Crazy Days. Nisswa, Minnesota. 4 adorable miniature teapots, 1/2 price. Spotted. Examined. Admired. Pondered. Passed. Later on the same day: 1 adorable miniature teapot, 1/2 price. Spotted. Examined. Admired. Pondered. Purchased. Cute. as. can. be. Also purchased several boxes of flavored tea, also 1/2 price. Loving the tea pot. I brewed hot tea every remaining day of our vacation and even my frugal, less spontaneous little sister couldn't resist admiring it on the counter.

Home. Purchased a new tea kettle in which to heat water for miniature teapot purchased in Nisswa. [it has a cute little basket for the tea bag or leaves into which hot water is poured and then dispensed through the adorable little yellow spout into my cup of choice...and having heard Brian's method of brewing tea is both messy and time consuming, this is really the way to go...]

Moments ago: I place full tea kettle on the stove and take a basket of laundry upstairs. I begin to hear its sweet whistle. As I descend the stairs I hear Kevin yelling from his reclining position in front of the living room television. Loretta! Ugh!!! Stop that thing! Do I need this in my life?! Get rid of that thing!! Why do you do this to me?!! [As he yells, I've made my way quietly into the kitchen and turn off the burner. He continues to yell and mutes the TV. He rolls over, moves to his knees and ambles his way to the kitchen like a bear prematurely awakened from hibernation. The tea kettle slowly diminishes its whistle to the point it sounds a bit like what's her name at the end of Titanic and I'm bent over laughing in the kitchen partly because of how mental he can be but mostly because he thinks I'm still upstairs and is making his way into the kitchen to turn it off...] By now he sees me and half laughing, half whining he impatiently pulls the whistle off the tea kettle and says once more: Do I need this in my life?

Is it just me, or is that hilarious stuff. This guy is a piece of work. I tell him so. I say, that type of comment should be reserved for failing transmissions, or septic trouble, not whistling tea kettles. He says I didn't need to get one that whistled and makes noise in the house. I say, that's how I know the water is hot. He says, is that why it whistles? Well, that and to further implement my devious plans to drive you completely mad before you're 50... mwa ha ha....

Better end this before I have to reheat my water...or maybe...

So I had to get fingerprinted. They made me an appointment to do so. Kevin went with me since it was at the sheriff's department=county jail. I push the buzzer. They let me in. Kevin isn't allowed. He goes back to the van. I follow the deputy down the hall and quickly discover I don't have the required paperwork. He shows me a copy. I apologize and explain that no one at the regional office or the board of education informed me of said paperwork. He escorts me down the hall, buzzes me through the door and I return to the van. I look through the stack of papers they gave me for taxes and yup. Last one. Including a photocopied signature of the superintendent, which I needed. I walk back to the door, he buzzes me through. I grin and explain, and hand him my quickly completed paperwork. He walks me down the hall and asks for my license. s***. He escorts me down the hall as I quip something about me being too stupid to have a record. He buzzes me through again. I return to the van, endure Kevin's verbal battering and head for the door again, this time accompanied by another teacher asking for directions to be fingerprinted. I'm your gal. Been there. Still haven't done that. She wasn't informed she needed an appointment but had her papers. This time he buzzes us both through. Walks us both back there and has her take a seat. We make small chat. My hands are really sweaty by now, more from the unexpected exercise than my original nerves and I figure that will be the next thing. Turns out they spray with water and scan. No more messy ink stains. It took a while, lost count of the "reject" scans, but I guess they got what they needed. He escorted me one last time through the security doors and I was home free.

What is it about those places that makes me so nervous. Oh, yeah, the nice little convicts and row of assorted family waiting to be buzzed in to see them.

And all this for Rabbit Foo Foo. Makes me wonder...

$75

Before taxes. Honestly, the day wasn't bad. Just wasn't as fun as I had hoped. Stepping away from the classroom for this long must have carried me farther from my high school dreams than I had realized. I'm just not "there" anymore. I think once-upon-a-time I prided myself on making theory fun and bringing out the best in their early voices but I don't know. Yesterday just felt like...subbing. I guess I wondered a little if I'd find my rhythm and think: I need this. I've missed this. But nope.

I'll grant grace for the truth that I haven't put in a non-stop professional work day in a while, and for the truth I was up earlier than usual, and even for the truth I was trying to implement someone else's lesson plans. I'll even give some for the fact the morning was spent trying to capture the attention of five, first-time-this-year classes, held feet away from a giant freezer in the cafeteria where staff was busy storing what seemed like a dozen Monday morning deliveries, complete with the temps and distractions. I should also allow for the fact that although I arrived 30 minutes early, I should have come the night before. Familiarizing myself with the lessons, locating things, although I subbed for a competently organized lady and most of my frustration was just trying to read through that many lesson plans so quickly. Thankfully, the second school repeated the same lesson plans so I did indeed get the hang of it.

