adventures of a recovering iowan
wherever you go, there you are
adventures of a recovering iowan
my Dad & me
I find myself sitting in the den in my parents' house at the end of Main Street in this tiny Iowa town that was my home and world for the first 18 years of my life. I'm eating Bugles and making witch fingernails with them... staring at the still-polished old Story & Clark piano that I played since age five... to my right is my dad's red desk with the gun rack hanging over it on the papered 13 ft. high wall. The other walls are covered with pictures of the grandchildren, some of my artwork and various other framed pieces... the old circa 1900 pipes still run up the walls and along the ceilings, past the original carved woodwork. The long lace curtains hang still. It is quiet and pitch dark outside, except for the intense sky-wash of stars.
On warm summer nights in the 60s & 70s, sometimes my dad, brother & I would lie on the grass in the yard and just look at the stars. Dad would point out the dippers, North Star and the Milky Way. It was just a really nice thing.
And now my dad is gone... and I don't mean, "Dad ran over to Spencer to get milk" kind of gone. I mean, gone from this earthly plane.
Dad was 89 and a half, and despite some physical difficulty with walking, he was "fine". The Saturday before my 50th birthday, after getting dressed for the day and preparing to go downstairs and make oatmeal, he just stopped living. It was quite instant, apparently, and quite likely that he was physically gone before his knees even hit the floor. Just amazing.
Everyone says, "if one could choose a way to go, that's it",and who could argue with that. It's great for the one who's leaving this mortal coil, but for those left behind it just seems too soon and just wrong, somehow. We weren't ready for him to leave yet! But I guess you never are "ready" for someone you love to leave, regardless of the circumstances.
I could recall numerous really wonderful memories of my dad - sitting on his lap as a little girl while he read the funny paper to my brother and me, delighting in his ability to make pigs dance, watching Bonanza & eating popcorn with him on Sunday nights, fishing, picnics, family parties, playing ball, playing cards, tromping through woods and fields for one reason or another... yeah, there was a lot of good stuff there that could flesh out a VERY long blog post.
But most importantly, Dad was a major factor in my own evolution as a person. No person is perfect, and neither was my dad... and neither was I. Despite our mutual imperfections, we always loved each other and were each others' biggest fans in many ways.
Dad taught me the importance of being a good person. As a kid, I wasn't always sure how that was supposed to be defined, but as I got older, I realized it wasn't that complicated... it was about treating others as you would like to be treated... basic golden rule stuff. As simple as that concept sounds, it's still considered "special" to find people who genuinely put it into practice.
My dad was Ray Koehnk, and as he used to say to long distance telephone operators, "that's oink with a 'k'!" The son of German immigrants, Dad had a good sense of humor and was known by many for his wit and love of laughter. He was also a great athlete as a young man, especially in baseball. Dad and his high school team won the Iowa State Championship in 1939. Dad was a star pitcher and big hitter. He went on to play baseball for the Iowa Hawkeyes from 1939-1942, and played right field on the team that won the Big Ten Championship in 1942. His long time friend, Jim Fanning, former manager of the Montreal Expos, told my brother "Your dad was a real pro. He could have played professional ball if he hadn't injured his arm." (paraphrased a bit, but that is the gist) Dad was that good.
When I played softball and basketball in school, Dad was my biggest fan. He rarely missed a game, other than when he was on the road for his crop insurance job. Even tho he had taught me to "focus on the game & tune out the crowd", there were those times when I would hit a home run or make an extra-long shot on the basketball court that I would hear my dad shouting, "Atta gal!" with great enthusiasm. It was really cool and made me want to play even better.
Dad lived his life with a lot of gusto, and as Mom said after his sudden passing, "he lived every minute of his life".
Yes, he did.
Dad touched a lot of people during his relatively long lifetime. His funeral service in this postage stamp of a town (as my brother says) was amazingly well attended - over 200 people, including several people who traveled long distances. All these people really seemed to love my dad, and so many said "he sure will be missed". and had fond memory stories to tell of my dad. Most of the stories ended with a punch line and laughter. There were even some stories of Dad's little "secret good deeds" - things he never told us, but just did because he cared about others.
