FlipSide:Starting April 2nd, 2001

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A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

Last Updated : Sunday, April 9, 2001 10:46:27 PM -0500

Monday, April 2, 2001

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Another Hole In The Head My day just didn't start out very well today. First of all, it was dark outside when my alarm went off this morning. Since it was so hard to pull myself out of bed, I decided I would drive to work today and the hell with the bus. Besides, Jack had a rash on his chest when he went to bed last night, so he had to be examined closely to see if he had to go to the doctor. Luckily, the rash had faded, so we decided he didn't need to go. [Believe it or not, he got the rash from the cleanser the doctor recommended for his sensitive skin rather than soap. Soap had never given him a rash.] Then I get outside and it is SNOWING. Oh God, not again. We got another 1/2 inch today. It had all melted by mid-afternoon, however, as the temperature was 45 today.

With the snow causing traffic jams, I decided to take the later bus and just be a little late to work. Hit the ground running trying to get all sorts of things tied up and done before I leave for vacation at the end of the week. I took 1/2 hour lunch to make up the time I had missed this morning. The day was starting to look up [or at least the light at the end of the tunnel no longer appeared to be an oncoming train] when my phone rang. [Is that a train whistle I hear?] It was daycare [never a good sign when they call at 3:30 in the afternoon]. Jack had fallen, he was bleeding and needed to go for stitches [again.] So I call John and tell him "you are leaving work now." Naturally, he asks me why, at which point I tell him his son is bleeding and needs stitches in his head [it is always the head with this kid]. Yup, definitely a train whistle.

I tried to settle down and work some more [I had a ton to do] but I just couldn't concentrate and my boss told me to go home, Jack needed me. Well, by the time I had caught the bus, gotten to my car, and gotten to Burnsville, it was all over. Jack got 3 stitches just below his hairline [above the right eyebrow]. He needs to be kept up until 9pm to make sure he doesn't have a concussion. His sweatshirt is covered in blood, which may or may not come out of his favorite dinosaur sweatshirt and Dad had promised him cheeseburgers and chocolate milk shakes for supper [while they were putting in stitches, Dad would have promised him absolutely anything. Luckily the kid didn't realize it or John would be online right now ordering a kid-sized Porsche.] (not bloody likely - I'd have passed out had he asked for one - it was a near thing as it was - I can handle blood when there's something to do. Sit, and let the kid twist my nose off, hell, no problem. But a kid Porsche? NIMB - jd)

Rhiannon was very upset about her brother, she hasn't even yelled at him yet [a new record, how long will it last?] However, she was very happy to eat McDonald's cheeseburger and a chocolate shake for dinner too. They are currently ensconced on my couch watching Bear in the Big Blue House..

But the fun was just beginning. I called my HMO to find out where I should take Jack to get his stitches out while we are on vacation in Iowa, since the stitches need to come out in 7 to 10 days. I was informed that the entire state of Iowa is out of network and since it is not an emergency, I have a $300 deductible. So the next stop was to call the doctor to see if it was okay if the stitches stayed in 14 days instead. Nope, he was concerned with the possibility of an infection or abscess if they stayed in his head that long. He sympathized with my predicament and kindly told me how to remove them myself. However, I am not sure I really want to do that. So my Mom is spending part of her birthday tomorrow calling the local doctor's office to find out what it is going to cost me to have 3 pieces of thread pulled out of my son's head. Gee I hope tomorrow is better. At least maybe no blood will be spilled and no snow. Is that too much to ask, do you think? (probably. -- jd.)

Well, we survived keeping Jack up until nine, but it was a near thing. He was running laps around the apartment again. However, there was not a peep out of him when we put him to bed, so he must have been worn out. I know I am. Aahh, my day just got better. The oughtta-be-blonde newscaster on our local news just added a whole new dimension to the news "tease" with the line "up next, a bunch of guys standing around looking at something very small but very interesting." Some producer is either laughing hysterically or groaning and slapping his forehead in the control booth.

