High Heels and Dirty Dishes # 13

I would really like to know when my life went from I don’t know what I should do today, to not being sure if I brushed my teeth or if I put a bra on because I didn’t have time. For the love of God my life has to slow down a little bit. It is 11:30 at night, and my mind is swarming on all sorts of stuff that I should be doing. The most important thing is that I leave for our annual Bjerklie girl’s trip to Apple Fest in the morning, a mind free laughter weekend with two moms and their daughters. Don’t expect stories to appear in this column. I know my place in this world, and well in this case it is to SHUT MY MOUTH. It’s not a Girls Gone Wild weekend, but is not an Amish quilting gathering either. I guess I am going to have to leave it to your imagination, cause in the case Vomit Mouth and Allie Enge can’t be used in the same sentence. I can tell you that we all exchange gifts and mine is pretty cool. They are all getting screen printed tees with my High Heels and Dirty Dishes logo, and the back there is different sayings for each one. My mom’s shirt says “Go braless, it will pull the wrinkles right out of your face”. I am sure that she won’t talk to me for a couple of days after she reads that I wrote about it. I asked her today if she liked my article from last week and her words, “Well I am still talking to you”. I like I mine too, it says “May you live long enough to poop yourself”, but the “S” word was actually used. I laughed so hard when I saw that saying I had to cross my legs. I think that it was very fitting! No new drama with my kids this week, so either I am doing a better job of zoning them out or they have been sick without me knowing it. My son did tell me this week that he is going to start writing about me, and I told him to go for it. Anything to get that kid to write in complete sentences has me excited. When you put it that way I have a feeling that if I don’t watch it Keisha and Janice are going to fight back and start their own column about me. This time there will not be any “Fake” names. Even though I am honest, there is a lot that they could bury me with. They definitely know way too much about me for me to ever think about ending our friendship. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I am talking about, we all have friends like that. I did have a couple of tough days this week, and when I get upset or discouraged I feel the symptoms of my stroke so strongly. I just want to be normal, I want to remember where I put my keys, my phone, to turn off the oven, where I set down my purse, and so on. I feel like my Grandma Rose looking for her false teeth every morning. It is hard for those that live with me, and it is really hard not having a mental breakdown. I want to be normal, I want to feel that I am not a burden, that I am someone that people want to be around instead of being known as the one that is really forgetful. Not fun and it is starting to wear on my self-esteem. As much as we want people in life to like us, I just want to be able to wake in the morning and not have to tell myself that today is going to be a better day, that I am going to get better, and that I am not going to feel worthless because of my inability to remember even the simplest things. You see my life isn’t always about High Heels and Dirty Dishes. Most of the time I have no idea where the other heel is, and the dishes are usually in the dishwasher because I hate unloading it. Until next week my friends. Allison Enge www.facebook.com/highheelsanddirtydishesbyallie

High Heels and Dirty Dishes

For so long in life I tried to find myself, and really define who I was. I for so long didn't know where I belonged in this world. I have at this point ended my weekly column, and I really have no regrets or any ill feelings toward the newspaper. It was my Segway into me realizing that writing made me happy. I know that some people are upset about me stopping, but the truth is I do write about real things, and real can be scary. So maybe everyone didn't like what I wrote about. But these are the people that obviously don't go to the bathroom, have experienced facial hair, adult acne, teenage kids, or friends that know way too much about you. I could change my writings, but you know what I won't do it. I have come too far down in my road trip of life to ever go back down that road ever again. I went down some pretty crappy roads too. Many of them with dead ends that weren't marked, some terrible frost bubbles, and let's not forget about the road that ended up nowhere so I have to drive in reverse the entire way just to realize that the road I should have taken was looking me right in the eye. What I write about is relatable, and people like to be able to relate to something. I find that it makes situations less uncomfortable and people are truly themselves. I could have caved and went with the "Norm", but lets be truthful there is nothing normal about life these days. I am honored to be able to write, and maybe this blog will not get the circulation that the paper received. That's ok, because the moment that I start writing for other people instead of myself . . . well the moment that I need to stop take a look around and smell the vodka injected oranges. . . cause they do smell as good as they taste.