At the end of Dad's memorial service in our hometown Lutheran church, after playing "Amazing Grace", the organist played "Take Me Out To the Ball Game" as the family exited the church. As "Take Me Out..." began playing, most all the faces in the pews sprang into smiles, some tears and nods, like "yep, that's Ray, alright!" I think Dad was smiling at that one, too.
We said goodbye to Dad on my 50th birthday - a beautiful, sunny Spring day in Northwest Iowa... the kind of day that Dad would have relished, as he loved being outdoors and especially loved the seasonal transitions into Spring and Fall.
Thanks for everything, Dad. I really miss you, but will never forget you. I am a part of you, and am forever grateful for that.
Raymond Wilbur Koehnk - 1920 - 2010
smart recycling... (or, how to reduce your carbon footprint if you drink bottled beer)
Yes, those are upside-down beer bottles on the left. OK, before you exclaim in horror, "OMG! This is the tackiest thing I've ever seen!", please hear me out... I'm trying to do a good thing for all of you by making garden terracing and edge fencing out of beer bottles. Yes, I'm introducing a new concept I'm calling "eco-tacky"... it may be tacky, but it's better for the environment overall.
My brother, the environmental scientist and I had a long conversation in Florida about recycling, et. al. Bro is quite well versed in this area and informed me that a vast majority of glass bottles put in recycling bins actually are NOT recycled, but end up in landfills anyway. You see, recycling glass is apparently quite cost prohibitive, as it's much cheaper to just dig up some sand and make new glass. Fortunately the glass is not toxic to the environment, BUT the additional fossil fuels required to haul the heavy glass around adds tremendously to the taxpayer's burden, CO2 emissions, environmental stress and really does nobody any good except the big oil companies.
Wow. I realized that I am single-handedly burdening my fellow citizens & enabling corporate greed by not only my own consumption of bottled beer, but the bottles that accumulate at my parties (some of which are just friends coming over to hang out & drink beer...). All this time I had thought I was being a good green citizen by dutifully loading up my recycling bin and lugging it out to the curb every 2 weeks. Alas, I guess I wasn't. No wonder the recycling guy would often curse as he dumped my oversized bottle load into the truck (especially after a couple/few parties).
So I decided to make "useful" things with my beer bottles. I needed some garden edging anyway, so thought "why not beer bottles?" God knows I have enough materials! So I just started doing it. Granted, it's a work in progress (like most things I do, it seems). The plan is to create terracing on the little hill where Shedra resides (also called "Mount Mojo", as he loves to perch on top of the hill and oversee his little doggie domain... he's so friggin' cute!!) When it's finished, the sides of the bottles will no longer be as visible. For now, however, I'm finding it quite visually entertaining, as I do love many of the label designs.
AND as an added benefit, I'm thinking my beer bottle fences/terraces will help to keep the slugs busy, therefore keeping them away from my plants this year! Since slugs are known to enjoy beer, I'm hoping that the residual beer drippings will lure them to the bottles where I will strategically sprinkle "Slug-be-Gone" (or whatever it's called). Hey, it sounds good in theory!
So yeah - I know it's tacky and I'm ok with that. Now that I'm almost officially old (50 in a few weeks), I feel I have earned the right to celebrate my tackiness in the open, and hope it will be viewed as "eccentric" rather than tacky one day... whatever - it is what it is, and at least it is better for the environment than putting bottles onto a recycling truck.
beer bottle garden edging around my tiny hosta garden
10 days in Florida that turned into 21...
What a trip this has been! I'm sitting here in my friends' home in Ft. Lauderdale, just replaying the last 3 weeks over in my head. I was lucky enough to see all of my Florida family and a lot of old friends. The first week was the first "break" I've taken in quite awhile, as it was Chinese New Year (ie: all the factories & printers I deal with were shut down for that period) and my biggest client was away at a trade show... so I was actually able to breath a bit for a few days. It was wonderful.