Tuesday, April 3, 2001

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is not starting off any better than yesterday. (Other than the fact that Jack, aka "Monkey-Boy" or "Moose" and now known as "Scar" is back to normal.) Missed my bus again, however, since it was not snowing today, drove to work and parked in the cheap lot so I could get about 1 mile (25 minutes) of walking in (counting both to and from the car).

Then, hit the ground running again, I have 3 major projects I need to get out this week before I go on vacation. (So, why is she sitting here typing her post, hmmm...) Then, my computer crashes. Again. Taking with it my 33 page document for my book that I need to get out, hopefully today. We have been having a persistent problem around here with computers crashing ever since we upgraded our server. Only some of us are crashing, but it is consistently the same people. It seems to have something to do with our virus scanning software. We tried an upgraded version, but after a couple of weeks, we again began crashing. When I crashed earlier, the computer ATE a previous version of my 33 page document (Word gets really upset when you crash in the middle of saving. It just kinda says, fine, I guess you don't need this document if you are going to be that way.) But today, luck (or something of that nature) was with me and it autorecovered, with my most recent edits. Whew. After kicking my metal desk a few times, I felt much better. And my IS person felt much better that I was kicking the desk and not the computer or her (then again, SHE would most DEFINITELY kick back).

John has decided to start following the WW plan with me. So he has been emailing back and forth with me asking how many points things are, like Mountain Dew. Bad news honey, soda pop eats many many many points. I advised he switch to diet, but he is not real keen on that idea. I was doing good yesterday, then I got the call about Jack and my eating plan just went to hell. Had McDonald's cheeseburger for supper (so far, okay, you think) and a strawberry milkshake (okay, you think, still not so bad, only a 15 point meal.) Then (oh oh) I had some homemade bread and some frosted flakes and some chocolate sundae cake (ooohhhh nasty nasty nasty) Yes, I am a stress eater. Oh well, today is a new day and I am less stressed.

Please note, due to technical stupidity on behalf of Frontpage, large, useless e-mails from people who should know better, and a crappy local phone company, it's been a rough night for posting. The Geek responsible hereby solemnly apologizes, and offers to gut the first Microsoftie he runs into tomorrow to atone... -- jd.

Wednesday, April 4, 2001

Before I start, I just want to point out to Shelley Bowman that 50 degrees IS warm to a Minnesotan. We finally hit that here today for the first time since last October and man, were we happy! So don't come cryin' to us for sympathy. Guess you guys are just "weather wussies". ; )

Another really busy day. Finally got my book out at work, so I can move on to other things. My goal is to have my desk clear of paper when I leave on Friday. We'll see if it happens. My desk usually looks like a paper bomb went off, but I don't like to leave it like that when I leave over the weekend or on vacation.

Yesterday, John wrote about the kid at Woodbury that wasn't allowed to wear his "Straight Pride" sweatshirt to school. Personally, I agree with the school's decision, for two main reasons. The first reason being that a "Gay Pride" sweatshirt wouldn't be allowed either. Advertising your sexuality like that is not necessary. And if the school allowed that shirt, then when someone walked in with a "White Pride" sweatshirt, the precedent would have been set and the administration would have a hard time disallowing that shirt. The second reason, and frankly, the on I find the most compelling, is the fact that, when you are in the majority, you really don't need to make that kind of statement. When you are in the majority, a sweatshirt like that can be used as a provocation or another excuse to single out a minority.

Had a quick email conversation with Marcia Bilbrey today. She seems to be recovering nicely from her oral surgery. In fact, I think she is getting a little board. She is not the type to sit still for long. I expect to hear of her venturing forth into the outside world soon.

It's 9 o'clock and I still can hear Jack chattering away in his room. I don't know who he is talking to, as I know his sister has been asleep for sometime. Rhiannon is just like her dad, she is out minutes after hitting the pillow. It doesn't matter what has gone on, when it is bed time, she is out. Jack, on the other hand, is like me. He is a night person. The kids went to bed around 8:15, Rhiannon was probably out before 8:30. Jack is a rockin' and a rollin' and probably will for another 15 minutes or so. I suspect when he gets older, he will fall prey to worries and such at night when he is no longer in motion.

