As I Mature

Once again, a drought from blogging or writing anything significant, but I found something the other day that made me nod knowingly and laugh hardily. Wish I could credit the original author, but I have a feeling there are many. Enjoy!!

I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in.

I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just assholes.

I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and it only takes suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.

I've learned that you can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that, you'd better have a big willy or huge boobs.

I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to others - they are more screwed up than you think.

I've learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're finished.

I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities.

I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades, and there had better be a lot of money to take its place!!

I've learned that 99% of the time when something isn't working in your house, one of your kids did it.

I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away.

THE END except for:

I've learned that the same people who want strict gun control to prevent the deaths of our innocent children, are the same people who believe every woman has a right to an abortion.

I've learned that the definition of retirement should be re-tooled. Rather than stating, "to go away, retreat, or withdraw," it should say: "To take on jobs/challenges that are much more difficult and complicated than any you ever had when someone was paying you."

I've learned that in a state of conflict or danger, running and hiding doesn't work for wildlife or people. Staying in the game gives you a distinct advantage when confronting your foe or solving a problem.

I've learned that blaming other people, past politicians, your present circumstances, or the economy only works when your political party is not in office.

I've learned that writing is cathartic and everyone should express themselves on paper occasionally so they don't forget how.

Later...

First Installment: For The Love of Maggie the Dog

Pets are always a mixed blessing. Like children, once you get one, you fall in love. If you avoid having children and dodge pet ownership, you have less love in your life, and nobody to take care of but yourself. Like I said...mixed blessings. I like taking care of myself...often and at great expense.

Once our children were truly out of the house, I started to actually enjoy having our own schedule and the flexibility to be spontaneous; let's just have martinis for dinner tonight, honey...
Spending money on movies and dinner out instead of used cars, insurance and cell phones. However, we still had the family dog.

When daughter Jenny was 10 years old, she became fed-up with our excuses NOT to have a pet. She had owned every kind of rodent, Walmart goldfish, and creepy crawling crab-like crustacean the pet store had to offer. She wanted a real animal with a licky tongue and a warm body. The following is an example of before bed conversations; Jenny: "Mom, how about a kittie. They can kinda take care of themselves." Mom: "Sweetheart, cats aren't that friendly, they shed horribly and they poop in a sand box." Jenny, in a desperate, tear-filled, whiny voice, " Can we pleeeeease get a non-shitting kittie?" I later learned what she meant to say was non-shedding, but I had retreated to the family room and was laughing with real tears.

What all moms and dads eventually learn about their children is there are ways to circumvent a parent if it's for the greater good. Jenny was our child that always found a way, where there was a will. She called her grandparents. Jenny: "Grandpa, can you pick me up from daycare today? Mom said I could go look at pets at the Humane Society." Grandpa: "Did your Mom say you could have a dog?" Jenny: " Mom says that all people who want pets should adopt one that needs a loving home." Grandpa: "I'll pick you up right after lunch."

The phone call I received at work about 2:00 that day went something like this: Jenny: "Moooooooommmmm, I found the cutest, nicest puppie in North Dakota, and if we don't buy her in the next 10 minutes, someone else is coming back to get her. Oh, and mom, they are keeping her in a little tiny cage and her little tiny paws are falling through the grids...and she's the runt and she's a mutt so she's only $50. The rest of the story brings us to this morning, February 12, 2012.

It's Sunday. We like to sleep in until at least 8:00. We aren't allowed to sleep in. No, not infants crying and needing to be fed. No, not toddlers up and around needing supervision. No, not kids needing to be readied for school or church. Our bauzer, (Beagle/Schnauzer), Maggie, wants her morning treats. NOW!! Maggie: " You neglectful, lazy parents. Don't you know you have a 14 year old dog that has needs..." Parents: "This dog has taken control of our lives. She tells us when it's time for dinner, when it's time for US to go to bed, (she wants my chair with the crocheted throw,) and when we are going to get up and start catering to her for another day." Our lives are totally devoted to this aging, shedding, poop producing animal who "belonged" to our now 24 year old daughter who hasn't lived at home for 6 years. It's all my dad's fault.

This year alone, I have spent more money on vaccinations, teeth cleaning and special food and treats for Maggie than I have spent at Chicos. That is truly "mother" abuse. I demand equal rights! I spent 25 years raising children and a husband, and now my life is devoted to an aging dog. When will it be my turn?

