Happy Mother’s Day to the woman who taught me how to wear a headband and bangs like a champ, how to make super sweet sock puppets, and that working hard will always pay off — sometimes even with a blue ribbon.
Simply put, I am so grateful for my kind, loving, funny and beautiful mom.
It’s somewhere between Lexington, Kentucky, and Savannah, Georgia, by way of Shenzhen, China; Chek Lap Kok, Hong Kong; and Anchorage, Alaska.
Tomorrow I will become the proud owner of a brand spankin’ new iPad, which I have been stalking on UPS.com since I placed my Apple order.
I’ve been collecting gift cards for the iPad since my birthday last November, and I grew my collection (and savings) through additional Christmas gifts. In the end, I had quite a stash.
When Apple announced the iPad to the media through one of its brilliant marketing schemes, my coworkers began teasing me about whether it was time to finally thaw out my gift cards. My officemates, Travis and Darren, each own an iPad: version I and version II, respectively. They have kindly and consistently listened to me whine as months went by without a new iPad release. I was determined to purchase an iPad right after a new version came out, so during the interim winter months my prepaid plastic was snugly situated between a rump roast from the Swanson family farm and a bag of green beans my kitchen freezer.
My friend Matt was in town a couple weeks ago, and we deliberated the merits of the iPad during dinner. He argued that a Macbook Air would be equally functional and portable, but in the end the iPad won out because – frankly – it fits in my purse.
And now my future iPad is an Internet sensation! Okay, that’s not true, but my cousin-in-law, Mike, runs his own technology consulting business and mentioned it on his blog. His post titled The New iPad offers advice for potential buyers, and he used me as an example for an entire demographic.
What size should I get? Apple offers the iPad in three sizes 16GB, 32GB, and 64GB. To answer this question I am going to describe three different types of people.
…
My wife’s cousin Laura
Laura is in her mid 20s and will heavily use her iPad. She will do a little bit of everything and she travels back and forth from Georgia to Minnesota to visit family. She would benefit from some additional space but she’s on a bit of a budget so the best iPad for her would be the 32GB.
He’s so kind to include me in his post.
No, really. This is the company bio: “Mike Pahl is a nice guy that is enthusiastic about technology, based in the Twin Cities.”
David chose to point out that his gifts contributed to .222222222222222222222… of the purchase price of my iPad. Apparently some people in this world enjoy doing math and using the phrase “point two repeating.” Hmmm…
Anyway, I can’t wait to start blogging — hopefully more consistently — on my new tablet.
theeconomist:
For many ordinary citizens, dual passports seem dodgy: a convenience for the cosmopolitan few or a sop to the menacing many, rather than a natural feature of a migratory world. But multiple citizenship is on the rise, even if some states continue to deter it.
Have I ever told you about my Peruvian sister?
She exists.
Okay, it’s just Cora, but apparently she has become Peruvian since marrying Harold.
I think Harold used to be Peruvian and Bolivian, and he might still be Peruvian and Bolivian, or he might be Peruvian, or he might be Bolivian.
Cora can be Peruvian in spirit and in legality but never Bolivian.
When Harold becomes a U.S. citizen he will most certainly not be Bolivian anymore.
(I repeat: I think.)
Goodness, I don’t know why some states are deterring multiple citizenship. This situation is so simple!
Also, since Peru seems to be a constant here, we should take a family vacation to Machu Picchu. I’ll start saving my pennies.
(via npr)
Today I had the opportunity to speak with my friend, Arthur, who is in the midst of his first trip to Madison, Wisconsin, to visit one of our fellow Ithaca College friends. He insists on referring to the state as “Wisgansin” to poke fun of the native accent, but admitted that it’s pretty cool…meaning both chilly and awesome (naturally). This is ultimate praise coming from a New Jerseyan.
We ended up talking about work, jobs and the future because he’s about to take a new position, and I thought you all might enjoy an excerpt:
Arthur: Shucks that you love Minnesota so much.
You and David could go find jobs in Europe or something.
Me: Ehhhh that’s not my thing.
Travel, of course. But I want to live near family.
Especially since my family is pretty darn awesome!
Arthur: Haha, yeah I got as much.
You should all relocate when they retire.
Me: Retire? Farmers never retire.
Obviously you haven’t been in the Midwest long enough.
My grandfather “retired” and moved to town when I was in the single digits of my youth, but he continued help with odd jobs on the farm for many, many years.
I also used to love when two “retired” farmers would come into Scofield’s pharmacy at the same time and talk with urgency about grain prices, the weather, how much beef calves were selling for, and the rising price of equipment even though none of these factors actually had an impact on their everyday lives anymore. It was a matter of principle to stay informed.
My mom hauls my dad’s old Progressive Farmer, Farm and Ranch, and Farm Journal magazines with her to work because the “retired” farmers who live in the nursing home enjoy reading them.
I feel like I’ve made my point here. Saying a farmer “retires” is just like saying someone stops being a parent simply because their child grows up. It’s not gonna happen, people.
Once upon a time, I sent a package to a land far, far away.
And then today, it came back.
——————————————————————————————————————
Last month, in preparation for Cora’s birthday, I bought a gift, a card, and a mailing envelope for said gift and card. I assembled the package with enough time for it to reach its destination before her actual birthday, which is quite the exercise in forethought, fore-shopping and fore-mailing.