In the mornings, Rhiannon will wake up early, but can go back to sleep if she is left alone (like me, I got no problem going back to sleep, it's staying awake that is the problem.) Jack, on the other hand, doesn't like to wake up, but once he is awake, he is AWAKE and NOBODY is sleeping in his presence. No going back. This is a very bad combination to have in the same bedroom on a Saturday morning. For them, sleeping in is 10 to 8. Erg. I HATE being awakened by a little voice saying "Mommy, can we watch Disney?" What I WANT to say is "NO, get your happy butt back in your room and sleep until noon like a normal person". However, I know how futile that hope is, so I mumble something that is taken for assent and I am allowed to go back to sleep for about a 1/2 an hour. At this point the other one comes in (they tag team me, first one comes in, then the other, figuring I won't kill the innocent child who is in for the first time and by the time they are in for the second time, my enfeebled brain will have lost track anyway) and ask if they can eat a granola bar, or yogurt, or whatever is the child- friendly favorite of the moment. Depending on the circumstance, I usually again mumble something that they take for assent and am again allowed to sleep. Now what they DON'T come ask for is the candy they manage to scrounge up from somewhere (I really don't want to contemplate the fact that it is probably Halloween candy they have stashed somewhere for the past several months for just this occasion). When I emerge from the bedroom, I inevitably find either candy wrappers or chocolate mustaches. And they can't figure out how I know. I just tell them I am omniscient. (I probably have the only young children who know what that word means.)

Aah, out comes Jack, asking for the ritualistic drink. Daddy seems to think denying him is the answer. No, the quicker he gets his drink, the quicker he will go to sleep. Oh course, he has to be prodded to return his room (and told to leave the water bottle behind). Goodnight, Scar. (To which he replies, "Goodnight Mommy Scar".)

Talked to Al & Donna (my birth parents) yesterday. It seems my youngest brother is getting married on August 25th in South Dakota and we will be invited. It will be nice to see everyone again. The oldest of my 3 brothers, Reggie, was married on New Year's Eve 1999, but due to the Y2K stuff, we couldn't attend. John wasn't supposed to leave the Metro area, let alone the state. Reggie's youngest son looks a lot like Jack (at least in pictures) and it sounds like he is a handful. We may regret letting those two get together.

Perhaps I should give you some background. I was adopted as an infant by my parents. I have very good parents (well, parent at this point. My father died of Fabry's Disease in 1990. Maybe someday I will explain that more.) Anyway, I grew up in rural Iowa with my brother, also adopted, with a fairly normal small-town life. After the birth of my daughter in 1993, I began to notice her do things that I used to do as a child, but she could never have seen me do to learn them from me. Also at that time, my OB/GYN started talking about starting mammograms at 30 if I didn't have a medical histories. These and other matters prompted me to contact Catholic Charities to see what I could find out about my birth parents. The information I had from my parents was sketchy. My birth mother was 16, my birth father a 21 year old Marine in Viet Nam. For years that had been enough. Now, I wanted to know more. I discussed this with my mother so she would know what was going on, and visited Catholic Charities in Dubuque, signed some papers and really didn't expect much. Boy, was I surprise. Within a few weeks, I was called at work by a social worker at Catholic Charities. It seems my birth parents had married and had 3 sons, and kept in touch with Catholic Charities, just in case I ever wanted to find them. As fate would have it, Catholic Charities had reached Donna about my request for information on her birthday, which is just 3 days before Rhiannon's. My mother happened to be up here visiting that weekend and we all met in a Hardee's in Worthington, MN, which was about an hour away from me and about 4 hours for Al and Donna. We have kept in touch and become friends. My kids call them grandma and grandpa. Rhiannon is starting to get to the age where she is asking alot of questions, but she understands the basic idea that Grandma Donna was too young and couldn't be my mommy, so she gave me to Grandma Mary and Grandpa Kenny and then they were my mommy and daddy. I just try to answer her questions as they come along and see where it goes. I think my parents always handled my questions very well. I always knew I was adopted. In fact, my parents emphasized that I was "chosen" by them. It is interesting that, for me, being adopted was never a big deal. I never went through any "who am I" or "where do I belong" stage, I KNEW where I belonged. My brother, on the other hand, has always had, well sort of an inferiority complex, and being adopted plays a part in it for him. It is interesting to me that my brother and I, both adopted, both raised by 2 parents in the same atmosphere, with the same rules, and we are polar opposites. I am overly responsible, he is irresponsible. I make my own way, he wants someone to pay his way. Some people are just like that. I think there are definitely genetic components to personality. My brother Reggie, my oldest birth brother, is three years young than me, but we have alot of the same personality traits. We both get really quiet when we are angry. We don't want to be touched when we are sick. We take the lead and think calmly in times of crisis.

