In Honor of Allison

Today's my birthday.  Even though I've celebrated six birthdays without my twin sister, Allison, I still catch myself feeling a little uncomfortable when I say that phrase.  My birthday.  It used to be our birthday.  Our birthday cake.  Our day.  So as I sit at the computer with my eyes welling up a little bit, I want to dedicate this blog to one of the nicest people who ever lived...my beautiful twin, Allison.  Happy Birthday, Big Al.

Some of you reading this never got the chance to meet her.  I can tell you this much...she was a lot nicer than I am.  (I tell Dylan that and I think he finds it hard to believe sometimes).  When I was flat broke, I used to come to the Whistle Stop Cafe in Boone, where she worked part time as a waitress on Saturdays, and order the cheapest thing on the menu--a single pancake.  I think it only cost 89 cents.  I'd show up early with my two bucks (one dollar for my pancake, the other for a tip), find a moderately cleaned table, and wait.  Allison always made sure to wait on me.  She'd say, "what do you want", to which I'd respond, "you know.  My usual."  She'd roll her eyes and bring me a big glass of Dr. Slice and then a pancake.  But that was just for starters.  She'd use her own tip money to buy me a regular meal:  two eggs, bacon, and hash browns.  Then, she'd plop down next to me and eat.  And she never took a dime from me.  Ever.  But that was just her being her.  When she passed away, ALL of her customers from the Whistle Stop showed up to her funeral to pay their respects.  They loved her.  And I know that those of you who never met her would have loved her too.

And she loved being a twin.  She used to get upset if I rejected her idea of dressing up alike.  "C'mon, that's what twins do!" she'd say.  Yeah.  But we were in high school.  And there was no way I was about to change from wearing hot orange pants and Hawaiian shirts to khakis and 3/4 sleeved shirts.  Nope.  Allison used to get angry when people would say "You guys sure don't act like twins."  Like literally.  She'd cry and get so upset!  "What do they know?"  We used to test our 'twin powers' just to prove people wrong.  She used to say "Heidi, what part of my face am I touching?"  I'd concentrate very hard and make a guess.  "Your...nose?  I mean, Your nose!"  Nine times out of 10 I was wrong.  But we liked to test out our twin-ness once in awhile.  

I could go on and on about how wonderful Allison was.  She was taken away too soon, but I am truly fortunate to have known her for 22 years.  Happy birthday, Big Al!  

Opinion Section

Point/Counterpoint

Oh my god!  I actually went to a cat circus! 

 vs. 

Oh.  My.  God.  I actually went to a cat circus.

Oh my god!  I actually went to a cat circus! by Heidi 

Felines riding on skateboards.  A chicken ringing a bell.  The acrocats.  A woman wearing a cat leotard and proudly sporting cat ears.  Those were just a few of the wonderfully magical items I saw when I went to a cat circus.  A crowd of about 100 people gathered into a medium-sized room in the Des Moines Social Club.  Drinks were offered, cat conversations were created, and eyes grew bright with wonderment.  I never thought I'd see the day when three cats literally played instruments in a band called "The Rock Cats".  Izzy was my favorite cat.  He (or she?) was all white and was alright!  She/he leaped on shoulders.  She/he played the drums.  I fell in love a second time (after Dylan) when I saw her/him eat tuna from the stage floor.  I was only slightly annoyed that we had third row seats.  What?  Is it really necessary to let small children and people in wheelchairs have the front row?  C'mon!  The cats rocked my world.  The chicken and groundhog tried to steal the show...(rude much?)...but Izzy and Custard and Isis and the rest of the cat clan held their own and shined like little diamonds on cheap cat collars.  I just wish it would have lasted a little longer and I would have made the MC get rid of the awkward pauses in her stories.  overall, the cat circus was purrrrrfect.  It was the cat's meow!  I was feline good after the show.    

