Angels and Pet Washes

The deed is done. We are officially on our way to Oregon. I would like to report that we've had a peaceful, uneventful trip so far, but that has not been the case. All was well until we entered heavier traffic circumventing a city a few hours into our trip. I had just taken over the wheel and my husband was sound asleep, dreaming of ice cream sundaes and ocean waves. I was caught in traffic on all sides of my vehicle and was stuck behind a very slow moving vehicle. Suddenly, the vehicle in front of me swerved and in the blink of an eye I saw that I had two choices. Go head on into an unidentified barrier of black, menacing material, 4 feet high and completely barricading my lane or swerve into the traffic in the next lane. A scream and a jerk of the wheel found me in the adjoining lane with a van desperately trying to avoid hitting me as the driver rode the edge of the ditch. Needless to say, my husband was now very wide awake and I managed to pull over onto the nearest off ramp. The lady in the van also pulled over and we held hands in a cathartic moment of gratitude and well being. After determining that neither of us was hurt and my vehicle had only minor scratches from the unidentified road object, the sweet lady went on her way. Seconds later, our second angel arrived. The county sheriff happened to be leaving his office for the day and saw the event unfold as he drove home. He was able to assure us that we had done nothing wrong and told us that the black object was a pickup bedliner that had fallen off into oncoming traffic. After collecting our wits, my dear husband took over the wheel and very cautiously completed the drive to our day's destination.

One ham and cheese sandwich and a few french fries later, I was almost as good as new. We took a lovely walk in a little town in the foothills of the Big Horn Mountains and came across a delightful service for the canine keepers of the area, a self serve Pet Wash. (I'm sure felines are welcome, too, but we all know that that would not go down well.) The happy little suds-haloed dog on the sign calmed my heart and reminded me that sometimes life's woes can be scrubbed away with a little water, some soap and the wings of angels.

Oregon Trail

One week from today my husband and I will embark on a road trip that will exceed the distance of any highway trips in our history as a couple. Our daughter is marrying a wonderful young gentleman and the wedding is being held in Oregon, 1600 miles from our landlocked state of South Dakota. We decided not to fly for a couple of reasons, not the least being that I HATE flying. Medication is required for me to crawl into a metal tube with strangers and turbulence. We also want to see some country along the way. We've been to the Atlantic Ocean but this will be our first trip to the Pacific Ocean and we hope to soak up the scenery through every state on our trail.

As much as I am looking forward to the trip, I am also a bit anxious. I am the world’s worst passenger. I’m quite sure my husband will be nominated for sainthood someday due to his patient long-suffering approach to driving me anywhere that has traffic, slick roads or ominous looking skies. My husband is an excellent driver and I have no reason for excessive opinion sharing. I just get a bad case of the Nervous Nellies when I feel I’m not in complete control of a situation.

 I've developed a few strategies that can be helpful. I cover my hands with a jacket so my husband doesn't have to see my pointings, clutchings and wringing of hands. Sometimes I look at other drivers that are making me nervous and transpose their faces with the faces of people I know so I don’t view them as the enemy. Closing my eyes works if it’s a short term threat like oncoming traffic from a ramp or the passing of an extra long truck. And occasionally I just need to take over the wheel so I can backseat drive myself. For the record, I’m just as hard on myself as I am on my husband (he might disagree with this).

My plan is to blog along the trail. That is the plan. It might not be the reality. So if I’m off-air for the month of July, you’ll know that it is for one of the following reasons.

1) Technical difficulties--managing a computer, camera and wi-fi stopovers falls into the category of making an old lady crazy. The stars will pretty much have to align for me to pull off a road trip blog.

2) Fatigue—long days on the road can give me the grumpies, killing my muse in the process. I’m packing lots of fruit and water to stave off complete exhaustion, but there are no guarantees in the world of love and traveling.

3) Homicide—but for the fact that my sister-in-law was in the back seat at a gas station in Omaha during a long and arduous trip to Colorado a few years ago, there would be one less in our couplehood. We've matured a little since then so we will hope for the best.

4) Vacationitis—sometimes it’s good to step off the grid for awhile. Leaving the city limits behind and watching new views from my window might put a stop to any notions of stringing together any cohesive thoughts.

So, for better or for worse, it’s Oregon or bust for us.

Happy Trails.

Treadmill

Summer can be very dangerous for me. As a teacher, I go from 100 mph to 5 mph in a matter of hours after the last bell rings and another school term has ended. With the advent of more discretionary time, it is easy for me to head to the library, pick up a stack of books and get lost in lands of polar exploration, who-done-its and tantalizing memoirs. Reading, in and of itself is not a waste of time, however, reading as the method of choice for ignoring other responsibilities is a problem. I’m already knee deep into several new books and in need of a plan of attack against the demon of slothfulness.

