FlipSide:Starting April 16th, 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 29, 2001 08:07:13 PM -0500

Monday, April 23, 2001

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Jodi's date Saturday night went extremely well. Extremely well. Extremely well to the point that a bouquet of red roses and stargazer lilies were delivered to her at work today. A big bouquet. (She is currently touring the office with them. Kinda like Miss America, only without the tiara. And I haven't heard anyone singing. Not even her boobs, must be wearing an everyday bra.) Mr. Saturday Night (hey, it sounds better than lily-man) spent a pretty penny on that one. Now the husband of every woman in the office is about to get hell tonight. Or at least a serious guilt trip. They guys in the office are just like, so, why did he send flowers? Did he screw up? Ah, duh.

I only get flowers when I have major surgery. As a matter of fact, I don't believe I got any the last time I was in the hospital, but, then again, I wasn't cut open that time. Apparently that is required. (Now, don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful husband and I love him. But would it kill him to send flowers once in a while?) Ah well, he has many other redeeming qualities.

As for Jodi's date, they sat up talking until 6 am, at which point Jodi was swaying on her feet and Mr. Saturday Night decided it was best for her to go to bed. He sounds like a keeper.

After all the rain this weekend, things are not looking good for Davenport, Iowa. Davenport is about 30 minutes south of my hometown on Highway 61. Their downtown is built on the levee. Downtown is now flooded, as well as their baseball stadium. It is going to cost them a lot to clean it up and repair streets and homes (if they can be repaired). They have even made the NPR and I am sure other national news outlets. Apparently this is Davenports 3rd big flood in 8 years. You would think they would put up a flood wall, but they keep deciding against it. It kinda robs me of some of my sympathy. Dubuque, about an hour or so upriver of Davenport is faring much better. Of course, first of all, Dubuque is built mostly on bluffs, so limited portions of the city are affected, but they still are getting pretty wet. The Dubuque Dog Track and Casino's parking lot is full of water. The Dubuque Telegraph Herald has some pictures of the flooding there and in southwestern Wisconsin, which seems to be harder hit.

The addiction to the peanut butter cups is, unfortunately, alive and well. Every time I think I have it beat, I have a relapse. Is there a 12 step group? (Hi, my name is Ann and I am a peanutbuttercupaholic.) As Lynne Walder said last week, "why oh why don't I have any willpower". Frankly, Lynne, I have no answers for you, but I'm right there with you, sister! I really really need to pull myself out of this slump. If you have any good tips for getting back on track, please, feel free to email them to me. I really don't want to put my 53 pound back on! You would think it would help.

Tonight is again, swimming lesson night, so everything is hurry up and run. Tomorrow the support staff (all the administrative staff) are going out to lunch on the company, like we do every year. We are usually gone about 2-3 hours and have a good time. I shall have to try hard to eat right.

Before I go, a funny I received from Jodi that I really liked. I had heard it before, but it makes one of my children's toys more bearable.

A woman desperately looking for work goes into Erwin's Toy Manufacturing looking
for a job.  The Personnel  Manager goes over her resume and explains to her that he regrets
he has nothing worthy of her.  The woman answers that she really needs work and will take
almost anything.    The Manager hems and haws and finally says he does have a low skill job
on the "Tickle Me Elmo" production line and nothing else.  The woman happily accepts.  He
takes her down to the line and explains her duties and that she should be in at 8:00 AM the
next morning.

The next day at 8:45 AM, there's a knock at the Personnel Manager's door.  The "Tickle Me
Elmo" line manager comes in and starts ranting about the woman just hired.  After screaming
for 15 minutes about how badly backed up the assembly line is, the Personnel Manager
suggested he be shown the problem.  Together they head down to the lone and sure enough
Elmos are backed up from here to Kingdom Come.  Right at the end of the lone is the
woman just hired.  She has pulled over a roll of the material used for the Elmos and has a big
bag of marbles.  The both watch as she cuts a little piece of fabric and takes 2 marbles and
starts sewing them between Elmo's legs.  The Personnel Manager begins laughing and literally
falls on the floor on hysterics.  Finally after many minutes of rolling around, he pulls himself
together and walks over to the new employee and says, "I'm sorry!  I guess you
misunderstood me yesterday.  What I wanted you to do was give Elmo two test tickles."

