Surrey with the Fringe on Top

I am currently sitting at my desk, gazing at my two beautiful, vibrant orange gerber daisies. It was my own little treat to myself today. They're even sitting in an orange vase.

Yesterday Chris and I went to Lindenwood Park to go for a walk, and instead rented a "Single Surrey" to ride around the park for half an hour! A Single Surrey is a cart-like aparatus, that you pedal with bike pedals, small bicycle tires, a steering wheel, and a hand brake. A Single Surrey fits two people. A Double Surrey fits four. We took off down the little hill, and Chris peeled around the corner such that I thought we might capsize! We didn't, of course, and went on our merry way. Then he thought it would be a good idea to go up a hill to get to a different path. We basically didn't have enough leg power between the two of us to get the thing up the hill! It was absolutely hilarious. So, we put the brake on, waited for the innocent pedestrians to get out of our way, and backed down the hill! Then, we needed to turn around in order to get back to the rental place, so Chris says, "Quick! Up the embankment!" So he turns and we go up. Then he take the brake off, we go backwards, and he slams the brake on again, so hard that the front wheels came off the ground several inches! I couldn't stop laughing - it was the funniest thing I'd participated in for quite a while. It was good exercise, too! It's a good thing I trust my husband's driving...

I'm not sure if it's worth noting that my in-laws were here this weekend. In fact, I think blogging about it will just upset me further, so I'll just leave it at that. They were here.

The weather was friggin' gorgeous this weekend. Saturday couldn't have been more beautiful, and Sunday was almost as nice. I love summer. I said to Chris yesterday on the way to church, "It's like everyone here just goes into hibernation from November until the end of March or April." He actually agreed with me, "I can see why you'd say that." (He RARELY agrees with me when I make observations like that. Drives me crazy....)

I now have yet another baby shower to attend. This will make 4 in about 2 months! And this one's the first girl of the bunch. She's already made her debut to the world, back in February, but she also lives in Iowa, so we've had to wait for a time to gather to shower her!

Well, I think that's about it for today. I'm going to continue gazing at my daisies.

I had the best weekend...

Seriously. It was awesome. And the best part? I didn't really even do anything. Friday night Chris and I just putzed around the house, and I got in a couple episodes of What Not to Wear. Saturday we slept in, which was glorious, of course. I was so tired on Friday night that I couldn't even fall asleep right away. Don't you hate that? But Saturday was great - we lounged around, I ran some errands, we went to a couple really crappy garage sales in the afternoon, and I got groceries. Hornbacher's had strawberries on sale 2/$2.98, which is almost unheard of, so I picked up 4 cartons of those, and went home and made strawberry shortcake! YUM! We also went to see "Wild Hogs" at the theater. That was pretty funny. Strange, but funny.

Sunday was church, and that was strange, too. I feel like I'm an alien with that group of people. It's like, I walk in the room, and they're like, "who is this strange creature?" I brought Chocolate Babka to Sunday School and they were all curious as to what this strange and exotic bread was all about, apparently some had even googled it, which I thought was hilarious. Somedays I'd like to quit church. Anyway...

We took naps on Sunday afternoon, I went shopping and bought a couple pairs of jeans that actually fit me (I can NEVER find jeans that fit...EVER...and since Chris just put one of my TWO pairs that actually fit me in the dryer, I was down to one pair. I couldn't believe they shrank that much.). We had a very yummy homemade pizza for supper and putzed around some more. Took some junk to the garage, cleaned out the coat closet, cleaned the kitchen. I got in a couple more episodes of What Not to Wear. I'm so addicted to that show. I was saying to the receptionist this morning at work, "So I love What Not to Wear. I even have a friend who basically does that for a living in Seattle. It looks like SO much fun. I'd love to do that, not that I'm the latest authority on what to wear, but it looks like a blast. But, what vocation do I choose??? Abstinence education and counseling. People getting STD's and having affairs and getting divorces. GROSS! How NOT fun is that?" Very not fun. Granted, I love abstinence education, but some of the stuff I have to read...boy, makes me never want to have children... Anyway, I digress.