Old Friends

A Greek philosopher once said, "There are only two people who can tell you the truth about yourself - an enemy who has lost his temper and a friend who loves you dearly."

Friends truly do come and go. Differences in lifestyle, incompatible interests or hobbies, distance or, just plain neglect. I have been fortunate to experience all types of friendships during different periods of my life. Some faded away with job changes or kids growing up and out. Some ran their course and dissolved over a minor dispute. People may change and you find less in common with their "changes". For a person my age, high school friends are a lifetime ago.

Nearly 45 years ago I moved from a very small town in ND to the biggest city in ND; Fargo. The first day of school was quickly approaching and even this bold, small town tom-boy was terrified. What would I wear? Who would talk to me? I hadn't had time to make any friends before embarking on my journey to Agassiz Junior High, a school that had more people in the 8th grade than the whole population of Sharon, ND. Everyone knows that Jr. High is the toughest social circle anyone will ever penetrate, and I was petrified.

I, of course wore the wrong clothes that first day and was miserable. Mostly, however, because I had a new "Fall" outfit and it was 85 degrees that day. Knee socks and a Bobby Brooks sweater set just didn't cut it. No one else was wearing this style either, which increased my misery. A few people said "hi" that first day, but I was clearly an outsider as I observed old friends passing notes in the hallway and lunching together. As I took note of the fashions and the phrases that were thrown around, I quickly realized that I would need to "school" myself away from small town lingo and style and make the jump into being a hip teen in FARGO. Little did I know that 1967 would be the year of making friends I would have 45 years later.

There were several bumps along the road. One or two girls were initially friendly, but I later learned that one was a bit shaky due to certain moral boundaries being challenged and another was a lesbian looking for a "girlfriend". Clearly connecting with girls in the 8th grade who were somewhat like me was to be one of life's greater challenges.

Soon I settled into junior high life and my new friends led to more new friends. By the end of the school year, I had found a comfort zone with a fun group of girls who loved life and all it offered. We spent the summer before our 9th grade year riding the bus to downtown Fargo on Saturdays for shopping and taking pictures in the photo booth at Woolworth's, riding bikes, playing tennis at Island Park and swimming wherever we could find a pool. By the time we were freshman at South High that fall, a solid group had been formed and we were meeting at least monthly for a potluck at our various homes. There were sleepovers, car pools, boyfriend swapping and burned up telephone lines. An older brother of one of the group dubbed us the "Mafia". The Mafia always knew what was going on and stuck together to the death....

This all took place between 1967 and 1972, the year we graduated from high school. I could write a book on the antics, pranks, sorrows and successes of the Mafia, but better still, 40 plus years later, we still get together and reminisce about old friends, past experiences and the disappontment or sorrow some have experienced. The love, joy, and pain is felt by all as if we had some biological link to one another. Tears are sometimes shared. Well deserved praise and honest assessments are exchanged. We still tease each other about our unique idiosyncrasies, and laugh till we choke when embarrassing analogies are vocalized. We all fall back into the roles we once were known for and pretend, just for a few days, that we are 17 again and don't have a care in the world.

There are 10 girls who still gather for every Mafia reunion. The gatherings began when we started to celebrate big "decade birthdays". Our 40th BD year was in Minneapolis. We were all still babes and painted the town!! Our 50th was spent on a lake in Wilmar, MN; a calmer more reflective gathering. It was also soberly suggested that we meet more often, as word had spread we were starting to lose friends and classmates. The 55th was celebrated in Bismarck. Not everyone could make it and some had to leave early, but we still shared the laughs and joy of being together. This was the year we decided to meet at least every other year...after all, we weren't getting any younger.

This past week, the Mafia once again gathered at one of our favorite old stomping grounds; Lake Melissa/Sally. Most of us had spent some of our youth at the lakes. Summers were spent in old, un-airconditioned cabins whiling away the days on the lake or hanging with friends. This weekend would be like old times...hot...lakey...friends...party. To say this was merely fun, would be a severe understatement. It was the highlight of my summer! Next year is our 40th class reunion, and the year after that, we are heading to Denver.

Statistically speaking, we have defied the national averages in some areas. These 10 fine women have experienced a total of 17 marriages, so far; we always were picky b-----s, and everyone needs practice:) We have 27 children (bio & step), and just under 20 grandchildren, (so far). These numbers are likely to change annually. Only one of the ten still lives in Fargo, 3 more in other parts of ND, one in Montana, 3 in MN, one in Colorado, and one in CA. Everyone has had a successful career life and three of us are now retired, at least as of today. The vast majority are conservatives and none of us are what you would consider "politically active". I believe that everyone is a Christian and many remain active in a church. Are we typical of the baby boomers of the 60's and 70's? Without a doubt. We think about our bucket lists, retirement accounts and grandbabies. We are no longer the "now" generation, but we are definately part of the "been there and done that era".