I went to Miami Seaquarium for the first time, in the company of 17 little special needs kids that my amazing sister-in-law was wrangling and herding like the true pro she is. Seaquarium was wonderful in a weird, old-Florida way. Fortunately our visit was a few days before the awful incident at Sea World in Orlando, so there was no awkward strangeness or morbid anticipation as we watched Lolita, the local Orca do her flips and tricks and leaps as she frolicked with her trainers. Of course I took my camera, as part of my mission was to document this field trip for Diane and her students... I took 839 photos in the 4 hours we were there. Yeah, I know... but if I do say so, myself, some of them came out quite well and I felt most pleased and lucky for the amazing photo opps.
There were parties and bonfires and clambakes and fresh fish off the boats and lunch on Espanola Way and even a citizenship ceremony... yes, my long time dear friend, English Cathy finally became a citizen last Friday. So we can no longer call her English Cathy, I guess. Today she told me of an incident in a crowded parking lot in which she scolded a woman for stealing her parking space. Yep, I told Cath she is a real American now, by golly! Ha!
After that first lovely week, workie madness took over again and I was basically tethered to my computer for the duration. Fortunately, this being South Florida and all, I was able to take my mini office outside some days and work among the tropical flora and fauna with actual warm sun all around me... ahhhhhh! (note: it was "cold" by SoFla standards most of the time, but there were a few mid-70's days in there... and the mid-60's days felt simply heavenly to me!)
Tomorrow I begin my journey back to my mountain home, where it may be cold and all, but it's home and I love it.
I know I've said it before, but I am very lucky. Lucky to live in such a wonderful place as Asheville, and lucky to be able to visit my Florida peeps periodically... best of both worlds, actually.
Thanks for all the good times, Fla peeps! I'll be back...
Are ya havin' a crappy day? Here's a quick 3-minute fix!
OK, unless you're a Vulcan or Dexter or some other creature with no capacity for emotion or "feelings", I guaran-ass-tee this little 3 minute clip will make you feel better... even if it's just for 3 minutes. But hey - on an otherwise crappy day, a 3-minute crappy-free break is better than nothing, right?
Fred Astaire once called this performance "the greatest dance number ever filmed." As far as I know, it is, ESPECIALLY because it's 100% real! No special effects! No tricks! These guys are abso-frickin-lutely A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!! They have bionic rubber legs!! I would SO be in the hospital if I tried this - even in younger, fitter days! (and I won't even go into the theorizing one could do about their balls... are they kevlar or nonexistant? Details at 11...)
So sit back, hit Play and take a 3-minute break from the otherwise crappy day you might be having - especially if you live in one of these Arctic-esque places that are continually getting pounded with CRAPPY winter weather!!
(Note: the scattin' guy at the beginning is Cab Calloway, of course. And the video is mislabeled "Stormy Weather"... the number is actually "Jumpin' Jive")
time to flee...
OK, I've had it... I give up... I surrender! I have tried very hard to be the brave little soldier and buck up and hunker down and all that against this unbelievably cruel winter with blizzards & sleet & snow... oh my! But I guess I'm just a wimp after all... I can't take this Iowa-esque climate anymore! I left Iowa for that reason in the first place!!
Yes, I'm afraid it's time to flee to Florida for a little warm-up session. - like an Iguana crawling toward a hot rock - once the latest spate of Arctic hell abates for a couple of days (which should be next week some time... tho it seems it will snow & sleet & be SO fricking cold forever!).
In a weird way, the upcoming Florida trip will probably save me money. I just got my electric bill for last month... $344 for this little 800 sq. ft. house!!! Holy shit on a frozen shingle!!! (And no, I don't have a room full of electric chairs and industrial grain dryers and Large Hadron Colliders...) The worst bill I've ever had before was the previous month's $235... before that, the worst ever was about $180. Jesus H Christ.
So, yeah - I'm outta here soon. I'm already having visions of beaches and SUN and going barefoot and the occasional need for air conditioning... ahhhhhhhhhh.... I'll be able to feel my toes again!!!
No, I'm certainly not regretting my decision to live in Asheville - not at all. I love this little ville more than any other, but as in most great love affairs, I just need a little space right now... space that doesn't require space heaters... space that is drenched in sun-baked subtropical warmth... aaaahhhhhhhh!