I had both my nephews. Passing Chandler in the hall upon my arrival on his way to lunch required much restraint, especially since he walked quietly by and stuck his tongue out at me under smiling, impish eyes. I toyed with having him exit my class under false pretenses: a run to the office, get me a drink etc. only to prep the rest of his class that we were going to put him in the front row and when we began the dance section of this song we were to do, everyone else should sit down and leave him standing...but. I did promise his mother.

Harrison came in quietly and was seated near the last row on the floor. I began without noting his presence to any degree and as I looked back to smile at him discovered he too had found his tongue. These boys adore me.

I had some fun. It really wasn't all that bad. But I'm sure I have no desire to pursue it full time again. Or rather part time again. I suppose if I sub for her again, it would get easier being more familiar with things. And although I will probably have some nerves show up, I'm looking forward to subbing at the high school. Not that Rabbit Foo Foo and Little Tommy Tinker didn't rock. It's just hard going back to the basics after having enjoyed such excellence at the opposite end of things for so many years. But I'm whining. $75 is $75.

Favorite moments:

• Hey lady. Is there really a piano over there? [A kindergartener peering behind the upright as I'm playing.]
• Sing by yourself again. [Unruly 3rd grade group mimicking my vibrato.]
• I like your rings. I like your necklace. Ooh. Pretty bracelet. [Several from the same class surround me all talking at the same time while I'm trying to teach. Felt a bit like a fish flake in a hungry goldfish bowl.]
• I have to go to the bathroom. Now.
• I have to go to the bathroom. Now.
• I really have to go to the bathroom. Now.
• I want to go home.
• I'm tired.
• You're nice.
• You're pretty. [Ok. I missed this a little.]

And my absolute favorite: Harrison's class. The reading of Rabbit Foo Foo for the millionth time of the day. I purposefully turn the book upside down as I showed them the pictures feigning surprise when of course they quickly informed me of the mistake. Well, as you may or may not know, being a comedian in my former life, I play this card for all it's worth. I end up having kids stand to fix the book and try to help me understand. Each time showing them how it looks perfect from my perspective. And then begin the reading with it upside down and pretend it's fine. They giggle. They laugh. They scream. Apparently, the louder the voice the easier I'll get it. Just before it gets me thrown out of the school, I allow one helpful little girl to hold it in place in my hands as I turn it to them and with much relief and a glimpse of frustration she takes her seat. And just when you'd think my masterful entertainment had ended....I whisper the finish and yell "goon" at them, just to see them reel with surprise. I know. I'm good.

I made sure to tell Harrison, I knew what I was doing. But I don't think he bought it. The risk I take for a few laughs at the end of a long day. Or any other day for that matter.

I lived. I did well. I just don't want to do this when I grow up anymore. Have to see. For now, it's optional and I can deal with that. Have a great Tuesday. And if you have any repentance due some poor substitute teacher from your past, I'd suggest you git 'r done...

Wish me luck. "Little Rabbit Foo Foo" awaits. I have 5 kindergarten classes among the totals today and they're all supposed to learn it, complete with bunny ears. [two dancing fingers, not a costume...] It has been a long time... [and I for sure have Harrison...still not sure about Chandler...]

ordinary...

Anyone who knows my girl will agree that along with being lovely, sweet, talented & shy, she can also be a bit of an airhead. Like Barbie the cheerleader, not Barbie the doctor. John has long encouraged her to implement the 10- second rule: 10 more seconds in the think- about- it -chamber before birthing something duh-worthy from her Mary Kay lips.

Well last night she asked me something that wasn't duh-worthy and actually was pretty insightful. She asked if it was "okay" for her to be a hair stylist, if I thought God wanted her to do this since it was something she's always been good at and has always enjoyed. She had been thinking all week about something she heard someone recently say, about lay positions being "ordinary" and that people called to be ordained into ministry, especially youth ministry, were up a rung or two on the spiritual ladder. [That's a huge paraphrase, but the gist of her question.] In context, I'm sure the statement was only meant to add meaning and privilege to the calling of youth ministry, and to acknowledge the serious and challenging responsibility to mold and mature young people at a most crucial time in their development which I completely agree with and not intended to offend anyone, but it did, in her mind, contradict what I have come to believe and taught her: that we are all ministers, lay or otherwise, and we all are called. Set apart. His. And Ryan, it doesn't matter who signs the paycheck :)

It took a few years, but with perseverance and education, I was able to make the transition from a mindset of paid ministry vs. the rest of us, to shared ministry, including everything from office duties, building maintenance etc. to preaching & teaching, regardless of the salary involved. Careful use of language and subtle changes in titles were deliberately thought about in an effort to reinforce a theology more biblical and more authentic to what Christ modeled. And that's what I have taught Shawna. That's what I told her when she struggled with choosing Culver over Lincoln. And what I reiterated last night.

