Dirty Little Secrets

Forget Dear Abby. Forget the best friend, the psychotherapist or whoever else you tell your troubles to. It is the carpet laying guys who know your dirty little secrets.

Dirty carpet is what started this mess (and "mess" is a mild word for what is in our house right now.) Yes, I had looked at flowerdy wallpaper for 22 1/2 years, and it still looked just the same as when it was hung. Floorcovering is a different breed of cat altogether. Our family had WALKED, CRAWLED, SCOOTED, SLID, RUN, DRIBBLED, SPILLED...the list of verbs that could be inserted here is about endless and I will spare you some of them...on the same carpet those 22 1/2 years. I could vacuum every day (I didn't but I thought about it) and still have dirty carpet. I could (but didn't) shampoo till suds came out my ears and still have dirty carpet. It's a FARM, remember? There's only one solution for this dirty carpet...take it out.

Well, one thing leads to another and suddenly a major renovation is under way. Walls must be painted and wallpaper given an extreme makeover. Old carpet and vinyl must be removed, which means that every square inch of floor must be cleared, even the stuff in the back of the closets that haven't seen the light of day in decades. Under bed storage? Out it comes. YIKES!!!! 

And what is under the old carpet.....oh, my! Let's not go there....I'm so thankful for a shop vac right now.

Just don't think you're going to get the names or numbers of these guys who are suddenly my closest friends...

Dear John...er, Wallpaper,

So here's a liddle riddle for you: she ate lunch in Paris, then spent the night in Peru. She found no watercraft in ship-she-wana, tho she wanna one real bad. The tunnel she went through had holes in the top, and the straits led to crooked falls. Where was she? She'll share a few visual clues.

She loves quilts, painted on barns...

or hanging in restaurants...

or planted in flower beds!

 She loves tidy farms...

and beautiful old barns...

...and admires the simpler nature of this lifestyle.

She loves to see children hurrying into one-room schools...

and historic old mills...

and log cabins with pumpkins, and carts filled with flowers.

She loves gardens, both cultivated and wild.

She is drawn, as if by a magnet, to country churches...

and quirky restaurants, like the Legs Inn (those white things are many, many old stove legs, turned upside down, on the roof...and the Polish food was fabulous!)

and quirky mooses.

.

She loves, loves, loves lighthouses, on anywhere shores...

the older, the better.

And when the view is of this bridge...

...it's just so blue! Fifteen minutes on a jet ferry to visit an island...

...home of this historic hotel, only to learn that one must pay $10 to walk across the famous front porch...hmmm,  better to enjoy it from a distance.

That bridge eventually brought her to a wilder, more remote place....

of falls, falls and more falls.  While hiking down to the water's edge, this sign bore a prayer that she had seen, just a few weeks ago, inscribed on the soaring lobby of the Lied Lodge in Nebraska City...wonderfully stated. It makes her want to hug a tree.

Hikes turn up coincidences, too. She never saw a stranger, so was delighted to learn that the couple with whom she struck up a conversation here (1500 miles away from home) lived just 75 miles from her, back down in the hills; she loves those small-world experiences, wherever she finds them.

Did you solve her riddle? Paris is in IL and Peru is in IN, just south of the pristine Amish farms near Goshen and Nappannee and Shipshewana. She loves saying those names out loud. Land o' Goshen, it sure was nice to visit there and encounter the friendliness and openness of the folks who make that place their home.

The "tunnel" is Michigan's Tunnel of Trees scenic byway, along the shore of Lake Michigan, around Little Traverse Bay. The churches were there, too, along with a (what superlative can she use here to emphasize the neatness of this?) WONDERFUL rug-making co-op, where 20 women are apprenticed to learn to weave and hook rugs. They buy their wool from local shepherdesses. She decided to come home and learn to be a shepherdess. Alas and alack, no sheep in yon pasture, yet. 