Besides, the Tiki Bar needs some roof repair.
outsourcing... and reverse outsourcing?
Oh, the ONION, you are so clever sometimes!... seriously, tho, I wouldn't be surprised if some people are actually doing this...
On a semi-related note, I recently acquired my first client in Asia (Taiwan, to be exact), which kind of qualifies as reverse-outsourcing, don't you think? Oh, the ironies abound here, believe me. I've been communicating and dealing with Chinese, Taiwanese and Hong Kong factory printers for about 15 years because that's where most all the packaging for most everything you buy is printed now. As the US printing industry started to lose business, the graphic design industry also began to suffer the effects of the modern "ever-lower cost" mentality... in other words, most of us have been forced to lower our rates rather substantially over the last decade, especially small design entities like mine. I have long dubbed this the "Walmart* Effect" or the "Chinafication of America"... in other words, apparently the goal is to get us all working for about the same wages as the millions of grossly underpaid Asian workers.
The other irony here is that my new Asian client is (so far) not the same kind of penny-pincher as most of my American clients. They are actually a pleasure to work with all around... maybe because they know what it's like to be constantly beaten down in price while the expectations of service continually increase to near-ridiculous proportions... yes, strangely, the Asians and I are kindred spirits, I think.
Funny world.
* Just so you know, Walmart is 100% evil... don't even get me started...
more on the New Ice Age... Condition 1 Weather
OK, OK - I know it's not THAT cold here... but this video clip illustrates how cold it has "seemed" to me recently... it's all relative, you know...
This "Condition 1" thing reminds me a lot of Northwest Iowa, tho I will concede that Antarctica is a tad worse...
Welcome to the Ice Age... some survival tips for Arctic living
my back yard after the recent big blizzard...
Yes, I know - I grew up in Northwest Iowa where EVERY winter was a mini Ice Age... but I left! When I made my first move south in 1983, I vowed to never again live in any area that got colder than 40° as an "average". Before moving to Asheville in 2006, I researched the hell out of the local statistics, especially the weather & average year-round temperatures. That research showed average winter temps in the mid 40°s-ish for only a couple months, which was just barely acceptable after 20 years in sub-tropical South Florida. My first three winters here were true to the stats - even a bit warmer at times. It was looking good & I was acclimating pretty well.
But this recent/current Arctic Blast??!! What the hell??? I realize now that I truly DO hate the cold intensely, and that it wasn't just a long-ago memory that may have become exaggerated over time. No, cold is not good. It makes me sad & sometimes cranky. It also prevents me from doing simple life tasks like showering (my bathroom is in the 40°s & low 50°s these days... no heat in there... WAY too cold for a proper shower!) So I crank up yet another little space heater & do "European spit baths" instead, and quickly. Just removing a layer of clothing is a shock to my system, so I've devised a little routine wherein I put the fresh layers over my little radiator-style heater while removing the other layers... that way I only have to endure a few seconds of frozen hell until the toasty warm layers go on.
Even just taking out the trash or getting the mail (both tasks are less than 30 feet from my front door) requires major bundling before opening the door. These 30 foot trips are enough to make my face hurt. As for fingers & toes... well they're perpetually numb these days anyway.
I haven't worn less than 4 layers of clothing for weeks now (3 sweatshirts & a long underwear shirt plus fleece pants & long johns plus at least 3 pairs of warm socks and slippers.) My old 1925 house is - well, leaky I guess, so the heaters just don't quite cut it when it's this frickin' cold. Luckily my friend, Dillon loaned me a propane heater to supplement, and even tho it looks like a contraption from the movie, "Brazil", it is saving Mojo's & my butts from turning to pure ice right now.
During this recent experience, I have reacquainted with my inner-survivor... not that I'm exactly happy about that, mind you. But I have employed some little Arctic survival methods that (knock on wood) are still keeping Mojo & me on the right side of the frozen dirt... so far. For those of you who also hate the cold and are NOT accustomed to sub-zero temps on a continual basis, AND who live in old houses with sub-par heating and insulation, here are my little tips:
Tip #1: Never venture more than 12" away from your contained-oil space heater. If you can strap yourself to it, even better.
