damn

So, I'll fill you in about the trip to the Dells a little later. This is the last scene of our vacation. It happened on our way home from Wisconsin.
We had a wonderful week. Swam, played tennis, worked out in the gym every day! Ate out a couple of times during the week, saw some movies, relaxed and bonded with the family - very lovely!

Then, on the way home, we hit a deer. Well, two deer actually. Hitting one is so easy, and 2 at a time just racks the points up a little faster.

We thought that the deer would be bedded down at dark, but apparently, because last week was the opening of deer hunting season, the deer were a little nuts. In Wisconsin, the hunters have to "earn a Buck." What that means is this: They have to shoot and register a doe before they can shoot a buck. And, according to the strange looking, but very kind young man at the rest stop #63 on WB 94, it is also rutting season - could you imagine the stress on those poor does? They are either being shot at by people in bright orange hats or they are being pursued by sex crazed bucks. I guess I'd just keep running, too.

The problem is, when they run across a very busy highway, they get run over.

I don't know how Daddyman did it. We were driving 65-70 mph in heavy traffic. I heard him say, "Oh, sh**!" Then, there was a mighty thump! I saw one of the deer tumble over the top of the van and felt the other one get pulled under the van...

Daddyman, pulled off the highway and stopped the car. We took a deep breath and got out of the car to check out the damage. The front of the family van was pretty much flattened! Amazing! The bumper was pulled under the front end of the car, but both tired were fine.

We felt most nervous about being on the side of the road in the dark on a busy highway, so we started the car and limped along the shoulder to the rest stop - a very lucky .5 miles up the road.

Once there, we could assess the damage a little better - lots of fur and blood, no fluid left in the car, not driveable.

We called my dad who agreed to drive into the night to rescue us in the dark of Wisconsin!
We called the state trouper who filled out a report and called a tow truck and marked the deer (apparently hunters are scooping up the deer that get hit on the road so they don't have to shoot a doe, and can go right to hunting a buck. Go figure!)
We chatted up the watchmen at the rest stop - very nice guys.
We ate sandwiches and cheese sticks ....

And I still feel shaky - two days later.

We are so very, very lucky. Daddyman did exactly the right thing - he didn't swerve. He just kept going. The deer did not come through the windshield. The car did not go off the road. Other cars were not involved. We didn't get hit by another car or a semi-truck as it barreled down the highway. We are all safe and healthy.

But, gosh, I am still shaky!

a letter of apology to an old friend

Sometimes, it's hard to say "I'm sorry." Especially, when you don't think that you've done anything wrong. I see that with the Littles all of the time. They drag their feet and hang their heads and sort of mumble an apology when asked to "make things right."

Well, now it's my turn to make things right.

I wrote a blog entry several days ago. An old friend read it, and her heart was hurt. I thought that she was a little defensive, but - after several days of reflection - I think that I owe her an apology.

Dear T.
I am sorry that you felt that I was unkind to your family. I loved your family. Very much! I loved your brother - he was my first love and will always have a huge place in my heart and my memories! The story that I told was just a memory. I meant it to be full of humor - can you imagine if that whole 'parking episode' had happened when your dad and my parents had been home? Thank goodness your mother was the only adult home! She handled everything with a sense of humor and love!

I am sorry if you thought that I was being unkind to your mom. I would never knowingly say anything to hurt her. Your mom made me feel loved during a time in my life that I felt invisible and full of teenaged chaos. She always made me feel safe and loved. In fact, I probably would have chosen her as my mother at that time in my life, because I thought she always listened to me when no one else would.

I ask that you re-read the post with an open heart and mind. Read to hear what I was really saying! And then, if you want to continue this conversation, I would love to hear from you! I truly hope that life has been wonderful for you these past many years, and I look forward to a chance to catch up with you!

Sincerely,
Ahna

we are outa here!

Guess where we are headed?
That's right!
To the Wisconsin Dells.
In November.

For those of my friends who are not native to this part of the country, November is NOT the height of the tourist season. It is cold. and gray. and - for a place that thrives on water slides and theme parks - there will be absolutely nothing to do.

AND I CAN'T WAIT!

We pack the car with as little as we can get away with - which, as the Littles get less little, seems to be just the bare necessities - jammies, toothbrush, swimming suit for our indoor pool and a little cash, and off we go!

When we arrive, we vow not to get out of jammies until well after lunch, we eat cereal for dinner, we watch a LOT of tv and movies (what a treat!), we sit by the fire and play games and do silly crafts and then, we wander around the vacationland-turned-ghost town, and we are blissfully happy!

