Morning Glory

Every weekday morning the little one and I get ready together, as Husband has to leave about 45 minutes ahead of when Lucy can be dropped off at daycare. So I dress her right away on the first diaper change, then we sit on the couch together for a few minutes while she eats breakfast and I check the weather. After that she plays on her own, either in our bedroom with me, or traveling between her room and our room, with me checking on her periodically. Around 7AM there is typically another diaper change. About 90% of the time there is a special delivery made just a few minutes before we need to head out the door. It is just part of her regular morning routine. For this reason, I sometimes let her run around in her shirt and just a diaper to start out with, as I know another change is coming.

So one day last week, I was in the bathroom adjacent to our room drying my hair. Lucy was coming in and out, as she usually does, toddling around in her t-shirt and diaper. I would greet her each time. About 30 seconds after the last greeting I felt a little tug on my leg, so I turned off the dryer and looked down.

There was my daughter, standing there with a naked poopy butt, and holding a poopy diaper in her hand.

This was a first.

It could have a been a lot worse, i.e. the poo was contained and she hadn’t sat on or rubbed up against anything (that I could find). So I lifted her up, suspending her at the appropriate length and angle so as to not contaminate my own clothing, and cleaned her up.

Just another day in the life.

A Word on the Census

I believe in the U.S. Census. I use census data frequently in my work, and I know it is important for allocation of funding for infrastructure and services, not to mention political representation. I have also found historical census data to be a very useful tool in doing family history research. I believe in the U.S. Census.

I remember filling out the form as I lay in bed one night, taking pride in completing my civic duty, and having my daughter be "counted" for the first time. I remember filling out the form, but apparently it didn't get in the mailbox. Looking at the pile of papers next to my bed, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

This fact was brought to my attention by the appearance of a Census-taker on my doorstep a couple of Saturdays ago. After confirming who she was, I politely answered her questions with Lucy on my hip, and she seemed genuinely surprised that I was cooperative. I guess there are some out there who feel the government is collecting this information for deviant purposes. I can only imagine some of the attitude they get from others when they ring the doorbell.

Lastnight and this morning, in a span of about 12 hours, I received 3 calls from the Census office stating I was 1 out of 25 "lucky ones" that would be subject to a call to confirm the on-site visit. Two of the calls occurred within a 40-minute timeframe. The 3rd call also caught my voicemail, the message to which included a veiled yet perky threat that if I didn't call back someone would be coming to my house to conduct a follow-up interview.

I called back, and waited about 2 minutes listening to other calls being placed, and someone shuffling papers until they apparently stumbled upon my paperwork. He asked a few questions and I was done.

Point being, just mail the damn thing in. OR THEY WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.

A Friendly Game of Slippery Twister, Anyone?

Tonight I wanted to do some baking, so on my way home from work today I stopped at the gas station to pick up some eggs. While there I noticed the frozen pizzas were on sale, so I picked one up to stick in the freezer.

While checking out, the cashier said, "wow, that's something I've never seen together before, eggs and pizza."

I didn't really think it was that weird, but I guess considering the location it might be a bit of an unusual purchase. Nonetheless it got me thinking about other strange purchase combinations.

One time that comes to mind is several years back when I stopped in the Indianola, IA Wal-Mart with a friend. He purchased three Twister games for a "human Twister" Halloween costume I was helping him out with. He was also doing some work on the vehicles at his dad's place, so he picked up a 5-gallon jug of motor oil, and we were on our way.

So there we were, a male and female going through the line to purchase nothing but Twister and a big jug of oil. I'll let you connect the dots there. Needless to say we got a raised eyebrow from the cashier.

Any weird purchase combinations you can share?

GNO

Lastnight I had a Girls' Night Out with 4 of my friends. We do this every few months, and it's always a lot of fun. This time we headed over to St. Paul, where we ate dinner at Sweeney's and then made our way over to Axel's Bonfire Grill for dueling pianos. We sang along to timeless classics like "Don't Stop Believin'" and "Walkin' on Sunshine" as well as interesting piano remixes of more recent and completely ridiculous (but still entertaining) songs "Holla Back Girl" and "My Humps." It was a grand old time and I haven't laughed so hard in a long while...and yes, I was completely sober.