Tuesday, April 24, 2001

Hmmm . . . Not feeling terribly inspired today. Earlier, as we were waiting to go out to lunch at the front of the office, we were exchanging "silly kid stories". There was my classic pea story. One day as my brother and I were eating lunch, my mother had to leave the room. As she was leaving, for some reason I still fail to fathom, she said "Don't put peas in your nose". (Please note: my mother flatly denies ever having said this. I was all of about 4 at the time, but I remember it distinctly. Now with the legal disclaimers out of the way, we can continue with our story.)

Now, my mother didn't raise no fool. I never dreamed of putting peas up my nose. The idea had not previously occurred to my childish brain, but it sounded like an interesting idea. So I put peas up my brother's nose. Being all of about 2, he didn't really fight me, as I recall. So, my mother returns to the kitchen to her youngest child oozing green goo from his nostrils. I think it took a solid 30 minutes of blowing his nose to get them out. Then there was the time in high school (me being a senior and my brother a lowly sophomore) when I yelled down the hall "Is my baby brother having fun with his itty bitty friends?" Some think these stories begin to explain some of my brother's issues. However, let me tell you he was full of issues before I ever did anything to him. I just may have tweaked a few of them into fuller life, perhaps. Just a bit.

Now my little angels (yeah, right) are full of their own stories. There was the time when Rhiannon was about 2 1/2 that she got ahold of an industrial sized container of baby powder and decided to make it snow in her bedroom. John looked into the bedroom (as it was just too quiet, you parents know that that means you really really need to worry) and found a winter wonderland with a little snow elf in the middle. He just closed the door and waited for me to get home. I pulled up to the garage to find him standing on the balcony, in roughly 40 degree weather without a coat. "What happened?" I asked. "You'll see," was all he would say. Apparently he was exercising great restraint.

Jack has done so many things that it is hard to pick an single incident out of my memory. They all sort of blend together. He is especially good at getting on his dad's nerves (a skill John claims he got from me). Of course, I think Dad equally irritates Jack. We frequently hear the roar of J A C K!!! (Imagine that one syllable name drawn out into about 3 or 4, and you got the sound of it.)

While we were at McDonald's the other day, we were at a booth in the playland that had just a booth seat on the other side of it. Jack got into the habit of climbing over the seat into the booth instead of entering the normal way. After about the fifth time of this, John grimly told him if he did it again, he would take away his ice cream. Of course, Jack did it again. As Jack grabbed his ice cream to take a bite, John grabbed for it as well. Now this was a bowl of ice cream that had been sitting a while, so it was a bit, well, slushy. Jack pulled it towards his mouth, John pulled it towards him. And melted ice cream flew through the air to cover all surfaces between the two. Sometimes I swear they aren't father and son, they are siblings.

Got an email notice from a class reunion service I subscribe to. An old friend of mine from high school had signed up. Based on her little bio and her last name, it seems she has remarried. Which got me to pondering the number of friends I have that are divorced and remarried. Of my friends that I know of that are remarried , both went for the more successful type the second time around. One married a doctor, the other a marketing VP. (Gee, I'm still on my first husband. But he seems to be working out all right. I almost have him trained.) But, then again, if your first marriage failed, I suppose it is logical that you would look for the opposite type the second time around, wouldn't you? We've only been out of high school 16 years (okay, maybe that isn't an "only", but it doesn't seem that long ago. Sometimes it still seems like I should be writing papers and going out "cruising" with my friends instead of going to work and cleaning house.) I wonder how many of my high school classmates are on their second marriages.

I have at least one friend who is a trophy wife. She wouldn't like the designation, but she certainly fits the description. Her husband is a VP at a major financial company. They live in London, and I believe he is running their European operation. I got a Christmas letter from her last year with a bunch of pictures of the family on the front and a newsy letter on the back. Seems they have purchased a vacation home in France and they are pregnant with their 3rd child (he has 2 from his previous marriage. He and his ex get on great, in New York they live across the street from each other and his ex and my friend get together for coffee. Wouldn't that make you nervous, your ex and your current spouse getting together and talking?) Anyway, she is this petite little thing and there was a picture of them, apparently dressed for some sort of masquerade. He is costumed as a Sultan and she is dressed as a harem girl. I swear to God her waist is as tiny as it was in high school. Anyway, I guess the whole point of this is, I am in my mid-thirties, but reading information like that can make me feel, I don't know, like I am missing out on something. I love my husband and kids and my life, but, gee, I'd like to travel to Scotland on vacation too and have a house in France. But we just don't have that kind of money. I guess I always think of that as what "older people" do. But, I guess I am one of the "older people" now. Oh well, you never know what is going on on the inside. And someday, I will get to England and Scotland and Wales and Ireland. It will just take a little more time, I guess. And John is successful, both financially and in the ways that really count. I just wish there were more money to go around when I read stuff like that.

