A screamer

What is the wildest thing you can do in Minnesota? Tubing baby!! Tubing!

Last weekend I did just that. And I have a sore body to prove it!

It all started when my older sister said she had never tubed. This is a Minnesota born and raised woman who actually owns a cabin on one of the 10,000 lakes in God's country. My family has a reunion at her lake place and this was THEE perfect opportunity for her to check something off her bucket list.

I, on the other hand, was a pro at tubing. I had done it once... at the reunion last year. I was brave, I was encouraging, I was experienced.

Let's tube!!

My niece was at the helm of the speed boat. She assured us both that she would go slowly over the gentle waves of the lake.

My nephew tied on two tubes to the back of the boat. My sister and I could tube side by side. What a beautiful way to spend a warm Saturday afternoon. Floating over the water. Engulfed in the pure enjoyment of it all.

First comes the challenge of getting IN the tube. Fitted with our life preservers, we are ready. I suggested to my sister that perhaps she should leave her sunglasses behind. She looked at me as if she is confused. Remember that this is the same sister that said she would go with me on the Amazing Race but she doesn't do heights, won't ride a horse or make a fool of herself. But off come the Foster Grants and plunk. She is in her tube and giving the thumbs up.

Me, again being the experienced tuber, hop off the dock into the tube. Except, I missed the tube. How does one miss a 5 foot round tube? Apparently it's not that hard to do!! Into the murky seaweed I plunge. Now for those of you that know me, you know that I do not dunk. I dangle off the edge of a dock or pool, but I rarely dunk.

This day I dunked. And it was not a graceful entrance. Butt first into the water, with my legs spread in the air in a straight V position, I go under. I think I'm going to the promised land. My life flashes before me. But then I am bobbing. Like the cork on a fishing line. The life jacket brings me back to oxygen and I see my loving and supporting family pointing and doubling over with laughter. Even my novice tubing sister is overcome with the giggles.

The hardest thing about tubing is when you fall out of the tube and have to get back in it from the water. There is no lady like way to get back in. My strong son in law grabs me by the jacket and plops me in the tube. More laughing. I am in the tube facing the wrong way. I see no problem with this but the boat driver refuses to start the boat until I am facing the correct way.

Fine. Ever try to move in a rubber tube when you are soaking wet and the rubber is not? After a few moments of mauevering and rubber farting I am facing the correct way, the laughter has subsided and we are ready for our grand adventure.

The boat begins to move slowly away from the dock. My sister is all smiles as she says to me, "Wow, this isn't so bad. I like this!"

But I knew what was coming so I just nodded and held on tight to the handles.

And then...... the boat.......revved up... and we were OFF!!

My legs shot up towards the sky. My head went back and my butt was glued to tube. Hang on sister, it's going to be a bumpy ride!!

I opened my eyes long enough to see my sister screaming. I'm sure her scream was deafening but my own scream was even worse.

We rode the north side of the lake and I never stopped screaming long enough to take a breath. But then I realized I wasn't going to drown so I began to keep my eyes open. Glancing over my left shoulder I see my sister with her eyes shut tight and her mouth wide open. And I begin to laugh. Here we are, two mature women tubing. Yup, cross that off our list of things to do before we die.

We continue to "ride the waves" and are even so brave to let go of the handles and raise our hands like we used to do on an amusement ride. Our faces are soaked from splashes, our swimsuits are no longer dry. The only thing that is dry is our feet which are still straight reaching for the sun.

My sister points towards the dock. She is done. But wait. The boat is not heading in, it's slowing down. In the middle of the lake. We are told that we must get off of the tubes and get into the boat.

Say WHAT?? Are you kidding me?? You have GOT to be joking!!

My whole body is stuck to the tube. The pressure of the ride only made my body suck into the tube more. I am one with the tube.

Someone in the boat is pulling the rope and bringing me towards the boat ladder. This little ladder is going to help me get out of the tube and into the boat? Doubtful.

There is no other way but to dunk... again.... out of the tube and reach for the white ladder. With a little prayer and a lot of jiggling, I am out of the tube. And I climb the 2 steps to hoist my shaky leg over the edge of the boat onto a boat chair.

We did it. We tubed the mighty lake.

Just then the driver admits to us "I only had the boat speed at half throttle."