In the last few months of school, Shawna was able to share her faith with another girl or two. One actually started coming to fuel and was baptized last Sunday. If that isn't ministry of the unordinary kind, I don't know what is. There are divine moments waiting for her in a salon station that no one else will be allowed to have. Ones planned just for her. What a cool thing to silently pray over someone who just shared a bad week in the making while holding their head in her hands? Or to be able to send someone out with more hope and encouragement than they had when they first sat down. To be perhaps the only person who had actually listened to them in weeks. And honestly, giving pedicures is about as servant like as it gets from her perspective, even if she gets paid for it.

So, I told her to enjoy this decision. I told her that ministry is or should be the living of this ordinary life in such a way that we intentionally seek God's presence and activity wherever we go, whatever career we choose, and that our divine encounters or sacred moments along the way will transform it all into the unordinary beauty that is our God in process. These doubts of hers were more than familiar to me. I chose QU. But I tell you what, it might say "Special K-12/Music" on my piece of paper buried somewhere in the archives of my past, but it felt like youth ministry in my heart.

Blessings Shawna Lynn. Not bad for a Barbie...

beauty school and then some...

Well. My baby just graduated from beauty school today. She's yet to take her boards but that's soon to follow. I nearly made the mistake of underestimating the importance of this day to Shawna. I was planning to take some food for their traditional lunch carry-in they have when someone graduates and staying to eat with her, but I had actually told my family, including Kevin, not to bother coming, it wasn't a big deal. Well, in the process of food preparation last night I quickly realized the gravity of the mistake I was ready to make. Shawna doesn't exactly show emotions externally equivalent to her feelings internally, nothing new. But her little face last night [listen to me describing her as a little girl...]revealed enough disappointment for me to seriously re-think my assumptions. First thing this morning I "encouraged" Kevin to take the time off and be there, I invited my dad and left a message for Veronica. I then called Underbrink's Bakery, who by divine intervention I'm convinced, had enough single angel food cakes for all the students to have one. Not a bad morning's work. By 11:30 I was pulling into the parking lot [alone] and bearing arms full of party.

She was glad to see me and I had a brief flash back of "special persons day" when she was in elementary school. I decided to let Shawna believe I was flying solo and the two of us got a plate and made a trip through the food line. Believing it was just the two of us for the day, she asked if she could give me a facial, having several services to complete on her check-list. Sure. Why not. I'll be laying there with mud on my face when my family shows up. Perfect. And almost on cue in walks my dad and sister, complete with sarcasm. As I processed, Shawna got them some lunch and then they all sat in a room watching Shawna massage my face. It must have looked inviting because my dad consented to indulge and Shawna soon had his long frame stretched out on the chaise, layering steaming towels on his bearded face. Fun times. She opened her gifts from all of us and Kevin showed up. Got him some lunch and followed her back to her station.

Kevin enjoyed watching her give my dad a hair cut and stayed to watch her give a color and cut to a returning client. Dad and Veronica left in time to collect her kids from school and John arrived in time to help us start packing things up. I honestly think it meant a lot to Shawna for us all to be there and she was surprised. The more I thought about it all, we've always been front and center for her many events over the years...applauding and cheering like family do. But today, this was something that really mattered to her, more than a volleyball game, more than an orchestra concert, more than many other things she's really good at. This was her first "choice". Her first major decision and if she's like the rest of us, she's searching for the confirmation that it was the right one. It was important to her for us to see her there, to cheer her on, to approve and applaud with our presence. It was a big deal even if there was no stage full of faculty or tassels to deal with. This was the completion of a major chapter in her life's story, a chapter she wrote all by herself and she needed us to notice. A chapter well done.

I almost missed it. Quite thankful I didn't...

all God...

113 at fuel tonight. That's after many have left for college. Lots of new faces they tell me.

All....God.

• $50
• fingerprints
• tax forms

I am now a substitute music teacher for the public schools. I didn't keep my certificate current [I am an idiot] so it will take me 5 credit hours to renew, or go the route listed above and get a substitute certificate. This prompted by a call yesterday to sub on Monday afternoon at Chandler & Harrison's school. It would rock to have one or both in class but won't know till I get there. Assuming I pass the print test I have two more gigs up and coming. Both for QHS. This means I will get to rehearse the concert chorale and choir. Sweet. Very sweet.