High Heels and Dirty Dishes #12

I realized this week that ignorance truly is the best way to live a happy life. I’m telling you this whole being an adult thing is definitely over rated. It is a good thing that I don’t listen to what the voices in my head tell me to do, it is when I do that I get myself in TROUBLE! Please don’t roll your eyes, doesn’t everyone talk to themselves in their head. . . and have conversations . . . and make new friends. . .and exchange recipes. . . and talk about how much they LOVE Blake Shelton? Sometimes the voices in my head is my very best friend. Smile if you agree, if you don’t. Well people I had a stroke, and MAJOR brain surgery! I am kidding, I think? So last Friday my son and I went to the Rodney Atkins concert, and we had meet and greet passes. We had so much fun, but of course you put me in any type of social situation and one of three things are going to happen. 1. My colon will decide to explode. 2. My governor on my filter of my brain which regulates my mouth from my stroke will decide to fail, and I will babble. 3. Something embarrassing will happen to me and out of nervousness I will say the “F” word loudly in front of the wrong audience. Sometimes all 3 happen, and when that happens I usually say that I am Keisha. I went for a spray tan last Friday, and the thing with spray tans is that they are wonderful BUT the first day you basically until you wash go through every ethnic skin tone possible. I start out Norwegian White, and by the next morning I looked like I walked out of a jungle in Africa wearing nothing but a loin cloth. I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into the planning of the spray tan and the concert. Well my hair these days is blonde, so at the concert and in the lighting all you could see was the whites of my eyes, my teeth which with a tan are freakishly white, and my hair. So one of the crew members was talking to Nolan and looks at me and says, “You are the blondest Native I have ever seen”. I didn’t know what to say, so then I starting babbling about my stroke, and my spray tan, that I wore a size 8 shoe, and I wrote a column, I own a store, and I really wished they served beer at the casino, and how whoa. . I was having a hot flash. Then Nolan told the guy, this girl is really my aunt. I then babbled some more on how Nolan was a premature baby, and he has a horse, and he plays hockey, and goes on my Twitter account. The whole time he kept on saying, “She is my Aunt”. Then I had to break out, “YOU ARE THE FRUIT OF MY LOIN”. Seriously what is wrong with me??? Oh well, every family has one crazy person. If you don’t think that yours does, look in the mirror cause it might be you. This morning I got up early to get some things done for the upcoming weekend. I sat in my chair enjoying the quiet before the kids got up for school. It was then that I heard the most God awful noise I have ever heard. My daughters cat “Tillie Peterson” is in heat once again, and each time it happens it builds in loudness and intensity of the MEOOOOOOOWWWWW. I decided that it is by far the worst sound ever in this world. So instead of enjoying my 30 minutes of quiet this morning, I listened to the noise come out of Tillie Peterson, while watching my English toy spaniel DOG, “Orville Peterson” think that he was a male cat. Here I thought I had problems! My son asked me when he came in if I made that noise when I wanted to have babies. You can’t make up this kind of stuff people! I didn’t give any big explanation, I told him to brush his teeth. I wonder what it would be like to have a normal family. I am sure that my kids wonder what it would be like to have a normal mom! BORING! Until next week my friends. Allison Enge www.facebook.com/highheelsanddirtydishesbyallie

High Heels and Dirty Dishes #11

When I first started writing this column, I am going to honest I really didn’t know where it is going to go. I figured that if people liked it, GOOD! If people didn’t like it, well they wouldn’t read it. The response has been wonderful, yet scary. Scary in the fact that I am afraid if someone follows me into a public bathroom they are going to wait and see what happens, I can’t poop on demand people. People are really wanting to know who Keisha and Janice are, and for more stories. You see on how open I am about something’s, there are a lot of things that I am not able to talk about. Ok. . . well there are something’s that I would love to tell you . . .but I value the relationship of the few friends that I have left in this world to ever cross that line. I try to keep it tasteful, and never go for the cheap shot. But if I ever do, you will hear it here first. Someone commented to me if I had any dignity, again it was a man. I had a lot of dignity before I pushed out my first child. It seems as though after that it went all out the window. I remember my uncle asking me after the birth how it was. REALLY. . . HOW IT WAS? Did he not realize that I looked like I had been to war. I simply told him it was a lot more fun going in than coming out. He shut his mouth after that, yet still finds humor in reminding me of that comment. I am going to find humor in punching Eve in the jugular. My life is not always humorous, sometimes it down right sucks like everyone else’s. I like to think that everyone else has stuff happen to them too. This week I was feeling a little down in the dumps, so I meant to take some vitamin C. Turns out I took a stool softener instead. Not a good thing to take 30 minutes before having to go to the church. My friend Sheila told me to consider it a “Little Diet” before the weekend. I know for a fact that I am now only one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. I don’t even remember buying stool softener, God how old am I? I will never make that mistake again. If it is not one thing it is the next. I started a Facebook site this week for my column, I was getting all of these friend’s requests from people that I didn’t know. Turns out I now have followers from all over the United States, and a few overseas. There are some really strange people out there though. At one point I was questioning if inmates were allowed to have in the internet in prison. I thank you for the readers for helping me keep it real. So here are some updates from my previous posts that I have been asked questions on. I ended up not being able to do the “Uff Da” Mud run with my friends. Let’s really be honest, there was no way in h e double hockey sticks that my body was ever going to make. I “Fortunately” developed a blood clot. No you read that right, I did say “Fortunately”. I am ok now, God knew that it wasn’t my time to die. My brothers still have not called my parent’s thanking them for giving birth to the best older sister. My mother is again talking to me about the “Old Lady” comment that I made. It took a couple of days, but she is over it. Even at the age of 36 having your mother mad at you is an awful feeling. However, I am a little disappointed that my mother continues to share stories with my teenager on how her mom went trick or treating for beer one year. Really mother??? We need to come to some type of understanding on what is said and what is not said. I won’t bust out the old lady comment, if you don’t bust out. . “When your mother . . . “ It was pretty genius though, trick or treating for beer? I know that it is going to be all over Pinterest next week. Last night my oldest child was beating the pulp out of her brother because he was teasing her about some boyfriend and making it Facebook official. I didn’t even interfere, even after he was on the ground for almost 10 minutes “Hurting”. I yelled from my room, “I did the same thing to Uncle Ryan after I seen him kiss Kim Lambert on the playground and he beat the crap out of me too”. I hate to pick sides, but as I get older I often wonder which one is going to take better care of me and put me in the nice nursing home. (Mom and Dad don’t worry, we have it all figured out. Meaning that Aric always gives the high priced Christmas gifts Lucas and I we figured that he would take care of you better, we promise that we will visit often). Love you Mom, Love you Dad. Until next week my friends, Allison Enge www.facebook.com/highheelsanddirtydishesbyallie

