Monthly Archives: November 2008

SNOWMAN SNOW!!!

SNOWMAN SNOW!!!

I woke up this morning and noticed the light was bright as it came through the cracks between the windows and the shades.  Brighter than normal. That meant…

SNOW!!!

“Joey!  It snowed!” I squealed.

“Muuughhdnnnnnnn,” he muttered, and rolled over.

So, after church while we were waiting for Daddy to return, Sister, Joey and I decided to build a snowman.  We suited up in Pops’ coveralls (he has three sets), work boots and work gloves and tromped out into the snow.

This was the first snow of the year, and it’s only an inch deep, but it was humid and damp.  Perfect for snowmen.

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We rolled three nice, big snowballs (which were covered in leaves since it’s the first snow of the year and they haven’t disintegrated yet).

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Sister rolled the smallest of the snowballs.  She has a bad back, so we can’t cause her stress or she might suffer.

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I rolled the middle snowball.  Please observe the excessive dead leaves that have attached themselves to my snowball.  ANNOYING.

img_05611Check that snowball out!  I was disappointed that we didn’t have any more snow, it’s kind of paltry looking.

We didn’t want to steal a scarf and hat from Mom’s stash in the house (because they’d have to come out here in the spring and look for it…or they’d just accidentally mow over it and then we’d be in trouble) so we resorted to using spray paint for our snow man’s distinguishing features.

We did, however, get a carrot from Mom’s fridge. (I’m not sure she knows we took one, but we’re probably not going to be in trouble.)

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img_0564Isn’t that the worst snowman you ever saw in your life?

I’m kind of proud of it.

30! (and a hay bale, and some kittens, and a couple of other cows)

30! (and a hay bale, and some kittens, and a couple of other cows)

This here’s Pops and 30.

img_0353“Here, you can make her walk around and follow you if you bait her with hay,” Pops said.

30 is substantially bigger than Pops (or me, for that matter) but she’s really tame and, when conditions are right, it’s possible to milk her.

I got a wad of hay and walked over to 30, and she immediately began to munch on the hay I offered her.

“Don’t be scared of her, she is nice,” Pops assured me.

He didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t scared of 30.  She’s harmless.

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(I love this picture.  It looks like a Hallmark card; majorly huge nose, skinny tiny legs.)

Pops lured 30 into the enclosure where he gave her a ton more hay (he totally favors her over the rest of his cows, but then she’s the tamest) and gave the rest of the cows a pittance compared to her pile.

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One of the forkfulls of hay landed pretty much on her head, so she looked kind of funny for awhile.

After we fed the cows, we went to check Pop’s bales.  See how big they are?  Way taller than me and almost taller than Pops…I really wanted to climb on them and jump around, just like I did when I was a kid.  But my coveralls were too restrictive so I wasn’t able to.

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In the barn, I found a bunch of kittens.

Feral kittens.

They all started hissing and wailing at me when I walked into the stall, so I tried picking them up.  Two of them scratched me really bad and a third one jumped on my shoulder.

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The fluffy middle one is my favorite, but he was the meanest.

Dad threw some grain into his teenager cows that he’s keeping in some of the stalls.  They were cute and kind of shy.

img_0367I’d have taken a picture of the steer who charged me, but before I could take a picture of him he, well, charged me.  So that was the end of that.

Iowa Casual

Iowa Casual

When I’m home and I go help Pops with the cows, I wear coveralls, a Carhartt’s hat, and mud boots (which are usually clumped with manure, but I pretend it’s mud).

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This morning, Pops needed to go get a bale of hay from Randy’s for his steer (the one who tried to charge me yesterday), so I suited up in my Iowa gear and we tromped out to the barn.  We grabbed some buckets so dad could refill the grain barrell since there’s some snow coming and threw ‘em in the back of the truck.  The truck groaned and coughed to protest the cold (and it WAS cold) and soon we were off.

About twenty minutes later we had stabbed a big hay bale with the bale loader on Randy’s ancient tractor and were putzing up Center Point Road, belching exhaust toxins and gray smoke into the atmosphere.  The bale we had picked was kind of lousy, too, and was moldy and kind of squishy looking, so Pops put it by the fence for the cows to eat first.

That finished, Pops climbed over the gate and plodded down to the shed in the pasture to give hay to the cows.  I gamely swung myself over the fence and tromped along with him, now and then sinking into one of the numerous mole burrows and almost wiping out.