We are truly friends that would still do anything for one another, but more importantly be present as needed. The Mafia is a strong inner core that has branched in many directions, but we are all still near and dear to our roots. Love you all.....until next time, God speed.

January

I have many reasons why I haven't kept up on my blog, but the biggest contributor has been January. I dislike January more than any month of the year. I just want it to melt into May overnight. It's COLD, SNOWY, and BORING!!!

Instead of this month being a time to relax and reflect on the end of another year, I use January to get riled up about all the things that upset me. (Too much time indoors and too many dark hours.) I did join a gym in November, and nearly daily, take out my frustrations on the elliptical. However, there are some things that just can't be solved pounding away on a machine, such as:

my hatred for cell phones, cell phone contracts, cell phone employees and cell phone bills. The phones are cheap and intentionally fragile, the contracts are unbreakable, even if you die, the employees think customer service is seeing who can make the customer the most frustrated and miserable and the bills, with all the different fees and taxes, are more confusing than trying to buy an advertised airline ticket for $89.00. I hope anyone associated with a cell phone provider has their home, car and livelihood flooded out with the massive melt of 2011.

my growing frustration with the US Postal Service. My grandfather was a rural mail carrier for most of his career life. He had a long, treacherous route which he diligently serviced 6 days per week. Back in the 50's and 60's, mailmen were often the lifeline for those living in rural areas, especially during the long ND winters. My grandfather had many "customers" who lived 1/2 mile or more from their mailboxes, and he frequently recognized that the widow Jones or whomever, wouldn't be able to navigate the road to retrieve the mail. In his very old car, (no SUV's back then), grandpa would wind his way through the snowbanks to take the mail right up to the front door to his "customers". Note my use of the word customer. We the people are customers of the US Postal Service. We pay for the service by way of mailing charges and federal tax dollars; thereby being the customer. In my neighborhood, customers are considered an annoying by-product of mail. Our "rural" mail carrier will not deliver our mail unless there is a 30 ft. loop in front of our box where he can swing in and out without ever leaving his warm vehicle. If there is a car parked nearby or the snow hasn't been removed adequately, he just drives on by and doesn't give us our mail. The street department often leaves a 6 foot tall trail of icy chunks along the roadside, thereby necessitating the hiring of a bobcat at $100 an hour to remove enough snow and ice (off the public, city street I might note), so the mail carrier will deliver. What's wrong with this picture? I hope all these employees paid by our tax dollars need help sandbagging this year. I'll be in Florida.

January is rough. Too much time to think and be mad about something. Can't wait for February when I can be reminded that I am 56 years old and shouldn't expect to be able to ski all day and then walk around bragging about it the next.

Sun, Sea, and New Knowledge

We have recently returned from what I can only describe as my "dream vacation". I have wanted to experience Greece and Turkey for as long as I can remember, and feel fortunate that the opportunity came when we were able to go. This trip met all my expectations. Aside from two days and nights in Turkey, (Istanbul and Kusadasi), all our cruising days were to various Greek Islands. Looking back over the two weeks, there are two impressions I am left with. One: The Islam religion is not in any way based on or condones violence or directives to overcome the world's people. Two: The Greek Isles are without doubt one of the most historical and beautiful places on earth, but the Greek people (and/or government) have lost interest in caring for these majestic surroundings.

The day we spent in Istanbul, we of course were guided to the Blue (Fatih) Mosque, which is a well known tourist destination. (99% of all Turks are Muslim.) Religious customs dictate that women cover their bare arms and everyone remove their shoes before going into the mosque. The men at the entrance provided shawls and bags for our shoes. (It's really hard to take pictures with a shawl around your arms.) The mosque was decorated in various blue-tile designs, hence the name. Learning about the Islam religion was what captivated me more than the beautiful building.

Around 610 AD, Muhammad spent time alone thinking and contemplating the mysteries of life in a cave near the town of Mecca. Muhammad was respected among his friends and family because he was always honest in his dealings with others. Toward the end of the lunar month of Ramadan, the revelations of the Qur'an began to be transmitted through Archangel Gabriel to Prophet Muhammad. He continued to receive these revelations for 23 years. The verses were memorized and written down, which is the same book Muslims read today.