The Straits of Mackinac took her to the UP across the long bridge, where she found the Tauquamenon Falls to be crooked and lovely and natural. The moose met her there.

She decided that it is a very good thing to live in the heartland of America, where she can hop in a car and find extraordinary beauty just a day or two away. She realizes it is a privlege to do so.

When the weather is rainy, dark and dreary, what better day-brightener can you think of than a treasure that arrives in the mail box? Yesterday, I received a hand-written letter from Emma, who was home sick with a cold.

Thankfully, she was not too sick to write to me, and it was a bright spot in this not-so-bright week.

One of my favorite images of Emma will always be this one....

as she played the wedding march at her Aunt Buzz's wedding two weeks ago. Smiling, confident, poised....Emma didn't miss a note. Not on the recessional, either, as these two happy people exited as husband and wife.

The wedding was at the Arbor Day Farm in Nebraska City, NE, a beautiful, idyllic, natural place.

This wonderful old historic barn was the site.

Our Sarah was the beautiful matron of honor, and Lucy was flower girl.

After the ceremony and dinner, it was time to Par-Tay!

Farfar gave Lucy a spin.

We walked through the Tree Adventure with the four-year-olds, and together we explored...

....and laughed....

and made some happy memories. What a great weekend at Arbor Day Farm!

Last Friday, our good friend, Larry Wade spent the day. Although Larry grew up in Ozark County, it tickled me to show him a few places in our part of the world that he'd not seen.

Topaz is a marvelous gem, preserved and idyllic.

At Betty Henson's old store at Champion, you feel exactly as if you'd stepped back in time. She keeps it preserved and well-stocked, and people come from all over the country to have a bottle of pop and sit a spell on the liar's bench inside.

On Sunday, we celebrated with this little cutie-pie who had a birthday! Cousins and friends came to join in the fun. Happy first birthday, Addie Dear!

I don't have a photo, but yesterday as I was driving home from town a huge flock of pelicans went overhead. They were circling and obviously looking for a watery landing place. I pulled over and sat and watched. It was an awesome experience, another unexpected gift in the middle of a seemingly dreary day.

May you find the gifts in your day today!

It was those two big eyes that finally got to me. Staring through me, each time I walked past, looking right into my heart. My flabby, weakened heart. Never mind that it seemed a little harder to climb the steep hill from the garden lately. No matter that my pants were feeling too snug around the waist, that my backside had an extra jiggle and that a certain saggy, baggy element had settled into my skin. I could ignore and pretend that I didn't see the subtle looks from my dear husband as he gave me a squeeze and pinched a little (or was it a lot?) more than an inch.

But, oh, those eyes! Every time I walked by them, I couldn't miss their green ("START") and red ("STOP") glow, their insistent and persistant beckoning. They pierced right through my nonchalance, my feigned disinterest, and they eventually broke down my resistance. Finally, I relented....it was time to get on The Thing.

My husband recently decided he needed to add some more exercise to his already jam-packed, physically-demanding day. So, one evening when we went into town for supplies, while I grocery shopped he bought The Thing. But I had no use for it. Refused to even acknowledge its existence. He labored and sweated for several nights, assembling the complicated apparatus, while I stayed away, busily ignoring the commotion in the garage. Then one morning, when I went out to check the sunrise, there it was, in all its glory. Plugged in and humming, our new treadmill was alight with eager anticipation of my partaking of the fun it offered. Only I knew better.

Treadmills are NOT really fun. They are work, and the reason I know this is because I've known a few in my time. Last year I even joined a fitness center in town and doggedly made the 32-mile round trip three or four times a week. I pushed the buttons until I learned how to make the treadmill do my bidding, and then I progressed to the weight machines. I did sit-ups on the bench. And I trimmed down (a little) and toned up (some) and felt like a million dollars...or at least a lot more than before I began. But in a few months life interfered, excuses reared their ugly heads, routines were broken, and finally I accepted the fact that going into town for fitness was not worth the effort. But I could do it on my own.