(Ed - she is my trophy wife. I just decided to skip the starter marriage, and go right to the "perfect" one instead -- jd)

Wednesday, April 25, 2001

Sad to say, but I seem to be totally out of inspiration today. It was a beautiful day here in Minnesota. 70 degrees and sunny. I took Jodi out for a walk up to the Capitol park. Jodi thinks I am plotting to either kill her or get her into shape.

(Ed - funny, I often have the same thoughts. Should I be comforted, or frightened? Is she concerned for my health and well-being, or preparing for a serial career? -- jd.)

Had sweet Italian Turkey sausages for supper tonight. Pretty good.

Watched the West Wing. They are finally back to new episodes. I swear that show is the best written show on television. I also enjoyed Aaron Sorkin's previous series, Sports Night. Comedy Central runs reruns of that show while NBC is running ER. I tune it in when ER is in reruns. Which seems like all the time. Aaron Sorkin also wrote one of my favorite movies, THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT (Martin Sheen was only the Chief of Staff in that one, I guess he got a promotion). The dialogue in all those shows is just wonderful. Even reruns are entertaining.

You'll notice a new graphic at the top of my page. This is a link to Kaycee's log. Kaycee is an exceptional young woman. She is bright and beautiful. She refers to herself as a warrior. She has beaten cancer twice and still manages to see the wonder of the world and God's love everywhere. I think of her more as an inspiration and a guide. John discovered Kaycee while he was out of work and her optimism in the face of her illness and her beautiful soul inspired him and helped keep him from despair. I honestly never read Kaycee much. I always shied away, I guess it scared me too much to think of one of my babies fighting a horrible disease like Kaycee. But last night, John read me Kaycee and her mom Debbie's posts. After all her fighting against cancer, now her liver is failing and there is nothing the doctors can do. Kaycee kept this information to herself for quite a while, and finally told her mother and her online community yesterday. The grace and courage that young woman is displaying is amazing. The only other example of that I have ever seen is my boss and my friend, Jane. 3 years ago, she was pregnant with her third child. About 4 months into the pregnancy, she found out that her baby had a condition known as Tricime 13, a genetic defect that meant the baby would die, within hours, or at best a few days, after birth. Jane lived through that pregnancy, and with the support of her husband, daughters, coworkers, and her church, learned to be happy for the time she would have with her child. God granted Jane and her family 3 days with her 3rd child, a daughter they named Hope. And despite the pain of loosing that child, Jane remembers those three days with joy. Her face lights up whenever she talks of her baby Hope. Until Kaycee, I had never seen anyone deal with the ultimate adversity that life can deal out with so much grace. Both Jane and Kaycee have a strong faith in God and his goodness and that supports them through the painful times. With such a display of grace, how can I not read her journal and be touched. And learn to rejoice in all the little gifts I receive everyday. Like the beautiful day today. Or my daughter telling me she loves me just because she can't think of anything else to say. Or my son waking me in the middle of the night because he is scared and can't sleep. God has truly blessed me with a loving family and friends. Please, read Kaycee and be inspired . . . and count your blessings.

Guess I had a little inspiration after all.

And then you won't believe what Mr. Sensitivity said . . .

I was just commenting to John as we were getting ready for bed about how I hoped Jack would sleep through the night tonight. Jack seems to be just like me. Last night, he woke up in the middle of the night, so he came and got his mommy. Then he laid on his bed, staring at the top bunk for over an hour. I used to do that when I was a kid too. Not be able to sleep until late at night. When you are 4, the worrying hasn't set in yet, you just stay awake awhile. I was telling John it is kinda scary and lonely, waking up in the middle of the night and knowing you are the only one awake. And one of these days, he isn't going to come for his mommy anymore. So, all sympathetic like, John looks at me and says, "You know, if you wake up and you feel scared and alone, you an always wake me up and . . ." At that point he wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. Oh, sure, if you're feeling lonely, yank on my rod and wake me. Otherwise, just let me sleep. Is it just my husband that is this obsessed with sex or is it all men? "We're a simple people," he says. Apparently so, and with a one track mind to boot. Well, I think it's time to take the pillow off his face now . . .

