would have to, and Husband is just not that kind of guy!

Each tryst lasts for several hours, and by the time he and I are finished I'm covered in dust and dirt, my skin crawling and itching, with pine needles inside my clothes and adorning my hair. Checking for ticks is necessary afterwards, too. Why I put up with such a relationship is beyond my comprehension!

(Yes.......sad to say........I override a safety feature........ for convenience sake.)

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Mowing through an area thick with fluffy dandelion seed heads results in this:

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Actually, my penchant for getting involved with lawnmowers goes way, way back. The farm I grew up on had huge lawns.......the front yard, the middle yard, the back yard, the windmill yard, the yards bordering the garden, and around the sheds. There were two push Lawn-Boys at our service, put to endless use by my sisters and I, who, as a result, enjoyed generous doses of exercise, sweating, and UV rays. When our brother grew old enough to mow........the parents purchased a RIDING mower for him to use! Figure that one out.

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For the first few years of our marriage, Husband and I rented a house on a farmstead near his parents' farm. Once again.......a vast expanse of lawn to mow........including a horribly steep ditch. And, as always, the task fell to little old me and an ancient, decrepit Lawn Boy push mower. Truly, I felt I would go mad at times, trying desperately to get the mowing done, for the feeble thing would invaribly start coughing where the grass grew just a little bit thick, then sputter blue smoke, die, and refuse to start again. Husband was never there when that happened, of course. I would plead with him to remedy this situation........he would fiddle with the mower; but, it would behave the same way the next time I used it.

One day, I became so frustrated that I simply drove to a town about ten miles away where there was a hardware store, and I purchased a BRAND-NEW Lawn Boy push mower!! Horrors.......something new........how dreadful........and without my husband's permission. He wasn't too happy about it.......too bad......I didn't care by that point. Some of you good, obedient, submissive wives may turn away at this confession.......that's OK. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I was absolutely at the end of my lawnmowing rope, you see; I was responsible for mowing a gigantic lawn, but not given decent equipment to do so.......and the situation became intolerable for me. Sorry.

When we eventually moved onto this farm where we live-----where Husband grew up-----I had another gargantuan lawn staring me in the face every summer, weekly bursting its trappings like The Hulk. If you're a lifelong town person, you may not realize that most livestock farmers do not do lawnmowing......they don't have the time.......so the job falls to the wife and kids, and there's nothing inherently wrong with that, of course.......a wife and children need to be kept busy, or they might fall into who knows what.......blogging, perhaps. Idleness is the devil's workshop, you know. On our farm, though, the kids were usually helping their dad with barn chores, so the lawnmowing fun filtered down to me, as always.

For many years, I tolerated the cheap, clunky riding mower that Husband's parents had left here. They never believed in spending much money on lawnmowing equipment.....it was that old German frugality coming through......."Ach! The lawn don't make ya any money"! Finally.....and to my great joy......the old mower's shift lever broke off one day and we had to buy a different machine. I pleaded for a mower with hydrostatic shifting. Husband acted like he just couldn't understand why I might want that. Grr-rrr. Amazingly, we did upgrade to the more convenient shifting, but the mower we bought was still a cheap brand.......very wimpy and would plug up on a dime. I would meekly point out that most everyone else around the neighborhood used John Deere mowers, so maybe those were of better quality........Husband would just mutter, "No, they're too expensive."

Finally, two years ago, as spring and mowing season approached, I began reminding him of how poorly our old mower was performing. I said, "For Pete's sake......there is a huge amount of mowing to do here and much of it is rough ground and tough weeds......WE NEED A BETTER MOWER.......WITH MORE POWER AND STAMINA!!" Evidently, this time my complaining broke through a barrier in Husband's mind, and we actually went to a John Deere dealership and bought the mower in the above photos. It was not a new one, but was in very good shape, and has plenty of power to deal with the tough mowing conditions on our farm. I'm very happy with this mower......it is well-made and starts easily and is NOT a wimp! Its the type of mower I'm proud to have a relationship with!!

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Here's a scene from in the shed, near where my dear lawnmower sleeps during the times between our intimate encounters. For the amount of energy you the blog reader expend to gaze at one piece of farm machinery........you get two, sort of........the tractor AND the nearby reflected hay baler!!

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Have you ever had a summer fling? Oh.....do tell!!