To cap off the night, we were invited by a couple of dudes to sit at a table with them. We had only about 10 more minutes before our ride arrived, so we figured what the hell. After them asking us if we go to school here (thank you very much) and Gretchen trying to convince them that Jacquie was an Olympic pole vaulter, it was time to go. Of course Gretchen was asked for her number, but consequently, it was her boyfriend who was waiting outside to pick us up.

Unfortunately I failed to capture our motley crew on film, which I intended to do. But there will be other opportunities, as this night will join the catalogue of crazy GNOs past, present and future. I am so thankful to have my friends.

Island Invasion

Well, we're back from our little vacation to Lake Vermilion, and it was great. Although we didn't catch many fish (I personally only brought in one very small bass), we had a wonderful time out on the water and around the campfire. It was relaxing to get back to nature and just hang out with Husband and our friend Lowell.
Each year we go up to Lake Vermilion we camp on an island in the middle of the eastern part of the lake. One benefit of this is we don't have to worry much about bears, wolves, raccoons, etc. (although a deer did swim out one year and scare the heck out of me). This year was no different, except we did have to deal with critters of another sort.

Friday night before going to bed, Lowell grabbed our bag of groceries and put it in his tent in case of rain. The next morning he had a tale to tell.

In the middle of the night he heard noises, like something running across the roof of the tent. He thought they were just bugs, but when shining the flashlight on the ceiling, he saw four tiny feet and a white belly. A mouse! Soon joined by another...until there were two mice running all over his tent, up between the rain fly and the walls and ceiling of the actual tent. Unable to sleep for fear of them getting inside, he did what he could to get them to go away, including punching at the tent to get them off. It was a bit humid that night, and Lowell made the comment that it smelled like a bakery in the tent. I guess the mice were hungry! Needless to say, he didn't get much sleep. I did hear some weird noises that night from our tent, but had no idea that it was Lowell punching his tent to get rid of mice! The mice made another appearance Saturday night in our woodpile, and beneath Husband's chair around the fire.

I know what you're thinking...how did the mice get on the island? (FYI this is a very small island) No idea. Do mice swim? Did they make it all the way across the frozen water in the winter without getting picked off by a hawk? It seems more likely that they were brought on somehow. It may be tied to the exorbitant amount of garbage that previous island-goers left behind. Grr.

Another challenge we faced this trip were the bugs. As soon as we arrived and started walking around, we realized we were stirring up hoards of flying bugs that were hanging out in the trees. They left us alone when we were in the middle around the campfire, so we didn't think much of it. Saturday morning, however, around 5:30AM, we awoke to a massive hum. It was these bugs, orchestrating a symphony of simultaneous buzzing. It dissipated as the morning went on, and we went about our business. Saturday evening, when we returned to the island around dusk, the buzz was astoundingly loud, and you could see huge clouds of these things hovering near the tops of the trees. It was kind of freaky, and it seemed there were more of them than the day before. Anywhere we walked, there they were, and we were constantly brushing them off. Winding along the path to the "bathroom" was sort of a Hitchcockian experience, walking through the trees, stirring them up with the drone in your ears...you had to try not to think about it to stay sane. Not to mention protecting the "assets" while tending to business!

This morning around dawn again, the hum was crazy, like the troops were gathering for an attack. It died down again as the morning went on (or did we just get used to it?) I wish I could adequately describe lying there in the tent, listening to it...and also listening to the bugs dropping onto the tent. When we emerged, they were everywhere...the boat was covered, tents were covered. I have no idea what they were, but our guess is some version of mayfly that just happened to be in crazy mode the few days we were there.

Overall it was very relaxing, despite the critters. A definite highlight was the amazing night sky...I went out to sit in the boat to get a full view, and I swear I could see everything. The Milky Way was clear as day. I saw no meteors even thought it was supposed to be prime time, but then again, my watching was cut short...by a bat. Which flew approximately 3 feet above my head.

Critters.