Later.

Thursday, April 26, 2001

What a day! I hit the ground running when I got to work and never stopped. Everything needed to be done, NOW. Oh well, it could have been much worse.

Apparently my husband is taking some grief from some people over the last minute addendum to my post last night. That is all he will tell me. I guess his manhood has been impugned by my commentary. Sigh.

I am greatly irritated by the powers that be in network television. Midseason, they moved one of the best new shows, CSI, from Friday nights at 8 to Thursday nights at 8. Opposite another of my favorite programs, Charmed. So I have to decide each week which one I want to watch. I have tried bouncing between the two, but that never works because I always end up missing some vital element of one or the other (or both). If the kids happen to be up past 8, then I put on Charmed, it is a little less, well, nightmare inducing for my children. Hopefully when the new fall schedule is released, one of them will be moved.

We got to eat outside on our deck for the first time this season tonight. It got to about 75 degrees tonight. The kids had pizza, I had cheese enchiladas, and John had low fat chicken patties. I also made more pan roasted sweet potatoes and carrots. Only this time, I left enough for lunch tomorrow.

Well, I have been having trouble sleeping lately, so I think I will give up the ghost unless I find something fascinating and begging for comment on someone's site (or John says something incredible stupid again).

(Ed. - or the internet connectivity is for crap -- jd.)

Friday, April 27, 2001

The Irish have a reputation as fine storytellers. (Okay, among other things. And yes, it is true what they say about the difference between an Irish wedding & an Irish wake.) When I was in high school, I heard of a "Cahill's Pub" in County Kerry, Ireland, that boasted that the Cahills had a reputation as the finest storytellers in all of Ireland. (I like to think this journal is my way of keeping up the family storytelling tradition.) My grandfather, Ronald Cahill, was half English and half Irish. He once said that if he could separate out his English blood, he would drain it out. (This was not the smartest comment he could have made, considering he said it in front of his English mother.)

Grandpa was raised the only child of a farmer. After he and his father lost the farm during the depression, he went into the business you would expect an Irish storyteller to go into, politics. My grandfather was mayor and sheriff. He served as a deputy sheriff and bailiff until he retired at age 80. He was also instrumental at running the Ku Klux Klan out of Jackson county in the 1930s (seems they had a problem with the Irish and the Catholics, and my grandfather was both, so he didn't take kindly to their propaganda). He called a meeting down by Lakehurst dam (the picture of Jack & I at the left was taken at Lakehurst) and talked the assembled crowd into running the Klan out on a rail. I didn't find this out until I was doing a paper on the Great Depression my junior year in high school. That is also when I found out about my dad being a "fresh air kid". (It is amazing what wonderful stories your parents and grandparents have if you just ask. Both my grandparents would tell wonderful stories about when they were young. Tales that conjured up images of Little House on the Prairie. Except, of course, that it was anything but flat where I grew up. I am very glad I chose to listen. Now I can share them with my children.)

Aside from his career in public service, he also was a more traditional type of storyteller. One time, down at the local bar, my grandfather and his cohorts decided to auction off a cow. So, my grandfather served as auctioneer, pointing out the fine point of the animal and taking bids while one of his partners led the cow around the dance floor. Did I mention yet that this was all imaginary? And yes, I am sure there was more than a little Irish whiskey involved. My grandmother wasn't particularly bothered by that episode, in fact, I think she was rather amused. However, she was amused when, at various functions, my grandfather would have a couple and get up with the band and sing (at the top of his lungs) "My Wild Irish Rose". I think he landed on the couch for that one more than once. My grandparents had a relationship, probably rather like John's and mine. Grandpa and Grandma Walton always reminded me of my grandparents. However, the character that always reminded me the most of my grandfather was George Bailey from It's a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart always reminded me of my grandfather. His gentle humor, quick wit, his slow way of talking, and, of course, his stories. I can remember watching Johnny Carson when Jimmy Stewart was on. He would tell the most wonderful stories and Carson would sit there, with his chin tucked in his hand, listening raptly. Somehow I can't picture either Lettermen or Leno having the patience to listen to stories like that. They would need to turn the attention back to themselves.