Islam is the last of the three Abrahamic religions preceded by Judaism and Christianity. It is a religion based on revelation that believes in the One God and the guidance revealed by Him to the prophets. The prophets of Islam include Abraham, Moses, Solomon, Jesus, Muhammad and many others. All have been sent to bring the message to humankind of their creation by God and their eventual return to Him.

The five pillars of Islam faith are: 1)The recitation of the shahadah; "There is no god but Allah." This is the declaration of the belief in the absolute oneness of God, along with the second part of the declaration; "And Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah." 2) Obligatory prayer 5 times a day. 3) The giving of charity. 4) Fasting from dawn to dusk during the month of Ramadan.
5) The pilgrimage to Mecca once in a lifetime for those who have the means to undertake the journey.

Every serman given by the imam ends with this verse from the Qur'an: "Surely Allah enjoins the doing of justice and the doing of good to others and the giving to the kinsfolk, and He forbids indecency and evil and rebellion; He admonishes you that you may be mindful." (Qur'an 16:90)

(Notice there is no mention of the so-called "rewards" awaiting certain Muslims in heaven.)

This is certainly not intended as a soap box to preach religious tolerance, but like other religions that have experienced strife; whether it be the molestation of children or the publicized affairs of religious leaders, not all members (or clergy) of any religion should be painted with the same brush as those who have mis-interpreted or taken advantage of their positions.

I truly value my new-found understanding of a religion I had never had any exposure to other than the media depiction of some of it's members. I will now listen, (and hear) with new ears.

As far as my comment and message to those on the Greek Isles: Pick up the garbage on the streets and roadsides! Tear down or renovate the buildings that are falling to pieces at your feet. Pick up your cigarette butts from the sidewalks and gutters. Dispose of your garbage, wrecked cars and old appliances somewhere other than the street, alley, or your yard. You live in the most beautiful places on earth. Love your country as the rest of us do!!

Blessings to all...

Diary of the Mad Gardener

I believe I am an agrarian by genetic predisposition. My maternal grandmother had huge gardens from which she canned enough produce to feed her family all winter. My paternal grandfather also was a prolific agrarian who fed not only his family, but several others. My father's parents were farmers who lost their land during the depression, but never lost their love of the land and its many possibilities. My father continued this passion by purchasing farm land early in his life and now enjoys the trips to visit his land much like a proud papa.

When we purchased our present home 20 years ago, one of the selling points was a large yard with a generous garden plot. I envisioned an annual crop of organic produce that would feed my family as well as additional family members. My father was equally excited to "help out" by planting half the garden with Red River valley red potatoes. (This ain't the Red River valley, dad.) After several mediocre potato harvests, he willingly gave up some space to other plantings.

After retiring from my full time job and believing I had ample time to tend a large garden, I embarked on a ambitious plan to feed the world....one family at a time. Last year's efforts were thwarted by several factors including a cool summer and an early freeze. This year was going to be different. I was going to stay diligent and prove to the world that I too had the agrarian blood in my veins. The following is a diary of this year's efforts....

• Due to 2" of snow on May 6th, I didn't get any seeds in the ground until the week of May 16th.
• Measured all the rows and grouped the plantings according to their maturity schedule.
• Carefully calculated the timing for "already started" plants such as tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and peppers. Can't lose everything to a late freeze.
• WOW !!! Finished at last and the radishes are already up! This is so FUN!!!
• WOW!!! The beans, peas, lettuce and a few other things I can't identify are poking out of the soil. Time to thin and start picking weeds.
• Picking weeds....how did I not know that there are types of weeds with roots to China??
• Boy that ND wind can really take out those weak little seedlings. Thinning the crops and continuing to pick weeds.
• OMG...something is eating my crop!!! I had fenced and built barriers to prevent rabbit feasting...they chewed through the fence and ate all the green beans!!! Oh well, I was going to plant a second crop anyway....damn rodents!
• Picking weeds...fewer rows to worry about. The rabbits have now eaten two crops of beans, most of the peas and started on my beet tops. Dan has purchased some nasty powder with bone meal, blood, and coyote urine...doubt it will upset the feeding fenzy of these toxic, reproducing, long-eared scavengers.
• Took a quick trip to Big Sky and when I returned the weeds had taken over. The only plants to survive are the leeks. It's no wonder farmers experience depression at a greater rate than shopkeepers.
• Spent 5 hours weeding so I could find the tomato and pepper plants. Couldn't get out of bed the next morning and have at least 300 mosquito bites.
• Damn squash plants have taken over 1/2 of the garden and I can't find those burpless cukes I am lusting after.
• How can weeds grow 4 inches in 12 hours??? I need a gun..anyone for rabbit stew?
• I think I will quit watering so the weeds will quit growing...
• Sure hope I get to taste a tomato before I Round-Up this whole freaking mess.....
• Come visit me in jail when I'm arrested for stalking rabbits with my Colt 45.

