FlipSide:Starting June 18, 2001

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

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

Last Updated : Sunday, June 24, 2001 10:22:20 PM -0500

Home Current Week Archives NetWidows

Books Links Movies Music Recipes

Monday, June 18, 2001

« Monday »-·-« Tuesday »-·-« Wednesday »-·-« Thursday »-·-« Friday »-·-« Saturday »-·-« Sunday »
« Archive »-·-« E-Mail Me »-·-« Most Recent »-·-« TOP »

Well, what happened exciting today? Hmmmm . . . not much I'm afraid. Went to work, did alot of stuff, went through some preliminaries with our mortgage broker, on the way, hopefully to getting us being preapproved. Assuming, of course, my husband remains employed. I really hate this roller coaster ride, I wanna get off this joyride.

It is again stinkin' hot and humid. We are supposed to get more storms tonight and frankly, I hope they get here soon so I can sleep tonight.

Rhiannon and her daycare class went ice skating today. Good day for it. Jack got to go to McDonalds. I wanna be 7 again. When my biggest concern was if I could stay up on ice skates. When all I wanted from life was to play Barbies with my friends. Where do I go to officially resign my adulthood. I wanna go play.

We are watching 28 Days with Sandra Bullock. Not your typical Sandra Bullock movie. She plays a alcoholic and drug addict confined to court ordered rehab for 28 days and how she gradually comes to realize what she is and how she got there. Very good, but in some ways, hard to watch. Especially to someone who has been through the situation with a family member.

Tuesday, June 19, 2001

(ed - your regular correspondent is tired, uninspired, and taking the evening off. Unfortunately for you, I'm not. The good news, though, is that I'm probably just as tired, so this is all yer gonna get - that way I stay out of trouble. Well, at least a little. We hope. -- jd)

Wednesday, June 20, 2001

You know, I have always like guys with facial hair. Good thing, considering I married a guy who is, to put it succinctly, a hair pie. If John didn't shave, his face would be nothing but hair and glasses. (I know, I know, sounds like Sasquach. However, I can vouch for the fact that [a] he has never been to the northwestern US, [b] doesn't regularly wander naked in forests, and [c] he is not in need of a whole body comb out. Besides, last sightings I heard said nothing about Big Foot wearing corrective lenses and a teeshirt.) On the other hand, if he shaved all his facial hair off, he would like like a 12 year old version of Charlie Brown.

Despite the attractiveness of the mustache and beard on the man, there are some drawbacks. Take last night, for instance. My husband was bestowing upon me a very nice kiss. Unfortunately, his mustache hair was doing it's best to find a home in my nose, so I ended up wiggling my nose like Samantha from Bewitched, trying to escape the prickly hairs. Most annoying and it certainly spoiled any romantic ideas I may have been harboring.

Another drawback to the facial hair is the tendency of crumbs and sauces to cling stubbornly to several hairs around the mouth. Now, John does not consider this a drawback, mind you, he considers them "snacks for later".

When I met John, he only had a mustache. He grew the beard after we were dating a while, but shaved it off just before we were married, as he said he wasn't going to have a beard his whole life and he wanted to look like his wedding pictures. After the wedding, he promptly grew the beard back and hasn't shaved it off since. We will be married 11 years in October. I guess he was counting his childhood there. (Of course, I have also told him that completely shaving all the facial hair off is grounds for divorce.)

Well, I just got one of those good news, bad news kinda things. The good news is I get tomorrow off with pay. Great. It is supposed to be a lovely day. The bad news? Well, the bad news is that the reason I get tomorrow off with pay is some lunatic has made what the St. Paul Police refer to as a "credible bomb threat". I got this news at about 3:45. My first reaction was, "Cool!" Then I started to think about it. Let's see, we are trusting that a person mentally unbalanced enough to plant a bomb and announce his plans to plant said bomb on a certain day on a bathroom wall will keep to his schedule. Makes me just a wee bit nervous. How do I know he isn't working on Australian time and it is already tomorrow?

Thursday, June 21 2001
Summer Solstice,
beginning of Summer

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. An old wives tale? Perhaps. But, in my case at least, true. I love to cook. In college, I cooked for my boyfriends, my roommates, hell, I cooked for the whole gang. When we weren't eating in the ~~rejectory~~, refectory at St. John's, we were eating at my place. All my friends, romantic or otherwise, appreciated my cooking. (Especially my roommates. I had one roommate, who, I swear to God, burned water in the microwave. No really, she did. If it weren't for me, Pammy would have subsisted on popcorn and happy hour hors d'oeuvres.)