And if Uncle Sam doesn't take it all, I will actually move out of the unemployment line into a semi-employed, earn-a-portion-of-my-keep status, which just might slow the wise cracks from the peanut gallery I call family. And... maybe not.

Man, just one hit song. That's all it would take. For now, looks like I'll be stuck with ta ti-ti ta for a while. Seems like a lifetime ago...I may have to dig out my jumpers and apple pins. JK...

forecast...

A recent edition of the comic strip SHOE, involving a conversation with a bathroom scale:

Scale: How's it going this morning perfesser?
Perfesser: Hard to say...somedays I feel thin and somedays I feel fat. It all depends on the weather.
Scale: So what's the forecast for today?
Perfesser: Partly portly with a twenty percent chance of scattered skinny.

I found that funny. Really, really funny.

unplugged....

Sometimes Kevin adores John. Sometimes Kevin wants him to disappear. Last night Kevin adored John. They played ping-pong. They watched American Chopper. They bonded. Of this I made mention: that perhaps my beloved indeed has some type of split personality thing going on, one minute annoyed, one minute enamored. His answer: Well, John's like a toy. Sometimes you feel like playing with it, and sometimes you just want to take out the batteries.

And he went to bed.

home sweet home...

Well almost. Kevin's in a funk. Either not enough quality time or the recent arrival of the rest of his family has rudely burst his sterile, silent environment. Seriously darling, they devote entire hospital wings to care for ones like you. Clorox wafts through the air and the padded walls allow only the sound of one's medicated breathing :) In fairness, he was stuck caring for my beloved cat, maintaining the pool, flowers and lawn as well as keeping money in the checking account while I was off playing so I'll cut him some slack. Thank you Kevin...

I haven't been gone for two weeks in a long time. Usually we're gone for maybe 10 days and usually we're all together. Since Kevin stayed behind it was the first time we had been apart for this long in, I don't know, 21 years or so. Note to self: any longer and he might not let you back in the house...

Did the Mall of America again- a day was sufficient this time around and ended up calling Kevin two or three times while I was there. Normally he's my bag runner. This time thankfully, there weren't as many bags, but I was on my own. It's always fun observing the variety of humans that pace back and forth and the fashions that adorn them. Good food, good rides, good shopping. Snoopy theme song played at 10 pm and we headed to our cars. 3 hours later, we're pulling into our family cabin and after assigning sleeping spots to 8 different people, with two beds, one futon and a poor excuse for a sleeper sofa, we were all in bed by 2:00 in the morning. Given the driving I had done Thursday & Friday and lack of sleep, even that futon sounded good, however John graciously drew that card. Shawna and Emma suffered on the sofa and David, Veronica and I got the beds. The two boys ended up in sleeping bags on the floor.

It's a long drive and the cabin really isn't anything at all fancy, but I'm telling you. The smell of that air the first morning on the lake is just something. Standing there with morning hair :) pj's, and a cup of hot coffee, taking it all in for the first time brings all these memories of years past to the surface in a moment. So many things have changed over the years, but so much is perfectly matched to my heart's snapshots. I suppose it's like that for lots of folks who spent summers away somewhere. Just thankful we had this opportunity.

With three kids ages 13 and under, two of them boys ages 9 & 6, once the eyes open for the day, the feet and chatter immediately follow. Picture towering fir trees, northern lake mere feet from the bright red wooden cabin, the sound of crows and loons alternating in the air and just when you'd swear you were standing in the middle of a postcard, out the screen door flies Batman and Robin yielding plastic swords and light sabers.

And the week begins.

The week that followed included two lovely lake days, complete with sun and warm water. An early morning storm on Tuesday cooled things off a bit and we finished the week with horseback riding, a deer park, small water slide and poorly maintained miniature golf. [All part of the ticket price or we would have gone somewhere else and will next time...] Made our anticipated trip into Nisswa and Pequot Lakes for some regional shopping and more food. The rest of our time was spent playing wiffle ball and bocce. None of us has a jet ski and they are just too expensive to rent and haul to the lake so we watch the locals race back and forth and try not to feel like losers. Which we aren't. But it would be nice...

David, John and Shawna packed up and hit the road home on Friday. Man, that was tough for me. I really wanted Shawna to stay but with school she really needed to get home. [Originally we each had separate weeks, but Veronica and I opted to combine and spend the extra week together since neither of us had to be back...] I imagine I moped around a bit when they left, but it was fine after that. Not like those three kids didn't keep things moving.

