Prairie Pa Siezes the Moment!

Welcome back, guest blogger - Prairie Pa!  Today he reminds us all to seize the moment and enjoy the people around us.  Hmmmm.  Maybe I will give Prairie Sherry a quick call!  Read the blog and then call someone you love.  Prairie Eydie

Carpe Diem

This is me as a young boy in Peshtigo, Wisconsin.  (Love the hat, Prairie Pa!  Even then he knew how to seize the day.  Prairie Eydie)
 

My friend Matt died a year ago. I knew Matt for 43 years. He was a man of insight and flawless character. He’s gone. My father is gone.  Uncle Roy, Aunt Hazel and Uncle Gordy are gone. My Mother-in-Law, Edith, is gone.



It is smooth sailing for me and my mother, Dorothy.

My window of opportunity to enjoy them is closed. I wish I had spent more time with them. I was busy . . .  I guess? I had an illusion that life would go on and on, forever, with plenty of time.


But as my father, Red Gremmer, once said, “That is water over the dam.” I cannot bring them back. BUT.  I still have a mother, a wife, siblings, children, and grandchildren. I have friends to enjoy, flowers to plant, and places to see. I must take advantage of this—now.

This is my resolution: I am going to seize the moment. It is so important to live in the moment and to make the most of our windows of opportunity. I am 75 years old and my window is closing. This saying is old, but not worn out: “No person on their deathbed wishes they had spent more time watching television.”

Can you identify which one I am?

I am going to seize the moment with my loved ones. I will do it proactively and be intentional in planning. I am going to block out time well in advance for these moments. I will take risks (at least risky for a guy my age).

I am going love my wife. I am going to seize the moment with my granddaughter Molly who tells me: “I love you so much grandpa.” I am going to seize the moment and play silly board games with my grandsons Lenny and Gus (up to the moment just before I go insane).  I am going to take granddaughter Lulu to the park and watch her do things on play equipment that no other four-year old in the world can do. I am going to go camping (I may actually back out on this) with my son Pete and the grandkids. I am going to invite friends to dinner.  I am going to make everyone, including The True Green Lawn Service people who come to my front door on a weekly basis, welcome.

I am going to be friendly to those who reach out to me and who seem to like me. I know who they are—those people who call me up, invite me over, and talk to me.



A proud moment at Prairie Eydie's college graduation. 

I want my grandkids to be like Jane. Several years ago, in a Sunday school class, Jane was sharing about her grandfather and she started to cry. I thought "Wow! she really loved her grandfather." If my kids, grandkids, or friends could rustle up a tear when I am gone it would be great. I can make this happen if I seize the moment.

Prairie (The Rocket) Pa

Prairie Grl SNAPS (Part 2)

Part 1 of "Prairie Grl SNAPS" left me in an Acupuncture Health Clinic drinking beneficial tea and learning about ear acupuncture. 

I was anxious to meet my acupuncturist and had a preconceived image in my mind.  She did not disappoint and came complete with an asymmetrical haircut, cowgirl boots, orange sundress, and an earnest demeanor.  I liked her and willingly participated in an extensive health history questionnaire.

Gweneth's back after cupping.  Not too bad, right?

My acupuncturist told me that one of the first things she recommended for patients with sinus problems was "cupping."  I pretended to know all about it.  Truthfully, the only thing I knew about cupping was that Gweneth Paltrow had it done.  Photos of her bruised back, post-cupping, wallpapered tabloids for a week or so.  I readily agreed to cupping because Gweneth is very health conscience, so it must be alright.  Here is evidence why we should think independent of celebrities:

My back after cupping.   My traumatized son said it looked like I had angry, red angel wings.  

Cupping is an ancient Asian therapy where heated cups are placed onto the skin, creating suction that improves blood flow.  Can I add that the cups are heated with FIRE which is blazing above you while you are sitting there like a little lamb. But, I have to admit that my sinus pressure was gone 8 seconds into the cupping procedure.  The same pressure that had weighed me down for nine months. 

It's complicated.

Then needles were  gently tapped in all over my body.  Ears.  Nose (like I had little needle whiskers).  Legs.  Arms.  Feet.  You then lay in a darkened room listening to Peruvian music for about 40 to 50 minutes.  I really enjoyed that part.

The acupuncture treatment left me feeling heavy, yet floaty. Grounded, yet flighty. I decided the perfect thing to do  was go to Home Depot to buy mulch.   Feeling cloudy, I walked into a grass seed display before I ran into a co-worker.  The poor thing had to listen to me babble on about acupuncture and cupping.  Her comment after being subjected to looking at my back was, "How medieval of you."    