High Heels and Dirty Dishes # 10

Yesterday, (September 9th), I became an aunt again. So instead of writing a column about the ups and downs of my week. I am going to write a letter to my niece Shay. As much as we want to think that we are going to be here till we are old, we may not be. I have been all too close to death, and if tomorrow never comes dear Shay I want you to know your Auntie Allie. Shay - You are never going to remember the day that you were born. One day you will look back at pictures and think of “how little you were”, or “how your dad really should have shaved”, or “maybe on how young your mom looked”. When your daddy came to announce the news that “It’s a girl”, the look on his face was complete happiness. I couldn’t get over that my Lucas was a dad, when I saw your mom with you I knew that she was a natural. No matter how your dad and I would tease each other, he has always held a special place in my heart. I remember the day that he was born, and how I wanted to have a sister. So I would dress him up in my clothes, put Grandma Cheryl’s make-up on him and call him Lucinda. If you go to Grandma’s place look under her bed and in one of the boot boxes you will find pictures, he was not the cutest girl. Then there is your mom. I told her long before your parent’s ever started dating that she was going to be my sister in law. So I like to say that I handpicked her. As you grow up you are going to experience all sorts of things, I hope that I can experience them with you. If you are reading this that means that I am not going to be here in person, but I have some pretty sound advice for you. Make sure that some of your best friends are your cousins. You are now part of the Bjerklie Mafia and we always stick together no matter what. If you are not really strong physically, always be mentally prepared for what is thrown at you. Auntie Kelly and I are known for quick comebacks, (make us proud). No matter what Grandma Cheryl says, don’t let her give you a perm. (In that same box of pictures of your dad are some grade school pictures of me, and they are really really bad, ex: purple sweater, permed on top short in the back hair do). When you get a bike, don’t park it in the back of a pickup or car, all of mine were drove over. Play a musical instrument, no matter how much you want to quit you are always going to regret not sticking through with it. No matter how boring it may seem always pay attention to when your grandma’s are making something that you like to eat, and write down the recipe. One day they are not going to be around and you are not going to be able to call them for a recipe. Go with them every place possible even if it sounds boring, some of my favorite memories were created in a field with Grandma B “borrowing” someone’s carrots. Dress in clothes that make you feel pretty, (ask your dad about the yellow pants that I wore one time). Make sure that you always ask your mom about your Grandpa Gay and your uncle Ryan, and you are not in trouble if she starts crying when you do. When your dad makes supper and if you complain don’t even test the waters if he says, “You eat it, or you wear it”, I seen it happen first hand. If your dad is mad at you and says, “You are just like my sister”, honey turn around and say “THANK YOU”. When you look for a husband look for a man that believes in Jesus, look for a man that is good with animals, a hard worker, one that loves his mom, he needs to make you laugh, a man that loves playing with kids, keeps his promises, makes you feel pretty, one that loves his family, and a man that loves you for you. Now through life you may think that a men like this doesn’t exist. Believe in love at first sight. Honey, your mommy married your daddy and these are all qualities that your daddy has. I will always be only a thought away, and know that I loved you even before you were born. Auntie Allie