Right now the kids are raptly watching the Space Seed episode of the original Star Trek. They both really like Star Trek, Star Wars, and other space movies. It makes their daddy very happy. Speaking of their daddy, we went out for Chinese food tonight. Poor John, he had Mongolian Barbeque for lunch, and he tends to be rather indiscriminate in his use of the "dragon sauce". Then at supper, he order Kung Po Chicken (Spicy chicken with peanuts). I believe he made some comment to the effect of making one of his lower orifices burn and scream. I really didn't want to go there, so I ignored it. Anyway, we go to the point in the meal where we get our fortunes. Rhiannon and I both got fortunes promising us wealth (Rhiannon's "soon" and my "in my old age", frankly, after a day like today, I think I have reached that august time). Jack's fortune promised he would bring "joy to all" (in other words, poor but interesting). Then there was John's. His fortune read "Be content with your lot. One cannot be first in everything." Poor guy, he can't even get a break in a fortune cookie. In fact, he is at work right now, downloading some huge file that some jerk didn't bother to get him the instructions for until we were at dinner tonight.

After my day at work, I promised my self (and several of my coworkers) that I was going to take my two wine coolers I had chilling in the 'fridge and put my feet up on my deck. Both yesterday and today was, well, hectic doesn't begin to describe it. Run run RUN. All day long. And my phone rang constantly for a while. I am almost glad my boss is going to be out again next week. She was out for two weeks and 2 days after having some surgery. She was back for three days, and now she has jury duty. Maybe I can get some of the stuff on my desk under control with her out of the office for another week. Then again, she is taking stuff with her and the courthouse is only a few blocks away, so I may be hearing more from her while she is out of the office than when she is in. What am I thinking, she didn't even generate the majority of the work I had today. AAARRGHHH. You wouldn't believe how hard it can be to distribute $310 million in insurance refunds to people.

Jodi was off to meet Mr. Saturday Night's mom today for lunch, so she left at 1 today. Amazingly, she was taking rather calmly, after the dither she had worked herself into last week before their date last Saturday night. She just hasn't been giving me much material lately. However, she does keep threatening to wear a tiara to work after my comments about her on Monday.

Tomorrow we are going to go biking and have a picnic. It is supposed to be pushing 80 degrees or better. I do believe that spring has sprung. Oh oh, now I gone have dared the gods of winter. I kid you not, meteorologically speaking, there are only 2 months in the year in Minnesota that is CAN'T snow, July and August. In those months, we melt. Sigh.

Saturday, April 28, 2001

Today started with less than promising tidings. My beloved woke me at an ungodly hour to inform me he was returning to his office, that he hadn't returned from until after 9:30 last night and that he thought he would be gone for at least 4 hours. (So much for biking riding today, then. I'm not taking them alone. I want to live.) And to tell my my youngest was up and watching TV. He hadn't been gone long when said monkey chose to impose himself upon my slumber. And not just to snuggle. Apparently, to his 4 year old eyes, my body beneath the blankets resembles a jungle gym. After sending him on this way, I attempted to finish the dream he and his father had so rudely interrupted. No joy. Then my first born paraded in, demanding something. She also was gently (okay, as gently as I could without opening my eyes) asked to leave the room. Then they both came in. I gave up. We snuggled awhile and got up. At which point it was about 10 and John called to let me know that the download wasn't working and he should be leaving in 15 minutes or so. (For those of you unfamiliar with "Dominik Time", this translates to about 60 minutes in the real world.)

After some forced labor cleaning up of the living room (my kids think they live in a gulag, since they are forced to clean. I swear I have to stand over them. Don't you just feel so very sorry for them.) we had brunch and headed out to the zoo with Rhiannon's friend Ashley. We had decided against biking, even though daddy was home because the 20 mph wind gusts would blow my poor kids off their bikes! As spring is in the air, the thoughts of many of the animals had turned to, well, you know. The seven year old girls cooed at the baby camel and just looked at some of the other animal behavior and said "eeewwww!" Jack, on the other hand, was completely oblivious. He thought the turtles were playing leap frog.

