WanderingAmylessly 2.0

On a cold December morning, At 1-something a.m., I screamed my way into the world. Time's been ticking away since then. From toddler ways to school days To career and marriage and childbirth, Wondering where all the time went, Wondering what it's all worth. Amazed when I Google to find Exactly how much time has ticked by: Twenty-one million, thirty-seven thousand Nine hundred fifty minutes. Oh. My. I hesitate to write this, Because I want no undue attention. I'd rather quietly mark the day In silent, brooding detention. Tomorrow, I'll knit and bake and shop, Decorate for the holidays to come. I'll drink coffee, read, listen to music, But from reality, I think I'll play dumb. No one can convince me, there's no possible way That I'm reaching a milestone so cold. Middle aged? Over the hill? Ten years from AARP? I refuse to admit I'm four decades old.

That Christmas card letter isn't going to write itself, is it? What did we do this year? My mind's a blank. I need inspiration. I need free time. I need a kick in the pants.

We're having Thanksgiving at our house this year. What's on the menu? Check it out... Turkey (a 14-lb. Butterball Fresh) Cajun corn bread stuffing New pisano bread and olive oil Mashed potatoes and gravy Sweet potato soufflé Roasted asparagus Sweet corn Cranberry relish Zinfandel and pinot grigio wines Pecan pie Pumpkin pie Margarita pie But FIRST: Breakfast is Bubble Bread ! Where are your stretchy pants?

I missed Henry's first swim meet, which was Sunday, because I went home to say goodbye to Les. I found myself wracked with Mommy-guilt as I prepared for the trip, hand-wringing over the decision. Henry was less emotional. Before I left, he said, "It's ok Mom. I'll be fine. But when you get back, will you please stop crying?" I'm still working on that. I had the next best thing to being there, though, on my drive back to Iowa Sunday morning. Tim texted me the play-by-play on the way. As I read the updates, I realized it was probably a good thing I wasn't at the pool. I would have been more nervous than the kid, and I, no doubt, would have made him a mess in the process. The iPhone commentary went something like this: Tim: Chaos. Or so it seems to me. He's been Sharpie'd though, so he looks like he fits in. (Sharpie'd: had his races and lane assignments written in black permanent marker on his arm) Tim: He's warming up. I'm nervous for hi...

I never noticed until I started to blog this morning that the letters directly behind my name in my blog title are "LES." As soon as I realized that, I lost it. Again. I'm still trying to process the weekend. I changed my ringtone to the Beatles' Yellow Submarine this morning. We -- all 1,700 people who attended -- sang this song at Les' funeral, at his request. I think he thought he'd get quite a laugh at everyone's expense, looking down on us from heaven as we sang this goofy tune. It's now my favorite song. I brought my first media writing book, the one I happened across last week when packing for the trip home to Les' services, to work with me this morning. It now sits on my desk, nestled between my Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary and The Chicago Manual of Style . I stuck my pens and pencils in a new holder this morning -- a Wichita State University Alumni mug, in Les' honor. These are my ways of coping. I always took for gran...

More or Les...that was the name of Les' column that appeared for years in the Ark Valley News (the paper he owned and published until he sold it a few years ago). I keep thinking more and more ABOUT Les as the days pass and the services draw closer. I'm hitting the road in a few hours to drive back home and prepare for the visitation, the funeral, and the informal reunion Saturday afternoon of past and current AVN staff members. Last night, as I packed for the trip, I ran downstairs to grab a suitcase. Sitting in the top of an open box nearby was my first college journalism textbook. I can't remember the last time I saw it. But there it was, this week of all weeks. I flipped through the pages and realized just how long it has been. The photographers on the front of the book were shooting film cameras. And there was no mention of the Internet anywhere. But the memories came rushing back, of watching Les at the front of a classroom, talking, showing examples, laughing, debat...