We enjoyed another perfect lake day the following Monday but the rest of the week was cool and cloudy. Kinda stinks for tans and swimming but I always look forward to at least a couple chilly nights and days to snuggle up in a sweatshirt and make a pot of chili. We were not disappointed. I got up one morning and threw extra blankets on everyone and could not believe how cold it was. It was 97 that day in Qtown. Crazy.

There's only one thing better than a rainy, cool day spent shopping in Nisswa, Minnesota. A sunny, cool day spent shopping in Nisswa, Minnesota during CRAZY DAYS!!! Yes. And it was everything you would imagine it was :) Simply beautiful. And I didn't even get to all of the stores sadly. I did make it home with 3 Minnesota sweatshirts that I haven't purchased in many moons, but I did this year. Just not positive I'll be back I guess. We promised the kids in exchange for their patience we'd spend the next few days lakeside and we did. Lots of movies, bocce and together time. They seriously kept their sno-cone machine going non-stop, the neighbors are still probably wondering what that sound was coming from our kitchen and we actually made a dent in the pile of groceries we crammed into the refrigerator. And if you ask the kids, I'm sure their favorite outing was the Lumberjack show we went to the night before we left. You may have seen something like this on ESPN. It was corny but fun and the boys especially had everything memorized, eager to reenact in their backyard for months to come.

I suggested mid-week that we write down all the fish tales from the wall on the porch and compile a booklet of sorts for the family. Easier said than done. 5 hours and many pages later we have quite a list. It's tradition to write the size of any substantial catches on the walls of the porch. Mostly northern pike, mostly in the 25-30" category. The competitive spirit is alive and well on Ada Lake. There are records of sunburns and tans, first boat rides and humorous quips and lots of memories. Not as many of our days at the lake as I thought but when they added the indoor bathroom [praise Jesus] I think many of the early years were covered or painted over. Still we have enough to make a nice little book for everyone to keep and add to in the years to come. I just don't know how many years there will be to come.

My paternal grandmother bought it like 50 years ago or so, for the whole family to share for the summer, and it was little more than a fishing shack. They added an additional bedroom and enclosed porch over the years. There was an outhouse that seemed like it was miles from the cabin and only an old pump inside for water. For years we had to heat water and bathe in the sink or take our soap to the lake with us. It was always cool to see how many bullet holes were in the outhouse every year and I tried not to think too much about what varmints might be snooping around. There was actually a "white hen" inside for those of us too "chicken" to pee outside after dark, but it was one long walk to carry it out there the next morning- and the older I got, a bit embarrassing if a car happened to drive by while en route. I can still remember standing Shawna in the sink when she was a little thing and playing all the normal jokes on her when she'd head to the bathroom. When grandma died it was divided among my aunts and uncles. They decided to sell their shares to my aunt who had never married and had really taken care of it over the years to begin with. She has graciously continued to maintain it and schedules its use every summer. She has updated it with a bathroom, complete with shower and replaced the pump with running water. There's air conditioning and all the comforts of home, if you're not sleeping on that sofa, but it's still a cabin and still more than a bit rustic.

I didn't go up last summer and really missed it. I have some really great memories of this place. I've dedicated two rooms upstairs in our house to cabin decor and have a large watercolor version of a photo Kevin took years ago of the cabin hanging on the wall. I have a stuffed loon I squeeze on rainy days and a loon CD I play when I get a hankering for the north. I've been going there since I was a baby and have many wonderful memories over the years. Shawna has collected a few of her own and this was John's third trip. Can. Not. Believe. That.

I have memories of a phone call from a phone booth making plans to abort our trip and head home to see an uncle whose cancer was calling the shots. I have memories of taking Kevin there when we were dating. Poor thing. He should have seen the writing on the wall years ago. I have memories of lots and lots of annoying photo ops my mom made us pose for. Of my early trips to Itasca and Canada. The mighty Mississippi before it gets mighty and muddy. Of seeing Indians walking along the roadside. Of flipping head over butt when dad stopped abruptly while I was peeing in a potty chair in the back of the station wagon we borrowed from my grandma. [Hey I was little.] Memories of moccasins and Indian dolls, loons and bears. Fish and mosquitoes, and pine cones. Frustrations when the weather wasn't exactly conducive to tanning and waiting for mom to finish shopping. Walks down sandy roads following dad in pursuit of eagles' nests or deer. And in all these years waiting for a bear sighting and coming home with only the tales of the one my uncles shot years ago. Memories of the kid down the road who was always vandalizing the cabins on the lake every year and wondering if he had the good sense to only shoot through the windows in the off season. There are even memories of an ambulance ride to Brainerd when dad had a spell with a racing heart years ago. And memories of the family next door, wondering what Eddie had been up to all summer.