Lynne Walder has a list of the things she likes and dislikes about the U.S., specifically as found in Las Vegas. I was, well, a little surprised and rather taken aback to find "nipple tassels" on her list of likes. Hoping to star in one of the Vegas shows, perhaps? (And the unnaturally shaped protuberances you list on your dislikes can be found in may other locals as well, I am sorry to say. Especially, I am told, in LA.) Anyway, I am right there with her on the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. YUM! As for the slot machines, I used to work for a company that created some of those gambling machines and I know exactly what the odds of winning are. There is a reason casinos are money making ventures, you know.

Well, tomorrow will be either biking or buying plants, depending on the wind speed. Rhiannon has yet to learn how to ride her bike without training wheels, so she really doesn't need the help from the wind.

Sunday, April 29, 2001

You've all heard the saying "My eyes were bigger than my stomach," right? My dad used to say that when went out to eat when we were kids and insisted on ordering a adult sized entree because we were too big to eat little kid entrees. My dad would patiently let us order what we wanted and then, when we only ate about a 1/3 of it say "So, your eyes were bigger then your stomach, huh?". So we would box it up and take it home. He never was one to try to force us to "clean our plate." He figured if he did that, we would just puke and he would have to clean it up, so it was just easier to have leftovers. Wise man, my dad.

Anyway, today it wasn't that my eyes were bigger than my stomach, they were bigger than my deck. Since it was too windy to go biking today, we went flower shopping instead. First, we stopped to support our local Boy Scouts by hitting the pancake breakfast, where the kids ran into Ashley again (her older brother Cody, whom Jack idolizes, is a Boy Scout and was serving). You'd have thought the kids had seen enough of each other after yesterday, but nope, they had to hang together again today. Today Ashley was fascinated by Jack, as she only has an older brother, no one younger. Anyway, after eating our fill of pancakes & sausage, we headed to Bachmans. Bachmans is the premier local gardening store. In fact, they have been providing the poinsettias at Christmas time to the White House since the first Bush administration. Bachmans is always a dangerous place for me and today was no exception. We bought 2 different varieties of tomato plants, regular and double impatients, petunias, dahlias, cosmos, violas, pansies, and seeds for golden carrots, sugar snap peas, yellow beans, purple beans, and two varieties of lettuce. After filling the truck of our car (and spending an obscene amount of money on stuff that is just gonna die come fall) we headed over to Home Depot, just to pick up a light bulb for our refrigerator, don't ya' know. Well, they have a large garden department too (as does everyplace this time of year) and we found a few more varieties of peppers and tomatoes that we wanted to try. And strawberries, I simply had to try to grow strawberries.

Well, we decided to grab an early dinner at Chi Chi's (yummy yummy seafood nachos!!!) then we had to head to the mall to get the cookies we were thwarted from getting last night. Oh, did I forget to tell you that little debacle yesterday. Well, let me remedy that situation. Last night, after I picked Rhiannon up from Brotherton's, we (okay, maybe it was instigated by me) decided we needed cookies, so we headed to the mall to Mrs. Fields cookies. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, it was 8 o'clock, closing time. We got to the cashier and the young man noted apologetically that they had closed the register for the night. Rhiannon and Jack both started to cry (they were very tired) and Jack started to walk away. The teenage boy and girl running the stand were terribly distressed to see my kids up set and the young man called out, "hey, come back buddy." Jack turned back and the young man handed him a cup of nibblers (mini chocolate chip cookies) for free. What very nice young people running that stand (and what a terrible fraud I am, as my first reaction was "hey, way to go kids, free cookies!").

Anyway, we got our cookies tonight and headed home. And I headed out to the deck to see what I had wrought. Oh my God. As of this writing, I have planted 15 pots and 2 hanging plastic bag planters. (They looked so easy at Bachmans. I guess that is kinda a metaphor for life, "it looked so easy at the store, then I got it home . . .") I potted all my tomatos, most of our peppers, some of the seeds (peas, lettuce, and golden carrots), both my bags with impatients, violas, pansies, and petunias, the strawberries, and the extra flower plants that had been separated by the hanging bags. And did I mention the wind? We are talking 40 mph gusts at least. Oh, that was fun. Not one of my better decisions, to try to plant today. I have all my planters on the ground right now, as it is not quite as windy there. I was out planting from 5:30 to 8:00. Of course, as I was getting ready to come in, the winds died down. Enough to make you shake your head, let me tell you. Oops, gotta go. The live presentation of On Golden Pond is on. I love the movie, and I really like Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews, so gotta go!!!

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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