High Heels and Dirty Dishes # 9

I have decided that this week that in this “Social Media” age a person can’t breathe without offending anyone. (Mom this does not apply to you). I am all for freedom of speech, because if I wasn’t. . .this article would be pretty boring. This week was my friends 30th birthday and she is “with child”. Or like my father would say, “Knocked up”. Her pregnancies are like mine miserable beyond belief. So instead of a surprise birthday party in which she wouldn’t have been able to consume alcohol she wanted to get tweets from famous people. I aided in this fun and tweeted Al Roker saying that it’s her 30th birthday and she was pregnant and to tweet the knocked up lady. Al in fact did tweet her back, although someone got offended with my verbiage. It was a man that didn’t appreciate that term and went on to say that childbirth was the most beautiful thing ever. Well Mr. Man let me tell you something. Babies are the most beautiful thing ever, CHILDBIRTH IS NOT. If you were a woman that has ever been at the cusp of dying while hearing a Dr. say, “I can feel the head only a couple of more pushes”, which in fact turns out to be two hours later still no baby and you are cussing out Eve for eating an apple in some garden. . . you would understand that. There is nothing beautiful about that moment. I had to laugh when Princess Kate was in labor and the media was reporting what was happening during the labor. I wondered if she looked at Prince William and said, “You ^&*%&%^ you did this to me”. Or was she mad at Eve like I was. No matter what the case I would like to ask her in private amongst friends if she thought that it was “Beautiful”. If and when I get to heaven I am going to get my lady friends together and punch Eve in the jugular, after putting a bushel barrel of apples together and have her eat them in front of us. See how she likes those apples now! If it’s not something that you put on Facebook, or something that you put on Twitter people will eat you alive. . .do they not know I had stroke? I love social media, but there are many times that I often wonder if people would be so brave to tell that person in real life what they write in the “Social Media” world. I am, and that is why in many cases people don’t like me. I am not afraid to confront someone. That makes people really uncomfortable. What makes me smile on the inside is when people know that I know that they know what they said and when they see me they often wonder what she going to say. The end result of that situation really all depends on if I have taken my medication or not. Like Ryan use to say, “I have enough friends”. This time of year I have a hard time dealing with my stroke, and I struggle not to feel sorry for myself and being so close to the date that it happened makes it worse. Yes I am a survivor, but it is a tough time for me. People see me as someone who is fine, those that I allow to know me know otherwise. I have to keep on reminding myself that I am here for a reason, it is hard. Last night my arm went numb and I dropped the supper on the floor. I deal with that and forgetfulness, slurred speech, headaches, anxiety. That is one reason why I have a hard time getting to know people better. I will talk for a little bit, and then walk away. It may seem as though I am being standoffish or it might actually seem that I am being a little stuck up. That is not the case at all. I am terrified of someone seeing just how messed up my speech can get, or my thoughts, or how I ramble, and if I trip you might as well just put a Scarlet Letter on my chest. What people say in their eyes is even more powerful than what comes out of their mouth. Don’t believe me? Just ask anyone that has lost their hair to cancer, or has a disability, they know what I am talking about. I don’t really work on that part of my recovery, it is too painful to actually even go there. I get up in the morning and hope it’s a good day. Until next week my friends. Allison Enge Highheelsanddirtydishes@yahoo.com

High Heels and Dirty Dishes # 8

By the time that you read this, school will be in session for the year and this mama is one happy person. These last couple of weeks have tested my patience as a human being. I wouldn’t change my kids for the world, not because there are not obvious improvements to be made. It is more like I wouldn’t know where to start. This week I had two of my nephews spend the night for a couple of nights, and I love those two so much and am so proud to call them my nephews. (I felt the need to insert that to make me sound like a good aunt) Needless to say that I learned a lot from the days that they were over. I have had the boys before however it had to have been the whole end of summer going back to school thing, the heat, was there a couple of full moons in a row, and I am pretty sure Mountain Dew runs through their veins??? All 3 of the boys were wild and you would swear that we have raised some savages for children. I use to be upset with my parent’s for the fact that we never went out to eat growing up. Well mom and dad I can see why. My friend opened up a café and I brought the kids to her opening, people were looking at me I know questioning if it was the first time that the kids had been out in public. Thanks to my nephews, Nolan now knows how to fart using his hand and armpits, and I am not responsible for the things they learned from Nolan. We did have a great couple of days, but I felt like my mother after she has had all of her grandkids for the weekend during a snow storm . The look of weary on her face, and the complete look of happiness when they left. It wasn’t too long ago that when I left the yard with all of them she was jumping up and down waving her hands like she won blackout in Gully. Mom I apologize for being upset then, because I understand. I have now realized that I have become my parent’s, specifically my mother. When does that transformation take place? My daughter thinks that I am the most uncool person ever to walk the earth, yet she thinks that my mother walks on water. My mother talks and her word is gold, and when I talk all I get is eye rolling. Is it a teenage thing? I think that my mother is great and she is my best friend, and I love that my children adore her. But the next time I hear that they want to move to Grandma Cheryl’s I am going to have to tell them the truth, that their grandma is not the mother that I grew up with, she is now just an old lady trying to get to heaven. (Come on - you don’t want to laugh, but how can you not) Why is it that to my daughter I am not fashionable at all, yet I tend to find 1/8 of my closet in her room? I loved when she told me that I should maybe lose a few pounds so she can fit into my “Cute” clothes. There were no words for that situation. Well ok, there were words but non suitable for this column. Yes I realize that I am not the only person to ever raise a teenager, but uff da. . . at times this is about as fun as it doesn’t get. I am going to get my revenge on her. I am not sure that Dr. Phil would approve of the word “Revenge”, I am going to consider this more of a “Learning Lesson”. You see this week I asked her to help me do something. She decided to do half of it. No rhyme or reason, just didn’t feel like doing it all. So the next time she asks me to do something for her, particularly take her somewhere. I am going to drive her ½ way there because that’s all that I feel like doing. See now that I put it that way, it’s not revenge at all. My grandpa Kenneth always told me that there was more than one way to skin a cat. . . or was it a deer. . . Dear Lord help me keep my sanity. She will get mad at me one of these days for writing about her, I don’t care though. Truth is I would rather have her mad at me for writing about her, instead of her being upset with me for breathing the same air as she does. If you have ever had a teenage daughter you know what I mean. Until next week my friends. Allison Enge Highheelsanddirtydishes@yahoo.com