Camp Okoboji – The Short Story

This past Friday Brandon and I took off for a little family reunion in Okoboji, IA. We do this every year – Grandma Mardie gets a cabin at Camp Okoboji, where a bunch of us used to go for church camp every summer. There are about 30 of us – aunts, uncles cousins, significant others – that converge on the place at various times during the week. This year was unique in that we had 24 there at one time or another, including cousins from Washington D.C. and Panama (yes, Panama). It was a great time, filled with cookouts, campfire talks, bean bag tournaments, trips to Arnolds Park, kayaking, swimming, waterskiing, and lots of just sittin’ around talkin.’

I have to just say this…when the entire family lines up in lawn chairs to spectate the White Family Bean Bag Tournament Championship Game, complete with singing of the National Anthem, “7th inning stretch” Chicken Dance, and revival of high school cheers from decades past, you know you’ve got something special going on here. This is Camp Okoboji, folks. And if you don’t like the noise, we’re sorry…but that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop. We just can’t help ourselves. We’re that darn fun.

Camp Okoboji – The Long Story aka My Kayaking Adventure

I did add a little adventure to my stay in Okoboji. Sunday morning I got up early to take a little kayaking expedition with my dad. By about 6:30AM we were on the water. It was a gorgeous, peaceful morning and a great time to be out. We detoured away from the lake and explored some adjacent canals and marshes, and just talked and meandered our way, looking for signs of wildlife and just generally feeling content. I particularly enjoyed watching some barn swallows and their graceful acrobatics on the open water. It was quite a beautiful morning.

At one point we were exploring a marshy area filled with cattails and a plethora of bossy red-winged blackbirds. It’s nesting season, so they chattered at us quite a bit and hovered a few feet above us, chiding us for getting too close. Just as we were about to turn around and begin the return trip to camp, we heard a weird bird noise from the reeds, and Dad headed back in to explore.

I noticed a different-looking bird flying away, being chased by a red-winged blackbird. I turned my head to watch as it flew above and behind me. I twisted just a little too far, because...

I fell in.

Kayak full of water, Jess in water, and the worst thing – digital camera overboard. The good news was, the water was only about 2 feet deep. Bad news – my feet sank in disgusting muck up to my knees. All I knew was by the time my feet sank down, I was waist deep in water green with algae and who knows what else, and that muck was stinky. It sucked so hard on my feet that I almost lost my shoes, and even with them off I had a hard time getting my foot out when I wanted to take a step.

Dad reacted like a champ. He took my camera (I did find it) and also my shoes. Although he had a camera of his own, he did not feel the need to photo-document this experience (though in hindsight, we both kind of wish he would have). He was calm and helped me the best he could, without getting out of his kayak, because we didn’t want both of us stuck. I had a heck of a time getting back in that boat. Holy cow was that frustrating! With the muck so deep and sticky, I had no leverage to hoist myself back in, and with the boat half full of water, it was heavy and didn’t offer much leeway in terms of weight before taking on more water. We didn’t have anything to bail water with. At one point we pulled the kayak into some reeds, and I was able to get in by hoisting myself up with the help of some cattails, but the front end was up so high that by the time I got in it, the water in the kayak weighed it down so much that the back end sank! So I had to get out again and try something different.

I pulled my kayak up over the back of Dad’s, which was quite a chore because it was so darn heavy. I got it up high enough to tip it and drain some of the water out, which helped. We pulled it into the reeds again to a more level position, and I figured out that the cattails were dense enough that they had a pretty solid root mass that I could stand on. With that I was able to get back in the kayak, although I was still sitting in the water that we weren’t able to drain out. That was kind of gross in itself (though at that point it really didn't make a difference), but it also made the kayak sit very close to the water, and very prone to tipping. I had to paddle very slowly and carefully so as to not have another “spill.” We found a spot along the bank and although muddy and not very wide, we were both able to get out and fully tip my kayak to finally drain it.

I have to say that although the experience was a little frustrating, and I was bummed about the camera (verdict still out on if it will ever work again), we were both laughing the whole time too. The water wasn’t deep so it wasn’t scary, just really disgusting! I remembered yesterday on the ride home that Dad said to me before we left on our trip, “I hope you’re not grossed out by green scummy water.” I assured him that I was not. Little did I know I would be essentially covered in it by the time our trip was over.
A little kayaking adventure, and a story I’m sure we’ll be telling for years. Apparently I also hold a record, which Dad reminded me of shortly after I splashed into swamp monster habitat. This is the first time that he’s gone paddling with someone who has tipped over. He told me earlier that day that he bought his kayak in 2000, so…there you have it.

