February 20, 2009

People Let Me Tell You ‘Bout My Best Friend

My BFF Amanda turned 30 on February 16th, the same day I got the fabulous news I was pregnant.  Before I could say the words, Miss Manda knew.  She looked at my stomach and with a huge smile on her face, she shouted, “Yay!”

Amanda was my first visitor in the hospital when I gave birth to Dawson.  At that time in 2004 she was living in Texas and managed to drive home for a visit during the same week I was admitted to the hospital for induction.

Amanda and I have known each other since the eighth grade.  Her mom, also named Dana, became fast friends with my parents and they were part of the same social circles.

Amanda and I have never had a fight.  Not once.  We both hung out with different groups of friends when we were in high school, but we always managed to pick up our friendship wherever it left off.  After graduation, Amanda moved to Texas to go to school (her mother’s family is from Texarkana, Arkansas, and her father’s family is from Wisconsin) and I stayed in Stevens Point to attend college.

Whenever Amanda came home to visit we made time to hang out and catch up.  On my 21st birthday, I went to Longview, Texas to visit her.

Miss Manda (a nickname given to her because she’s from the south and still has her southern drawl) is the kindest person I could ever want as a friend.  She’s always got a smile on her face and she loves to have fun.  Whenever we get together it’s inevitable that I end up sounding like Scarlett O’Hara.  Her “accent” is contagious.

We celebrated Amanda’s big 3-0 by having dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, El Mezcal, with a few other friends.  I only stayed for dinner (too tired from the day’s excitement) but told Miss Manda to have a drink or two for me.  Of course she obliged (and promptly ordered a shot of Tequila).

Happy Birthday, girl!  Here’s to being 30!  I’m right behind you, dahlink!

June 19, 2008

We’re Going to Miss You, Mr. Jones

“Dick Jones, Stevens Point…”

That’s what he said whenever he introduced himself to anyone. Whether it was a friend of many years or a stranger passing on the street, Mr. Jones as I called him, would stop and smile, shake hands and introduce himself.

“Hey there. Dick Jones, Stevens Point…and you?” he’d say, arm extended for that handshake.

He worked at the high school, as a Special Education aid. He always had a smile on his face. He never failed to make his friends laugh, whether it be from a good joke or a playful ape about politics. He loved Irish music, but I think he secretly liked Polkas, even if he never admitted it.

He could talk bullshit with the best of them, and never got angry if you didn’t agree with an opinion. He was just one of those guys who could put a smile on your face with his quirky mannerisms, delightful grin and glimmer in his eye.

Oh how I cried when my father broke the news.

“He had a living will, the team from Madison is coming up for his viable organs, they will be taking him off life support because his chance of recovery is less than 1%.”

I can’t believe I’ll never see Dick again. He was like an uncle to me. I never imagined that when I saw him at the Moose Lodge in April that it would be the last time I’d speak to him.

Memories of our trip to Pulaski Polka Days, just about a year ago, are flooding back. How happy he was just to spend time with his buddy, Frank, my dad. They laughed and joked. They faux fought about politics, Dick being a Democrat and my father a Republican. They discussed the latest happenings at the Moose Lodge and talked about sports and the weather. My eyes weep at the recollection. It’s so heartbreaking.

And then I think of Steve, Dick’s son. I cannot imagine the pain and agony the family is going through. Dear God, please watch over them and be there for them in this time of grief.

How fleeting is this life! It often feels like an eternity, that we have many, many years to live before we grow old — but then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, a life has passed.

This feeling that life is short, it knocks me off my feet, it takes my breath away. One day our hearts are pumping away. Our lungs fill and empty of air. Our minds recall every memory we have created. And then suddenly, quickly, it all vanishes to the great unknown. Even if some of us are blessed to live a century, our lives seem to end too soon.

I find myself wondering what happens after we die. I wonder if Mr. Jones can see us, from wherever he is? Can he feel our hearts breaking? Does he know how much we adored him?

Heavenly Father, I hope so.

Mr. Jones, wherever you are, please know that we will never forget you and we will miss you so very much.