I've been walking around in a fog all week, remembering my college days and how far I've come from those first reporting and editing classes. At work, as I've been interacting with fellow editors, I keep wanting to say, "How can you go on with work and life as though nothing has happened?" But they weren't the lucky ones who had the benefit of Les' care and attention. So I move through the moments alone, with only my memories keeping me company. Tomorrow I hit the road for an 8-hour drive back home to attend the visitation and funeral for Les. That's 8 more hours of alone-time to reflect. One good sign: thinking had been resulting in tears, but I'm transitioning to more smiles as I recall happy times. There's a Dan Seals song I keep thinking about: One Friend © Dan Seals I always thought you were the best I guess I always will I always felt that we were blessed And I feel that way still Sometimes we took the hard road But we always saw it throu...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...

Every time I turn around, Henry's joining something or trying something new or just generally being much more social and active than his parents. We're looking like slackers next to this 7 -- excuse me -- almost 8-year-old. He's in intermediate gymnastics. He joined the swim club (three practices a week, new family orientation, multiple fund-raisers, club uniform orders, picture night, joining the social committee, and prepping for his first meet in mid November). He's been selected for the elementary school's student council. Two meetings a month, in the mornings before school. (More fund-raising...I sense a theme.) His parent teacher organization sent everyone out with catalogs to earn money for classroom supplies and other learning tools. (Thanks to those who bought crappy wrapping paper and mediocre chocolate for the cause.) His birthday's in a couple weeks, so he's throwing a shindig at Iowa City Gym-Nest, complete with play, pizza, and Sponge-Bob cake....

What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains. -- Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire , 1947

University of Iowa football player A.J. Derby has been suspended for two games after he was arrested on charges of criminal mischief and public intox over the weekend. From the local paper: "A.J. Derby will serve a two game suspension as a result of his poor decisions this past weekend," said Iowa head football coach Kirk Ferentz. Wow. Way to go out on a limb with that punishment, Coach. Derby will not be allowed to participate in the next two games. Interesting, since he's the backup quarterback and most likely wouldn't even play in the games ANYWAY. Not that I wish anyone ill, but it would so serve them all right if starting quarterback James Vandenberg has to leave the game on Saturday against Penn State. Trouble with this little lesson is that John Wienke, the QB who would come in instead of Derby, isn't a third string true freshman. He's a junior who has been battling Derby for the second spot. Way to teach these boys a lesson. Way to crack down on drunke...

Magnificent creature, isn't it? Yeah, maybe. In a zoo. How about in residential areas of cities, near schools and businesses? Or along your favorite walking trails? In the past week or so, there have been three mountain lion or cougar sightings in town. The first two caused a lockdown at some area elementary schools, and children were not allowed outside for recess. The third sighting was along a trail near our grocery store. Should I start a freakout? I scoffed at the first sightings, thinking someone saw an overweight Maine Coon. But this third sighting has me fearful. We have wooded trails near our house. These are trails I run on several times a week. And Tim shares a bit of info with me. "If you see one, don't run. Act really big and make roaring noises." Well...what if I'm already running and come upon one? Turn the bend and...HELLO, CAT. Don't RUN AWAY? That goes against every ounce of self-preservation I have. From the Internet: As with many predators,...

I've spent the morning trying to stay awake. And/or engaged in my work. YOU try being engaged in my work. My job is to make sure words are spelled correctly, in the right order, and surrounded by the appropriate punctuation. Still awake? Yeah, I thought so. Your face started to imprint itself with the textured pattern of your shirt. And that, right there, might be a hint of drool... It's Friday. It's beautiful outside. I've been listening to my favorite music and radio talk shows. So why am I in such a funk? 9/11. That must be it. I have a strange, seemingly misplaced feeling of dread washing over me. I cannot help but feel as though something is about to happen. Something bad. Something even worse than Obama's toilet-tanking approval rating or the putrid economy that's joining it. Odd how I had no such feeling just moments before I turned on my car radio to listen to NPR on the way to the newsroom at the Ogden Standard-Examiner that pre-fall morning. That's...