Oh.  My.  God.  I actually went to a cat circus.  by Dylan

So...when I saw there was a  cat circus coming to town I figured, "what nicer thing to do for Heidi than get her tickets."  While I had no doubt that it wouldn't be my cup of tea, I had no idea the hour of sheer horror I was locking myself into by buying these tickets.  To begin, there were grown women in cat t-shirts and cat sweatshirts, grown women wearing fake cat ears, grown women lecturing Heidi and I on only having one cat, and, of course, little children... many of whom looked just as embarrassed to be there as me.  Over the loud speaker came the music...to get you in the mood, I imagine... Cat Scratch Fever, Stray Cat Strut, and something that sounded not to different from the Meow Mix commercial.  The show opened with a warm up from other animals doing amazing tricks, such as  rats walking around, ferrets walking around, and a groundhog placed on a small car and then pushed back and forth across the stage....Amazing!!!  Then came the host, or ringleader if you prefer, in the traditional full body black leotard with purple rhinestone accents....Just like PT Barnum used to wear.  The circus (and that is absolutely an appropriate title for it) that followed was basically an hour of the equivalent of watching you neighbor try to show you the "great new trick we taught the cat.   Come on Felix....push the bell...come on....push it...do it for mama....I swear he was doing it before....come on now....you have to see it, it's the cutest thing....come on...ring the bell.  Wait, maybe if I put a treat on the bell.  now get it...come on....who wants a treat...push it.  Here, Felix, let me help you.  give me your paw....now lets put it on the bell.... 'RING'....yeah!!!!  Good job Felix.  Wasn't that great?"   Well, let me spare you all the suspense...No, no it wasn't great.  However, we did get to watch the ringleader briefly make out with the ferret - though I'm not sure that was supposed to be the memorable part.

La, la, la....

I'll be honest...this blog really doesn't have a point.  It's just a hodgepodge of ideas...a stream of thought...a filter less rant of recent events.  

1.  Right now, Dylan is in the living room watching The Masters.  I quickly learned that's it's not the best idea to ask questions on subjects that I:  A) have no desire to know the answer of, and B) know will require Dylan to make visual aids and diagrams to help me figure things out.  With that being said, I won't bug Dylan and his golf watchin'.  

2.  I attempted to change the background of our blog.  Because I love bird watching so darn much, I figured I'd go with a bird theme.  I did drag Dylan in here a bit ago to have him look at it.  His reaction?  ''Oh, God".  I think that means he likes it!!!!!  

3.  Speaking of birds, Dylan and I did a bunch of yard work today.  Even though I've been a little under the weather, I thought it would do me some good to dig around in the dirt and set out some bird food.  Dylan mowed the lawn (And yes, we did find a dead snake...in the neighbor's yard!).  We then found an old can of re fried beans with a "surprise" inside.  A video was taken of the aforementioned event, and I am trying HARD to have Dylan put it on our blog.  It's not quite ''Cat in the can" level, but it is a good film with drama, screams, and some laughter.  

4  If I don't hear back from my doctor on Monday, a scarier version of myself may make an appearance.  For every one's sake, please cross your fingers that the doc will call!

5.  I secretly want a squirrel for a pet.  I just think they're soooo cute and crazy!  Dylan, if you're reading this...I either want a squirrel or tickets to the Cat Circus for our one-year anniversary.  :)  Just kidding...

6.  Next time I write a blog, there will be a definite point to it.  

Four.   It's a number.  It's my lucky number (as much as I believe in luck).  It's the month and day of my birth.  It's what I always bet on in roulette and power ball.  It's, in a way, what I yell after one of my horrendous slices in golf.  It's the number of horsemen of the apocalypse, a homynym for the word "death" in some languages of Asia, the number of chambers in the heart, the number of dimensions of space time, the number of letters in most swear words, and the number of blocks on each shape in Tetris.  It can be "Fab" in the case of the Beatles or "Fantastic" in comics and, in case you haven't figured it out yet, even has its own Wikipedia page.  However, as of this week, three weeks before my 30th birthday, it has a new significance...it is the number of gray hairs I can clearly and plainly see on my head.  

I don't mind getting a few gray hairs...at least I always told myself I wouldn't mind.  I also told myself I wouldn't mind turning 30.  However, I did find myself gettting awfully nostalgic while I stood there, looking in the mirror, combing through my hair with my fingers (examining each one), as I serached feverishly through my mind for memories of my youth....almost as frantically as I searched for the tweezers.  

This sudden onset of sophistication (that's what I've decided to call it) led to a weekend of reflection and an insightful examination of my youth....by this, of course, I mean that I watched a Back to the Future marathon along with Kindergarten Cop, Tremors, and Star Wars (Episode IV).  Back to the Future was, as always, amazing.  I know some people don't care for Part III...and others even have the gall to say that Part II is the best...but I know the truth.  Part I is the best, a classic, never to be rivaled.  Part III is next...a wonderful enabler of my fantasy of being a cowboy living in the Old West.  Part II...well...Part II I'll allow...especially since it gave us the Hover Board.   