Good enough for me. I am not a full throttle kind of gal. Maybe 30 years ago, but now I am just happy that we tubed and lived to tell about it. It was a thrill of a lifetime to be sure.... and my older sister muttered all the way back to the cabin "Never again, I thought I was going to die...."

Maybe we really aren't ready for the Amazing Race just yet.

Gone like the wind

I have been trying to grow out my hair for the big wedding. About two years ago I received a N A S T Y haircut from a student at a local cosmo college. It has literally taken me this long to grow past the "oops."

But I couldn't stand it another second. When the weather gets hot, either a woman puts her hair UP or cuts it OFF. My hair was at the stage where it was too short to put up and I definitely didn't want to go shorter.

Problem #1. I don't have a regular stylist. I don't know why. Just hasn't worked out well with any stylist since 1986. I used to have a regular stylist then but she was "let go" and that just freaked me out. How can a seasoned stylist be fired? I was always afraid since that I would find a stylist I liked and she would be "let go." So I never stuck around long enough to get a regular.

Problem #2. It was hot and I needed a cut and I needed it bad. Once I make a decision, stand back and let me go. I was going to get a cut today if I had to do it myself.

I went to a salon by Kmart. Not one customer in the salon. Too hot to be doing anything but have a beer and watch golf on tv. Good, I thought. I could get in and get out. Piece of cake, baby.

Problem #3. I wasn't specific. "I don't want the length cut. Just layer it."

Sounds simple? I could have done it myself, but I can't see the back of my head.

Problem #4. Never talk to your stylist. I think this is a good rule. If she starts talking, she loses focus on the prize.

I did not heed my own advice. I'm yakking away about the upcoming wedding and before I knew it, my haireth layeth on the flooreth!! And then she starts thinning what is left of my hair. Seriously, I don't think it needs thinning!! I like my thick hair. I feel like a female Sampson. Cut my locks and there goes my strength.

Too late.

I am now sporting a new do. A new look. Not the look I wanted, yet there it is. Short. Curly in the summer Iowa humidity. It will now take a whole bottle of ZERO FRIZZ to calm my 2 hairs that are left on my head.

Now I can emphasize with the women who complain about thin hair. Thin hair does not listen. Thin hair laughs when reach for the gel. Thin hair is lazy, does not do what you want it to do. Thin hair rules.

So I have 2 months for my hair to grow and expand to the style I was working towards for the wedding. Not going to happen. I'll just be happy if my ears are covered by then.

It's time to find a regular stylist.....

Meet the parents

My husband and I went to Chicago yesterday to meet my daughter's future inlaws who drove up to the Windy City from Kansas City the night before. We were to all meet at my daughter and her fiance's apartment at 2:00. Sounds simple right??

But what should I wear? More importantly, what does my husband have in his closet that will look "fatherish" and yet "fashionable." I searched his closet and decided he had nothing that fit either of those adjectives.

Off I go on my mission. To find an outfit for my husband and find something for myself to boot.

Mine was relatively easy. I knew I wanted to wear red. I think red makes a statement plus the fact I look pretty good in that color. Dress Barn proved the perfect store for me. Tried on a couple of red shirts and found IT! A stylish red trendy shirt that hid my muffin top but didn't look like maternity. It would look perfect with a pair of white capris. I was good to go.

Old Navy proved the perfect store for my husband's clothes. Found a pair of kaiki's that didn't look like "old man" and better yet, everything in the store was 30% off. Could it get any better?

I also stopped at KMart and picked up a couple more pants for him and some belts. I figured he could try them all on and pick what he liked.

Therein lies problem #1. My husband does not like to try on clothes, let alone model them for me. I swear the way he shops is he goes to the store closest to him at the time, grabs a pair of pants and shirts (and even shoes) and never tries them on. And if they fit, GREAT. If they don't fit, that's GREAT too, he'll still wear them.

And my husband is shrinking. Not around, but height wise. He used to be a 32 inseam when we got married, then a few years later I had to start hemming his 32's. So he bought 30 inseams and now I'm hemming those. He is now at the stage of buying 29 short and yes, I still have to hem them. 29 is as short as men's pants get. With my calculations, my husband has lost 4 inches in height. I keep telling him it's time for him to buy bigger heels......

But we are looking swell and ready to drive to Chicago. We arrive at the apartment at 1:29. 1/2 hour early but they are ready for us.