High Heels and Dirty Dishes # 7

This week’s article was pretty much completed and then I watched the news tonight. My family was featured for the “Because I Can” project that is in memory of my brother. It was a nice feature, although on a personal note the camera needs to learn that up high and at an angle really would have been nice for me who has a “round” face. I would have even preferred a voice over. I looked at the TV and thought to myself, “I am so much prettier in person”. They say the camera adds 10 pounds, I am thinking more like 50, and a couple of chins. I didn’t really focus on the message, I was more like “she should have zoomed out”, or “man that zit on my forehead looks huge”, or my favorite “I should have tucked in that t-shirt”. Actually I had a hard time other than my physical deformities with watching it. Seeing Ryan’s face, hearing them say he died, made it real. Why is it 4 years later when I read that it happened, or hearing it on the news makes it all real. It is as though I play a game in head that makes me almost believe that he is off working, and it didn’t happen. It takes me breath away. For about a year after he died once a week I would go on the funeral website and see his obituary just to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming it. If that isn’t messed up I don’t know what is. I was reading this article a couple of days ago about what a person would do if they were given only 48 hours to live. One person was going to sky dive, the other was to give away all of their money, many would tell their family one by one how much they loved then, and so on. I would do none of those things. I would make sure that my house was clean and all of my junk drawers were organized, I don’t want to be known as a messy dead person. I wouldn’t sky dive, are you kidding me? I conquered my robust fear of heights last year and got on a step ladder and made it to the 3rd step from the top and didn’t scream. Granted I would tell my family that I loved them, but if I miss a couple of them. . . well they should already know and not take it personal. The thing is I need to take as much time as possible at the funeral home. My main fear about my death is my funeral, specifically my funeral board. I don’t want a funeral video. I need to approve all of the pictures of me that go on that board before my death. I have a tendency to take really bad pictures, no I am not kidding. I mean REALLY BAD PICTURES. They are so bad that during the year at random times my cousins Emily and Kelly will send me pictures of me, just to get a reaction. This week was no exception. I could blame it on alcohol, but unfortunately I don’t drink that often anymore. So many people these days have Facebook and smartphones, and when a picture is taken of them someone will usually say, “Don’t put that on Facebook”. I do say that too, but more often than none I think to myself, “Self that better not go on my funeral board”. Now you may say to yourself that “When you are dead you don’t really care”. My question back to you is “How do you know, have you ever been dead”? See. . . I told you! On a side note: I have found that in my last 7 weeks writing this article a new zest for life, thank you to all of the readers who have emailed, called, or stop me in the street. I appreciate it so much. Yes, what I sometimes write about can be a little edgy, but it is real. Underneath all of the Estee Lauder is a person with a colon just like you. Until next week my friends. Allison Enge highhealsanddirtydishes@yahoo.com