Well, enough of that. Here is Jack again for more water. However, this time he actually looks sleepy. I know I am. Can't think of much else to say, so Ta!

Thursday, April 5, 2001

Ya know, this has just not been a banner week for the Dominiks. Monday - snow, missed bus, stitches, and insurance foolishness. Tuesday - crashing computers and missing 30 page documents. Wednesday - well, okay, Wednesday wasn't too bad. Now today. John's company laid of 20% of its workforce today and the remaining workers are taking a "voluntary" 10% cut in pay until June, the end of their fiscal year. (Personally, I don't remember John being asked if he was willing to take a 10% cut in pay, but I suppose it is better to be employed.) I don't have a lot of faith in that 10% coming back, just ask the mechanics at Northwest Airlines about that one. They are still waiting more than 10 years later. THEN, as if that weren't enough of a kick in the pants, we tonight I dropped off the rent check at the office (the evening of the 5th) as I have been doing EVERY month on the 5th for NINE years and their is a notice up saying "YOUR RENT IS NOW LATE. ONLY MONEY ORDERS WILL BE ACCEPTED AND A $50 LATE FEE IS DUE. CHECKS WILL BE RETURNED." Excuse me? You are changing the rules after NINE STINKING YEARS and give me absolutely NO NOTICE. Forgive me if I seem just a tad bit ticked off here. John will be making a call to the management tomorrow morning, as I want this resolved before we leave town. I am fairly confident that we will be able to resolve this. If they want to change their enforcement policy, fine, that is there prerogative. However, they can't put up notice after the fact.

Okay, deep calming breaths. Ohm, ohm, ohm . . .NOPE, sorry, NOT working. Yoga and chanting just don't do it for me, I am just a little too action- oriented. (Gee, is THAT where Jack gets it? Don't tell John, I've been blaming HIS family for that trait.) I am just not that type. I am the stressed-out, losing sleep, stomach-eating ulcer type. I told Marcia Bilbrey the other day she is one of those sunshiny, see the bright side kinda people. Not me. I call myself a "realist". Other, less charitable individuals, call me cynical or pessimistic. I have always thought you couldn't go wrong expecting the worst, that way you are prepared. I, of course, always hope for the best, and life, generally, hands me something in between.

I need to remind myself that, in the not too distant past, things were much bleaker financially. I did have a little reminder of that today. Took a friend of mine out to lunch who is having financial issues similar to the ones we used to have. You know, you bounce a couple of checks, and between that and the fees, your next paycheck is already all spoken for and you have less than $25 to your name to get through the next 2 weeks. I think I cheered her up, but then again, she is not the type of person to feel sorry for herself. She just takes responsibility for her actions, makes changes were appropriate and moves on. Very healthy attitude, that.

Well, I still have lots of things I need to get put together tonight if we are to get moving to Iowa tomorrow. Then again, if they don't get done and we don't leave until early (like obscenely early) on Saturday, the world will not end. However, it is much easier to travel at night with kids in the car. They don't get their schedules as messed up at night and they sleep more instead of the constant litany of "are we there yet? "How long until we get there?" "I need a snack." "I need a drink." "I gotta pee."