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Corn Sax 101

Ok.......the strangest thing happened yesterday morning. There I was, sitting on the porch, in my flannel nightgown, sleepily enjoying my first sips of coffee for the day. Birds in the tree branches were chirping their morning greetings, and the cornfield in the distance was glimmering in the gentle sunlight. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was realizing that detasseling season had arrived, and I chuckled as my own memories were activated of that "fun" Iowa teenage-rite-of-passage activity, and was smugly thankful not to be part of a detasseling crew this morning!

Suddenly------and, don't ask me to explain how it happened, for I do not know------I found myself standing in the jungle of drippy cornstalks in yonder field, as if transported in a dream, still in my flannel nightgown, old clogs on my feet, and my camera clutched in my hand. Goodness gracious! Simply because I had insensitively chuckled inwardly about detasselers.........wow, one truly needs to guard their thoughts......apparently so!

Since I was there in the rustling corn environs, I decided to take a few photos for the blog, for the advantage of any readers who have arrived here from an alternate universe where corn doesn't exist.

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Pointing the camera upwards........this is the view........the cornstalks are way above my head by now, at probably eight to to ten feet tall. That would be absurdly tall for a human, but I don't think the corn will reach its normal height this year, due to late planting and adverse spring weather conditions.

Here's my paltry attempt at a close-up view of a tassel just beginning to emerge from its sheath at the top of the corn plant.

Lend me your ear.......but, don't tell anyone........actually, all this tasseling going on is connected with SAX........corn sax, that is. Yes, cornstalks have a sax life! I'm not a botanist or a horticulturalist or an agronomist, or even a plant gynecologist, but I think the tassel could be considered the male part. The tassel releases its pollen, which falls down upon the cornsilk strands, which have emerged from the stalk about halfway down the corn plant. I would say they are the female part. The strands of cornsilk lead downwards into where the ear of corn will form (in sort of a uterus); each strand of silk will produce one corn kernel on the ear of corn. I think that's how it works, anyhow. If I'm wrong........please, someone set me straight!

The silks are rather pink and pretty.........they must be female, right!!?
Well, after seeing all these amazing reproductory sights, I was ready to leave the confines of the soppy, wet cornfield.......my camera was getting dripped on. Corn plants are made to catch and hold water, which they do very well. Also, the sharp leaf edges are very apt to cause itching or slice your eyeball, so a cornfield is truly not a comfortable, safe place to spend much time in. And, if you have toddlers around.......it is one place you NEVER ever want them to end up lost in!!

The cornstalks stubbornly barred my way from leaving the field, however, and threatened to STALK me in the future, unless I promised to add plenty of "CORN-trast" to one of their photos........which I tried to do with this final scene. I hope they are satisfied!! (They erroneously assumed I have Photoshop, but really it is archaic Picture-It........I didn't enlighten them.)

I also just realized that I failed to explain what "detasseling" is all about. Well.......you can probably deduce what it involves.........removing the tassel. That needs to be done in fields where the corn is being grown for seed. Usually there are two "male" rows to every six "female" rows, if I remember right. When I detasseled as a teenager, we would walk through the "female" rows------which had already had most of their tops cut off by a machine-----pulling out what remained of the tassels. The pollen from the two "male" rows would then pollinate the silks on the "female" rows. That is how different hybrids of corn are developed and produced for seed.

Detasseling was..... well...... not exactly the most pleasant job in the world, but when you're a teenager, just being with a group of your friends is fun.......so we usually had a pretty-darn good time. We'd laugh and gossip and joke our way across the fields. Most of the seed corn fields we worked in were located right south of Waterloo, Iowa, in Orange Township. I worked on DeKalb crews, if I remember right. We made $1.50 per hour! I pulled in $150 one summer, and, wow, did I ever feel wealthy!! It was used for back-to-school shopping, though.....:(

We'd start very early in the mornings, of course, when the cornfields were sopping wet. We'd quickly be drenched, our shoes caked with heavy globs of mud. Then the sun would rise higher and hotter in the sky and the fields would get very steamy. Yuck, yuck. Porta-potties had not yet been invented back in the Dark Ages of the early 1970's (also part of that murky era before the advent of cell phones, VCR's, CD's, DVD's, iPOD's). So-----if you can imagine-----we'd have to traipse into someone's farmhouse, in our dirty duds, to use the bathroom. I don't think we went in the fields......for there were boys' crews around, too. Nowadays, the crews are mixed, and when my daughter detasseled, she came home grossed out one day because she had accidently walked up to a boy who was relieving himself in the field. I'm happy our crews were segregated, I guess.