But you know what the best part of the weekend was? On Sunday night, I wasn't DREADING going back to work on Monday. I love my new job, and that makes me happy. It's a wonderful, wonderful blessing to be able to go to bed on Sunday night and not lie there thinking, "I hope the morning never comes!" (Or at least comes really late.)

I think I have several more weekends of delicious relaxation coming up in the next few weeks. Although, apparently this is the time of year for all the babies that are being made right now to come out of their ovens, because there are baby showers galore! I had one last weekend in the Cities, I have one this coming weekend at church (baby already out of his oven), and one on the 12th (baby still baking). And the funny thing is that they're all boys! So, what this means is that I'm having a lot of fun going shopping for the presents. I bought my first shower gift recipient a Boppy and two newborn gowns. I haven't shopped yet for shower gift recipient #2, but she's registered at Target. I was going to buy something really COOL for shower gift recipient #3, but someone bought it the same day I was going to buy it, darnit! Oh well, there will be plenty for me to buy yet.

Well, this is a lot of rambling about absolutely nothing. Maybe I'll ramble some more. I like rambling. Rambling clears the head. Keeps the thought-process de-constipated. I guess....

Tonight I'm going to be knitting with my knitting friends (they used to be church friends, but then we switched churches, so now they're knitting friends). I'm looking forward to that. There's always good, or at least interesting, conversation with this group. I enjoy that very much. They are definitely the most interesting group of women that I know. I like that. It keeps me on my toes.

I ran out of work to do about 30 minutes ago. I still have to sit here for another hour and 49 minutes. I'm so sick of data-entry, I could puke. Puke, puke, puke. I remember, when I was a kid, I had this book about a girl with a learning disorder and she was mad one day, so she went to her elementary school and wrote, "School makes me puk!" (Sans the "e.") So the next day, everyone knew she'd done it, and they were all going around mocking her by saying, "Puk, puk, a duck puk." I don't have the foggiest notion of why that just popped into mind. I used to say that sometimes, though, "Puk, puk, a duck puk..." Kind of fun to say.

I'm trying to sell some stuff on ebay. I've never done this before. It's interesting. So far, nothing's happened. But I realized last night that I didn't put a description on half of my stuff, so that's not helpful. I've only got a day or two left on the auction time, or whatever it's called, so I hope they let me list it again.

Well, I think I have reached the end of my rambling. I'm going to go check out my ebay items. Maybe something was bid on today!

It Is Finished!

My afghan is finally done! I finished it over Easter weekend when I had lots of time in the car. I feel so accomplished! That was a huge project.

Oh Lord, Why Me!!

The time since I last posted has FLOWN by. I do love working full time again, since I love my new job so much, and I enjoy being more occupied during the week. It's been a busy time. I am going shopping tonight after work, then home to take a walk with my hubby since it's finally nice outside (!) and then I'm going to just stay home and do whatever I want. I've been taking a personal inventory lately, and I'm realizing that I'm much more high maintenance than I ever thought I was. I'm not that way emotionally, but just in the amount of time I need to sleep and rest and be able to do my own thing...I need a lot of that time. I still don't enjoy getting up before 8:00, but I guess that'll come with time.

Anyway. More to the point of what I was going to say.

I made a quick trip to MSP on Sunday. Left at 8:00 am and got home about 9:45ish that night. The reason for my trip was a baby shower for my friend, Dawn. It was a good trip, but it was hard.

First of all, I practically bawled my way down to the Cities, which is pretty unlike me. I'm not much of a crier. Anyway, I took a couple of my favorite CD's and sang and prayed and enjoyed the sunshine and nice weather. I arrived in Roseville at 11:30 to have lunch with Kris at Rosedale at the new Panera there. I get out of my car, glad to be back "home," and proceed to be hit on by a passing male. This is exactly what I didn't want. I completely ignored said male and trucked it right into Panera where I partook of a very tasty personal-sized quiche. It had spinach and bacon in it and a flakey crust and I could have eaten 4.