Who decided to put an egg on a hamburger and call it gourmet? Maybe I'm missing out, but I've started to see this dismal delicacy pop up on menus at trendy restaurants and just cannot wrap my mouth around it. I've never tried it, so perhaps I shouldn't knock it. Maybe I need more information. Is it a scrambled egg, all crispy on the edges? Or is it sunny-side up, with yellow yoke oozing out between the burger and bun? Or how about hard boiled and chopped into egg salad, then spread atop the meat? None of that sounds like anything but a bucket of yuck. Add the egg-on-beef to the growing list of food oddities that I could do without. Frickles (fried pickles). Chocolate-covered bacon. Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack flavor ice cream with giant chunks of fudge-covered potato chips. New diet idea! Serve me these. I'll pass, thanks.

Every time I think about organized sports, I begin to feel ill. I remember that time in first grade when I went out for T-ball and hated every single moment of it. I made myself sick worrying that I would strike out. Or get called out. Or fall on my face. Or not be able to propel my chubby, unathletic body around the bases. I cried before every practice and every game, fearful of failure and embarrassment and pathetic ineptitude. Once that season ended, I put any notion of athletics out of my head and settled in to a life of flabby bookworm nerdiness. Picked last in P.E. Never able to do more than hang on the climbing rope for (barely) the required time. Fast forward to junior high, when my P.E. teacher -- in an effort, I think, to boost my confidence and get my fatness in check -- encouraged me to try out for volleyball. I showed promise, she insisted. After the first practice, I couldn't move for several days. And I quit. Ever since, I've done my share of aerobics classes, bi...

On the way home from swim practice last night, H shares: H: Mom, guess what?! I have purified vision!! Me: Purified vision? What's that? H: Purified vision. I can see out the corner of my eye! Me: Oh...you mean peripheral vision? H: Oh. Yeah! That!!

Tim and I have both declared our June vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to be the best vacation we'd ever been on. We loved the ocean. We adored our little cottage, Sea Spray Cottage #3, with its pink adirondack chairs, pink and green trim, and two-block distance from the Atlantic. A mere 2 months later, and we're waiting to hear word as to whether Hurricane Irene will rip our vacay destination to shreds, chew it up, and spit it out, then cover it in a 30-foot storm surge. Nags Head, NC, is expected to take a direct hit by the massive storm, which is due to make landfall there sometime tomorrow. Tim and I recall several conversations we had while on our trip, commenting on the designated "Hurricane Evacuation Route" signs posted all up and down the ONE WAY OUT of the barrier islands by car. The traffic was hideous on a normal day. I cannot imagine what it might be like during a real evac. The Sea Spray Cottages were built in the 1940s or '50s...

The Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund has been established today (8/19/11) with Bank of the West. Stop by your local branch or send checks to help with Lucy's medical expenses. If you do not have a Bank of the West near you, you can still donate by doing the following: Make check payable to: Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund Endorse the back of the check with: For Deposit Only Lucy Jane Roth Medical Fund NOTE: It is important to endorse the back of the check if you are mailing! Mail check to: Bank of the West 301 South Clinton St. Iowa City, IA 52240 319-338-9751

Yo-yo dieting is that all-too-familiar phenomenon of losing weight on a diet, going off the diet, gaining the weight back, going on another diet, and so on. Been there, done that, ate the doughnut. But what does it say about me that I was on a diet the past few months and did one helluva yo-yo while I was still on the diet the entire time . It was getting slightly ridiculous. I couldn't string two consecutive successful weeks together -- after having lost more than 30 pounds from December to May. Up 2, down 1, up .5, stay the same, E.T.C. I credit my med changes and my mood for part of the problem. Mostly, I missed my Jenny Craig consultant, Amberly, who took a leave of absence around the same time my weight loss efforts skipped town. However, she's back now, and today was the end of week 2 back on the wagon! I lost 1.2 last week and 2.6 this week. I'm less than 7 pounds from my halfway goal. She made a deal with me: when I hit halfway, we go for manicures!! Woo...

Little Lucy from yesterday's post survived 12+ hours of brain surgery and most of the tumor was removed. She's still in a critical time, but her mom says the love and support they received yesterday meant so much to them. We continue to hold them in our hearts and minds.