We then are introduced to the parents. Lovely people. Kind, caring, easy to talk with. There was an instant connection and we chatted the afternoon away. My daughter was being the perfect hostess serving wine to we drinkers and rootbeer to those that didn't indulge. Also had chips and dips. Couldn't have been nicer.

Time to go to Morton's Steakhouse for dinner. This is a very fancy restaurant. You know it is a fancy restaurant as soon as you open the menu and see that every piece of food is priced separately. No free salad or soup thrown in with the main entree. Drink menu was huge and my daughter politely suggested a wine for me. Thanks hon, whatever you say.

Ya know when you go to an amusement park, and they take your photo during the ride and sell it to you at the end of the ride? Same thing at this fancy restaurant. Only the photo is free. I thought that was a nice touch. The waiter, Michael, took our photo and said he would bring back several copies so we could all have a photo. Awwww, sweet Michael.

We ordered our drinks and our meals and we were just talking when Michael arrived back with our copies of the photos. He handed the photos to my daughter and I grabbed one to give to Paul's mother who was across the table. I reached across the table and while doing so, hit my glass of red wine which toppled over onto the WHITE tablecloth, onto my RED shirt and AAAAH, onto my WHITE capris!! Everyone at the table gasped. Die one million deaths. Here. Now.

I could feel the wine dripping off my lap onto the carpet. Michael quickly showed up with club soda and another WHITE napkin. Where did he come from??? But the stain was beyond the club soda "dabbing" period. The wine was now being soaked into my pants onto the skin of my upper left thigh.

Being the trooper mom of the bride that I am, I just waved off my embarrassment and we continued eating. I had lobster tail, my husband had prime rib. It was a meal fit for royalty.

Michael returns with complementary after dinner drinks. My pants are not yet dry so I think SURE, why not have another drink to kill some time. By now I am trying to figure out how I can walk out of this place with wine stained white pants and still hold my head up high.

But after the two glasses of wine, and an after dinner drink, I didn't much care who saw my wine drenched pants. And bless the future in laws as they didn't mention my polka dotted pants either as we exited the restaurant.

Now for some reason, I had packed an extra pair of pants. I have NEVER had a successful night wearing white pants. I seem to always spill or drop or dirty white pants every time I wear them. It just happens. I have learned to always bring a pair of extra BLACK stretch pants with me when I wear white. Thankfully, I had the DRY BLACK pants in the car and as soon as we got back to my daughter's apartment, on they went.

So the evening was a success. My daughter's future inlaws are delightful people who seem to love my daughter as much as my husband and I love their son. We said our goodbyes and my husband and I were back on Interstate 90 with our TomTom showing us the way.

I'm also thinking on the way home that of the 3 MOB dress choices hanging in my closet I am now opting NOT to wear the champagne color dress for the wedding. Too "light" thus too "dangerous." It is now a definite that I am going with the dark brown or dark cranberry color as there be wine drinking involved at the reception. I am also thinking that I should learn to like white wine....

You've got to be kidding!!

I received my hot pink Discover card with a monogram. One problem. The card reads "Patrick L. Windschitl" and has a P monogram on it. What is wrong with this picture????

So I made a call to Discover to ask "Lily" why she didn't put the card in MY name. Apparently Lily doesn't answer every call and I got "Judy."

Judy was quite pleasant as she verbally read off all the reasons to pay $2.00 for signature insurance. I don't think she took a breath!! Finally, she was finished with her speel and asked if there was anything else she could do for me.

"Why yes there is, Judy. I would like to know why when I requested a new card, you sent me a hot pink card with my husband's name on it."

"oh......." Long pause.

So once again, Judy had to talk to the designated owner of the card, my husband, who once again was not pleased to talk to yet another customer service rep. But this time he knew the procedure and just said YES to every question. The man is catching on.

Judy, being the perky pleasant customer service rep, said "I will EXPRESS mail this card to you."

I thanked her for her attention and hung up.

Meanwhile my husband is sporting a hot pink Discover card. For those of you who do not know Patrick, this is SOOOOOOO not him!! I think he dusted off his fingerprints on the card and shoved it in the back of his desk drawer never to be seen again.

No happy dancing today.

Hide and Seek

I have "misplaced" my Discover credit card. I should say "lost" but it has to be around the house somewhere. My Discover card is basically the only credit card I use. I love its rewards program. My husband keeps pushing me to open an American Airline Visa card so we can rack up mileage points. He has an AA Visa card and uses it all the time and has chaulked up some major flier miles. But I don't think I would qualify for an AA Visa gold card. I think you have to HAVE an income. My salary makes minimum wage look good. Plus I love my Discover card.