When it came time to watch Star Wars, however, the joy did not last long.  After a mere 10 minutes I had to turn it off.  I love Star Wars....I have since the first time I saw it.   I also love my wife...also since the first time I saw her.  Together, however, they just don't work.  It began with her asking who a particular character was...I said, "that's Han Solo," to which she replied..."Is he one of those 'sky walker' guys?"  I tried to remain calm as I described Luke Skywalker...who is a Jedi, and Han Solo...a smuggler and a mercenary.  The questions continued and I kept my cool ..but then she asked, "is this the one with the baby chewbaccas...I like them."  She must have seen the tension growing on my face as I described the difference between Ewoks and Chewbacca along with who's in which movie, because she finally, after a few more questions, said...."okay, okay.....I'm done asking about Star Trek."  It was at this moment that I realized that I never saw any gray hairs prior to my wedding, six months ago.  Merely a coincidence? 

Well, before I met Heidi, never once was I almost 30, I was merely in my mid to late twenties.  I never once had a gray hair.  Certainly, I never once woke up early to watch CBS Sunday Morning.  I never went to bed by 8:30 nor did I ever eat dinner at 4:00.  At the rate she's got me going, I can only imagine when we'll be eating and sleeping at 70.  I'm sure it's not really her fault though....no....not at all.  Still, if I had to choose...there's no place and at no other time I'd rather be than right now, with Heidi, starting (and I emphasize STARTING) to grow old.  

Plus, I've heard these gray hairs make you look distinguished....though never by anyone who didn't already have them.

Boneless Wings and a Spineless Customer

Like most Americans, I enjoy going out to eat.  I love being able to sit at booth (always a booth.  For some reason I'm not a big fan of tables.  Just thought I'd throw that fact out there), sip a cold beverage, and be waited on hand and foot.  I make sure that when my waiter or waitress comes around to take my order, I am both courteous and respectful.  I've been a waitress before, so I know what it's like to have rude customers.  That's how a person can end up with weird things in their food...so I've heard.

Anyway, I had the opportunity to go to one of my favorite local restaurants, The Chicken Coop!  I went with Dylan, Mollie, and her boyfriend, Greg.  We found a corner table and ordered our drinks.  While we waited for our waitress, the subjects of baseball, Alex Rodriguez, and "The Bachelor" were discussed.  Things were going swimmingly...until our waitress came back with our drinks and seemed in a hurry to get our orders taken.  It went something like this:

Greg:  "I'll take the Buck Nasty wings".

Waitress: (stunned look) "are you sure?"

Greg: (now confused and second guessing himself) "...uh, yeah..?!"

Dylan: "I'll also take the Buck Nasty wings".  

Waitress: (rolls her eyes and walks away)

...A-W-K-W-A-R-D

I think Dylan and I once had this waitress before.  I remember being scared of her for some reason.  I think it had something to do with her one grey tooth, the fact that she was/is a bit rough around the edges, and...oh yeah, she acted like she had the hots for Dylan.  So you can imagine my comfort level when we went to go home and she stared at me and said, "ummm, what's going on?  Are you going to take your food home with you or just keep talking?"  I smiled, threw my leftovers in the take home box that was provided, and never gave her a second look.

Our waitress did a number of other things last night (mostly saying rude things and being blatantly flirtatious towards Greg and Dylan.  I'm very secure in my marriage, but I did flash my wedding ring a few times and put my arm around Dylan at least twice when our waitress was around.  ha!)

We all left a short time later after leaving a generous tip (I was afraid she was going to hunt us down and beat us up if we didn't leave at least 25%).

Dylan and I will still venture to the Chicken Coop.  We will still sit at a corner table.  And we (I) will still cower in fear when that infamous waitress brings us (me) our drinks.  

Feliz Dia de Darwin!!!

That's "Happy Darwin Day" to all of you who aren't currently in Brazil (oh...and yes, I do realize that I should have gone with Portuguese instead of Spanish , but I work with what I know).  It's the 200th anniversary of Darwin's B-day and the 150th anniversary of the publication of On The Origin of Species and I get the joy of spending it less than a couple hundred kilometers from where The Beagle first made landfall on the South American continent....not bad.  No, not bad at all.   Well...that's not to say that things haven't gone bad, or at least odd, on this trip so far though....