So, yes, if you weren't acquainted with the details of corn sax and detasseling before this......well, consider yourself informed, as of this reading! Aren't you lucky!! Actually, the truth is.......farms are saturated with SAX.......its all around! In the fields, in the barn, in the sheds......even the tractors get involved!! Egads.......hydraulic hoses and hook-ups on tractors have "female" parts and "male" parts. Imagine my mortification when I've been sent by Husband to get parts for the tractor and I have to speak these words across the counter to the poker-faced parts man: "I've been sent to get a male end for this hose.......do you have one that will fit?" And, yes, that's what they're called, officially......."male" and "female" ends! So, you have to say it that way!! And, people wonder why I'm so meek and quiet.

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Old Bridge Survives Again

Once again it has survived a flood.......this old cement, one-lane bridge in Dunkerton, Iowa. So familiar is the unique bridge, I hardly notice it. Back in the early 1900's-----so I was told long ago by my grandma-----it was a pretty fancy way to reach the once-bustling Main Street. In this photo, taken yesterday, Crane Creek is still running very high. The photo was taken from the much newer Hwy. 281 bridge. In the bad flood of 1968, when I was ten years old, we stood near this more modern bridge, as it hummed and vibrated from water surging along underneath.......we wondered if it and the old bridge were about to be washed downstream. That year, in late July, our area received FIFTEEN inches of rain in a 24-hour period, resulting in massive flooding. As I remember, practically all the bridges in our area were washed out that time; you couldn't get anywhere!! The old bridge in the photo obviously survived the flood of 1968, and all floods previous and subsequent! It must be well-built!  (Info about the bridge.)

Near the left end of the bridge was a blacksmith shop when I was a kid. An old guy named Joe was the owner/operator. When Dad went there with parts that needed repaired by welding, my sister and I would go along. We weren't supposed to watch the welding process for the sake of our eyes, so we'd skip over to the general store next door to get a treat of bubble gum or a candy bar.

From the blacksmith shop, if you go across the old bridge, you'll find yourself in the city park. Swings, slides, teeter-totters, merry-go-round, and monkey bars----they kept us occupied there, along with a wheel of bars hanging from chains that we'd reach up and grasp onto and run as fast as we could, allowing centrifugal force to then swing us round and round with our feet way off the ground. Great flying fun! It was my favorite! That was the only place I ever saw that particular type of plaything......I have no idea what it was called, and I doubt its there anymore. It would surely be too dangerous in some way.

On our school playground, too, there were merry-go-rounds, swings, slides, monkey bars. Two-Square and Four-Square lines on the asphalt, too, in order to play those games with a bouncing ball. And tether-ball poles........we had several of those. My kids have no idea what tether-ball is........it must have lost popularity in the years between my schooldays and theirs. Probably too dangerous......the ball would hit kids in the head sometimes. Knock some sense into us, maybe!!

What was your playground favorite?

Mourning Dove

Fresh from the back yard this morning..........a mourning dove high in a pine tree. We usually have several pairs nesting around here each year. One time, there was a nest right on a branch near my clotheslines........each time I pinned laundry on the line, there was an eye watching me.

This will be a brief post, as I'm expecting two little girls to arrive any moment. They have to put up with me babysitting them while their mom runs errands in town.

Today's Dr. Dictionary word is "hullabaloo"! It means "a confused noise; tumult; uproar". When I was a kid in the 60's, there was a TV show by that name which featured mod dancing. My parents certainly didn't allow anyone to watch it at our house, but when I was at my grandma's, I would watch it with my older cousin. (Oh, the corrupting influence of grandmas and older cousins!) Another show called "Shindig" was similar to "Hullabaloo"........I remember lots of dancing......girls with solid hairdos and dresses of mod-print fabric. I nearly gagged the other day while browsing in a store's clothing section........those goofy prints are back in style. Ick!!! And the smock-styles that look like maternity tops........ICK!!! Who would want to wear that stuff????

Have a great day! Husband continues with the early-spring manure-hauling. That's exciting, isn't it. And I continue to rearrange and organize clutter in the house. I'm happy with the library area, though, and am excited to show the little girls when they get here. They like to sit in cozy corners and look at books. Ah.....the memories of many pleasant hours doing that same thing when I was young.