This is a much needed vacation! We all feel the stress of this year - an election, difficult financial outlook, issues with discipline at school (not mine, the 'other' kids and seriously little follow-through by the administration.) The girls are fighting - a lot. Daddyman is like a stress-volcano, waiting to blow up at any moment. I feel like I'm living on too many cups of coffee - always on edge and tired of being needed! It is a much needed time away.

Why, you ask, do we venture into the Great American Family Vacation at such a strange time of year? Well, because I teach at a year 'round school, and that is what our schedule affords. Besides, off season is a heck of a lot cheaper!

(Here's how the year 'round thing works: 9 weeks of school followed by 3 weeks of 'summer.' It's like 4 quarters with a short break in the middle. Plus, we have all of the holiday breaks. It turns out that just when I think, 'I don't really like children. Why am I a teacher?' It's time for a break! We love this schedule in our house!)

We're going to take a computer and keep an on-line journal, of sorts. Maybe. Stay tuned - you'll surely see some strange things! :-)

random favorite things...

I was visiting my friend - "the other Ahna" - and she'd posted some of her favorite things. Here are some of mine...


*The tea kettle - bubbling water for the coffee press (of course, that may be the psychological thing of KNOWING the coffee is coming!)

*The Littles in jammy feet sneaking into my room in the middle of the night

*My dog's snoring next to me while I write at the computer.

*My husband's key in the door at the end of the day.

*My father playing the piano - his studio was below my bedroom when I was growing up. He is a composer and a conductor of choral music. He is a wonderful musician. Hearing him working as I was going to sleep was the safest feeling I can remember.
Noni singing - not so great, but wonderful and exuberant! And so LOUD!
The dirt road crunching and rumbling under the car tires telling us we're almost at the cabin.

*My sister/friend's voice on the other end of the phone - so happy to hear me. I love knowing her well enough to hear how her day is going over the phone. I love feeling so needed and cared about that she'll share herself with me.

*The hiss of the pressure cooker - I don't have a pressure cooker. My Grandma Picklepuss had one and the Fabulous Mrs. Byrd has one. It always means something spectacularly yummy is on it's way. G'ma P = pot roast. TFMB = curried cauliflower or some other wonderful concoction from Lorna Sass!

*The music of the ice cream truck. You know those nasty little songs that you can never stop singing. I hate the ice cream truck and those silly little songs and overpriced, nasty colored 'ice cream' treats. I LOVE how happy my girls are when we say "yes, you can get a treat!"

*The sound of the jar opening - that quick little woosh - when I open the pickled beets. I love how the juice makes everything else on the plate turn slightly pinkish. I also love roasted beets, but I just can't figure out how to roast them really well. I'll keep practicing. In the mean time - if you've got any suggestions, please let me know!

*The sound of my girls as they arrive home from school: "Ma-ah-ah-ah-m! I'm ho-o-o-o-ome!" Drives me nuts when they shout from one end of the house to the other, but I'd hate it if they quite!

What are some of your favorite sounds?

the new, older me

so....
Today is my birthday. And you know what that means! More about me.

Suffer. Or don't read - up to you.

Notice anything different? Yep. A little darker. Cheaper than plastic surgery and less permanent than a tattoo. My dad hates it, that means it's a winner!!! (OK, truth be told - I really wish that I had gotten a tattoo, but I can never decide on what to get inked into my skin. There are so many factors to consider: Where? Why there? Why get a tattoo at all? What to get tattooed? Who should do the tattooing? Do I really want to trust the guy who offers 'free inking' so he can get certified? Should I put it someplace that people can see, or hide it where only a few may find it? If I get a tattoo now, what do I tell Noni when she comes to me in a month asking for one of her own? You get the idea. I had enough difficulty choosing a new hair color, and that is something I can change when I grow weary of it.)

(Pecan. The color is pecan. With tastefully placed highlights.)

(It looks really brassy in the picture - but it's not. It's warm and yummy.)

Daddyman asked me this morning what the best thing about last year was, and I told him it was all good. He agreed. This was the year that I took myself back. It's good to be in your 40's. I feel young enough to 'get it,' and old enough not to care what anyone else thinks about it. It's good.

My mom made the best birthday meal tonight - thanks mom! - homemade pasta and meatballs (pretty good for a Norwegian girl from North Dakota!), salad, crusty bread and - yes! - homemade angel food cake with strawberries and fresh whipped cream. It was heaven. I felt so pampered and loved and taken care of!