John was no exception to this rule. Our first date, which, by the way, wasn't supposed to be a date, mind you. My roommates all made excuses to ditch us for dinner. I was making dinner to thank him for building lofts for me and another one of my roommates. And they all bailed. They set us up. And yes, this did result in many many many jokes along the lines of "he made her bed, now he has to lie in it". But I digress from my point (I know I know, not exactly unusual for me.) Anyway, for our first date, I made meatloaf. My mother's recipe. He tells me at that moment, he knew I was the one for him. Love at first bite. Then we watched movies. I never have seen the end of Predator.

Ahem. Well, anyway. What brings this to mind is yet another culinary triumph tonight that reaffirmed my husband's delight in my cooking. John has become enamored with Famous Dave's Barbeque Sauce, the Sweet and Zesty variety. He likes it so much, he puts it on everything. (Don't ask, you just don't want to know. Besides, some of you may read this while eating and I don't want to be responsible for you making a mess of your monitors.) Anyway, today I was inspired to experiment with the sauce. I took a Vidalia onion, and sliced it up. I took a pot roast and cut it into thin slices. I put the onion and pot roast in the crockpot, poured Famous Dave's over it, kicked it up to high (it was already 4 o'clock so I couldn't let it cook as long as I would have liked) and let it simmer. After about an hour or so, I took the lid off and let it simmer with that way so the sauce would thicken up. The result, yummy barbeque sandwiches. Even Rhiannon, who is not much of a meat fan, liked this concoction.

Well, I had a nice, productive day. I got to to do my favorite thing, lay around and doze in bed with the Today Show on. I had never realized, however, just how much our phone can ring during the day. Then, I did a little picking up, went and got Rhiannon and went shopping for her daycamp gear for next week. Dropped her back off at daycare and headed over to the farmer's market and picked up some fresh strawberries. Came home and did 7 (yes 7) loads of laundry. In between loads, made supper. Put away clothes. Packed for Breezy Point. Phew. I do less when I go to work!

Well, my building did not blow up. At least not yet. On a sad note, today we lost Carroll O'Connor. I never much cared for All In The Family, but I was a big fan of In The Heat of The Night. In fact, I was watching that show when I found out my father died.

Then, in the "Too Stupid to Live" file, there is the person who took a pitbull to a local park, tied it to a dumpster and left it alone. A 5 year old little girl approached the dog and was bitten several times on the face. Her eye is actually sewn shut due to the wounds. What kind of idiot takes a dog to a park and leaves it alone?!

Well, there will probably be no post tomorrow or Saturday, as we will be in Breezy Point. I am looking forward to it. It is always more fun when when someone else is paying for the vacation.

Friday, June 22, 2001

No post, I am soaking up the sun in Breezy Point!

---------------------Breezy Point Bulletin---------------------

Ah, my faithful readers, I have made a great sacrifice and composed the following for your perusal while attending my meetings today.

Wow! I am actually putting pen to paper to write this. Won't post it until Sunday, but this way, I have some ideas instead of staring a blank screen at 9 o'clock Sunday, bleary eyed and sun burnt, praying for inspiration.

Sun, lake, pool, birds, beach . . aahh. Although I have only been outside for 15-30 minute breaks at a time, I can safely say I like it here. Who couldn't.

Our retreat is going well. Currently we are about 3/4 of the way through our meetings. Right now three attorneys are discussing the workers' compensation litigation system. John and Jack got here around 4 pm and checked into our suite. We have views of the lake and the pool. A separate sleeping area and living room area with a refrigerator and coffee maker. Jodi, Todd, and Dayna are next door. So i can pound on the wall if they get too rowdy. Gotta keep 'em in line, ya' know.

On the drive up here, I was reminded of a science lesson from 5th grade. When you know what to look for, it is interesting to notice the signs of your movement from one climate to another. Brainerd (okay actually Pequot Lakes, Breezy Point is about 40 minutes north of Brainerd) is in a completely different climate zone than the Twin Cities. I noticed it by just watching the trees. Eastern Iowa is a more temperate climate than Burnsville. Where I grew up, the temperatures are less extreme, not so cold, not so hot and humid as in Minnesota (usually). The trees are oaks, maples, walnuts, elms, with a few evergreens that have been planted in people's yards for variety.

In the Twin Cities, spring comes about 3 weeks later and kids trick or treat with snowsuits under their costumes. Although there are still oaks and elms, but evergreens are about 50/50 with them. Maples are only in people's yards, where they have been planted and babied.

As we were driving toward Brainerd, I noticed more and more poplar, birch, and evergreen trees and many many fewer oaks and no maples. It is fascinating to me how you can get in your car and drive less than 1/2 a day and be in a completely different climate. A good example, when John and I were married in Iowa on October 20, 11 years ago, it was a sunny, warm day with the colorful leaves just starting to drop from the trees. The next day, we got in a car and drove north, through the Twin Cities, through Duluth, to Tofte. In Tofte, the trees were mostly bare of leaves and we were wearing heavy jackets. Wow! What a difference a couple of hundred miles can make! Personally, I find that to be one of the best things about living in the upper midwest.