The author of a book I just finished suggested a possible solution to the problem. The book had nothing to do with summer sluggishness, but it did contain a little gem that I’m adapting to my situation: start a Treadmill Journal. There is nothing inherently new or earth shattering about this idea. It is simply a way to log mundane and tedious tasks that need to be done.

I started by digging up a leftover notebook and setting a goal of 5 in 5--five accomplishments in five days. Mind you, my list of accomplishments would be the average day-to-day business for most industrious folks. For me, I need the extra incentive of recording something in my journal. I also developed a few categories so I wouldn't get stuck on one type of endeavor and call it good enough. Some of my categories include: Health; Learning a New Skill; Caring; and Distasteful Tasks.

My least favorite category, of course, is Distasteful Tasks. I assigned a rating scale to this category in an attempt to force myself to dive into a variety of projects. The scale goes from 1 to 10 on the disgust-o-meter. For instance, cleaning my sock drawer gets a 3. It was a small drawer and the decisions were based on a relatively easy baseline: holes or no holes, elastic or no elastic. Returning a too-small shirt from a catalog order scores a 5. It would score less if it didn't involve a lost receipt and trying to remember a password for the website so I could get the necessary information needed for the transaction. Cleaning the stash-everything-in-it-hall-closet scores a 9. Every inch of shelf space in said closet gets filled with the goo gaws and deedle dads that just don’t have a home anywhere else. This project is best tackled on a day when one is in a toss it out mood.

The other challenging category is Health. My goal is at least 30 minutes of intentional and sustained movement each day. I have a library of DVDs that promises “fun and fitness.” Both words are fibs in my world. I've never had fun jiggling along to a chirpy trainer and fitness is not something my body accepts. I just want to develop enough balance and strength to navigate parking lots and deadly curbs and keep myself from blowing up like a seal.

My favorite category is Learning a New Skill (not counting the recent meltdown with a new photo program on my computer). This category includes everything from trying a new recipe to brushing up on my bird watching techniques. I am currently experimenting with different salad dressings for the abundance of greens being produced in our garden.

I don’t know if my Treadmill Journal will be a successful motivator for me this summer. The lure of lethargy can be a powerful thing.

Maybe my next new skill will be writing a book called Laziness for Dummies.

  

Here is the salad dressing that is my favorite so far.

Honey Mustard Dressing

6 oz. Greek yogurt

1/4 c. mayo

2 Tb. honey

1 1/2 Tbs. whole grain mustard

1 1/2 Tbs. yellow mustard

1/2 tsp. garlic powder

1 Tbs. rice vinegar

1/4 tsp. dill weed

Awareness

It is nearly impossible to escape the latest monthly awareness campaign. January is Glaucoma Awareness Month. February is National Heart Month. March is National Colorectal Month. May is Stroke Awareness Month and my personal favorite is October with Home Eye Safety Awareness. Apparently, little kids are still running with scissors and it’s time to put a stop to such shenanigans.

   

Embedded within each month are awareness weeks and days such as the third week of March being devoted to Root Canal Awareness. Boy howdy, that’s one I want to add to my calendar of celebrations. August 4 is National Kid’s Day, just in case the little peeps are feeling slighted with no day of their own.  And September 18 is National School Backpack Day. Time to check out whether there’s room for the Smartphone and IPod, I guess.

Certainly it is good to be informed about health and safety issues. But at my age, many of the awareness ads scream at me like a parade of ticking time bombs. Having trouble remembering what day it is? You could be stroking as we speak. Not seeing as well as you did at 25? Glaucoma or Macular Degeneration, take your pick. Feeling achy in the morning? Could be arthritis or psoriasis.

Perhaps it’s time to add a little more joy to the list of awarenesses. The upcoming summer months are a little light on specialty days so I’m going to make up a few of my own to add to the list.

June is now National Picnic Month. Let’s promote fun food and good times. It can be as simple as a baguette, cheese, grapes and a good friend. Or, gather a crowd, a grill and a tray full of barbecue goodies. The theme should always be easy and low key. No stuffiness or washing dishes allowed.

July is Iced Tea Month. Play around with different teas and brewing methods. Add lemons and mint. Experiment with basil and tarragon. Use tea bags or loose tea. Serve it up in fun glasses with fancy umbrellas. Enjoy it in the sun by a lake or in a comfy chair with a good book. (I’ll take the latter).