“Here,” Pops said once we were down there, “Take a bunch of this hay and go over there and feed 30.  She’ll eat out of your hands.”

“OK!” I squealed, and grabbed an armful of hay and slowly walked towards 30.  30 was standing by two other cows, 24-25 and Red, and they looked at me suspiciously.  Slowly, as 30 munched the hay I gave her and chewed her cud gracelessly, 24-25 moseyed her way over.  She took a mouthful and chewed thoughtfully as she looked at me.

Red was still unsure if I was safe.  She eyed me from a very, very safe distance and refused to come near.  I edged closer to her and she took a hesitant nip of hay from my bundle.

“Dad, what’s Red’s number?” I asked.

“See any other red cows out here?” Pops asked.

“Um, no.” I said.

He was right, they are all black (or black and white) and Red is the only red cow.  Apparently she needs no number.

Suddenly 30 thumped me in the backside with her nose, wanting more hay.  24-25 bonked me about the same time in the stomach, also wanting more hay.  I doled out what I had left to them, and they were at peace with me once again.

Then I realized that it was after 9:00 and I was late to go have coffee with Sheri…so I ran upstairs and gave Sister the coveralls and mudboots.

Man, I love cows.

“HEY KIDS…it’s time to mow the lawn!”

“HEY KIDS…it’s time to mow the lawn!”

Mom and Dad have four acres of lawn to mow.  (The rest is pasture and, fortunately, we only have to mow that like once a year.)  Because of the massive quantity of grass that needed mowing once a week, we kids have been mowing the lawn since before we were old enough to stay home alone.

All the different sectors of the yard have names: front yard, door yard, nursery, side yard, back yard, horseshoe and yonder.

Please observe.

This is the front yard

This is the front yard. Takes about one hour to mow this on the riding lawn mower.

The door yard's grass is the slowest growing grass that we have, so sometimes we'd skip mowing it and hope that neither of the parents noticed.

The door yard has the slowest growing grass...and sometimes we'd skip mowing it and hope that neither mom or dad noticed.

Dad planted a bajillion trees, but they're just to the left of the picture so you can't see them.  But trust me, they are there.

Dad planted a bajillion trees in the nursery, but they're just to the right of the picture, so you can't see them. But trust me, they're there. So annoying to mow around, too.

The back yard is full of cockleburrs, so if we ever tried to mow bare foot then we'd get real hurt.

The back yard is full of cockle burrs, so if when we tried to mow bare foot then it caused major pain.

Pops planted a second bajillion trees in the side yard, in between the house and the barn.  It protected our house from view of any losers driving past.

Pops planted a second bajillion trees in the side yard, in between the house and the barn. It protected our house from view of any losers driving past.

The driveway is a horse shoe, and the area in between we named "the horse shoe".  It is too bumpy to use the riding lawn mower on, so we had to push mow it, and it takes about 45 minutes.

The driveway is a horse shoe, and the area in between we named "the horse shoe". It is too bumpy to mow with the rider, so we had to push mow it, and it takes about 45 minutes.

Yonder is the area out past the barn.  It's over yonder, hence the name.

Yonder is the area out past the barn. It's over yonder, hence the name.

So you see our pain?  All told, with all of us kids mowing (three pushers, one on the riding mower) the whole thing took us about three hours.

THREE HOURS.

Oh yeah, and how could I forget the fence row?

fence-rowCan you imagine weed whacking this evil thing?  It was so horrible.

Back when we were young and stupid (as opposed to being old and stupid) Pops had lots of fits trying to teach us to mow properly.  We’d mess up the deck height on the mowers, or miss large sections of grass or something…we were kind of a mess.

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Dad had to spend lots of time teaching us how to do it correctly.

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Since the whole process took us so long, we had a couple of options.

1.)  Go completely insane from heat and dehydration while we mowed

2.)  Become OCD about mowing patterns and perfection

We all somehow took option 2 and became Lawn Mowing OCD.

Sister’s the worst.

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"You're not doing it right, Jenna! You made the deck too high and now it doesn't look perfect. GOSH."

The Brothers hate weed whacking.  But then...we all do.

The Brothers hate weed whacking. But then...we all do.

If we ran out of gas, The Kid had to use scissors.

If we ran out of gas, The Kid had to use scissors.

But, twenty years later…we all have figured it out, thanks to Pops’ tireless instruction.

