Strange Little Girl

I was a strange little girl, and now I’m a strange woman. When I was little I did things to amuse myself whenever I could. As an only child I had a wealth of imagination that seemed to go on and on. I had a dog, a beagle, that was my best friend. I would have to walk my dog for 30 minutes a day. This seemed like a very long time to me, as a child. Now it goes by in a flash. Then I would hate walking very far and I was lucky enough to have an empty lot at the end of the block that my dog and I would explore. I found wild raspberries and mulberries on one such adventure, and would wander around trying not to get lost in the trees.

Once I found a squirrel that had recently been hit by a car. It was dead, but was either fresh enough that it was flexible, or old enough that it was flexible. At any rate, it didn’t smell bad yet and was soft and furry with no sign of violence. I kept it for a couple of days hidden in the empty lot, but eventually it became rather …uh…stinky… and became host to all those lovely critters Grissom is so fond of on CSI.

When we moved to a larger town I was blessed to find another empty lot not too far from our home. It wasn’t quite as secluded and had only one good-sized tree in the middle. I found it to be a good climbing tree and enjoyed viewing my neighborhood from its leafy branches. It was a month or so later and it became winter and I’d found some cardboard left on the lot. I managed to sneak some matches out of the house (my parents had a huge jar where they collected matchbooks from everywhere) and I would make little tinder fires under the branches of the tree inside my cardboard ‘fort’. One evening after I’d returned home I heard the sirens of a fire truck race to the end of my block and I was terrified that I hadn’t gotten my little fire put out and it had spread to engulf the neighboring houses. I swallowed my tongue trying to get enough spit into my mouth to counteract this fear, but went to bed shivering – sure in my heart that there would be a knock on the door from a detective holding the matchbook I’d left and telling my parents that my fingerprints had been found and the neighbors identified me as the strange little girl they’d seen hanging around the vacant lot.

I never did find out what happened, and never walk my dog that way again.


I started reading a blog quite by accident. I think it was a link from someone elses blog that linked from even another blog. I first found it amusing, then, as I continued to read it I found I was hooked. Partially by the fact that this person grew up in my hometown. If not my hometown, at least my state. Iowa. CW never actually tells us where in Iowa he grew up, or which state university he went to school, but in reading his blog posts I found clues. A dropped note here or there (his wife lived in the Towers), etc. I could be wrong, but if I am it’s enough of a similarity to make me believe he was from here.

It made me take another look at where I’m from. Unlike CW, who moved to several states and now appears to reside in Atlanta, Georgia, I have stayed in my little community. I lived in some tiny towns growing up, but my folks kept going back to the ‘big city’ of Des Moines. Couldn’t stay away.

I was raised a ‘town kid’. Oh, my family went camping out to the woods in the state parks – even going to Colorado and Wyoming and Kentucky. But that wasn’t my life. I enjoyed it, but I lived in the Great Suburbia. I remember when I was in high school they even came out with a book called “Suburbia”and we studied it in Humanities class. My school was really on the cutting edge even to have a class called Humanities. We studied things like the song lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel albums and why we all wear masks.

As a young divorced woman with two children, I found myself in love with and married to a wonderful man. Someday I’ll tell you that story! The point being, I now live in the country surrounded by corn and soybean fields that create our livelihood. I am on a perpetual camping trip through life. A pretty cushy one, I admit, but nonetheless it’s been pretty cool. And, I’m living in this mid-sized college town where my DH has lived his entire life and where I have made my home now for over twenty-five years. We’ve raised our children here, and two of them have actually graduated or will graduate from this university – as well as my SIL2B has graduated from there and my SIL is planning on returning to finish his degree, too.

The stories I’ve been reading of CW’s life experiences in Iowa have led me to have a different perspective on this part of the country. It’s interesting to see how someone else views “the Beast” (his term for the Iowa winter). I enjoy reading of his college escapades and drunken adventures – most of which seem to re-occur from time to time in his ‘old age’. I never made it to college as a student, but worked on the college campus for several years – actually admitting those poor confused freshmen into the life. I may have never been to one of his parties on the frat house lawn, but I’ve walked and driven past them many a warm summer night with the windows open and the music and laughter rolling out over the cars.

I find a rather strange bond with someone who has shared my town and some of my experiences. I find it heartwarming that as much as he loves his adopted city, he still seems to have good thoughts of family, friends, and memories still based here. I want to be young and share some of those experiences again. I guess I’ll just have to connect from time to time as I read his blog and try and remember my own experiences here to share.

Get Out the Tinfoil

I’m a bit odd when it comes to the full moon. DH says it’s always full, you just can’t always see it’s always full. Man-logic. Gotta love it. He teases me about wrapping tinfoil around my head (no, I don’t do that) and pretends he doesn’t notice how bright it is outside.

Yes, I did say I got blinds for the bedroom. However, I haven’t gotten them installed yet. This is a no-brainer. There is not enough hours in the day right now do add another extra thing. As it was, I didn’t get home until 8 last night!

Woke up at 3 o’clock. A.M. Thinking it was dawn, it was so bright in our bedroom! Looked at the clock and did a double-take. Lay back down and let the breeze lull me back to sleep – about 5:30. What!?!? What is that horrific noise? Oh, shit. I set the alarm clock this morning so I wouldn’t oversleep.

Off to the mine…