High Heels and Dirty Dishes Column 6

I’m finally home, 6 days over 1,000 miles later we made it home last night about 10:30. After spending three days at the Wisconsin Dells I was extremely comfortable wearing a swimming suit. I was a little nervous but I feel if the 80 year old man next to me feels ok wearing a hammock, well I can bust out the swimming suit and not fuss with the one that had the "Mom" skirt attached. It was fun, exhausting, and a new experience. One night we took the kids to a fancy place to eat. Hannah ordered "Market Priced" crab legs. I for a brief moment felt like brother Aric and was all "Monied Up" and didn't ask the price. In our resort the next day Nolan ordered mini corn dogs and fries and it was over $13. I firmly said, "You better eat all of them and lick the ketchup because that was expensive". He put his head down and mumbled, "Hannah can order a $50 meal and you don't say a word, I order $13 corn dogs and the world ends". I smiled and said, "Yup now eat". No matter how much we attempted to please everyone on the trip, something always wasn’t good for one of the kids. We were either spending too much time focusing on Nolan and not enough on Hannah, or we liked Hannah more than we liked Nolan. I’m sorry but on more than one occasion on the trip, I didn’t want to claim either one or both of my kids. “Who are these kids and why are they yelling MOM”, kept on playing over and over in my head. On Monday we drove to Minneapolis, stayed downtown in a nice hotel and went to a Twins game. The kids walking into the hotel reminded me of when the Beverly Hillbillies first came to California. Hannah was trying to be all cool, while Nolan was running from one end to the next because his shoes slid on the marble floors. I had to remind myself that he is 10, but why is it that farting is so cool when you 10 and you don’t care where you are at cause its fun? Example: Hotel Elevator in the Hyatt Downtown. Next time I think that a Holiday Inn will be more our style, or a cattle barn for that matter. The next morning Hannah had this desire to go shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue, I don’t know what show she has been watching or magazine but in her head she was buying something there. So we went, and her eyes just about popped out of her head when she seen the prices. I didn’t say, “I told you so”, because that would have caused eye rolling and a complete inability to form words or look at me. I think that her ordering crab legs might have gone to her head. I hope that it didn’t because we have a few years before she is off the payroll. Her poor husband . . . "yes mom and dad I realize the apple didn't fall far from the tree", and Janice I know. . ."Tree/Nut". She was trying to be all cool in Saks, and it was at that moment that the Cajun food we had at The Dells decided to kick in for me. Anyone that says that love is the best feeling in the world has never been on floor 1 of Saks Fifth Avenue and realizing that in order to make it to the bathroom you need to go up 3 floors, walk around to the back corner of the store to where the clearance seasonal items are located to open up the door to walk into the bathroom and go. The best feeling in the world is actually making it to the bathroom with your dignity. I’m sorry Saks may be a nice place, but a place like that should have private bathrooms. I hate public restrooms, but at that moment I didn’t care. Yes my friends I was THAT person in Saks. You know, we have all encountered them before while going to the bathroom. It’s fun to go on vacation, try new foods, and see new things. But I am telling you there is no place like home, there is no place like my own bathroom, and there is nothing better than looking at your kids while yelling, “If you’re gonna fight and kill each other get outside cause I just shampooed the carpets”. I am counting down the days till school starts, and this year I am again going to not take a picture of my kids when they get on the bus. I will take a picture of myself smiling from ear to ear when they are off to school. The house will be quiet, no one to clean up after, and that last cookie will still be there when I want it, and maybe boring. But to be perfectly honest, I like boring. Until next week my friends Allison Enge highheelsanddirtydishes@yahoo.com

High Heels and Dirty Dishes Column 5

Well being a parent this week certainly has had it’s challenges.  We are on a 6 day family vacation, and I know that when I get home I am going to need a vacation from my vacation.  Our first stop was yesterday in Duluth and we were down on Canal Street.  I asked to take a picture of Nolan and he grumbled, “NO PICTURES”.  I got a little upset, well I got a lot upset and pulled out the “When you get older you are going to want to look at these pictures and remember our family vacation”.  So I did get a picture and he looks pained in the picture, extremely pained. . . . Kind of like he just left the dentist office and had a root canal.  Then there was the car ride with two kids arguing over who was taking too much room.  So my kids found out that there is a river in the middle of the seat and if someone crossed it their legs would be swallowed up and they wouldn’t be able to swim at The Wisconsin Dells.  This was just a simple exaggeration on my part.  Well the kids started acting like there was actually a river, this definitely backfired on my part.  “He is looking at me”, “Nolan is eating all of the beef jerky”, and my favorite, “Hannah just kicked me in the head”.  Oh my word this is going to be a long trip and we aren’t going to actually get to The Dells till Saturday.  Before we left we packed every electronic device possible, and the cords have their own carrying case. We have ipods, ipads, iphones, DS’s, PSP’s, Kindle Fire’s, and laptops.   I looked at them before we left and thought that it was foolish that we take all of this along, that whatever happened to the games “I Spy With My Little Eye”, or “The License Plate Game”, and so on.  Well the thing is I love my kids but those games are games that I like to play when we are making the 3 ½ mile trip from my house into town.  Not the games that I would like to play on a 10 hour 6 day vacation with the kids.  Bring on the electronics, it will keep them quiet for a time, and hopefully cut down on the terrible thing of one kid actually looking at the other kid, which turns into a major meltdown.  Where is that family on tv when the kids go on vacation they look so nice in the pictures?  I realized that family is not real, and they don’t exist.  I am going to have to photoshop most of our pictures to portray the idea of them actually liking each other.  When we get home the kids will have had fun, I will be broke, and they will be planning their next vacation.  I will be planning my next vacation too.  Mine will be when everyone is gone and the house is quiet, the movie “Lonesome Dove” will be playing on TV, and no one will ask “How many more miles”.  Until next week my friends.