Well, here is hoping vacation makes everything better (or at least keeps everything from getting worse). Hope your week has been better than ours. Ciao!

Friday, April 6, 2001

VACATION!
Probably no
post until we
get connected
in Iowa.

Saturday, April 7, 2001

Well, we made it here, safe and sound. But Friday certainly was and "eventful" day. It started out okay, with everyone getting up on time for a change and getting out the door in good order. It was cloudy, but relatively warm (for April in Minnesota 50 degrees is warm, at least this year).

A friend of mine used to have a tag line on her email that said "Where a I going? And why am I in this basket? That is how I felt yesterday at work. My IS department had been using me a guinea pig with the crashing problem we had been having. We were fairly certain that it was the McAffee virus scanning software that was causing us to crash (but only a few people, mostly heavy computer users, not everybody and not all the heavy users. Very puzzling.) They had narrowed it down to the virus scanning software and took it off the computers of those of us that were crashing and we stopped crashing. No crashes for more than 2 1/2 weeks. But, this was not enough proof for the McAffee people. They suggested that the crashing was caused by the interaction between their software and our Lucent voicemail and faxing software. (To be fair, I suppose it wasn't an unreasonable request, it is just I was "the chosen one" who had the virus software put back on her computer and the voicemail software taken off.) All through my busy week, working with my documents, everything went fine. Then, Friday mid-morning when I was already behind schedule when it happened. I had a four page document that was being merged with an Access database to go to 298 insurers. If you do the math, that is 1192 pages. I do a merge to file when it happens. Nothing works. I call Eva, my friendly IS tech on the phone (although I think she had already heard my scream) and she comes over and actually cheers when she sees the error message come up that has me completely and totally locked up. Now, mind you, I don't mind sometimes being the IS test case, but, for God's sake, don't cheer when I crash in a huge document when I am already behind schedule!

After that problem got fixed and, Thank God that the database was not corrupted, I went to try to print to our big fast heavy duty printer. Nothing. Nada. Bupkus. Again called Eva (I definitely didn't need a phone this time.) At this point I am having a massive display of bad temper, kicking my desk and reciting several works from Carlin's "Incomplete List of Impolite Words". In fact, at one point, my cube neighbor asks, "Did she say what I think she said?" To which Eva replied, "Yes, she is using nasty word." Hey, give me a break, I have at least a four hour project ahead of me, and at this point, it is 11:00 am. And I am hoping to leave early to get beat the storms that keep telling us we are going to get. Well, looks like our handy-dandy, faster-than-lightning, copier/printer is not responding to the network. Again. Just swell. So we try the next fastest printer in claims. Again I get an error message. Again I scream. They install new drivers. Still no joy. I am becoming psychotic now, I think I am foaming at the mouth. Finally, the 1192 pages start to print. It is now noon. So I run the 298 envelopes. And prepare to copy all 1192 pages onto first page letterhead, 2nd page bright white paper. Another 2 hours I will never get back. By 3:30, the letters are copied, put in envelopes and stamped. All the support staff offers to help, but, unfortunately, only one person can copy and one can stuff. More people just get in the way. So, by this time, I haven't had lunch and I still have a good 45 minutes of work to do. I FINALLY get everything taken care of (I think at least) and head out the door at 4:15, a whole 15 minutes early, unless, you count the fact that I didn't get my hour lunch, then I would have been there late.

Sigh. Well, I though, things can only get better. Wrong, grasshopper. Got all the stuff in the car and got the kids by 6:00 and headed out. Figured we would make a quick stop fairly close to home for pizza. Oh, the best laid plans. Went into Pizza Hut at about 6:30 and ordered salad, cheese pizza (we splurged and got stuff crust, hey we are on VACATION here) and breadsticks. It seems that corporate had started a new pizza promotion, "Twisted Crust Pizza". Basically there are breadsticks along the outside of the crust. Unfortunately, although they were already to start serving it, corporate didn't send them enough pans. So the kitchen was behind. Very behind. We got our breadsticks after the pizza, which came after about 45 minutes. Rhiannon spilled her milk on her father, reaching for her straw. I will give the restaurant credit though, they knew they screwed up and gave us over half off, we only paid $11.45 for all our stuff.