June 13, 2006

Weekend Fun & Miscellaneous, Boring Things

So, lots of stuff has happened this past weekend. Here’s a brief list:

• Dawson spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s house on Saturday, I attended a party at the neighbor’s and woke up with a hang over on Sunday.
• Dawson said is first sentence!! “Mumma, dis a bow!” Which translates to “Mom, this is a bowl!”
• I cleaned the entire house yesterday and managed to not forget to take the laundry off the clothes line.
• Sunday I spent the day with Doug and Dawson just laying around the yard, watching grass grow. It was kind of nice.
• While at Grandma’s on Saturday afternoon, we saw a snake and two baby raccoons by the river. Dawson thought the raccoons were puppies. Good thing I didn’t let him get too close.
• I took many pictures. You can see them at my flickr site.

Okay so, yeah….that’s about it! Happy Tuesday!

May 28, 2006

Our Engagement

Six years ago, on May 26, 2000, my husband proposed to me. I remember the night as if it were yesterday.

We had gone to dinner at our favorite restaurant, Water Street Grille. We loved that place. We knew the owner Craig very well. He always seated us at our “regular” table and if it was in use, he’d buy us a drink at the bar until it was ready. When we sat down to order, our waitress, Karen asked if I was going to have “the usual”. This was the Baby Back Ribs with garlic mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and the starter salad with ranch dressing. I nodded and she looked over at Doug. He ordered the blackened ribeye. We had a wonderful dinner. We talked about the weather, about my volleyball team that played on Wednesday nights at Zenoff park and we discussed going to Lake DuBay for Memorial Day as Doug’s friends were camping up there for the weekend.

After dinner we went back to my father’s tavern to have a few drinks and see other friends of ours. Deb was bartending and I sat on the corner of the L-shaped bar and talked to her, while Doug participated in a game of darts with three other patrons, Rusty, Tom & Jimmy.

As we were all mingling, Doug sat down by me for a moment and his pal Rusty said, “So, Doug when are you gonna get married?” Doug looked at him and sarcastically said, “I’m never EVER getting married. What for?” He always joked about the topic and that night I’d had enough of it. I looked at Doug and said, “We’ve been dating for two years! Seriously, if we don’t get married, we should just break up now!” He didn’t flinch, he didn’t crack a smile. He just got up and walked to the dart board for his turn.

This frustrated me and I felt like a complete idiot. I got up, grabbed my purse and walked out. I only lived two doors away and decided to go home. Doug followed me out and said, “What the heck is your problem? I was only kidding!!” I didn’t believe him. “You didn’t sound like you were kidding…” I said. “You sounded pretty darn serious to me.”

He begged me to calm down and to come for a walk with him. At first I refused. I was really mad. He convinced me to “just come on, let’s walk to the park.” I agreed.

Pfiffner park was about four blocks from the bar. As we walked, I began to tear up. Millions of thoughts ran through my head. He doesn’t want to marry me. I’m not good enough for him. He’s got someone else. What a waste of two years. I really love him. This went on for what seemed like forever. He tried to hold my hand but I pulled away.

“How was your dinner?” Doug asked.

“Fine.” I said hotly.

“Dana, you know I love you.” he said, as he grabbed my hand again.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” I retorted.

We got to the park. It was dark, about 9 p.m. and I sat down at a picnic table. Doug sat next to me and I looked away from him.

“Look at me…” he said. “I love you.”

I didn’t move. Suddenly he knelt down before me. I panicked. He’s gonna propose now? I thought. That son-of-a-bitch. He cant’ do it NOW.

“Dana, you’re the only girl I’ve truly loved and I do want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he said.

I started crying. I felt him grabbing my right hand. “What are you doing?” I shrieked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just want to hold your hands.”

He took my right hand in his and leaned forward to kiss me. Suddenly, he slipped something on to my left hand that was on my lap. I panicked. I freaked out. I was still mad at him. I was still MAD at him for being such a jackass earlier.

“Either that’s a piece of tin on my finger or your in BIG trouble.” I said.

“Dana, will you marry me?” he asked. Silence, followed by crying on my part. I just sat there crying.

“I can’t believe you just pissed me off and then proposed to me? What am I going to tell my grandchildren?” I cried.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked. I nodded. But it was dark and he couldn’t see it.

“I’m nodding.” I said.

We hugged and kissed and walked back to the bar. He told me along the way that his plan was to ask me at Lake DuBay on Monday, but he didn’t want me to wise to his idea, so he thought that making the joke about not getting married would throw me off. But he realized he couldn’t wait that long and decided to ask me that moment in the park.

Pretty crazy story, huh? I still can’t believe he made me MAD first. How nuts! This is why we’re perfect for each other. We’re both a little goofy.