Not! I'd walk, but if it rained too much, the creeks wouldn't allow me to pass. I'd drag out a couple of weights, and the phone would ring and off I'd go, to do something that seemed much more important. When I actually had some spare time, I'd spend it upstairs, pushing the pedal of my sewing machine instead of peddling on a stationary bike. Finally I faced the ugly fact that I'm just not much of one to exercise. Which brings me up to a couple of weeks ago.

The glowing "eyes" of our new treadmill haunted me every time I passed through the garage. I began to see them in my sleep, along with images of clogged arteries, fractured hips and increasing weight gain. It was a torment I could no longer bear, so I caved. Nine days ago I pulled on my sneakers and some cool, loose clothes and climbed aboard. When I pushed that green "Start" button, I felt motion underfoot and suddenly things began to feel right again. I walked, slowly at first and then with increasing speed and incline, until I felt my old rhythm coming back. I swung my arms, took deep breaths and let that old familiar sensation take over...the one where you know you're doing something right and good for yourself.

Why in the world am I so stubborn? Or shy? What is it about taking that first step, that first lift, that first bend? This morning, as I was alternating between two mintues of jogging and one minute of walking on my new-found friend (and enjoying the feeling of my heart pumping vigorously) I think I found my answer. It is the commitment....I'm commitment-shy when it comes to exercise.

There, it's out there! I've said it. I have proclaimed to all the e-world that I'm weak in this area, that I need help. So I'm enlisting all of you to give me the support I need to stay with the program. Right now, I feel like I'm committed to this for the rest of my life, so help me goodness. But I know there are weak times ahead, times of temptation, when the garage seems cold and dark and the warm house seems so cozy, or the computer calls me to check on my e-friends, or the yarn on my needles BEGS me to come knit. To sit down and be lazy." Rest...you need it, you've been working hard," they say. Will my resolve see me through? Will my commitment extend to more than just a few weeks?

I sure hope so, because I know this is the right thing to do. And I've learned a few things about using the treadmill that I would gladly share with you would-be users:

• You shouldn't hold on to The Thing when you walk; you should walk normally, with a good arm swing to help you along. Holding on significantly lessens the impact of your workout.
• You should incline The Thing a bit to offset the fact that the treadmill helps move you along to some degree. I read that a 2% incline on the treadmill is equal to walking on a level track. Anything above 2% adds to the workout.
• It helps to focus on muscles as you're walking along. For example, for those of us who are well past the childbearing years, one can reacquaint oneself with certain muscles that help hold the bladder in place and keep it from functioning when one does not WANT it to function. Remember those post-childbirth exercises? One can do them while walking. Call it multi-tasking, if you like. I call it necessary.
• Music helps. I don't have a tv in the garage, and I can't read while walking, but I sure can listen. Up-tempo helps; I'll save my smooth jazz for another time.
• The experts all tell us to warm up and cool down, and there's a reason they are experts. It really is important! I use a four-minute warm-up, to gradually bring my speed and routine up to a pace that is true exercise. And I use a four-minute cool-down at the end, which makes it better when I step off The Thing....no stumbling around, trying to find my land legs.
• Drinking water is vital! Especially for me, because I do not perspire....I sweat! If that sounds unfeminine, I just tell myself that it's better for me. Think of those pathetic, sad women who never have more than a misty dew on their upper lip....that can't be healthy.
• And that part I said about treadmills not being fun? Well, it may not actually be fun to get on one and work out, but it is fun to feel better, look better and have the peace of mind that comes with doing the right thing...taking care of yourself.

So, now that I've written a treatise on Me and and My Treadmill, (yes, we're pals, now), I'll close with one last word of encouragement to all you non-exercisers out there. Go to Walmart. Or the supermarket. Sit and watch the people come and go. It doesn't take long to figure out some rough percentages, and you know which percentile you want to be in.