Then there was the weather. We ran into the severe thunderstorms in southeastern Minnesota and western Wisconsin. After we cleared those (had to wait out one at a Kwik Trip in Coon Valley Wisconsin) we hit the fog. Dense fog. Now, fog is not unusual in the river country of western Wisconsin and eastern Iowa. In fact, most nights, especially in the spring and fall, have fog. But John is not used to it and it was especially dense. We finally made it to my mothers at 1:30 in the morning. After, of course, John missed the exit and we had to go down to the 2nd exit on the other side of town. And, since the kids had been sleeping, they were raring to go at 2:00 am. Oh God. After some "parental enforcement" they finally settled down around 2:30. And were up at 7:30.

Well, now it is Saturday at about 11:00 am and it is 72 degrees. I love spring in Iowa. Minnesota probably won't see this weather for another 4 weeks. It is amazing the difference in the weather 5 hours south. It is actually a whole different climate. Well, we have lots to do, pony rides at the fairgrounds, groceries, and planning where and when to take Grandma to dinner for her birthday. Last year it was Olive Garden, which my mother loved. They are also doing a mass for my grandparent late this afternoon that we want to go to. So, I am going to for now. Maybe more later, perhaps with pictures of the lovely weather. Perhaps a "tour" of my hometown.

Tata!

Sunday, April 8, 2001

It was a beautiful day here yesterday. It was 75 degrees. Just a tab windy, through (If you aren't used to 55 mph gusts, perhaps the day wasn't so beautiful.) They were having a "Prevent Child Abuse" event at the fairgrounds yesterday. There was a petting zoo, (all the animals were animals you might find on a typical Iowa farm, a pony, a calf, baby pigs, bunnies, kittens, and a goat) pony rides (I'm surprised the kids didn't get blown off the horses), face-painting, a jumping thingee, and other activities for the kids. Jack even got to climb all over one of the Maquoketa fire trucks and try on some of their equipment. And it was all free. Sometimes I really miss living in a small town. And not just the community activities, but the feeling of security, of knowing everyone, or at least knowing "who they belong to". But living here is not an option. For one, eastern Iowa is one of the most economically depressed areas in the Midwest. And Jackson County, the county Maquoketa is in, is one of the most economically depressed counties in Iowa. Maquoketa is doing better than most of the county, but there still aren't many jobs. And even if we did find jobs, they would pay about 1/3 of what we make now, if that. We also went to a Palm (or Passion) Sunday Mass yesterday afternoon. My aunt had arranged to have the mass offered for my grandparents. (Probably for this weekend, as today would have been my Grandma Sophie's 93rd birthday.) However, Passion Sunday services are extremely LONG, and my kids, especially my four year old, didn't appreciate the fine points of a 6 page gospel reading.

We did seriously entertain the notion of moving here about 6 years ago, when John's employer at the time was opening an office in Davenport, which is a city about 40 minutes from here. But, considering we didn't think we could find a job for me, and the fact we would see a lot less of John's family (John's parents rarely travel down to Burnsville from St. Cloud, an hour and 15 minute trip) and his parents are older and not in the best of health, we decided against it. Besides that, there aren't the activities for the kids around here that we have in "the Cities". The closest major city here is Chicago, three hours away.

My dad was from Chicago, so we spent alot of time there when I was a kid. The kids have only been their to see my dad's remaining sisters once. They always call me "Ann Marie". Only nuns and my father's sisters call me that. Last time I was in there, one of my cousins (my brother and I are the end of the generation on both sides of the family, so all our cousins are a great deal older) made the mistake of calling me "Ann Marie" and I am afraid I bit her head off. She just looked at me and told me that was all she had ever heard me called. None of the cousins called me that the rest of the trip. Now, if I could just teach the aunts and the nuns. Sigh.