Only my credit card has been misplaced. Deciding to search for the card before calling the 800 number to request yet ANOTHER replacement card; yes, I've misplaced my Discover numerous times, I go outside to look in my car. Maybe it has fallen out of my snazzy Coach purse which I never zip close. With my butt in the air, I am looking high and low under the bucket seats, in the console, in the glove box. No card.

Next, back inside my house, I search under the sofa cushions. Maybe it slipped between the cushions after I used the card to place an online order on my laptop. No card. Did find my favorite pen tho and a bill I should have paid last month.

Searched the dining room table which holds a month's worth of useless snail mail. I really should go through that pile more carefully and discard what I don't need. Mental note to do that... later.

No card.

One last attempt to find it, under the actual sofa. Lift up the sofa and find many cat toys, a couple of old and now crusty junior mints, the envelope that goes with the bill I never paid, and a size J crochet hook. But alas, no Discover card.

Have to make the dreaded "call." You know, the call you know you have to make, but don't want to. I used to have to make the "Dick call." I had a batchelor gay uncle whom my mother always forced me to call when I went to Minneapolis to visit her. "He loves hearing from you girls," she would say. "It means so much to him." Sometimes I swear my mother is Jewish.

Why is it that when you call for customer service, they always say "We are experiencing a larger than normal call volume, please try our website at......." That's so annoying because you know if you hang on, eventually you will get a rep.

My wait was to be 4 minutes, or so the friendly voice on the other line said. Within 10 seconds, I was talking to Lily. Well, I don't know if her name was Lily, it was some gal with a foreign accent and I didn't understand what she said, so I just called her Lily.

"How may I help you Mrs. Wind......shi.....el....."

"I have misplaced my Discover card, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you lose it or was it stolen?"

"I misplaced it. It's around here somewhere, but I can't find it."

"Would you like me to send another card to you with the same account number?"

"Sure, Lily!"

"Oh, I see you are not the designated owner of this card."

"I'm not? Who is?"

"Patrick Win.......sch...ele...et. You are JUST an authorized user."

"Oh, he's here. Just a minute."

My husband is now glaring at me. He hates customer service reps. He has no clue who is on the phone or what I'm doing. I tell him in 3 seconds that a girl is going to come on the phone and he is just to say YES to whatever she asks.

"Hello," grumbles Pat. "um uh huh, yup......" And shoved the phone back to me.

Without missing a beat I tell Lily to send me a card ASAP. I have a wedding to plan!!
Lily then says to me, "Maybe you should get a different colored card so it won't be so easy to lose." I figure by now she has seen the 15 other times I have called for a replacement card.

"That would be GREAT!! How about a RED or a PINK?"

"We do carry a bright pink color. Would you like your monogram on it?"

Well, hot spit! ABSOLUTELY!!

Lily proceeds to tell me to expect in about a week. I hope I can wait that long..... But I now am an estatic Discover card owner again and I do a happy dance around the room. My husband is back focusing on his computer screen and ignores my dancing. He has mastered the art of focused ignoring.

Today, the next day, I came home from job #1 at noon to quickly grab a sandwich before heading off to job #2. Sitting on my living room sofa to catch a few minutes of People's Court, I feel a scratch on my butt. Through the cushion. Seriously.

Then it dawns on me. I have not seen Stella, my larger than life cat since last night when I was searching the house for my credit card.

I jump off the couch, lift up the couch and out SHOOTS the cat!! It was like a HUGE gray bullet blasting between my legs into the kitchen towards her cat bowl! She must have snuck under the couch last night when I was lifting it to search for the card. There is NO way my fat cat can fit under the couch just by slithering under it.

Poor Stella! Stuck in a dark low ceiling place overnight and my baby is hungry!!

So my cat is excited to be FREE after 15 hours and I'm excited to get my CARD in 5-7 business days!!

If I could catch her, Stella and I could do the happy dance together! It was a good day for the both of us.

Gotta drink!

Why does a woman who is passed her prime, have to see a ob/gyn physician? Because the doctor will find something that will just make you worry about something new.

I have blood in my urine. Not only did I not see red, but I don't even know how that is possible!