Well, I don't know whether to begin or end by talking about my "guide" here in Brazil.  He is a nice man, working for the company I'm meeting with here, but....to say he is helping me, guiding me, or anything else of the sort, is a bit of a stretch.  So far, he's gotten lost or severely confused while driving to the following places: the airport parking lot exit, my first hotel, dinner the first night, to work the 1st day, from work the 1st day, to work the 2nd day, from work the 2nd day, to work, from work, to work, from work....literally every day (and yes it is to and from the same place), into the hotel parking lot, out of the hotel parking lot (although in all fairness, this one he was trying to do while in reverse...for no apparent reason...which is tough...and also makes all of the buttons to raise the gait on the wrong side of the car), to dinner tonight, home from dinner tonight.  I'm not even going to begin talking about the mishaps he has while trying to WALK towards any particular entrance or exit.  

None the less though, my friend did get me a pretty good meal....well...not Monday night when, after work, he said he would call me in a little bit for dinner and then did....at 6:15 the next morning...because he fell asleep.  However, we have been to one Brazilian BBQ which was incredible.  And while they haven't yet fed me cow brains, as my mom warned and had experienced herself down here, I have had to fight off more than my fair share of chicken hearts.  On our way home from the BBQ, after running 2 red lights because "this is not an area you want to stop and wait in," my friend said, "I'm so sad, the hungry is dead" - which is either a brilliant joke or a horrible misunderstanding on my part.  I don't know which, but for the rest of the drive, all I could picture was a small orange fuzzy monster, the one representing hunger in recent diet ads, stumbling out of the restaurant, clutching his chest, and slowly expiring along the side of the road.

Prior to going to dinner, my friend (I'm going to keep calling him "friend" because if I let my actual emotions get out about him, I'm worried what I would say) and his wife were nice enough to take me shopping in case I wanted to buy anything.  Unfortunately, it was to....the mall.   America invented the mall (as far as I know) and so it was really the last place I wanted to shop.  I was already picturing arriving home and giving Heidi her present..."here you go honey, it's from Lady Foot Locker...no...the one in Brazil!"  However, Heidi can't even get that, because everything was closed except for the bookstore...essentially a Barnes and Noble.  I said, "that's okay, I'll look around here" (primarily because I had been warned that the town we were traveling to for the week was tiny and without anything to do).  So I was trying to find all my gifts and souvenirs at this store...which is all the more annoying when my friend and his wife, to be helpful no doubt, followed me step by step through the store, peering over my shoulder, repeatedly insisting that I go to the English Language section.  I wanted to shout...."Listen dammit, if I wanted to latest Dean Koontz paperback I would have bought it at the Des Moines airport!  Now let me shop and  buy something unique."  In the end, however, I did not say that, and they did force me to the English language section and made the worker there go find and bring me every English language book in the store.  After settling on a few, I looked at the journals on the way to the checkout.  I found one that looked really great, wrapped in leather, unique....as I looked through it, my friend took it from my hand, said "it is a diary...but no dates on the pages....that's not good" and put it back on the shelf.  So, not wanting to offend, I left it there...the one item I actually wanted in the store....and headed off to pay.  While in line, my friends wife, having seen the problem with the journal I wanted...brought me a suitable replacement.  A bright pink plastic diary with a little girl on it covered in sparkles, hearts and flowers....Perfect!  (Heidi...guess what present you're getting from Brazil)

So, I should really move on to more pressing matters...such as work.  On Monday morning we met up with a coworker, Ana, and headed off to our client's site...a major chemical manufacturer.  Because this is a major worldwide company, they required us all to go through safety training first.  The three of us checked in, went to the meeting room, and sat down amongst a group of about 50 people.  The trainers came out, and it began...in Portuguese....for two hours.  If you've ever had trouble staying awake during a long company meeting of your own, try doing it when you don't understand a word being said, at all, and they just keep talking, and talking, and talking.  Luckily I was able to entertain myself by watching my surroundings...such as my friend with his head between in legs sleeping, and Ana, her legs crossed into her lap, scouring up and down each with tweezers, pulling out every hair she found....right next to me....in the company meeting.  i was relieved when we finally took a break until I realized that during this break they began handing out a stack of papers and pens....a test...in Portuguese.  I have to thank my friend, however, because without missing a beat (for once) he gave me a look and leaned in towards me with his paper.  It was multiple choice...I passed the test.