Is that freedom rock man? Well, turn it up, man!

Lastnight my friend Kate was in town from Chicago, so I went out with her and a few other friends. Our plan was to meet in downtown Minneapolis for some drinks, then go see Scott Munns. Our friend Res had seen him before, supposedly it was just him and a guitar.

So we had the drinks and then walked down the block to The Lodge Bar for the music. The atmosphere was a little different than I was expecting. The throngs of 21-year-olds gyrating to the pumping dance music of Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, etc. did not fit the mindset I was in...how did a one-man acoustic show blend in with this??

As it turns out, the one-man show was actually a 2-man show with full drum kit and electric guitar, and that night they functioned as a cover band, playing mostly classics from the 70s and 80s, with a few whimsical renditions of current hits (Timberlake's "Sexy Back" was a highlight). Aside from the fact we were about 10 years older than 80% of the crowd, it was pretty entertaining, including:

Guy: Hi, I'm Pat.
Me: Hi.
Guy: And your name is?
Me: Linda.
Guy: It's my birthday.
Me: Well, happy birthday!
Guy: Aren't you going to ask what birthday?
Me: OK, what birthday?
Guy: Guess.
Me: [sigh] 24?
Guy: Hey, thanks!
Me: Older or younger?
Guy: Why would I thank you if it was older? 26. [winces] I'm old.
Me: Why is that old?
Guy: Because I'm like, 4 years from 30.
Me: I'm 30.
Guy: No way! That's cool. How did you handle that?
Me: No big deal. 30s are a fun time.
Guy: I don't know, it's like every year is closer to death.
Me: [supressing severe urge to roll eyes] Don't take it so seriously. [pats him dismissively on shoulder] Happy Birthday then.
Guy: Uh, ok. See you. Have a nice night.

My other observation from the night is this...as I sat there watching people born in 1985 get all excited and pack the dance floor for "Sweet Home Alabama" ca. 1974, and "You Shook Me All Night Long" ca. 1980, I am thinking "how do they know these songs?" But then again, how do I know these songs? For the first I wasn't even born yet (and I've never even been to Alabama), for the second I was only 4 years old and I seriously doubt I was into AC/DC. Yet I still rock out to both.

These songs have transcended decades and found an entirely new audience. They just don't make them like that anymore. Where are all those classic guitar riffs? But I did catch myself with a pang of jealousy when I heard all these young-uns shouting their drunken hearts out to Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name" ca 1986. Hey, that's one of MY songs! (Come on, you know you're singing it, 'Shot through the heart, and you're to blame...")

The power of music. But will kids in 2026 will be dancing and screaming to Britney Spears, All America Rejects, Beyonce, Eminem?? These songs have their place, but are they destined to be classics? Will music change to an all-techno format? Or will my kids still bob their heads and mouth that classic line"turn it up..." when they hear Sweet Home Alabama? Will that song even be played anymore in 20 years? It remains to be seen.

Author's Note: I just relayed this story to Husband, and he responded by chuckling and giving me a resounding "You're getting OLD!!"

Smells Like Leafy Underbrush...?

Tonight my friends Jacquie, Mary and I attended an Intro to Wine Class that was put on by a local liquor store. We sampled 7 wines total, a split of white and red. We sniffed, we swirled, we sipped. Considering my introduction to the world of wine began with a bottle of Boone's Farm (Strawberry Hill) back in 1995, I was feeling pretty high class.

Don't worry, I'm not becoming a wine snot. I don't even aspire to be one. As the instructor talked about what wine would be good with walleye, I was thinking "Miller Lite. Honey Weiss." I just find wine interesting, and while I do like drinking it, I also find the history and nuances of it intriguing. Like the instructor pointed out, wine is not like Coca Cola. Coca Cola prides themselves on making Coke taste the exact same no matter where in the world you buy it. Wine producers, on the other hand, pride themselves on making something a little different than everyone else, and different grapes are grown in different parts of the world. So the allure of wine is trying a little bit of everything and finding what you like. And I have to admit, it can be pretty darn fun if you don't take it too seriously. So while I appreciate a nice tasting wine, I'll take it with a sense of humor.