Many want to know how a kid from the south side of Chicago ended up in small town Iowa. My dad was the youngest of 11, born in 1930. During the Great Depression, there was a program called "Fresh Air Kids". Poor children from the inner city were shipped out to farms and small towns in Iowa for the summer. My dad came out here in 1934 and stayed with an older childless couple. For reasons I have never heard explained, he stayed here for a few years, instead of just the summer, he even started school here. At that point, the Wilsons (the couple that took him in) tried to adopt him, which is the point that his family in Chicago balked. A sort of custody tussle went on, ending with my dad attending school in Chicago during the year and spending summers in Maquoketa with the Wilsons. For the rest of his life, my dad felt torn between his two families. I remember hearing the story that one time, my dad bought my Grandma Wilson an expensive mixer for her birthday, 'cause she liked to bake. His sisters (all 8 of them, and not a mellow one among them) insisted that he must buy one for his mother too. Even though she didn't bake. (My mom has inferred that my Grandma Cook played a part in all of this too, but as she died before I ever met her, I never got the chance to know her so I don't know for sure. However, if she was anything like my aunts, she probably did.)

My father was "high strung", as I always heard him and some of his sisters described. Loosely translated, he could be easily upset by things. But then, he always got over them pretty fast too. I think some was his nature (evidenced by his sisters), but some came from his war service in Korea. Then, when he found out he had the same disease that he had watched both his brothers die from, well, I think you can understand why the man could be easily upset. Personally, in hindsight, I think my father had a depressive personality. He went through periodic depressions, at which time, he would drink. Now, alcohol is a depressant. So, you are depressed, so you drink. Which makes you more depressed. A vicious cycle. However, despite all this, he was a very good father. He always told me he was proud of me. He always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and he was always at all my school events. Even though he worked some very long hours, working for the Iowa Department of Transportation (IDOT). He was the "Project Coordinator" meaning he was the onsite boss. (Boy, did I sell alot of Girl Scout cookies that way. Who is going to say, "No, I am not going to buy cookies from the bosses daughter. 'Course, then again, he was very well like by his crews, they called him "Cookie" and the party they threw for him when he retired, well, I'll tell you about that another time.) He was the lucky guy who got to go tell the farmer that part of his land was going to be part of the new highway. Farmers don't take that well. He was shot at several times. Personally, I think they were just trying to scare him or express their anger, I have a hard time believing that that many farmers are that bad a shot.

My, I have gotten nostalgic today. Must be being here, drinking out of my dad's coffee cup.

Well, today it is supposed to hit 80 degrees. Who hoo! We plan to go check out the local winery today. Maybe we can finally find a wine John and I will like. We figure the kids will enjoy wandering around in the sunshine. Well, it is 11 am, I should get dressed and have some brunch. I am one of those people who just can't eat until I have been up a couple of hours. My stomach is just not ready for it. So, perhaps now is a good time to eat. I haven't done too bad with food so far this trip, I think. It helps having John paying attention to what he is eating too. I really didn't think it would help as much as it does. Looks like John is using vacation to update twice a day, well, he can give you more details. I am on vacation, darn it. I am doing good to do one post. But, it can certainly be cathartic. Well, toodles for now.

Disclaimer
Copyright © 2001 Ann Dominik. All rights reserved. Complaints about the technical details of this page can be directed to the abused geek who takes care of it for me, and is grossly underpaid for what he does, he thinks. No reproduction without written permission. The opinions and content of this site are my own, and not the responsibility of this site's host, my employer, my pets, my parents or anyone else you may care to blame. Please respect my opinions and I will do the same for you. I may on occasion publish e-mail to me; if you do not wish your mail to be published, please write CONFIDENTIAL or DO NOT PUBLISH at the top of the e-mail. If you would prefer to remain anonymous, please note that as well. If you're incapable of reasoned civilized discourse but feel compelled to correspond with me, I'll be happy to filter your mail out after a few choice comments regarding your ancestors, upbringing, and the likelihood of your family tree not