So....what else could possibly have happened during my trip that would warrant a blog entry...there can't be anything else right?   Wrong!  Here they are in condensed story format:

Tuesday...while getting into the car after a long day of work I heard a horrifying "riiip."  yes...it was the seat of my pants ripping out.  Luckily we only had to make two stops on the way to the hotel....a hardware store and a restaurant for dinner and drinks....awkward!

Speaking of hardware stores...We needed to go find some electrical tape to fix my computer cord.  We went to several stores...all of which led us to other stores....until finally one pointed out a hardware store several blocks away.  We began walking until my friend, once again, decided we were lost.  Luckily for us, someone came by...actually lots of people came by...any of which looked like they'd be happy to give us directions.  However, my friend decide to only ask one.  This one was the dreadlocked, dirty, tattered man, carrying a garbage bag of cans and refuse, who was talking out loud long before we ever asked him a question.  Amazingly for us he knew where to get some electrical tape...just up the street and then a left...down the long dark unmarked alley.  He began leading us this way and I could tell even my friend was leery....however...he slowly proceeded until the man stopped to pound on a random solid door in the middle of a long metal fence.  There were no signs or windows...no ads saying Electric Tape 'R Us....nothing to indicate we would receive anything in this establishment other than our worst nightmare...so...we left, thanking the man as we darted back to the street never looking back.  

The Brazilians are a hard working people...except after lunch, when we went everyday and played foozball and for an hour.  My skills improved tremendously over the week and I even played on a team with the Sao Paulo regional foozball champion.....

I was scolded by my friend for closing his car door too hard....repeatedly

I have heard Portuguese covers of the following songs:

My Heart Will Go On

Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.....maybe the most obscure song to cover ever.

In the end....I really shouldn't complain at all.  After all...I did spend the other night sitting in 90 degree weather, eating chicken pieces individually wrapped in bacon, watching Brazil defeat Italy in Soccer, listening to Samba music.  Not too bad for a week of work.

I'll see everyone soon.

Brazil is nice...but West Des Moines is better!!..?

As some of you know, Dylan  is currently working, making money, and probably seeing some cool things in Brazil.  He left yesterday morning and will return home this coming Saturday.  At first, I was slightly envious.  Who wouldn't be?  It's Summer where he is.  There are beaches where he is.  He can wear shorts, get a tan, and buy some cool new books.  However, I can honestly say that I live in a place where I can do pretty cool things too.  The place is West Des Moines.  Take a moment.  Think about what I just typed....then allow me to illustrate my point.  

1.  It's Summer in Brazil, and Dylan gets to wear shorts.

That sounds great, doesn't it?  But heck, yesterday's temperature reached 52 degrees.  Today it was near 50, and by Tuesday, it's predicted to be close to 65 degrees...in West Des Moines!  Who needs Summer with temperatures like these?!  Plus, I don't like shorts.

2.  Dylan gets to ride in airplanes and see the clouds.

FACT:  When flying in airplanes, one might experience turbulence.  Driving around this weekend on the pothole laced streets made me feel like I was experiencing turbulence.  Did I get to see clouds?  No.  But with all the rattling, banging, and bumper car-like driving I've done, I have seen my life flash before my eyes...which in my opinion, is a little more magical than clouds.  And it all happened in West Des Moines!!

3.  Dylan gets to eat exotic foods and try new things.

So do I!  Did you know that in a place like West Des Moines, there are stores that sell different flavors of syrup?  I'm not talking syrup for pancakes--I'm talking latte syrup.  I actually bought something other than caramel flavored syrup yesterday!  So, what exotic flavor did I try...and later buy?  VANILLA!!!  Look out world, Heidi Baker is breaking out of her comfort zone and is officially living dangerously...and exotically!

You see?  West Des Moines is...better.  Right?  I do know that it would be better if Dylan was home.  But I know he'll bring home lots of pictures, antique books for himself and Mike, and an interest in my week.  That's when I can tell him about the dangerous animal I saw somewhere in or around our house.  I can say that it will rival anything he's going to find in Brazil... 

(Stay tuned for a blog dealing with that monster!)