A Father's Day Gift to a Daughter

A long time friend of our family passed away last week. Helen Broten was 93 and up until the last week of her life, continued living on their family farm. Her long deceased husband and now her only son have been farming my father's land for 50 years. The funeral was this past Saturday, and my 80 year old father wanted to attend. It created a perfect opportunity for me to spend a long day with my father alone and without interruption from others.

Our journey began at 9:20 AM as I drove east on 94. He had many stops he wanted to make, so we left early so there was plenty of time to get to the funeral at 2:00 in Dazey. Our first stop was his home town of Courtenay. This little town has seen better days. There are very few people still living there and most of the buildings of my childhood have been torn down. The school, the gas station, where we always got a pop, the bar and liquor store my maternal grandfather owned and operated until his death, the house my father grew up in, and the Presbyterian Church where I had to recite memorized verses when visiting my grandparents. Most of the landmarks from my childhood no longer exist. The continuing saga of many small North Dakota towns. My father had a painting of the now demolished Presbyterian Church to donate to the town hall, so it was dropped off at the mayor's house and we proceeded to have lunch at the only business still operating in Courtenay.

Our next stop was the cemetery where all our family is buried. He wanted to remind me where he and my mother want to be buried some day. He asked that I not forget to visit on Memorial Day and keep things tidy after they were gone. Seeing the graves of my beloved grandparents and knowing that this small piece of land would be the final resting place for my parents, placed a lump in my throat that I can still feel. By today's standards, my grandparents were young when they died; 72 and 74. I feel fortunate that my parents have already outlived their parents and many other close relatives.

Our next stop was to view my father's land. He carefully explained where nature's markers were to indicate the beginning and the end of his plot of earth. He insisted that I drive through the field in my clean Jeep to view the tree in the middle of the field that was saved nearly 50 years ago at his father's request...another big lump. He reminisced about the purchase of the land 50 years ago and how much his father loved coming to help during harvest. He also carefully approached the topic of preserving the farm for generations to come...in other words, he was hoping that I, as executor of his estate, wouldn't sell it after they were gone. I assured him that I would love to hang onto such an important part of our heritage; for his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Another lump...

We reached Dazey in plenty of time for the funeral. My father was grateful we didn't have to sit in the church basement like he had to when Helen's husband passed. We arrived in plenty of time to sit in the third row in the well kept cool interior of the Lutheran Church in Dazey. Another small town with nothing left to offer a new resident or visitor. The funeral was brief, but at least the minister knew Helen and could speak well of what a wonderful lady she truly was, and she was a fine one! The small Norwegian church and its "church ladies" offered a typical small town funeral lunch along with the weak and transparent coffee that is the favored beverage of that area of ND. I can't understand how all those elderly people can drink coffee from the time they arise in the morning until they go to bed at night. I would spend the entire day in the bathroom and the entire night staring at the ceiling.

My father enjoyed seeing several old acquaintances and friends and of course we had to "come out to the farm" for more coffee and desserts. I was already on a sugar high and could have really used an ice cold beer about that time. We stopped in for a bit, but my father had other plans and soon suggested we hit the road. One more piece of his land to view and then a pit stop at his favorite lake; Spiritwood.

Here we both remembered childhood trips to the lake to swim and later, to attend Friday or Saturday dances. The lovely little resort where we stopped was for sale. The owners were worn out. Business was sporadic, they couldn't get employees and they too were getting on in age and wanted to spend their winters in a warm climate. Who will ever buy a remote resort on a ND lake where the nearest real town is 30 miles away? However, the beer was ice cold and tasted wonderful as it washed all the field dirt down my throat.

All too soon, we were on the last leg of our trip. Home to Bismarck. Dad borrowed my cell phone to call my mother and tell her he was on his way home and that he had missed her; and was there any dinner for him.

Saturday was one of the nicest days of my adult life and it was over in a snap. My dad reminds me that life is over in a snap...and I feel another lump forming.