My sample showed microscopic blood which prompted my doc to schedule an ultrasound. Ultrasound? Am I pregnant? Maybe that's why I have a round belly!! NO NO NO says the doctor, a renal ultrasound.

Ok. Renal ultrasound. I don't even know what that is!! But I was soon to find out as the test was the next day at 8:15 am. Just enough time to google renal ultrasound and get the skivvy on the exam.

Google said it was a non-evasive imagery of kidneys. I could handle that. I liked the non-evasive.

I was told by the nurse at my doctor's office to make sure I had some liquid in my bladder before I had the test done the next day. "Don't overflow it, just have a little something in it."

She should have defined "a little".

I woke up the next morning after a good night's sleep and went into my bathroom and peed. It's the first thing I do in the morning and old habits are hard to break. As soon as I flushed I thought "CRAP! I need "a little" liquid in my bladder in 30 minutes!!"

So I sipped on a cup of black coffee and got ready for the day. That should be enough liquid, or so I thought.

Got to the exam room and the technician, Lisa, pulled my pants and underwear down and shirt up and there in all its glory was my gutt complete with sunken belly button and all. Lisa squirted some warm goop on my stomach and started rolling the mouse across my stomach. All these images showed up on her machine and she was clicking away with the buttons. I watched the screen and swore I saw 20 black circles on the screen. The tech asked if I ever had kidney stones. I swallowed hard and replied, "No, I don't think so." She chuckled and said, "You would know, they are extremely painful." Oh wonderful. Were kidney stones the black spots I saw on the screen? I envisioned an afternoon of severe pain.

"Roll on your side." She sounded serious.

I rolled on my side. The tech was moving the ultrasound scanner thingy to my back. Are kidneys in your back?

"Your left kidney is hiding on me." What? What? Hiding?

"Oh there it is!"

Thank god. I really wanted two kidneys....

Then the tech says, "I now need to check your bladder. Do you have a full bladder?"

Oh no! Full? What happened to "a little"?

Before I had the chance to ask about "little", the tech says "You have no liquid in your bladder." Well, where did the coffee go? "I will need you to drink something before I can continue."

She took a HUGE styrofoam cup and filled it with water and gave it to me. This had to be a Big Gulp size from Hardee's! I drank it down and she left the room. Only to come back with ANOTHER Big Gulp! You have GOT to be kidding!! My bladder can't hold all this water!

I chugged it down and the tech says "We will just hang out for 15 minutes now....."

How does one get the liquid from your lips to your bladder in 15 minutes? I closed my eyes and pictured the water going through my tubes into the kidneys down to the bladder. Hopeful thinking.

1 minute, 2 minutes, 15 minutes passed and the tech resumed her position.

I don't think she was pleased because she started pushing on my kidney. I think it was my kidney as that is the spot she was just ultrasounding a few minutes ago. Now I know if you push your kidneys, liquid will get into your bladder quicker! It is true, you are never too old to learn.

The tech actually started to yawn. Apparently my body was boring her. I felt offended in some odd way. She pushed a few more times on my kidneys and then something must have happened as she was busy moving the ultrasound thingy around my gutt and clicking on the machine.

She grabbed a towel and wiped my stomach to get rid of the ultrasound goop and declared me "finished."

I asked if she saw anything suspicious. She answered, "Your tests look almost exactly like the one done last year."

I had this test done before? Just last year? Why don't I remember this? And why do I have this urgent sensation that I have to pee?

It's annoying and somewhat exasberating to grow old and lose your short term memory. I had this ultrasound experience last year and I truly do not remember going through it. Obviously I must have had a full bladder back then as I think I would have remembered if I had to suck down two Big Gulps full of water in 30 seconds.

Today I got the phone call from the doctor's office that my ultrasound results came back. I was ready to hear "you have 20 kidney stones." I was prepared. Bring it on. But the nurse said, "Everything looked normal. You are good to go for another year."

My thoughts are if you have two tests done back to back years and the results are negative, you don't need a third strike to know you are out. I think I will accept my two ultrasounds as an indication that my bladder and both my kidneys are just fine.

And I don't plan on ordering a Big Gulp from Hardee's any time soon.

Safari hot

It's Iowa. In summer. For those that live in Iowa, you know of what I speak. Those of you in Arizona or Texas, where you have a "dry" heat, you don't know what hot is. But this is the weather you dream about in mid-January if you live in the snowbelt.