Tip #2: Cook & bake a LOT... then eat it. The oven & stove are wonderful heaters for the kitchen area, at least. And all the extra food you've cooked will plump you up nicely, adding a much-needed layer of personal insulation to help ward off the shivers.
Tip #3: Layer. Layer. Layer... then add another layer of clothing. If you don't appear to be at least 50 lbs. heavier than you really are, you're not layering enough.
Tip #4: Don't leave your house. However, if you absolutely must, then be sure to bundle up in your most aggressive winter gear at least 20 minutes before actually going outside. The extra body heat you accumulate will help get you from the door to the car without crying.
Tip #4A: When forced to leave the house by car, start the car & crank up the heater at least 30 minutes before getting in. If there is ice on the windshield, most of it will melt and slide off by the time you're ready to drive. This is really good, because few things in life suck more than scraping ice off a windshield when you're already half frozen.
Tip 5: Flee as far south as you possibly can... somewhere around the Equator would be good.
Since a trip to Ecuador is not really feasible for me right now, I think it might be time for another little road trip to South Florida... it would just be nice to be able to feel my toes again... AND to have a nice, comfortable shower whenever I want!
the bizarre, yet effective propane heater
Frankencooking
Recently I've been doing some of my rather crazy food experiments that I call "Frankencooking". I don't really know why this happens... maybe just because I have a procrastination problem with my still-insane workload, or maybe because I don't like following recipes to the letter... or maybe just because I'm crazy and enjoy spending way too much time on bizarre concoctions that are sometimes surprisingly fabulous and sometimes ultimately disastrous, but always great "escape" in the process.
Usually Frankencooking starts with one ingredient that happens upon me for one reason or another. The most recent madness was kicked off by a large Pattypan squash that Fliss gave me from her prolific Pattypan crop this year. The same event had also brought another dozen fresh eggs from Kyle & Jen's backyard coop. So I started wondering, "what can I do with this very bland squash and those wonderful eggs... and some of the other random stuff I have in the fridge & pantry?".
Well, all I can tell you is that the adventure began with what seemed like "practical" thinking - using ingredients I like that I already have, and trying to create a somewhat souffle-like creature that would also feature garlic & home-grown banana peppers & shrimp & bits of ham & sour cream & Havarti cheese. Sounded pretty interesting in theory. But then I decided to process up the whole garlic bulb with the banana peppers (which made quite a lot). The original intent was to set aside most of that garlic/pepper blend for other uses. But somewhere between loading the kitchen counter with various ingredients and listening to some get-down Reggae and daydreaming, I forgot that garlic/pepper plan and scooped the entire wad into the already rather strange mush I was creating.
I processed and tweaked and processed some more - totally winging it - no recipes. When I was finished mashing all this stuff together, I added the chopped shrimp & ham pieces, some homemade basil pesto and I'm not really sure what else. I decided to bake these in small-ish baking dishes (a single person thing), assuming that after about 10-15 minutes, I would peek into the oven and find them exuberantly rising and bursting forth like happy souffle-like creatures. But alas... there was no rising or puffing or exuberance of any kind that I could see. So I let them go a bit longer before peeking again. Still no exuberance - no fluffing - just awkward-looking goo in baking dishes that, if they could talk, would ask "why?".
Finally I had to acknowledge that these were not souffle-like at all, but rather hopefully a bread pudding-like texture? After about 40 minutes in the 375° oven, I pulled the little strangelings out and set them on the counter to cool. About 15 minutes later, I decided to have a taste and test the texture. The texture was mush. The taste was certainly flavorful... full of GARLIC!!! Jeez! No vampire could ever survive that - even just my breath could wipe out a whole cave full!
I was somewhat bummed and annoyed at the tremendous waste of time and ingredients that had gone into producing this inedible mush. However, I was still not daunted! I decided that I would throw the cooled mush mass into my groovy little food processor and make a garlic paste of sorts, to be added sparingly to fabulous dishes that require a respectable garlic hit. So I processed again... and it actually worked. I now have a rather amazing batch of a garlic paste that is truly tasty and interesting... complex and robust... garlicey and playful.