Allison Enge

Thief River Falls, MN

Highheelsanddirtydishes@yahoo.com

High Heels and Dirty Dishes #4

Just when I think that my years of “Stupid Choices” were behind me, I totally topped the cake and folded into “Middle Aged Pressure” and signed up with a bunch of my friends to do this “Uff Da Mud Run”.  This definitely beats the time that I was 16 years old and my girlfriends buried my parent’s Red LTD Ford on a snowmobile trail.  I know that my mother is going to read this, and I want to tell you one more time . . . . MOM IT WAS KEISHA AND SHEILA’S FAULT.  (Sheila is my mother’s niece, also known as Shannon).  At the time I was not in the car I was actually on the back of a Harley Davidson.  Ok, back to the Mud Run.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into signing up for this.  I absolutely did no research, paid the $50 and now the truth has finally started to come out.  Let me tell you something, I am not an athlete.   I have never been an athlete.  I was in track for one week, and made it to 1 track meet. . .  and then the coach Lawrence Vettleson needed someone to run the 2 miles in Crookston.  I finished the race, and never put those shoes on again.  I wasn’t bad, I was terrible.  I was on lap 3 of like 1,000 and everyone else was done.  I don’t run, I don’t do sit up’s, push’s ups to me are something that the Schwans man brings to my house, and curls are something that I use to put in my hair.   I am starting to get feedback on everything that is going to happen on this day, and I sure picked a fine time not to use to my ipad and do some research.  These girls are worried about ordering tank tops and calling our team the “Tuff Mudders”, I really want to tell them that no one is going to be looking at our shirts they are going to more focused on the girl swearing from start to finish and yelling at the top of her lungs, “If I live you girls better find your own way home”.  Keisha told me that we are a team and we are going to wait for one another to do each obstacle.  That my friend should have been my clue the word “Obstacle”, why don’t they just call a spade a spade and call it a “Death Trap”.  Oh and Keisha she is about as competitive as they get.  I refuse to be on the same team with her when it comes to a board game, now I am going to trust to lift me over a 10 foot wall???  She will leave me hanging and on the way home call me “fragile”.  The only thing that I climb into is bed.  Now we have to cross a river.  It was asked if we needed life jacket for those that can’t swim, of course I need a life body suit!  Yes I am 36 years old and can’t swim.  How you may ask yourself?  Well you see when you are 6 and think that your 9 year old brother is really awesome . . . but then doesn’t want you to play with him and his friends at Pine Lake, he holds your head underwater until you feel as though you are on the cusp of death.  Since then, I hate water.  I remember the last day I ever went to swimming lessons I ran off the bus in Fosston didn’t go to the school and went to Ben Franklin instead.  There was no way she was going to pass me, I was fully aware of the situation.  These girls are all training for this mud run.  I guess we have to climb monkey bars during one of the obstacles, and I’m sure will be full of mud just getting out of the river.  So my training is going to start tomorrow.  If you can’t find me at home, well I will be at the playground working on getting from one end of the monkey bars to the next.  I don’t know why I try though I was never able to do them before, I don’t know why I think that I am going to be able to do them now.  Until next week my friends.

 