The three of us had a hard time "experiencing" some of the smells that were supposed to waft out as we stuffed our noses in our glasses. For instance, I did not get the aroma of "fresh mowed grass, green peppers, Kiwi fruit covered with lime zest" (seriously, who comes up with this stuff?) I got: grapefruit. That's pretty much it. I did not get "a changing parade of flavors ranging from leather to earthy dried mushroom to wood smoke to leafy underbrush." I did get the wood smoke, but I guess my sniffer wasn't up to snuff on the leafy underbrush. I'm not sure I want it to be. At one time we were even asked "Does anyone get the taste of licking a wet rock?" Uh...no. But I haven't licked a rock lately, let alone a wet one, so I'll take your word for it.

But I guess this is typical. The instructor made an interesting point. People have different smell or taste references based on their life experiences. For example (and a very simplistic one), a person who grew up in the city and maybe had more access to a wide variety of ethnic foods and flavors may have a completely different impression of a wine than someone who grew up in a more rural area, who may have been exposed to less of a variety.

Farmer Ted: This wine has a bacon fat aroma with just a hint of cow poo.

City Sandy: Really? I smell more of a Spanish tapas bar infused with a slight scent of smog.

OK, so that was taking it a little too far. But we had fun with this. Mary swore she smelled a little koala in an Australian wine we tried. And seriously, some of these wine descriptions do read like a personal ad:

"Most Cabs as they mature take on interesting flavors like cigar-box cedar woodiness, mint leaf, dried tobacco leaf and roasted cocoa bean. Savory beef steak or venison needs a big wine taste and Cabernets will meet the challenge." Boy, that beef steak is one lucky fellow!

It really was an interesting class, and we did learn a bit about wine and got to taste some wines that we might otherwise be too cheap to buy - though they did keep the choices within a pretty reasonable price range. We also learned that screw caps are becoming en vogue, so don't be afraid to diss the corks. By wine #7, we were all feeling warm and sassy and were having quite a bit of fun with it. I think Jacquie summed it up: "I'm starting a wine club. Members: 1." If you find the wine that smells like fresh mowed grass, Jacquie, let me know!

Wallets Made of Duct Tape?

I did a whole lot of nothing this weekend, and it was beautiful! Brett and Brandon left around noon on Saturday to go on a fishing trip until Sunday morning, so I had the house to myself. The weather was gorgeous and warm, so I enjoyed a walk on Saturday afternoon. I also went to a party on Saturday night with my friend Jacquie. Our friends Lowell and Bobbie had a "Harvest Moon" party at their house. We enjoyed getting to know our friends' family members...it's always so interesting to see if they look alike, or how they interact with each other. We even met a guy who had made his entire wallet out of duct tape...who would've thought? Apparently there are entire websites dedicated to this sort of thing. I also learned what a church key is (it's not the obvious key to your local religious institution). Apparently it's a type of metal bottle opener. So he carried around a church key at all times - in the duct tape wallet - just in case he needed to crack open a beer. Interesting characters all around. Lowell and Bobbie have done a great job with their house and it was all decorated for the fall season. And the harvest moon was beautiful. We had a good time!

I can't believe it's Labor Day! Holy cow. Where did the summer go?

This weekend we went camping at Sakatah Lake State Park with our friends Amy and Broc (and their dog Gus), who drove up from Iowa. This trip had been planned for awhile, and it was our first camping trip with them, so we were pretty excited. We drove down later Friday night (about 14 miles west of Faribault, MN) and set up the tent in the near-dark. Amy and Broc arrived shorty after us, and we enjoyed a beautiful, cool evening by the campfire. It was perfect camping weather! The campground is pretty nice too - shady camping spots, and the restrooms are modern and clean. The weatherman had threatened thunderstorms that evening, so as we headed for the tents, we braced ourselves for a potential storm. But it stayed cool and clear all night, and the next morning was beautiful as well. We cooked breakfast and made a quick trip into nearby Waterville (the self-proclaimed Bullhead Capital of the WORLD), population about 1,800. The guys and Gus explored the lake, which turned out to be a 6-foot deep, green algae mess. But they got a good little hike out of it. We cooked brats over the fire for lunch.