Kris and I strolled around the mall for about an hour after lunch. It was nice to be back there. We both bought $9.99 clearance sweaters at Express, and shared a White Chocolate Truffle Frozen Yogurt at TCBY. It was fun, and not nearly long enough.

Then I went to the shower, which was held in one of the brownstone apartments on Summit in St. Paul. The apartment was awesome, although very small, and there were 35 women. It was good to see Dawn and her belly. She's 7 weeks away from her due date. It was all somewhat surreal. I sat with several other women my age whom I had attended church with "back in the day." They all have children now, too. One even has twins. Crazy.

Then I had to drive home.

I drove thru town on 94 and looked at all the places I used to go on a regular basis. It was like grieving all over again. That's where I want to be, for the rest of my life. I would be happy as a clam to move back there right now. I came home and poured my frustration out to my husband, and we are at a complete roadblock; an impasse. He hates the Cities as much as I love them. I don't want to be anywhere else. I even went so far as to say I wish I'd known this before we got married, but that doesn't do me any good now. He even said that he had to "tolerate" living in Fargo. He wants to be out of town, in the countryside. I wish he knew this about me before he asked me to marry him: I grew up in the country. I hated every moment of it. All I ever wanted was to be where the action was - to be with my friends, where I could bike to the pool every day, or walk to school. No, I had to ride the bus where I was tormented every day, and I had to stay home during the summers all by myself. Sure, my mom would take me into town several days out of the week on her lunch break, but I also knew that was a burden for her. Not that I loved the town where I went to school. In fact, I don't care for it much, and would never want to live there. But it was the only place I could go to see friends and have something to do. Sure, living in the country is peaceful and beautiful. When you grow up knowing that you're a city girl at heart, it's pretty disheartening to find out that your husband will never allow you to live where you want to live.

And, yes, it's my own fault that we live in Fargo to begin with. Had I not wanted to run from our stuck-situation in the Cities in want of jobs, we would never be here. My mother said that to me over the phone not long after we moved here. Chris isn't a man of action, and so her thought was that if I hadn't gone forward with wanting to move to Fargo, we would never have left, because Chris never would have gotten it done. I tend to agree with her. However, this does not do me any good, either.

Then, I think: Who am I looking out for? Me. I'm not taking Chris' feelings or wishes into consideration. Except, it's really hard to do that, cause the one thing I want, he doesn't want, and the one thing he wants, I don't want. So, and I've said this to him several times, one of us has to live where they don't want to live and not be pleased with this situation. (Actually, what I said was, "So, that means, if you get to live where you want, then I have to live here and be miserable for the rest of my life." Or vice versa.) So what IS the answer?

Do we move to Seattle? Do we move to Kansas City, or somewhere that isn't tied to one of our personal desires? Chris sarcastically said (after I told him how I want to be where the action is and where there are loads of opportunities and adventures), "Then why don't we move to Paris?!" I said, "GREAT! I'd LOVE to live in Paris!" (He didn't think before he said that, I'm pretty sure.)

So, here we are again. There's a really, really good looking youth pastor position in Eden Prairie right now. I could definitely handle living in E.P. I want Chris to apply. If I leave it up to him, I know he won't do it. There are 3 youth pastor positions open in town here, but two are at a Lutheran church, and to be quite honest, neither one of us is very interested in that, although we should check it out before we make that decision and NOT apply.

I don't know what the answer is. All I know is that the life I want to lead is not in Fargo. I know there might be people who read this and say, "The life you want should be wherever your husband is." Well, that's all fine and good, if you don't have dreams and aspirations in your life, but I do. I don't think I had to check my brain/personality/ambition at the door when I got married.

Maybe there isn't an answer. I even think it might be different if we had moved here for Chris' job that he loved and he was in ministry and loving it. But right now, it's not different.