This was the first year that I enjoyed my birthday meal without any guilt! I let my family take care of me, and it was good. Someone once said that it is a gift we give other people when we let them give a gift to us. OK, that's maybe the complicated version. I used to feel totally guilty when people spent their time and/or money on me. Now, I feel great about just saying 'thank you' and enjoy it. It was a wonderful night. My Littles were so sweet! No fighting, very little whining. My parents were happy and relaxed. Daddyman was happy and relaxed. I was happy and relaxed - and all of it BEFORE the bottle of yummy red wine! Life is good.

My new guilty pleasure is Craig's List. La-la-LOVE it! I don't know why. I guess that I like to 'window shop.' I've posted things - some free and some for sale. It's always worked out. I've purchased clothes for Via from a lovely gal in an outer ring suburb - they were wonderful. I've purchased shoes from a young airline attendant who claimed to buy lots of shoes while traveling. (We met in the parking lot of the Cathedral. It felt like a spy novel.) I even bought my car through a listing on Craig's list, and you know how I love my very old car! Thanks, Craig. Wherever you are! I love you and all of your long, long lists!

I wish that I could go back and enjoy the birthdays of my childhood as much as I have enjoyed this birthday. I wonder why it is that my memory is not of enjoyment, but rather stress and tears? Is it just kid stuff. My mom and dad did all of the right things? Maybe, I just remember what I saw in pictures, and most of the pictures from my childhood birthdays include me in tears. Probably wanted to be first in line or the leader and had to be the 'host.' Funny now how much I love being the host AND being the first in line. (embracing my inner flake!)

I hope that my kids enjoy their birthdays - there sure is a lot of stress on the parents for kids birthdays. Just had Noni's birthday. 14 little kids - am I NUTS? All went really well for the first 2 hours. We aren't the parents who rent clowns or limos or giant, inflatable jumping things. We send home modest party bags that have no candy inside. We plan games and activities at our house! We take lots of pictures and laugh a ton and the whole family joins in the activities with the kids - ie, 3 legged races include the littlest Little and Daddyman. The parties are a blast. Usually. Then, in the last half hour, all hell broke loose. The teasing between the kids got totally out of hand. Hair pulling and tears and sassiness to siblings and swinging belts above heads and hitting friends across the face with the buckle because he was "listening to my secrets." Everyone was naughty, and no one was at fault, really. It was a little episode of The Lord of the Flies. Everyone was OK - no blood. The kids barely noticed. I, however, collapsed in a heap of tears and anger. How could these lovely little children be so damned MEAN!? And my child was one of them.

It hasn't been completely resolved yet, but it's ironing itself out. I called many, many parents to apologize and explain. (Most had no clue.) I talked with many, many children - some mine, some not. I implemented house arrest for those who participated without a thought of consequence...

I wonder what Noni's birthday memories will be?

I wonder what Oma's memories of my birthdays are?

And still, it's been a wonderful year!

What are some of YOUR favorite birthday memories?

more of me!

I like the sun, even though my people prefer the snow - as is evident by our creamy, pale skin. (I once worked as a nanny. The delightful little girls - HA! - once announced that my skin was so white that it looked like the underbelly of a fish. Sweet. The same family sent me and their precious little children into the belly of hell - level 20, or something - they gave us a limo and tickets to see "The New Kids on the Block." I didn't actually hear the music. Too many little girls shrieking at the tops of their prepubescent lungs. Again, another delightful memory from the nanny job. Isn't it amazing that I now teach small children and have given birth to - and actually enjoy - 3 Littles of my own?!)

I fart. I like to fart. It feels good.

I don't like to fish. In MN, that is mostly unheard of. People fish in the summer. People fish in the winter. People build shrines to fishing in the winter, then they haul them out onto the middle of the frozen lake and stake their claim. Some people spend days and days in their fishing 'shacks.' Of course, I say shacks lightly - most of them have wall to wall carpeting, heat, plush furniture, several fridges and cooking appliances, and - of course - flat screen, wall mounted, HD cable TV. Crazy! I hate fishing. And I don't much like people who like fishing. Except my dad. But he only fishes in the summer so it doesn't really count.

My dog farts. I hate it when he farts. It is so stinky.

My favorite cake is angel food cake with strawberries and home made whipped cream. Like mom made when I was little. I have a pretty serious sweet tooth. Sugar and booze. love 'em both. And in my world, pretty interchangeable - just depends on the time of day or the day in the week. However, I hate sweet booze. Crazy!

When I was in High School, my boyfriend's mom used to make us ice cream drinks after a long week. I think she just wanted someone to drink with. On the weekend, she'd pull out the blender and whip up Grasshoppers and Solid Gold Cadilacs. Her husband was in the army - Lt. Col. He was the head of the ROTC at a state college in Northern MN. He was pretty absent most of the time. I don't really remember him very well - he was stern and believed that women had their place in life - serving the husband. Not a real surprise that I didn't marry into THAT family (even though the romantic boyfriend MAILED me an engagement ring when I was in college.)