Amy cooking wieners













Gus wanted some too!


We looked forward to an afternoon of checking out the park, maybe finding a good fishing spot, grilling our big meal that evening, and making s'mores and sitting around the fire that night.

But that all ended around 2:00 in the afternoon.

It started thundering in the distance, and we started putting things away. The rain came and we headed to the tents, thinking there would be a nice shower that would be over by the time we took a little nap.

3:00PM - Still raining. Tried to go back to sleep.

4:00PM - Yep, still raining. Busted out the cards and played a couple of games of Solitaire, and some War.

4:30PM - I got so bored I got out the digital camera and starting taking photos.

5:00PM - We passed the time by watching the drops of water streak across the roof of the tent, which was a bit concerning because we did have a rain fly on, and somehow the water was getting below the fly to the actual roof. But it can't rain much longer, can it?
5:30PM - Water streaks like shooting stars across the tent roof, collecting into pools which burst and zig-zag like a roller coaster across the surface...ok, I have WAY too much time on my hands.
6:00PM - Seriously, this tent thing is getting old. The rain has not stopped. I go and talk to Amy. Broc has gone to the ranger station to get an idea of how much longer this is supposed to last. Forecast: 2 more hours of rain, a small break and then...more rain. We already have water in the tent.

We all headed to Faribault to get some dinner, since there was no way we were cooking outside in the rainy mess. After dinner we stopped to get some rain gear and extra towels, then reluctantly headed back to camp to survey the damage. Did I mention it rained the whole time?

For some reason, we decided we HAD to burn the firewood that was brought, and Broc and Brett did get one going. So there we were, all standing around the fire in our rain gear in the slow, steady rain. Amy even brought out a tarp and basically wrapped herself in it! We stood there until the fire went out, and tried to dry out the best we could before crawling into bed around 11:00 or so.

We did fall asleep (to the sound of raindrops, of course), but around 12:15AM we were jolted out of bed by a panic alarm on someone's vehicle. Turns out it was Broc's truck! It just kept going off - he had to unplug the whole system to get it to stop. Turns out he had the keychain with the panic button in the pocket of the tent, and it got wet and shorted out! After that, the night went something like this:

2:00AM - Surely this can't go all night. There's a little dampness growing at the top of the air mattress. I shift down a little bit.
3:00AM - I turn on the flashlight and survey the damage. The puddles in the tent are growing.
4:00AM - Dammit, still raining. I check the gear I had placed strategically near the bottom of the mattress, which was the driest place in the tent when we went to bed. It's getting damp. I pull it up on the end of the mattress and curl my feet up.
5:00AM - GOOD LORD. This is getting ridiculous. Every once in awhile I feel drops on my forehead. I scoot down more on the mattress. By this time I am in the fetal position and there's no room for much else. I see Brett has shifted down too. We are also losing air. He's got to be about on the ground by now.
6:00AM - I am envisioning muddy streams of water running outside our tent door. Surely we're going to float away sooner or later. I'm fighting off the urge to pee, but it's difficult with the constant pitter-patter of rain and the water surrounding the mattress...
7:00AM - WE CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE. It's still raining, but we decide to cut our losses and pack it up. Brett's sleeping bag is soaked and he is basically lying on the floor of the tent, which is virtually a big puddle.

By around 8AM we had the wet, muddy mess of a tent and tarp in the back of the Jimmy and everything packed and ready to go. The weather made things tough, but what can you do? Mother Nature at her finest. At the end of the trip we were wet, but still smiling. We'll try it again sometime!


Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?

Today we hosted the draft for Brett's fantasy football league. The entire Laabs family is represented, even Brandon and Betty (Brett's mom) have a team! We had about 15 people in the house - lots of guys and a few gals with magazines, clipboards and all kinds of other info to help them make the best pics. It's quite an event that they've been doing for years. Everyone brings their own food and drink and they bid on players. It took about 4 hours to get through! I didn't stick around - Candy, Hayley, Marcey and I went to the mall. Brett is in 2 leagues this year, so it's a lot of football at our house this season.