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You know what the best part about coming home is?  We’re here just long enough to make a mess of things, but not long enough to have to do any of the work required to clean stuff up.  Ahhhh….no mowing for me!

Be Thankful

Be Thankful

After we had our sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon we piled into the van and Pops’  Lexus to get a flood tour

img_03891I had seen the pictures, I had streamed KGAN on Friday, June 13, and I had heard Pops tell the stories…but it’s not quite the same to hear it as it is to see it.

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This is my dad’s old office on 3rd Avenue, three blocks off the river.  See that 122 above the door?  The water line was right above the 122.  That’s some serious water.

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The Paramount had just undergone a several million dollar remodel, and it’s now boarded up…just like half of downtown.

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Dumpsters and sandbags litter the streets, six months after the crest.

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Dad had this property listed before the flooding.  You can see the water damage on the bottom of the sign, but Dad says the water line was much higher than the top of the sign.  In any case, it was surreal to see one of dad’s signs hanging in a mucky building in an area of town that used to be bustling.

The most heartbreaking loss, to me, was the Cedar Rapids Public Library.  It was one block off the river, and the water surged and swirled through it, destroying the books and computers and magazines and microfilm and reference materials…but not the memories of afternoons spent there when we homeschooled.

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This is the main floor now.  Empty.

img_0400For me, the library was the most upsetting thing to lose.

Across the street from the library was the Great Furniture Mart, an old-timey building that, well, sold furniture.

It was absolutely destroyed.  The water had battered it almost beyond recognition; all the windows on the first floor and a half were blown out (still) and bricks and mortar litter the sidewalks.

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Joey walked in the front door (which was easy, the glass was still blown out) and took this picture.  Then we realized that someone was actually in the building (and there were signs posted to keep out) so we cleared out.

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The sidewalk on both sides of the building looks like this – covered in random junk…some of it looks like it was from this building, some of it not so much.

After we toured the downtown destruction, Dad drove us to the most heartbreaking losses.  The ten square miles of destroyed homes, water damaged beyond livability.  Half of them were twisted off their foundations (and we have basements here in Iowa) and many had boards over their windows.

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The water line on this home was up to the eaves.  Can you imagine?

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Another home that had 8-11 feet of water in it.

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Block after block of this…it makes me thankful for my home.

In the middle of the destroyed houses sat the old A&W.  We kids had loved this A&W because Mom and Dad had somehow convinced us that it was “really far away from our house” and we probably only went there once a year.  (It was kind of far away, maybe 15 minutes…)

The A&W will never reopen, Dad said they’re just going to tear it down.

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You wanna eat there?

It still smells awful…six months later.  We had the windows up and everything and the icky flood smell snuck in the car.

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Dad said the sidewalks were lined like this for months after the flood.  Now there are only certain neighborhoods that looks like this, mostly because people aren’t even trying to rebuild the homes anymore.  They’re so destroyed…it’s kind of futile.

Home after home had “unsafe” spray-painted on them.  (That and “You loot and I’ll shoot”.)

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We enjoyed this one…somebody spray-painted a political statement on a house in an abandoned neighborhood.

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It’s kind of hard to tell, but this is two houses.  The one on the right stayed in its place and the one in the middle got ripped off its foundation and floated into the house on the right.

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We aren’t sure why this house has “snowman” painted on it on the bottom right…but it does.  I totally believe that it’s “unsafe” though.

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I’m not sure what the water line was on these houses…but it kind of looks like it was above the first story.  This neighborhood will probably wind up being entirely torn down, the utility pipes were too ruined by the flood water and so the power company decided to not turn them back on again.

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This bridge washed out.  It was weighed down with hopper cars full of gravel (which worked during ’93) but sometime Thursday or Friday in June the bridge just washed away…

Just to compare, this is the water level today.  The next picture is how high the water was on Wednesday night, a day and a half before the river crested.

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The water eventually crested a lot higher than it is in the bottom picture; it was high enough to completely cover the bridges and swamp the entire downtown.  I’m not sure how high it got on that parking garage…but probably pretty darn high.

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So…to give the Cedar River the what’s for…I ripped this piece of concrete off the parking garage and threw it at the river.

Just to kick it in the butt.

I felt better.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Hey y’all.

This morning I was so excited about being home that I woke up just after 7:00…and I was the first person up.  So for twenty minutes I kicked it with Henry and finished up my pie while I waited for Pops to get up so that I could go cowing with him.