I have memories of a phone call telling me mom's check-up was fine and trying to decide if her voice was hiding anything. I have memories of staying a couple extra days to overlap with Veronica when Emma was only a month old. I have memories of taking Jennie when Shawna was in the 4th grade I think. And memories of one last trip with mom when the phone call said they were "sending her home".

Dad has only been back once alone since she died. He says it's the distance and the dog. Maybe. I think it's because of the memories and being there alone is just too much. He did go with us a couple winters ago when we actually made the trip to see it under a blanket of snow. It was like 9 below that day but we managed to pick the one winter they had a record low amount of snowfall. We wrote on the wall, walked on the lake and marked it off our list of things we always wanted to do.

It isn't the same as it used to be. Couldn't expect it to be. There are cabins where there was once only forest and every ounce of lakefront has someone's dock sitting there. Even the faces next door are new, buying it from Lois when Eddie died two years ago. I wondered this year if their kids ever get back that way with their families or if soccer schedules and city life keep them too busy to fit it in. I wonder how long my aunt will keep the cabin, or if she dies what will become of it. I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to steal a week or two on the lake with my own grandchildren and smile at the possibility. I know I'd like to show them the wall, where dad wrote how my mom managed to mow over his 357 magnum somehow or about my first northern, or where I caught their mother's eye with my hook. I'd like to bore them with all you've been reading and more because there is so much more.

Not the least of which ended only a couple days ago and the lake air still lingers in my dirty laundry which isn't doing itself sadly. I'm going to unpack my stuffed loon to replace the one I wore out and place my new sweatshirts on the shelf for the first rainy day, cool enough to put them on. And we bought moccasins. John even has a pair that he will make cool if it kills him. Shawna's are bright lime green, no big surprise and we'll share a pair of brown ones when the green just isn't right. I miss it, I do. But it's really nice to be home, and Kevin will just have to deal.

re-entry...

randoms:

• really glad to be home
• it's stinkin' hot here
• what day is it anyway?
• dreading catch-up and I'm not even working...
• travel colon isn't cool

outta here...

Love to all my buddies. Back in two weeks.

motb....day 274

We. Have. A. Dress.

An amazing, one of a kind, has Shawna all over it, kind of dress. It took hours of internet browsing, piles of wedding magazines, ten bridal salons and dozens and dozens of dresses to land it, but folks we did it. It helped to have 4 of her attendants along to confirm, but this is really the one, or atleast the one we're going with. It was a dress we haven't seen before and one she had never tried on, so that was neat. Shawna just isn't an expressive personality in situations like this and she looked like she was going to cry in frustration at one point. Almost every dress she tried on was meant for her. Tall, thin, dark skinned, beautiful. She could pull off a gunny sack. So of course, she's going to have trouble choosing. I felt badly that she found one yesterday she really did like, we all did, until I discovered the price I had seen was just for the top, and the skirt doubled the price. Welcome to high fashion. This dress we decided on combines qualities of everything we've been looking for and she will float down that aisle. Amazing.

All brides are amazing. They just are. And they come in all shapes and sizes and personalities. The one I brought into the world happens to be one of the most physically beautiful girls I've ever laid eyes on, and in her quiet way is one beautiful girl inside as well. For someone who can pull off just about any fashion trend with flair and has a "look" that anyone who knows her understands, it was hard to find a dress that wasn't just elegant, wasn't just beautiful, wasn't just bridal. It had to be "Shawna", and I think this one is.

Once she took a breath and let the days activities settle a bit, she said she really, really likes the dress. She also likes 2 or 3 we left behind and several we had not located as yet :) This is my girl. If we could have justified one for the ceremony, one for pictures and one for the reception, she would be a happy girl. Lol. I think she should look into modeling for some bridal magazines.

We have a couple ideas for dresses for the attendants but we have much to do. Colors. Styles. Shoes. Tuxes.

I had a blast watching all the girls exit the dressing rooms with attitude to spare and lots of giggles. Lots and lots of giggles. And goodness are these girls gorgeous. And single. Watch out!

We had a really great time. Lots of pictures, lots of catching up, lots of laughs. My heart is full. And a stop at Bahama Breeze makes my day anytime! Shawna has really been blessed to have such great friends in her life. They all love her a lot, I know. And she loves them. This is simply going to be a great time.

Wait till you see this dress...

motb...day 275

Not good that it's been this long since there was a wedding update. Really not good. But such is life.