August is Tomato Awareness Month. Sponsor a neighborhood Crazy Looking Tomato contest. Taste test as many different kinds of tomatoes as you can procure—Roma, Big Boy, Early Girl, Brandywine, Cherry and Green Zebra. Eat one fresh off the vine, roast them, sauce them, slice them and stuff them. Wear red so you won’t notice the juice drizzles that slip off your chin. Serve them with sandwiches, in salads or simply as the star of the show.

So, here is my summer challenge to you. Plan at least one picnic for folks you really enjoy being with. Try one iced tea drink that is new to you. Research and prepare a tomato recipe that sounds delicious.

 And, of course, enjoy a little fun awareness.

To help you get started with your challenge, here is one of my favorite fresh tomato recipes. Simple, but oh so tasty.

Tomato Mozzarella Delight

2-3 ripe tomatoes

Fresh mozzarella cheese, cut into slices

Fresh basil leaves

Arrange tomatoes, cheese slices and basil leaves on a plate and drizzle with the following dressing:

¼ c. rice vinegar

1 Tbs. honey

½ c. olive oil

¼ c. chopped basil leaves

Salt and pepper to taste

Summertime

Summer vacation is just around the corner for the school kids in my town. And, if you are a teacher like me, you are ready to breathe a big sigh of relief. Love my job as I do, I must admit the final days are like slaying dragons as we face classrooms full of little peeps, itchy for anything but the final course objectives. But, we will put our armor on, grab our shields and get the job done.

There are certainly a few things I will not miss once the calendar is blinking at me a little less relentlessly. One of them is the incessant queuing up of e-mails each day. Just when I think I've gotten them culled and under control, another round of neediness starts marching across the screen. Some of my favorites are the following.

1) From a parent: “Lester is out of medication for the rest of the week. I told him he needs to do his best to keep things under control.”

Time for me to up my medication and hang on for the ride

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2) From the counselor’s office: “You will be getting a new student today. She will be in your 5^th period class.”

Goodie. That’s the largest and naughtiest class with one seat open next to Pat who has the social skills of a porcupine. Time for a new seating arrangement.

3) From the lead secretary: “The district is short of substitutes today. Please let us know which of the following classes you can cover.”

Hmmm. I guess I’ll hire the elves to correct my papers, set up my lab and plan next week’s lessons.

4) From the administration: “Today’s practice fire drills have been cancelled due to inclement weather. They will be rescheduled for a later date.”

Good news. We won’t have to stand outside in the sleet. Bad news. It will probably be rescheduled to the only day I have the computer lab. Be flexible.

5) From the district’s main office: “This year’s extra snow days will need to be made up by more inservice time at the end of the school year for teachers.”

We survived three days of a declared state of emergency when the ice storm hit, I guess we can survive three days of professional development. More coffee, please.

There are a few things I will miss now that the school year is coming to a close. Just like the kids, I will miss starting my day with my friends. There is nothing like having a cup of coffee with folks who share the same trials and triumphs that you do. Together we always make the challenges of the day a little less daunting and of course, we aren't afraid to solve the world’s problems, either.

I will also miss the funny things kids do. And nothing says fun and drama like an adolescent trying to figure out how to become an adult. On second thought, maybe I won’t miss that part.

Yes, it is time to say goodbye to the kids, turn off the alarm clock, dig out a pair of flip-flops and kick back with a good book.

Hello, summer.

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Jobs

Unless you were born a trust fund baby, it is likely that you have climbed upon the hamster wheel of currency acquisition and experienced a number of employment opportunities throughout your life. I certainly was not born with a wad of cash in my back pocket so the need for good old-fashioned work has always been a part of my existence.  Not surprisingly, my first jobs were agrarian related. Many chores were just part of belonging to a farm family and monetary compensation was not to be expected. A few jobs had a carrot of cash dangling at the end of them, heavy on the work, light on the cash.

One job that always struck terror within my soul was the call to “chase pigs.” For whatever reason there were times when the swine needed to be moved from point A to point B. One does not herd pigs, they are chased. However docile a pig might seem, they carry an evil gene that can turn on you in a moment’s notice. My ineptness as a pig chaser was soon evident as I ran for the nearest point of sanctuary at the slightest provocation from my piggy friends. At some point, my father quit asking for my “help” and thought it best that I stay in the house and bake cookies instead.

A job that came with a bit of compensation was tying bales. This task required a bit of on-the-job training and was not for the faint of heart. The farm’s baling equipment left a loose end of twine on each bale. Our task was to loop the loose end into a knot with the adjacent line of twine, thus securing the bale for later retrieval. My siblings and I would gather at one edge of the field in the early morning hours in an attempt to escape the scorching heat of the day. Blisters from pulling on the twine were somewhat abated by wearing stuffy gloves. Unprotected ankles were scraped up as we trudged our way through the field of stubble. My fair skin was a canvas for sunburn and needless to say, I was not a big fan of this duty. The pennies we received per bale helped lessen the sting somewhat and I learned about perseverance and calamine lotion.