Life and Death

It's 9:51 p.m. on Easter Sunday evening. Husband and I arrived home from Iowa today in record time. I think it was 6 hours and 10 minutes or something very close to that. I accomplished a LOT of knitting on this trip, which I am very pleased with.

The trip was...good...all in all, but it had its moments. First of all, it started much later than we had planned on. We were going to leave on Friday morning at 10:00 am, so as to arrive home shortly after 4:00. However, my uterus had different plans and decided to leave me curled in a ball on the bathroom floor for nearly an hour, where it took 800 mg of Ibuprophen and a 15 minute intercessory prayer from my mother to make it behave. I fully believe in the power of prayer like I never have before. Thanks, Mom.

Anyway, we left town around 11:30, and got home about 6:05. The trip down was exceedingly uneventful, which basically is a good thing, however, we decided to take the free car, since, even though it is 18 years old, it has 33,000 less miles on it than our good car! But, the "Service Engine Soon" light came on while we were driving east on 494 towards 35W. Didn't think much of it.

Saturday morning, we pulled into the driveway with Mom (coming back from a trip to the nursing home to visit Grandpa) and Husband noticed the free car had a flat tire. So, since it's Saturday at about 11:44am, we have 16 minutes to find a place to fix the flat, before we're stranded in Iowa until Monday! Luckily, the feat is accomplished and the tire is fixed. However, we are not finished with the trials with Mr. Free Car. Later than night, when Husband tries to move it so that my dad can pull his car out of the garage, it decides not to start. Repeatedly. Luckly, Husband is a farm boy and knows how to handle a cranky car. He gets it moving and we are able to drive back safely to Fargo today.

Now, I need to back track.

Mom had to put her dad in the nursing home a few weeks ago. Up until then, he lived in Des Moines/Ankeny all his life. He now resides in Dumont, which is the little, tiny, dumpy town about 5 miles from their house, where she works. He has dementia. He has congestive heart failure. He cannot control his bowels, because he refuses to eat most days. He has always been a very strange man; difficult to get to know, easy to get frustrated with. I haven't seen him in probably 4-5 years, which is sad, but not having much of a relationship with him, I didn't care all that much, unfortunately.

But, I felt that since we were in town, we should go and pay him a visit, knowing he could be completely dingy, or super crabby or whatever. What I was not prepared for was what I saw.

I walked into the Dumont nursing home with my husband and my mother. I'd been in the nursing home a million times, having worked at the local pharmacy as a teenager, where I had to deliver meds from. I could see him laying on his bed from a distance. I recognized the light blue jeans which he always wore with a large belt buckle and a western-style shirt tucked in - you know, the shirts with the pearly buttons. He was asleep on his bed. It was about 11:15 am, and his lunch was sitting untouched on the tray near the bed. He was a waif. Never weighing much over 140 most of his adult life (that I had known him), he looked as though he'd probably lost 20-30 pounds. His skin was splotchy, and I could see his veins in his forehead. They were very prominent. He was breathing heavily. He looked so small, laying there sleeping.

Mom approached and touched his leg and said, "Hi Daddy, we came to say hello." He didn't stir. She took off her coat and put it in the chair. "Hi Daddy, are you going to wake up?" He made a noise. His breathing became more labored. He kind of opened his eyes, but he wasn't awake. This went on for a few minutes. I was thinking, "Let's just leave the poor man alone - he's obviously uncomfortable and is probably escaping the pain by sleeping." I turn to walk out the door and he opens his eyes and looks at me. I said, "Hi Grandpa," and waved with a smile. He didn't really see me, or at least it didn't seem like it. He closed his eyes again. Then he stopped breathing all together.