Iowa is the queen of humidity. MN is a close second, but I think Iowa reigns supreme.

It has been 90 degrees on the temperature gauge and 90 percent humidity on the wetness gauge. I have my own humidity index. When it gets overly humid, my natural wavy hair gets O U T T A C O N T R O L. I'm talking about a white woman's afro, sister. Forget the comb, find the hot blue hair pick you bought in 1972. Thankfully you are a pack rat and never throw anything "useful" away.

Sporting a pair of jersey short/shorts and a tshirt I would never wear in public, I am ready to tackle today and the heat.

My job today is to print magnets for a local art store. I turn on the printer and the press. The press is a huge heat press that I have to heat openly to 200 degrees. The press makes a lot of clinking noises as it heats up. It sounds like my late father when he used to make a sucking noise with the side of his mouth. Loud, obnoxious, and for no purpose.

I print out the magnet images and ready to press to the metal magnets. I step in the room with the heat press and realize that the press is sucking all the cool air out of the room and this room is literally smokin' hot!! I could feel my bangs begin to curl. I pressed the magnets and they turned out remarkable! Turn off the heat press and close the room door hoping the heat will stay confined in that one room.

Time to run some errands, so I hop in my jo-mobile aka Toyta and head for Borders. The third in the series of Lizabeth Salander books is out and I am so hooked on this series that I must have the last novel hot off the shelf. I have the windows down and the wind is moving through the car yet it is IOWA SAFARI HOT so I turn on the a.c. Yes, with the windows down. My husband would kill me. But I'm hot and it's just a short trip to the mall.

I get into Borders and realize that I am still dressed in my Daisy Dukes and wife beater shirt. Swell. And now my whole head of hair is curled and wind blown. A complete and utter fashionista, am I.

And I can't find the book I want. I am slithering through the book racks making sure I don't see anybody I know yet trying to find my book, my treasure, my prize.

Honestly, where the hell is this book??? I know it's out as I had the release date circled on my internal calendar.

Ever notice on hot HOT days, the mall is packed? The summer heat gets Iowa sofa sitters to the mall where they sit in the mall sofas basking in the cool air conditioning.

I walk literally every aisle in Borders and still cannot find my book. It is time. I must ask for help. Gulp.

There is the cute skinny girl who must be on college summer break wandering around asking people if they need help. I don't need help from HER. Another employee is a overweight man that is sweating profusely just by walking. Don't need help from HIM either. There. I see her. The elderly woman that reeks LIBRARIAN. I practically mow her down.

"I need help."

"What can I do for you?"

"I am trying to find the new book out on Lizabeth Salander."

"Oh, that's up in the front of the store."

Oh gawd. In the FRONT of the store? Where everyone congregates and chats with other mall shoppers? That in the front of the store?

"Follow me."

I try to glue myself to her behind. She's a little hunched over and moves like a turtle. It had to have taken 10 minutes to walk 50 feet. I follow her closely and keep my gaze down. Must not make eye contact. I am invisible.

"Here is the display of the book you want."

"Thank you..." Now go away.

She instead stands there and proceeds to hold out a book to me and tells me how she too has read all the previous books in the series and blah blah blah. Is her voice getting louder as she gets excited about telling me about the series?? No need to sell me, lady, I am already sold.

People actually start to gather round her.

GIVE ME THE FRICKING BOOK!!

I smile and grab the book out of her hand and return to my aisle hopping to get to the check out. I look at the line at the register and it's 10 deep. Where did these people come from? Go home readers.

Mustering up the courage I stand in line with my short shorts and clinging tshirt with my bra straps showing to buy the book.

This book had better be worth it. I am engulfed in staring at the book in my hand. Make no eye contact.

The check out guy is a yakker. Proceeds to ask me about other books he is promoting. "Have you read......" YES, I HAVE READ EVERY STINKING BOOK AT BORDERS. Just check me out...

Finally got my 40% discount and off I slither to my jo-mobile. Still have the air on with the windows wide open.

Get home and become a sofa sitter. The overhead fan is whirling and ready for take off and the box fan of 20 years is humming.

Yup, it's hot in Iowa. But I have a diet coke in hand and ready to start reading.

Ever notice it's not as hot if you sit perfectly still.

Maybe tomorrow I'll turn on the house a.c. ;-)