One task I never complained about was the opportunity to rock and read to my younger siblings. There always seemed to be a little munchkin whose attention needed to be diverted for awhile. I loved reading books and was only too happy to do so for as long as it took for a wee one to nod off or forget about the next tantrum. One favorite book was Walter, the Lazy Mouse. It was about a mouse who wanted to play rather than do his share of household tasks. One day he arrived back home, only to find an empty nest because his little mousie family had moved away while he was out frolicking about. I don’t remember how it ended but I do remember that Walter was a somber reminder to stay industrious and mind your mother.  Another beloved book (and perhaps less traumatizing) was Pockets. Each page revealed another surprise that could be found in the hidden recesses of a variety of pockets. The climax happened on the final page when Daddy’s pocket revealed “candy for all of us!”

Life on the farm was a great way to grow up but I clearly did not have the fortitude and constitution to follow that career path. Suffice it to say, I am better suited for rocking and reading books. Not much pay for such things, but both are an option for alleviating the next tantrum.

Spring

In my part of the country, the seasonal change of spring is marked by a date on the calendar rather than the warming breezes of a new season. Longingly I have been checking my garden for a few sprigs of chives that might bravely peek their heads out of the cold pack of ground. No chives yet and I am sure they wisely know that winter might not be through with us yet. And, boy howdy, how right they are. This week we were slammed with a ferocious storm that virtually shut down our entire region. Even by our standards, this one was a doozy. Thunder clapped and lightning snapped as sleet sliced through the air. Skeletal trees were covered with an ice coating that made everyone shudder in sympathy. Wind howled and played the ice covered branches like out-of-tune xylophones. Chunks of trees and ice shards fell like shrapnel on houses, cars and streets. Walking was a hazardous endeavor with ice under foot and falling debris and sleet from above. Snow blanketed the wreckage with a deceiving quilt of white. Power lines snapped, crackled and popped as they struggled to stay in place. Thousands were without electricity as brave linesmen battled to restore the broken lines.

Once again I was amazed at the resiliency of most folks in this area. Not once did I see a fist raised toward the sky, the government or the power companies as folks battled the elements. The TV crews aired many stories of disaster and each interviewee told a story with essentially the same three elements: 1) This is what happened. 2) This is how we are facing the challenge and 3) It could have been worse.

One woman told about the loss of a huge tree in her back yard. With tears in her eyes she shared how many memories the tree held for her family over the years. She also shared that her husband was struggling, not because he just had back surgery, but because he couldn't help his neighbors clean up the debris. And then the punch line. “It could have been worse.”

A young man told about a large tree that gouged a gaping hole in his apartment building and knocked down nearby power lines. After checking on the well being of his neighbors he shared, “We’ll get this mess cleaned up and do what we can. At least the tree didn't rip the whole building in half and we are all safe.”

The emergency management team was activated and the spokesperson declared with confidence, “We are a state that knows how to handle this kind of disaster. We are prepared to meet the challenges of mother nature and will do what it takes to keep our citizens safe.” No weeping, wailing or hand wringing from this team. Pull up your boots and head into the wind.

A news reporter stood outside in the driving rain/sleet/snow and gave his latest weather update. “Roads are closed. Street crews are doing what they can to clear emergency routes. Travel is not advised unless absolutely necessary. And only one half of my body is coated with ice.”  That’s the spirit, young man. No namby pambies allowed. Citizens of this state know that the weather can change within minutes. We are not strangers to tornadoes, blizzards, ice, sleet, wind and wild temperature swings. We accept it and we prepare for it.

So, as I grieved the loss of huge chunks of our beloved front yard trees and grumbled about the addition of more school days at the end of a very long semester, I reminded myself that my flashlights were filled with fresh batteries, my cupboard had plenty of food and my thermos was always ready to go with hot coffee.

It could have been worse.

Here is a dessert that tastes like spring, even when the weather outside is frightful.

Strawberry Cream Dessert

Crust:

2 1/4 c. graham cracker crumbs

1/4 c. sugar

1/2 c. margarine, melted

Press into 9x13 pan.

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

1 c. powdered sugar

16 oz. frozen whipped topping, thawed

1 pkg (3 oz.) strawberry gelatin

1/2 c. boiling water

1 c. strawberry yogurt

Beat cream cheese and powdered sugar until smooth. Add 1 cup whipped topping. Spread over crust.

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water. Let cool for 10 minutes. Add yogurt and 2 cups whipped topping. Pour over cream cheese layer. Refrigerate for one hour.

Top with remaining whipped topping.