"Good God," I thought, "is he going to die right here, right now?" It was so strange. He didn't breathe for at least 10-15 seconds, which seemed like an eternity, and then he sneezed - twice. That woke him up enough for him to register that he had visitors. Mom said, "Look who's here." I said, "Hi Grandpa," again. He looked at Chris, "Who's that?" (He'd never met Chris.) "I said, this is my husband, Chris." Chris said, "Hi Bill." Then Grandpa launched into something about the car and is Chris old enough to drive it, and he's only 51 himself and needs to get his license renewed (a common conversation topic), and how we'll have to get your dad down here...and I didn't follow most of it. Mom could understand what he was saying, and I found out later, he was asking if I had his car, because she had once mentioned something to him about giving it to us, which they had (it's the "free car.") He also said, "Something's wrong. What's wrong with me?"

Anyway, somewhere in this strange, 30 second conversation, he closes his eyes again, and starts shaking, something that apparently happens because he's starving himself. I said to Mom, partly out of pity for him, and partly out of my own uncomfortableness, "Let's just let him sleep." I didn't know that sometimes it could take him a half hour to wake up. Had I know that, I would had stayed longer, because it seems that he knew it was me standing there.

So, we ended up leaving. He opened his eyes once again after we'd left the room and I think he saw us standing in the hallway. Then he just kind of stared off for a few seconds, and then he closed his eyes again. Then I felt bad, like we'd abandoned him. It was awful.

We spoke with the nurse for a minute who said all he'd eaten that day was a snack cup of pudding, and half a cup of coffee. Makes me wonder if they ever give him water.

We got back in the car and I didn't know what to say. It was horribly sad, even though I didn't ever have much of a relationship with him and even though I hadn't seen him in years. I could still hear his voice inside when he talked - sounded like my grandpa. I cried later, at the sad sight I'd seen. This shell of a human, who used to be a functioning being, is now reduced to a nursing home, where they monitor his bowel movements, and feed him pudding, like a child. His wedding ring was on one of his fingers; pictures of his first wife (my maternal grandmother, whom I never met because she died the year before I was born, when my mom was 26) were in the room, along with his old dog Tiki, and me and my parents. The legacy of a life not well-lived. It was a sad commentary.

I didn't know if I should try to go back today before we left for home. I didn't really want to go. It was so horrible to see him like that, yet, I felt I'd deserted him yesterday, mostly out of my own anxiety. Yet, Mom maintains that he didn't really care that I was there at all - he didn't even say hello, he just asked about his car. Yet another telltale mark of the selfish man he always was. I'm wondering if he had a personality disorder that made him the way he was - unsociable, hard to get to know, strange, unloving. I guess we'll never know. I don't even know if I'll see him in Heaven someday. Mom said that when she was a young girl, they joined an Evangelical Free church and one day some of the men from that church came and took her dad away for the afternoon and when he came back, he never drank, smoke, or played cards again, or at least for a long time. Not that those are the marks of a saved individual, but something happened. I know for a fact that he's been mad at God for a long, long time, wanting God to take him so he wouldn't have to live anymore.

None of it makes any sense, and none of it makes me feel better.

However, there was life on this visit, too. Not just death.

The earth was awakening from the winter - there was green grass (something we've not seen in Fargo since September...). There were crocuses (croci?) blooming near the front steps. The pussy willow was starting to show its little fuzzy buds. The tulips were pushing their leaves thru the dry soil. The lilac was budding. I found hope and beauty in this. Interesting how two opposites can exist in the same realm, so close to one another. Inside the nursing home, where my grandfather lays, dying, outside, the earth is showing signs of coming back to life after a sleep thru the cold winter. "Both, and" as Carla Dahl would say. Not, "either, or."

The last time a relative of mine died, I was in the 5th grade. I was sad. It was my Uncle Harold. But I felt detatched at the time. I suppose that's how a 5th grader deals with it. But now I have to watch my poor mother take care of a father who never acted caring towards her, who only gave her anguish and rude words. How difficult that must be, yet I know she can't leave him there. The bond of a parent and child. Survives nearly anything.

I hope Grandpa goes to Heaven.