It is too soon to know if acupuncture works for me.  But, I will be heading back for more murky tea and needles.  (I am going to politely decline any more cupping procedures. Hopefully the benefits I received will be long lived.  I don't want to be known at the community pool as the-mom-with-disgusting-back.)  

If you see me lurching around the co-op, with needles in my ears, shopping for gluten-free muffin tops, make sure to say "Hi."

Prairie Eydie

     


     

Prairie Grl SNAPS (Part 1)

After nine months of countless rounds of gut stripping antibiotics,  sporadic courses of steroids (The lose-your-mind-kinda steroids.  NOTE:  texts should be ignored from people who are on a "Steroid Blast."  On second thought, don't ignore the texts, respond to them in a calm, reassuring way and then delete.), and a sinus surgery - I have put on my walking shoes and left Western medicine behind in search of relief in Eastern medicine.   

Let me back peddle for those not blessed to be in my sinus hell loop.  To celebrate the beginning of the 2013 school year I got my first sinus infection. Since that went so well, I carried on having infection after infection.  I trick-or-treated with an infection.  I carved the organic turkey with an infection.  I trimmed the Christmas tree with an infection. 

In March I decided to have sinus surgery.  I never got a second opinion or considered surgery alternatives.  I had collected many sinus surgery success stories from people who-knew-someone-who-was-related-to-someone-who-had-the-surgery.  From what I could gather, these unknown people never had another sinus infection!  (Actually, our beloved Prairie  Sherry had sinus surgery several years ago.  Sharon forgot  to mention that she lost her sense of smell for FIVE years after her surgery. Luckily a trip to the Southwest returned her sense of smell.)   

I greedily snatched the first sinus surgery opening, after viewing a horrifying MRI of my clogged sinuses.  The recovery from surgery was monstrous, though I became quite skilled in taping gauze pads under my nose to catch "run-off."  A loop in my brain kept repeating, "This is all going to be worth it.  This is all going to be worth it."  Three weeks after surgery I had another infection, followed by another, followed by yet another.  

During the onset of infection #3, something inside me snapped.  I was NOT returning to Walgreen's to pick up another round of antibiotics and steroids. This sad routine hadn't worked for months, so why would it work now?  I am sure you've heard this quote from Einstein:

5 days later, I found myself at an Acupuncture Health Center.  I poured myself mug of yucky tasting, highly beneficial herbal tea to drink while I waited for my acupuncturist.  Sitting next to me was woman whose ears were neatly lined with needles.  All of a sudden, she popped up.  She had remember she needed red quinoa at the co-op, so out she went with her needles in her ears to do some shopping.  The receptionist whispered, "People do that all the time.  Leave in the middle of a tune-up to get some shopping done." 
  

Tune in Wednesday for "Prairie Grl SNAPS - Part 2."  Find out why cupping doesn't mix with  strapless sundresses and why shopping at Home Depot after acupuncture isn't a good idea. 

To be continued . . . 

7 Things I Know For Sure About Prairie Pa

Prairie Grl and Prairie Pa set aside gardening disputes for an idealic Father's Day photo.  June, 2013

My father, affectionately known to our readers as "Prairie Pa", is an avid gardener.  In honor of Father's Day I have composed a list of 7 things I know for sure about him, as a gardener. 

7. Dad sometimes has too much time on his hands and is prone to bouts of "snarkiness."  Recently he sent me an email, written from the point of a view of a Bleeding Heart plant I generously shared with with him.  Here is his obnoxious email in it entirety:

Thank you loving gardener, Timmy, for rescuing me from my Evil Step Gardener, Edith. My Evil Step Gardener viciously dug me out of the ground, cutting off many of my appendages and tossing me into a cardboard box. I was purposely left in the sun for two weeks without water even though I was selfless in producing beautiful, red bleeding hearts year after year.  

When you rescued me, I was near death, with only two leaves. I had said my final prayers and was ready to go to that great green house in the sky. But you took me to your home, planted me in just the right location, fertilized me, and stayed up all night caring for my every need. It took several years for me to recover, but thanks to you, loving gardener, I am now a record size bleeding heart, the envy of all the neighborhood.  


And to my Evil Step Gardener, all I can say is eat your (bleeding) heart out. 