Of course I haven't actually tried adding my new mega-garlicey paste to anything yet, but I printed about 10 recipes from the internets tonight that seem to have potential. No, I won't follow any of these recipes exactly because none of them call for "super-garlicey goo-paste made from al the stuff you happened to have in your fridge that night".
So, I'll wing it again. If I'm lucky, I will create a likable food monster that won't wreak havoc on the village.
HUGE snake on my kitchen floor!!!!!!
(the HUGE snake on my kitchen floor... the floor tiles are 16" square... I just measured them)
YES! There was a GIGANTIC snake on my kitchen floor this afternoon!!! OMG times a million!!!
OK, it was probably between 3 & 4 ft. long... but OMG!!! When a 3-4 foot snake is hanging out in your eencie-weencie galley-style kitchen, it's motherf•ckin' HUGE!!! Especially when you're just auto-pilot-cell-orbit-wandering into the kitchen at 3:30 in the afternoon, on a highly important phone call with a client in which we were solving some potentially huge problems with projects and Chinese printers and the latest "super urgent" needs with deadlines that defy physics and/or linear time, et. al... just as we had resolved the issue of the "this too urgent at once" email (verbatim Chinese subject line) regarding Stretch Cord packaging (ie: box vs. hang card), I caught a glimpse of a shadow or something moving below me... I looked down... and there... 12" from my bare feet, lined neatly along the kitchen cabinet base on the floor... was the snake. I shrieked over the phone, which must have sounded pretty bizarre to my client, as I started yelling like a 13 year old, "OH MY GOD!!! THERE'S A SNAKE IN MY KITCHEN!!! AND IT'S RIGHT THERE!!! ON THE FLOOR!!!! BY THE SINK!!!! OH MY GAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDD!!!!!!"
My client just laughed (we've worked together since 1994) and said, "Sounds like you need to go - so do I". (yes, he had been trying to escape my interrogation-style phone call for several minutes - I think he was most relieved that Mr. Snake decided to lounge on my galley floor at that moment...)
So I ended the call and stood there for a second, thinking "ok, what do I do?" Immediately I sprang into crisis management mode and ran for my camera. On the way back to the snake, I realized that I should probably put on some shoes... and get something long to coax the slithery intruder back outside with. So I grabbed my ugly, yet rubber crocs for my bare feet and my 31-year-old stolen fencing sword (compliments of the University of Iowa Phys Ed Dept in 1978)
With the fencing sword in one hand, I proceeded to shoot some... well, rather blurry and not well composed shots of the snake on my kitchen floor, just to document this unprecedented event that got my adrenaline pumping again. After the first shot flashed, Mr. Snake got camera shy ad started heading into my pantry... a perfect hiding place for a snake, as there's tons of "stuff" in there offering multitudes of hideouts. So I instinctively squatted into the classic fencing "alle" position, pointed my plastic-tipped sword at my serpentine trespasser, and began gently pushing him toward the back door. At one point, Mr. Snake decided that he did NOT want to go that way and got all snaky and slithery and weird... so I smacked the tip of the foil onto the tile floor just in front of Snake. Interestingly, he seemed to respect that. He did not want to be whacked like that (tho I wouldn't have whacked him, unless I felt truly threatened with snakebite action). I continued my hard tapping combined with gentle herding nudges on Mr. Snake. Eventually he slithered back under the back door (with a now-realized HUGE gap between door and floor) and onto the back porch.
Once out of the house, Snake made a bee-line for the area between my big cooler and the wall. By this point, Mojo caught on that there was something interesting happening so immediately volunteered to help. Yeah, no. I put Mini-Mo in the house (much to his chagrin) and proceeded with my photo documentation and fencing foil nudging to see that Mr. Snake found his way back into the wilds of West Asheville, but not before a couple more pics.
Funny, I was just recently thinking, "things have been kind of boring lately... no good adrenaline rushes...".
"Careful what you think."