In six hours I will be rising to shower and get ready for another trip to St. Louis. This time Shawna and I will be accompanied by all of her attendants but one. [Sara will be with us in spirit but unable to make the trip. Besides, she's sure to be having an amazing time at the retreat she's on for the next couple days.]

Anyway, we're taking Erin, Becca, Jennie and Emma Lee along to see her try on the dresses she has at the top of her list as well as others she's still hoping to locate. Veronica's going too, so this will be quite the trip. We have three appointments throughout the day tomorrow and plan to stop at Bahama Breeze for dinner before we head home. As much as I have enjoyed watching Shawna model one gorgeous gown after the other, I'm hoping we come home tomorrow with a decision made. So does Kevin. Each of these outings costs him $$ and although he tries to be patient, I know what he's thinking :)

I realized last week when we made these plans to go, how unique and special this day would be. With all these girls off and running their separate directions, they just simply don't have time to spend with each other like they once did. I'm really looking forward to this day. This day which has technically already begun and since I'm driving there and back tomorrow, as well as an additional 6 hours on Friday...I had better call it a late night and sneak into bed.

Have a great Thursday. Blog something for me so I have something to read when I get home tomorrow night. I'll make a quick link run and see what you're up to. [Gil, I didn't have time to read your post today, but I'm looking forward to reading it tomorrow. It looks like it will be worth it. And if you're headed to town this weekend, I'm totally gonna miss you. Pam and Yvonne are gone too. Stink.]

Nite.

and your little dog too...

I just read Gil's post about a kool-aid stand and it reminded me of something that happened to us last summer.

We were leaving Bay Watch Restaurant after a Sunday lunch with family and we drove past a low income housing area where there were two kids selling kool-aid. I had a twenty right there in my hand and told Kevin to pull over. We'd make their day. So I wait in the van as he makes his way back down the street to get us some drinks. Well. Ends up, I can see this little devil dog running at Kevin who HATES, HATES, HATES, dogs of any kind, let alone little devil dogs and I have the air running and the windows up and can't hear a thing. The two kids and their mom are all in the yard and do NOTHING about their possessed little canine or the other that runs to join it. I'm laughing. Kevin has his hands in the air with the paper cups of watered-down, luke warm, sugar water and he's shaking his leg. Hard. If the kids weren't watching he would have probably drop kicked them both down the block. As he gets to the van, I can see the little girl discover the twenty and run toward her mom waving it in the air. ["Look mom! Meth money!"] No one called their dog off.

Now granted it was a little dog and Kevin is a big man. But he got to the van with this stunned look on his face and says, "That dog ripped my pants!" And sure enough, there was a sizable chunk of khaki fabric missing from the leg of his pants and a small abrasion underneath. He hands me the drink, which I quickly pour out the window and after the shock of that lady doing nothing wears off...no apology, no attempt to come get her dog... we have ourselves a good laugh. Actually, well into the afternoon. We are yet to understand why they didn't come running to get those dogs. We could have actually filed charges and had the little darlings, well you know...a little kool-aid of their own :)

Moral of this story: Keep driving or only stop at stands with drive-thru service.

changing plans...

Well. We were supposed to go to Minnesota at the end of next week. That was the plan. We were following the Fey's up, getting the week after theirs at the cabin. Looks like Kevin wants to stay home. Looks like John wants to play a softball tournament on the 20th. Looks like John, Sha & I will be joining the Fey's this Friday instead and heading up to the cabin together. David, John and Sha will head back the following Friday and I'll stay with Veronica and the kids and enjoy another week away. Not a bad plan. Not a bad plan at all. Now to find somewhere to stay on the way up. We'll be making our usual stop at the Mall of America on the way up and spend Saturday at Camp Snoopy with the kids. All five of them. Should be fun. If I have to, I'll shop a little. But only a little. Big K is reading.

This cabin has been in my dad's family since he was single. My mom and dad honeymooned there. I have many cherished memories of childhood vacations there and have continued to add to that mental scrapbook with snapshots of Shawna growing up, and in our recent past bringing John there. I don't think we've all been together there since Mom was really sick so this will be neat, except we can't talk dad or Kevin into going this time around. Hoping for lake weather, we'll see. It's always a gamble.

I'm sure to write more later. Right now I need to see about that room.

it could have bit me.

I had a great lunch Saturday, my first time at Roly Poly's. Pretty good eats. Pam & I met Kelsey & Tonya to catch up on stuff before Kelsey heads off to college, which we don't speak of in front of Tonya :) These girls always make me laugh-[individually they both have a keen sense of "funny" but combined they are most always cruelly hilarious and certainly mischievous. The day the two of them raced to the church parking lot after school, clad in Mr. Potato Head costumes and proceeded to sprawl out in lawn chairs on Broadway during rush hour traffic with a sign reading "Baked Potatoes" still makes me smile.]