All I needed was her address in Colorado.
My initial instinct was to call my mom because she undoubtedly has tabs on her child’s current location, but worried she wouldn’t be home to look for the address in the mound of “important notes” she keeps piled near the kitchen telephone.
Instead, I opted to text Harold because I figured he would surely have the address with him. You know, IN HIS MIND, because that’s where he LIVES.
He texted back quickly, and I jotted the address on the package, ran to the post office on my lunch break, and came back to my office so triumphant that I told my coworkers about the miraculous nature of having the gift scheduled to arrive a day early.
Now, fast forward a week or so.
September 20 — the big day — arrives, and I wish Cora a brief “happy birthday” over IM because, after all, she’s supposed to have already received my nifty card and gift.
On September 21 I realize that Cora never said anything about her gift. Odd.
Time passes……….
And more time passes……..
And even more time passes………..
And finally so much time passes that Cora and I try to search out a logical explanation for why the package was never delivered.
Now’s the time for you to glance up at the photo I posted of my returned gift. This is my warning to all the world: brother-in-laws are not to be trusted!!!
(Just kidding. Oh, and Harold, when are we going to finish my blog redesign? I think you have a debt to repay….)
Tonight it was me versus the garbage disposal and that grumbly hunk of machinery was no match for my might.
The garbage disposal died yesterday and my first thought was something like, “Ruh roh…don’t want to tell the sister about this one.”
My second thought was to call one of the Davids. David Option A is my beau who I’ve seen work on a leaky sink and who tore apart a clogged disposal within the past few months. David Option B actually lives in Savannah and is our unofficial home maintenance adviser in addition to being our official realtor.
Instead of these initial choices, I decided to call Mr. Old Faithful himself. The one, the only: Robert Swanson.
I introduced my dilemma in serious manner, much the same way an Italian mob boss would act cool and collected all the while knowing that he was about to get down to some real dirty business.
“I’m calling because I need to know…what you know…about garbage disposals.”
With that, my dad started rattling off descriptions about what I should examine on the disposal itself and possible reasons for the malfunction. “Ya gotta get down there and look,” he said.
Why yes, let me crawl under the sink in my fancy work dress. That’ll be dandy.
But sure enough, after I completed his instructions below the sink and then shoved my hand down the food-encrusted drain on the top side, my disposal was back in working order.
My dad was a plumber’s assistant about 30 years ago, but as far as I’m concerned it could have been yesterday. In addition to feeling victorious, it will be nice to fall asleep with a sense of accomplishment from the evening. That is, after I scrub my hands for the fourth time.
I took the first real vacation of my adult “working girl” life from July 1-10. I anxiously awaited the opportunity to fly up to Minnesota and replicate the summer break I took for granted each year I was in school. The trip was a perfect opportunity for me to recharge, cool off and reconnect with friends and family. The vacation was packed with events, but I found myself nixing some of the activity ideas I had brainstormed before the trip. I needed some downtime to unwind so the drive-in movie, for example, will have to wait until next summer.
Some of the activities that kept me hustling and bustling were:
- A shopping day with mom
- Overly-indulgent meals and refreshing drinks
- Relaxing by the lake
- Hiking the Mississippi River valley
- A stop at the local winery
- Cruising in the dune buggy and VW Beetle
- Biking on the local trail
- An outdoor concert
- A motorcycle ride
- Pampering pedicures
- Traditional fireworks at the Cannon Valley Fair
- Parades with tractors, trucks and trailers galore
- Family dinners, brunches, picnics and barbecues
- A classic car show
- A stroll and dinner in St. Anthony Main
- A refreshing trip to the swimming pool
- Catching up with old friends
And now to compare with what I’ve done since returning to Savannah:
- Arrive home from the airport at nearly 2 a.m. (It’s impossible for me to go through an entire trip with no flight delays, cancellations or lost baggage, I swear!)
- Work
- Unpack
- Laundry
- Pay bills
- Take out the trash
- Dishes
- Grocery shopping
Why is it that necessary daily tasks seem so much more mundane and disheartening after a trip?
Oh. I suppose it’s because the chores affirm that old saying: “The vacation is over.”
Somehow I missed seeing this on Facebook a few days ago, but it’s a real gem. Two words you can never say around my mother are “I’m bored.” Apparently, you also cannot digitally say “bored” around her.
My mom is always trying to make Cora and me learn, grow and become better people. Sheesh. I bet this is why we were never allowed to play video games.
Happy Father’s Day!
It’s obvious by this photo that my Dad’s affinity for flannel shirts and Cora’s knack for accessorizing outfits will never and have never changed. Thankfully I’m a living example that some things do evolve because I grew out of an unsightly alien/bug baby phase.
My Dad is quite the fellow and has many other trademarks, a few including amazing hamburgers, the perfect margarita, hilarious “steers on the run” stories, attracting perfect strangers for long conversations with magnetic force, and calming the three excitable women in his life.
Thanks for all that you do, Dad. Someday I’ll figure out how to do my taxes, responsibly own a car and make a perfect omelet without you, but I can’t promise that it will be any day soon.