6.  Dad has the best attitude about gardening.  He will give all plants a shot (except "boring" ornamental grass).  If a container of plants isn't doing well in the front of the house, he will cart it to a different location on his estate.

5.  Prairie Pa does not like Prairie Ma to clutter up his flower gardens with whimsical decor.  He WILL put up a fight to defend his territory.  

4.  Dad makes awesome vanilla lattes, but would not make a good barista at Starbucks.  It takes him 30 minutes to make three lattes and then he closed up shop so I can get back to his garden.

3.  Prairie Pa is NOT humble about his garden.  In fact I would go as far to say that he is a dreaded "Garden Gloater."

2.  Dad is very opinionated.  Here are some of his opinions:

• Irises are a waste of space.
• Miracle-Gro should be bought in bulk.
• You can never buy too many impatiens.
• Never get sentimental about trees, especially if they are blocking rays from sun loving flowers.

1.  Wave petunias or hostas.  Soil or compost.  Miracle-Gro or coffee grounds. Prairie Pa remains the absolute best dad for this Prairie Grl.  

Happy Father's Day to all the "A+" dads out there!

Lets take a moment, here at the Prairie Grlz blog, to remember one of our favorite founding fathers:  Charles "Pa" Ingalls.

NOTE:  Prairie Pa is one of our favorite guest bloggers.  If you haven't already, check out his past blogs in the Prairie Grlz archives!

• Prairie Pa Goes Prehistoric (1-14-14)
• Prairie Pa on Nick Names (10-21-13)
• Prairie Pa Weighs In On Public Officials (9-25-14)
• Prairie Grl vs. Prairie Dad (8-28-13)

Prairie Eydie Writes A Fan Letter

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I am 17 days into the 30 Day Challenge.  I wrote to my doctor, nurse, and college roommate.  I sent a card of gratitude to the long suffering substitute who endured my squirrely students while I recovered from sinus surgery.  Sprinkled in the mix are thank you, birthday, and thinking of you cards.  Everyone I wrote to are people I know AND love.  Now I am ready to branch out and write some letters to people I don't know. 

Dear Sharon, I find that rotating the crops is very important . . .

I am going to write some fan letters. I talked this over with Prairie Sherry because part of the challenge is writing to people you normally wouldn't write to.  (Spoiler alert!!!  Prairie Sherry is going to write to Michelle Obama.  Knowing Sharon, she'll be asking for some organic gardening tips.  Sharon already has guns Michelle would die for.)

Is that my letter from Eydie?  I've been waiting 32 years for this!

I decided to start out by writing to Bruce Springsteen.  I have been a fan since Jr. High.  His photo hangs over my desk at work.  I listen to him when I cook dinner and on road trips to Costco.  (I am having a hard time getting rid of XM radio because of E Street Radio.)  My daughter, Lulu, cried when she found out "Brucie" wasn't coming to her birthday party.  

Prairie Eydie is determined to make Hummels cool

Now I am wishing that I chose someone easier to write to.  Someone like Oprah's best friend, Gayle. 

First dilemma.  What am I going to write this fan letter on?  Definitely not my on my Hello Kitty thank you cards OR on the homemade Hummel-reading-a-paper-on-a-toilet card.  The love postcards are all wrong as well.  (Actually the love postcards aren't really appropriate for anyone.)

BRUCE!  You are the cat's meow.

Second Dilemma.  What am I going to write?  I am don't want to be totally lame.  Like.  "I listened to "Born to Run" whenever I am going through a tough time."  OR  "I dance with my kids to "Dream Baby Dream" and it is my favorite song on your new album."  OR  "I know you were singing "No Surrender" to me at Alpine Valley back in 1986.  Do you remember?"

Prairie Friends.  I don't ask for much.  But I am asking for help with this fan letter.  I just want my form letter and glossy photo.   

Shake out your hand and keep writing those cards/letters!

Prairie Eydie

She's Baaaaaaaaaack!

So, where in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks has Prairie Sherry been hiding these past months?  I suspect some of you think I may have ended up in extended rehab after the wrist break and the heavy reliance on mind-altering and pain-numbing drugs. It is true that I spent a good part of January carrying on conversations with myself and wandering about the house trying not to bump into furniture.

Weep, Michelle Obama.

Truth is, the wrist is healing very nicely.  I'm not doing push-ups or bench pressing yet, but since these have never been a part of my health maintenance, I am not terribly concerned. Let me tell you what I have been doing.

Oops, no women in this pic.