During our 90 minute lunch we talked about a lot of things including which new stores were coming to town. Pam asked what was going in next to Wal-Mart. I assumed she meant west of and she meant east of. The only thing east of Wal-Mart I was aware of was a brick ranch- style home, complete with a black, plywood cowboy silhouette resting against at rather mature tree. I said I wasn't aware of anything under construction being built east of Wal-Mart. They said, "Are you kidding?"

Well, yesterday, instead of parking on the garden center side of Wal-Mart I drove across the lot and parked on the far end of the grocery side; the side that makes it "Shooper Wal-Mart" as Chandler used to call it. Well, it could have bit me. Where was I when they erected this gargantuous concrete mass of building and what else have I missed? It's official. I have truly spent the year in a fog.

Just tell me I didn't miss an Olive Garden grand opening...

who do we appreciate...

My morning ritual, or lack thereof, lazily includes making a pot of coffee. [When I'm blessed, it's this coffee my dad gets in the mail for his contributions to the rain forest, and this morning I am blessed.] Well, I usually make 6 cups and measure it out counting by twos. [One scoop=2 cups.] I always throw in one extra scoop for grins. So as I count that out, morning after morning...guess what rings through my head for the next half an hour or so...

first loves...

Veronica and I were on the phone forever this morning. She had a busy weekend and we didn't really get to jaw much since Thursday so we made up for lost time.

Tangent: I remember trying to call my mom when she was talking to my Aunt Liz, it was like murder getting through, which generally meant we were waiting somewhere for a ride home. No caller id. We would play this game of calling home, then calling Aunt Liz and resolving to sit a spell if both lines were busy.

Tangent II: My dad was trying to reach Veronica the other night and she was talking to me, so he always calls my number since I have caller id and she doesn't. I tell her he's on the other line and that he's probably trying to reach her, since I had already talked with him and knew this, so we hang up so I can answer his call and tell him to call her. Which I do. But he gets confused and calls me and starts telling me what he really wanted to tell her. And I interrupt him and tell him it's me. And not her. And tell him he better hang up quick or she'll call me back and we'll start all over again. Which is what happens. And I tell her the same thing. When she called back after successfully talking to dad, I say I better just bite the bullet and get three way calling. Save us all some trouble.

Tangent III: Before the days of caller id, mom would always call twice and hang up. That was my cue to pick up the phone so she wouldn't get my irritating machine. Which often failed because she assumed I was home and didn't want to talk to her so she would leave these exasperated/irritated messages that would make me cringe sometimes when I'd get home. She never did believe I just wasn't home. Boy, I miss that.

End of tangents. Back to the phone call.

She was sharing something precious about Chandler and his little heart. We got to talking about crushes and first loves. I proceeded to tell her my first kiss was outside my first grade classroom during recess. I know the corner, I can see the playground. I can see the windows. I tell her someone ratted us out and Mrs. Lichtenberg made us both stand in front of the room and swear we wouldn't kiss again. We did however trade paper rings and he placed his grass-growing potato head next to mine on the shelf by the windows. In second grade I crushed out on another sweet boy and this relationship went unsquelched till he moved away in the middle of 4th grade. He wrote our class a letter though and I nearly fainted when the teacher read aloud his personal hello to me. My parents even made a trip to let me visit him once. He was tall and blonde with blue eyes. It took me forever to get over that. Aww... first loves are precious, no?

Anyway. Veronica laughed at my details and said we are not related. I want to meet this mailman she speaks of...

belly-button peep hole...

Veronica was telling me of a conversation she had with her two sons yesterday.

They were looking at pictures of a bathroom wall in the process of remodeling from a few years ago. [We grew up writing and drawing on our walls when they were in progress. Sort of a time capsule sort of thing also known as entertainment in the absence of color or cable tv, and needless to say video games or DVD's. Suffice it to say we had a lot of fun everytime the parents decided to repaint a room.]

Well, Veronica let her kids do this as well years ago and they were looking at pictures of their artwork. Veronica was explaining to the boys that Emma would have been 6, making Chandler 2 and that she would have been pregnant with Harrison. The funny part is that Harrison proceeds to argue emphatically that he was there too. She told him he wasn't born yet. He said he remembers it all. She said, "but honey you were in mommy's tummy, you weren't here yet" and he quips with his hands squishing his little face, through fish-like lips: "When you turned around toward the sink I could see."

Hey. It's his story. And she said he's sticking to it.