So how much rain did we get from the storm on Sunday?
I’m not sure, but it was enough to flood the northern part of our property. And when I took a good look at it, it dawned on me that this could work out just perfectly as our own little lake.
Looks like that pallet is in just the right place to serve as a dock.
And we certainly have the boats necessary to get around.
Oh! My garden boxes work out just perfectly for the islands.
Hmmm… it would sure cut down on my mowing time.
All the sweltering heat that the south has been enduring for the past few weeks has finally made its way north, and added a humidity factor of 150% to it that is typical of Wisconsin. When you add a dew point of 80+ to 90 degree weather, you are bound to see storms come from out of nowhere.
As was the case Sunday night when we were driving back home from visiting relatives in Minnesota. We had been hearing the reports on the radio of the storm warnings, and I was hoping that we would make it home before they hit.
Luck was not with us. The sky didn’t look that ominous, but the closer home we got we rounded a bend, and the clouds that looked only slightly rain-worthybefore suddenly scared the crap out of me.
This may not look all that threatening, but I was too scared to get pictures of the clouds that were rotating.
I had a really bad feeling about this.
Plus, I really hate storms. I mean really, REALLY hate storms. The lightning, the thunder, the hurricane force winds… I am a ball of nerves. Rick knows this. If I could, I would dive under our bed with Thor when one hits.
And here we were, 10 miles from home, completely vulnerable to this monster that we were heading into. And my husband, being the loving, caring man that he is, thought about me as we approached the rain and lightning.
Me: Rick, why are you slowing down?
Rick: So you can get some good lightning pictures.
Me: I don’t care about getting lightning pictures! Get us the hell home!
I think he got the hint, because he did speed up, until the rain was coming down so heavy that he apologized for having to slow down so he wouldn’t hydroplane off the road. I thought this was very thoughtful of him.
And as we pulled into the driveway, he brought the car right up to the steps so that I could make a run for it without being completely drenched before I reached the front door. And as I was about to get out, he grabbed my arm.
Rick: Wait a minute.
Me: What?
Rick: Give me one last kiss in case you don’t make it.
Me: ???
Rick: Well, you might melt.
Smart ass.
As we left the family get-together yesterday, one of the oldest questions known to man was answered.
Why did the turkey cross the road (I figure they’re kinda related to chickens, right?).
And there you have it.
Glad I could help.
Today I got to pick up my Grandson Brayden. I haven’t seen him in a year, and boy, what a difference a year makes! He’s grown a foot taller and even more handsome! And, a lot smarter.
The drive home from where I picked him up was mostly uneventful, except for the cloud-to-ground lightning strikes that scared the bejesus out of me and I had to suppress the gasps because, you know, I didn’t want my Grandson to think that I was a complete wus.
Also, the conversations seemed to take on a more, um, how would you say it… “sophisticated” air. We grabbed some grub on the go, and after Brayden had chowed down on his Happy Meal, the question that arose from him concerned how a part of the toy inside was able to move up and down. Well, I certainly didn’t know how, but he had a theory. “Well, Grandma, it’s possible that kinetic energy is involved.” And he goes on to explain how this type of energy works, and even supplies a visual example.
WHAT?? This kid is 9!! Where the hell did he find out about kinetic energy?!? What kind of cartoons is he watching, anyway?
Then he pulls out his Nintendo DSi player, and I ask him what game he is playing. Grand Theft Auto Chinatown Wars, he tells me. For some reason, I’m not liking this answer. But, I keep my opinion to myself and let him play the game. Pretty soon I’m hearing things that really make me hate this game.
Brayden: Dang, now I need a new paint job, but it will cost me $200.
Me: So, how do you get the money in the game to pay for it?
Brayden: Probably by doing work for the drug dealers.
Me: Brayden, who bought this game for you?
I will not say his answer, but I will tell you that it was bought by adults that should know better.
I let him play his game and hear all about guns, running over people and being chased by the cops. I hold myself back from ripping this machine from his hands. I control the voice in my head that is telling me that what he is playing is not appropriate. Well, duh!!
We finally make our next stop to buy some supplies for the weekend and I decide it is my duty as a Grandma to buy him a game that is a little more age-appropriate… for me. But it is my little secret and let him pick out what he wants and all my fears wash away when he selects a Lego version of Indiana Jones. I may have sighed quite heavily. Or thanked a higher power. Or done a fist pump.
Either way, we were both happy and he plops the game in the device when we get in the car and continue onward.
As we get closer to home, he decides that he wants to go straight home rather than stop at Grandpa’s shop, because we have milk in the car and he doesn’t want it to go bad. Plus, he wants to play with his train set.
This boy is growing up, but he still has some kid left in him.
It’s the opening day of the fair in my home town. The 154th Annual Dodge County Fair, to be exact. I would have forgotten completely about it, but thanks to my cousin appearing in my “in” box, memories started flooding back to me.
I loved our local fair growing up. The rides, the food, the cheap prizes from the games. And who could forget the stock car races?
If you’ve never heard of or been to a stock car race, you haven’t truly lived. Loud cars racing around the track on a Sunday evening, the dirt flying everywhere, the unfortunate “fender benders” that would occur on the straightaways, the occasional car flipping over from trying to take the turn too fast.
And when I turned the ripe old age of 13, I got the opportunity to work the concession stands at the races. This was like hitting the big-time in my area, because only the popular girls got these kinds of jobs and they had the chance to meet all the cute guys. Unfortunately, I wasn’t popular and I didn’t meet any cute guys. But I had fun.
OK, back to the topic at hand: the fair (in case you got side-tracked with your own trip down memory lane or even segued to your favorite NASCAR moments from the mention of stock car races).
The email wasn’t a “save-the-date” for the fair, but a reminder of how much her Dad, Levern Larson, contributed to the fair each year (as did her Mom, Wava). It reads:
At 154 years, the Dodge County Fair in Kasson is the oldest county fair in Minnesota. Our dad attended the fair for 85 consecutive years, from 1925 when he was six years old through last summer’s fair at the age of 91.
Dad served on the Dodge County Fair Board for 45 years. When he retired from the board a few years ago, they named him an “Honorary Board Member” so they could continue to get his input in the running of the fair and so they could include Dad and Mom in their social activities.
Last year, the fair board created a Hall of Fame to honor those people who had been so instrumental in making the fair such a huge success for so many years, and Dad was named as their first inductee.
The Dodge County Fair Board has chosen to honor our dad and mom by dedicating this year’s fair to their memory.
I am sure they are smiling down from heaven.
I was so touched by this email and happy that she wanted to share this with her cousins, that I just had to write about it. And since I didn’t have any pictures that were suitable for this post, I again turned to Google in hopes of providing something. And lo and behold, I came across a photo that had made it into one of the local papers from down that way.
I’m glad that the community is honoring him and his wife with such an honor this year. It is much deserved.
But I’m sure that he’d shake his head and say, “Well, if you really want to, but it’s not necessary.”
Yeah, he was that kind of guy.