Pops didn’t wake up until like 8:30 (he has allergies, he was helping Randy with harvesting last week, running the combine or something) and then we finally went outside.

I petted 30 (Pops’ most friendly cow) and took lots of pictures, didn’t really wind up helping Pops at all, followed him around a lot, petted the feral cats in Pops’ barn, got scratched real bad by two of them when I tried to pick them up, then got charged by Pops’ steer who he’s defrosting in the barn.

Here’s what went down: Pops said, “Hey, you wanna pet this guy?”  So I got in the stall with the thing, then it started stomping and snorting and yanking his head around. Pops noticed what was going on, yelped and grabbed my coveralls to pull me out of the stall…just as the steer started charging towards me and the open door.  IT WAS REAL EXCITING.  Once Pops got the stall door closed the steer stomped and bellowed quite a few more times.  “Uhhhh, let’s get out of here,” were Pops’ last words, so we left the barn.

(I assume the steer is still in his stall, we haven’t gone back to verify he didn’t bust out after we left.)

We’re headed downtown for a flood tour in a few minutes.  I’ll post pictures of me and the cows and the flood tour later.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!  I’m so thankful to be home.

HOORAY!

HOORAY!

Today, in just a few few hours, we’re leaving for Cedar Rapids!

I haven’t been back since May for The Brother’s graduation and with all that icky flooding, I’ve been dying to get home since June.  I’m planning to go on an “Oh My Gosh Are You Kidding Me, This Was Underwater?!” tour later this afternoon, after we see Mom and Dad’s new flood-proof office and eat lunch at someplace tasty.

So…I’m off to hit the shower.  YAY for CEDAR RAPIDS!

The Butter Dog

The Butter Dog

We just had Thanksgiving dinner at Joey’s parents’ house.  It was delish.

Afterwards the boys and I were watching stupid YouTube videos while the ladies cleaned up the meal.  (I know, I know, I still haven’t reached the pinnacle of maturity.  I’m sort of working on it.)  MIL had just about everything cleaned off the table and was coming back to the dining room to carry another round of food to the kitchen when I heard, “HENRY!  GET OUT OF THE BUTTER!”

I ran into the dining room to ascertain the situation.

Turns out that Henry had jumped up on one of the dining room chairs, and from the dining room chair he had gotten on to the table, and from the table he had found the butter and proceeded to eat half of it.

“HENRY!”  I wailed, and whisked him off to another part of the house.  Henry’s beard was covered in butter (He had really noshed down quite a bit before he had been caught) and the plan was to clean it off, but I got sidetracked and called The Brother to inform him of Hen’s mischief.

Hen got butter all over my sleeve while I was on the phone with The Brother, so I ended the call with The Brother and then wiped off Hen’s face.

Pretty sure Hen’s going to have gastrointestinal distress later tonight from all that butter.

Best T-shirt EVER…

Best T-shirt EVER…

Joey and I happened upon the Iowa Historical Society yesterday (to get an Iowa magnet for our fridge – we get one for every place we go on a trip and we didn’t have Iowa yet) and we found two amazing t-shirts.

We…we impulse bought them.

This one’s mine:

img_0333The darn thing kills me every single time I look at it.   Oh my gosh.  Hilarious.  I love how it insinuates that South Dakota is smack dab the middle of nowhere, because it’s totally true.

Now I have to go to The Wal-Mart (Wal-Mart has a definite article in Iowa, that’s just how it is…probably because there’s usually only one The Wal-Mart per town around here, ceptin’ in the cities) for 8 inch cake pans and Dutch Process Cocoa.  MIL & I making Chocolate Blackout Cake today.

If anywhere in smallish-town Iowa would have Dutch Process Cocoa, Pella would be the place to find it.

Monday

Monday

So…vacation.

Today was not so much relaxing, but pretty much fun.  Joey and I slept in until about 9:00, 9:30 and then we got up and headed to Des Moines.  We had plans to eat lunch in Ankeny (Joey with Dr. Brown and me with Jamie) and then I went down to Des Moines to have coffee with Kelli while Joey went to the hospital to fix a program or something he had designed when he used to work there.  At 6:00 we went to Winterset and had dinner with Joel and Amber.

Hmm.

I’d finish this blog post but Joey just came over and said “um, I need my laptop back.”

So that means I have to quit this now.

Sorry.