Besides the teaching gig, I went back to my high school roots, and I am working at a new supermarket that moved into my side of Madison. Despite the fact that I am now working about 65 hours a week, I am enjoying the new challenge.  One of my favorite parts of the job is that I get to wear starched shirts, tailored black pants, and dress shoes. I have always been a sucker for a uniform. I do find it amusing that as a teacher I am required to wear a shapeless man's t-shirt with a cartoonish school logo and blue jeans every Thursday to boost student morale. Whose morale was ever boosted by tacky?

"Hey kids, let's learn about
literary devices

My job is customer service.  Yes, I am the one who gives you a refund when you go home to discover that you already have three containers of salt squirreled away in your pantry.  I give you your rain check when we run out of the $1.28 strawberries.  I sell you your book of stamps so you can complete Prairie Eydie's 30-day-card-writing challenge.  I can also satisfy your gambling addiction with Lotto tickets, rent you a Rug Doctor, send out your dry cleaning, create your money order, connect you to the bakery, cash your paycheck, hold your groceries while you run home for your debit card, and call AAA when you lock your keys and cell in the car. I like to think of it as professional problem solving. 

This week is my spring break at school, so I am "relaxing" at home. My challenge is to get the kitchen thoroughly cleaned and hopefully find my favorite paring knife that has been missing since my drug-hazed January.  So far I haven't found the knife, but I discovered that this family owns 27 pairs of chop sticks and something that pits, peels, and cuts mangoes. Continuing in my cleaning frenzy and being the eternal optimist, I have chipped 6 months of road salt off the Toyota.  I have tempted the weather gods even further by tossing the filth-encrusted car mats in lieu of spanky-new mats.  I am also helping our newest family member settle in.  

Oliver Twist Harry Houdini Puttmann

On Saturday I brought home a 12 pound bundle of tannish doggy fluff we have named Oliver, as in Oliver Twist.  The name was a no-brainer after he looked at us with these mournful eyes that seem to be begging for that extra bowl of porridge. Olly is nine years old, has no teeth, is a cuddlier, and a Houdini when it comes to slipping any sort of barricade I devise to keep him into the kitchen area while we are gone. I was sure that the last one was impenetrable, but he proved me wrong.  Olly has had a rough life. Found as a stray, he was rescued from euthanasia at a high-kill shelter by a local organization called Shelter From the Storm  He has been waiting for a home for six months.  He and Rory seem to have reached a detente that has both parties agreeing the share the downstairs sofa with me--Rory on my left and Olly on my right. Peace negotiations continue.  

Impossible since neither have opposable thumbs.

Glad to have found my way back to the blog!
Prairie Sherry

Prairie Grl Goes "All Nancy Drew"

I haven't ordered this t-shirt. . .  yet!

I have wanted to write to my 4th grade teacher for a long time.  Over the years I have composed the letter in my head, but have never written, addressed, and stamped it.  In fact, I think I created the 30 Days, 30 Letters/Cards Challenge so I would actually write to her.

Travel back in time with me.

My younger brother, Pete, was born when I was in 4th grade.  Previously, I had a ten year starring role in the family as the youngest.  I was excited to be a big sister, but I became needy.  Needy & lonely in a way that quiet, bookish girls can become.

At least once a day, I would go to the back of the room where my  teacher quietly wrote lesson plans or graded papers.   Her grade book was immaculate, each percentage fitting perfectly into a teeny green box.  I would stand with my hands behind my back - waiting.  She would finish what she was doing, fold her hands on her desk, and look at me.  Then she did the most wonderful thing!  She would listen to me talk.  Believe me when I say, I would talk and talk AND talk.  I don't remember what I told her, but I do remember talking . . . a lot.  

She could have told me she was too busy.  She could have let me talk while she continued grading.  She could have run in the opposite direction every time she saw me coming.  But.  She didn't.  She gave me her full attention and listened.

Currently, I am a reading specialist for middle school students.  Students often want to chat with me.  Sometimes I don't want to chat.  I want to complete my paperwork, check my emails, and go to the bathroom.  Maybe even talk with an adult.  But.  I remember my 4th grade teacher and the love she gave me - just by listening.  Everyday.  No matter what she was doing.

I now have my teacher's address.  (A little "Nancy Drew Sleuthing" came into play here.  For some reason I knew that my dear friend is friends with my teacher's son.  See?  It isn't hard to find someone's address!)  After I post this blog, I will write her a letter.  I feel blessed that I am able to tell her how much she means to me.

Prairie Eydie