(Of course I kept it.)

My high school boyfriend and I got 'arrested' by a State Park Rangers when we were 'parking' on grounds after hours. We were totally making out - steamed windows, the whole nine yard - when he knocked on the window of boyfriends very snazzy yellow sports car. Boyfriend panicked and stepped on the gas and we drove off the road and crushed a poor, helpless little tree. Park Ranger brought us in to State Park Headquarters - a lovely, little log cabin complete with cozy stone fireplace. He very seriously called our parents. My parents would have not handled the call well. Luckily, they were in Europe and we were being watched by a college student who wasn't really watching at all. Boyfriend's dad was on 'maneuvers' in South Carolina. So BF's mom drove out to the State Park and agreed that she would take us into her custody. She drove us home and made us fancy ice cream drinks. Hmmmm. Then we created a plan to replace the poor, helpless little tree.

I love my husband. He makes me laugh. He doesn't make me ice cream drinks. He's fixing my kitchen situation - more on that later!

me me me me me me me

I have been passionate about my children & husband...
I have been passionate about my faith and politics...
I have been passionate about my job...
I have been passionate about my garden...

but hang on to your socks, because for the next several days, this whole stinkin' thing is about ME.

I am close to celebrating my birthday, you see, so I am going to - as shamelessly as a Norwegian Lutheran Midwestern girl can do - celebrate myself a little!

Lucky you!

I am going to be 43 on Tuesday. Tuesday is veterans day. I am not a veteran. I do like that my birthday is 11-11. cool.

When I was little, I thought that they flew the flags just to honor my on my birthday.

I used to hate pickled beets, now - love'em. (but I prefer them roasted, but pickled is still pretty good. I like when they turn everything else on my plate pink. Weird.)

This is the best thing that's happened to me in the last year: I am learning how to laugh at myself - even when others are around. I no longer freak out, look for the nearest dark corner, turn deep crimson red, cry while pretending to laugh... you get the picture. Now, I actually think I'm kind of funny.

I really want to buy myself some fancy underwear, but I can't bring myself to spend the money. It's like buying a new wallet... why spend the money on something so few people are actually going to see and/or appreciate?

I need to see a dentist. I hate dentists. I bit my dentist's hand when I was 11.

I like my boobs, but they are getting a little flat. (I met a woman this weekend. She had her boobs 'done.' I know. She told me. Then she showed me. Stripped necked from the waist up in the middle of a cocktail party. She asked if I wanted to touch them. Well, kinda. But not really. Then she pointed to her nipples and told me that her doctor was brilliant. He made hers stand up forever. Really? Why? Now, she has perfect boobs but she wears a padded bra to conceal her forever pert nips. Her husband likes them, she says. I wonder, "can she feel anything any more?" I'll keep my floppy, tingly little pancakes, thank you very much.)

I love my life. When people ask me, "if you could do anything other than the job you are doing right now, what would it be?" I am the one who tilts my head to the side, with that ridiculously puzzled look and glassy stare - like the dog - and I think, "Why would I want my life to be different than it is right now?" I actually really dig my life! I like my job. My family brings me more joy and laughter and chaos than I ever imagined possible. When I don't like things, I change them. Some people call that flighty. They wish that I'd make up my mind. Some people - my mother - prayed that I would be more calculating. Instead, I learned to embrace, no CHERISH my inner flake and dance the crazy dance with it. And guess what? I AM DAMNED HAPPY! go figure.

It took me until I was 42 to believe the people that said "a healthy diet and regular exercise will make you feel good." Here's what I think: Why the F*** did it take me 42 years to learn that lesson? Good grief, if I could just learn to listen to what smart people say every now and then, instead of ALWAYS having to experience everything first hand. Do you know how F***ing hard it is to loose 40 pounds when your are my age and you've had 3 c-sections. But - I DID IT! So, I guess that makes ME an expert on eating healthy and exercising regularly - just ask me. I'll tell you. "I lost the equivalent of a first grade child by eating healthy and exercising? Yes, you can, too. I believe in you. Now, are you going to finish that 3 Muskateers Bar? If not, I'd love a bite!"

I tend to find random soap boxes to preach from every once in a while. It's quirky, right? Probably, it's just really, really annoying. Maybe that's why I like teaching elementary kids - because they HAVE to listen to me go on and on and on....

If I do give in and buy some sexy underwear (is it sexy if you call it underwear?) I am going to show everyone my flat boob pancakes covered in expensive, sexy lace!

Maybe.

So, there's a start. Read or don't read. It's all about me anyway! :-)