Saturday, June 23, 2001

Nope, yet no post. I am still sunning myself, much like a lizard. I know, I know, redheads shouldn't be in the sun so much. Oh well, so I turn a little red.

---------------------Breezy Point Bulletin---------------------

Men are so much more comfortable about themselves than women. Take swim wear, for example. here at a resort, you see everyone wandering around in, well, let's just say limited coverage of their bodies. You know, clothes that don't cover much. Especially swimsuits. Most women, no matter how nice they look, are self conscious in swimwear. (Especially in a setting where they may be seen by coworkers. Perfect strangers, not so much. But someone you will have to face over the coffeepot Monday morning, now that is another issue entirely.) But men are not so concerned. Case in point: a gentleman in the pool today. He had permed hair dyed an unnatural hair of yellow (not blonde, yellow). Sagging man breasts and bulging belly hanging over his too tight white swim trunks. But there he was, in all his glory, playing with his grandchildren or nieces and nephews or whoever they were, completely unselfconscious about his body. Now, I know this will come across as making fun of Yellow Hair, and, in a sense I am.

But I am also envious of him. He probably has no illusions that he looks like Mel Gibson, but he just isn't worried about everyone looking critically at him. Men can do that. Why can't women? We will cover up our flows, whether real or merely perceived, and dwell on how we look. We sped millions of dollars every year looking for that perfect suit. The one that makes our belly look flat, our thighs thin, our butts small and our boobs big. Would that we were as secure in ourselves as Yellow Hair.

We had a lovely day here today. After breakfast, we hit the beach for "Sandcastle Architecture 101", taught by Professor Dad. We noticed fire rings along the beach whilst we were basking on the sore, enjoying the 80 degree temperature, the cooling breeze blowing off the lake and the beautiful blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds. A plan was hatched. A fire blazing against the night sky, toasting marshmallows and making s'mores .

With this noble goal in mind, we determined to head into Pequot Lakes for our supplies after lunch. We collected graham crackers, Hershey bars, and marshmallows.

We decided a little quiet time and napping was in order since we figured we'd be up late (such a fire must be after dark) and some children who will remain nameless chose to pitch a fit in the lunch buffet line. (Why do they always chose the moment with the greatest audience for tantrums. Yet another fun coffeepot moment on Monday.) John and the kids retired to the bedroom to snooze while I read my book and cat-napped on the couch in the living room, looking out over the blue lake.


Rhiannon woke before the boys and she and I went exploring along the shoreline. After about an hour, we returned to the room so we could all go to the pool before dinner.

Dinner was a dockside barbeque. We sat the by water for along time, just chatting companionably with Jodi, Todd, and Jane while the kids collected shells on the shore. After a while, the biting flies drove us indoors to wait sunset. Somehow, we ended up with our kids and Jodi's Dayna. Hmm. . . We finally made our way to the beach around 10 pm. Although it took a little extra effort to get our firewood (don't ask), we got a lovely bonus. Fireworks shot into the sky over the lake. Brilliant blues, radiant reds and startling whites lit the night sky.

(Rhiannon is very sensitive to loud noises and prefers to view fireworks from a greater distance than we did tonight, so she was not the happiest of campers for a while. I had to sit with her in my lap, covering her ears.)

After the fireworks ended, Todd and John did their caveman imitation and attempted to start the fire. 1/2 a notebook and one telephone book later (hey, in times of trouble, ya' go with what ya' got) the fire was crackling away. We toasted marshmallows, made s'mores, and gazed into the night sky filled with stars. The Milky Way was clearly visible and Mars glowed red in the southeastern sky. We talked and joked as our children dozed in our arms. The hour grew late and we continued to listen to the snap of fire and the waves lapping against the shore, reluctant to leave the peaceful scene. But it was nearly midnight and 7 year olds are way to heavy (and tall) to carry back to the room, so we slowly buried the fire with sand and bid each other goodnight, shepherding our sleepy children back to our chambers.

I wish we had more days like this. Good times, good friends and the greatest worry being the need to get a fire started.

Sunday, June 24, 2001

Well, today was the return to civilization. When we awoke this morning (way too stinkin' early after our late night at the beach) the day was cloudy and humid. A fitting end to our stay. Despite my reluctance, it is good to be home. I did some writing (actually using pen and paper, GASP!) over the weekend and I am posting them tonight under Friday and Saturday. And, of course, Jack is having trouble settling down. Maybe he slept too much in the car.

Tomorrow I will be in the office for the first time since last Wednesday. I hope I can figure out where I was.

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