Allie Enge

Thief River Falls, MN

High Heels and Dirty Dishes column 3

I am officially one animal closer to being labeled “Animal Hoarder”.   I am now the owner of 3 dogs, 2 cats, and a horse.  This was never my plan.  The first dog we have is Gunner; he is an outside dog, and is 11 years old.  About 7 years ago a stray female cat had a litter of 8 kittens and deserted the 1 week old babies in our playhouse.  I don’t mean to offend anyone, but I am not a cat lover.  I couldn’t let them die though, so with advice from the Humane Society and the local vet we took the kittens in.   $200 worth of supplies later. . . I had kitten milk, bottles, heating pads, and towels, I had to feed the kittens every 2 hours, and I quickly learned kittens that young don’t know how to go to the bathroom.  Rubber gloves, a wet paper towel and some stimulation over the toilet later they do go.  I honestly thought that I was going to have to go to therapy after that whole ordeal.  That is where my journey from 1 dog to “Animal Hoarder” started.  Now there is Oscar Peterson my miniature Schnauzer, Tillie Peterson my daughters crossed eyed cat, Orville Peterson my ½ English Toy Spaniel and ½ Cocker Spaniel, and now after last week we have Remington (Remy) Peterson my son’s black kitten.  He was what I like to call an unplanned pregnancy.  It was the first night of the fair and my son was running towards me holding this kitten.  My first words – WHERE DID YOU GET THAT.  He responded, “Don’t worry mom, it’s from the Free People”.  I looked in Nolan’s eyes and knew that there was no way that kitten was not going home with me without a major meltdown.  So with some former advice from my mother on “Picking Your Battles”. . . I have officially become that person that has to buy 50 pound bags of dog food, and the economy size containers of kitty litter.  The collection of animal’s toys now has a special “Toy Box”, and I talk to my animals like they little children.  My only saving grace in this whole situation is that I pray that my children have many kids just like them, and they live within 20 minutes of me.  Close enough that I can see them whenever I want, and far enough away that I can leave and have my own space.  I then will sit and wait patiently by the phone for the call that I get from them saying, “Can you believe what my kid just did”, from the tone of my parent’s voice it’s a wonderful payback.  Last week I dropped my son off at tennis practice and he wouldn’t hug me because “I would embarrass him”.  So when he started to walk around my side of the truck, I rolled down my window waved like a mad woman and loudly said, “HAVE A GOOD DAY AT TENNIS NOLAN. . .MOMMY LOVES YOU”.  The look on his face = priceless.  Since then hugs are in abundance because he knows the alternative.   Then my daughter had the nerve to ask me if it bothered me when I see other moms that are really pretty with kids.  So I smacked her on the head.  Yes, I realize that is not the correct parenting style, but come on here it didn’t hurt.  I honestly think that she was serious.   As I explain in graphic details to my mother what has happened, she sits at her table and smiles with THE LOOK.  The look with no words, but what the bubble over her head is really saying, “Oh it’s not so much fun now when the shoe is on the other foot”.   The bubble might as well say beneath it, “I have waited 36 years for this and the day is finally here and I couldn’t be happier”.  It’s not as though I haven’t heard that come from her mouth before.  We have all heard the saying, “Enjoy your kids when they are young because they grow up too fast”.  That is such a valid point, but really when your kids are rolling their eyes are you, refuse to clean their rooms. . And the term FLUSH THE TOILET doesn’t register, enjoyment isn’t the first thing that comes to my mind.  It’s more on the line of not being able to control the excitement of the thought of the having their own children one day.  I will also let you all in on a little secret.  I am a working stay at home mom that is REALLY excited about the Tuesday after Labor Day.  Until next week my friends. 

Allie Enge

Thief River Falls, MN

High Heels and Dirty Dishes Column 2

One would swear that my excitement for this column is totally over the top.  I feel that I am definitely writing for the Boston Globe, or even The New York Times.   My family on the other hand . . . well they are cautiously excited for me.  Cautious in the fact that they are not sure what I am going to write about.   Last night I was so angry with my mother for not having the “The Pre-Menopause” talk with me.  My mom and I have a great friendship.  I remember where we were when she gave me “The Talk” when I was growing up.  Although I really wish that maybe she would have given me “The Other Talk” now that I am older.  Yes, I am 36 years old and sometimes I sing the lyrics to the song in my head, “The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be”.  Yes I remember the day that I found my first gray hair on my head, I was like 25 and my Dr. at the time informed me that it was because of the medication that I was on.  I can’t blame her for that.  However after I hit 30 things started happening to my body that NEVER happen when you are in your 20’s.  A lot can be blamed on kids and giving birth.  For instance by now we know what happens when I get on a trampoline, and two piece swimming suits are out of the question.  The only time that you hear about two pieces come out of my mouth is when I say, “I will have two pieces of bacon”.  Not saying that I had a rock solid body before childbirth, I was the chubby kid that found stretch marks on my legs when I was 16.  I remember it vividly, it was the year that I discovered mozzarella sticks from the café in Oklee and bismarks from the McIntosh bakery, it all went downhill and sideways from there.   I found a chin hair a year ago and flipped out, it wasn’t a soft one that was casually brushed up with a makeup brush.   This was a whisker that hung low and was long.  I pulled it out.  Wouldn’t you know the next week it started coming back and brought friends?  You would swear my chin was a college keg party and my lower face was “The Hang Out”.   Every time I go to Wal-Mart to buy the wax kit I stuff it amongst other things in my cart to make sure that I don’t see anyone.  I feel like I am 17 years old again buying my own feminine products.   I called my mom tonight and she goes, “I don’t have chin hair”, the next time that I see her I am going to take a good look at her chin. . . . This conversation will definitely be continued.   So this is my second column, and by now you are thinking one of two things.  One:  Thank God it’s just not me, or Two:  This girl isn’t all there.  Well I hope that it is one, and if it’s two.  Well you see I had a stroke and brain surgery.  True story, I had a stroke at 33 and brain surgery at 35.  I use that as an excuse a lot.  Have I recovered?   I am happy to say that the bad days are few and far between, but sometimes it is really hard.  It has been a year since my surgery and tonight I sent my brother a message on Facebook and the last message that I got from him was the day of my surgery and he said, “I love you Al”.  It made me smile, and I got a little teary eyed.  It made me realize that I don’t know if we have really told each other that we love each other since then.  Why should it take something like your loved one going in for a serious surgery to send that message, and why hadn’t we done it before or after that for that matter? We all have our issues in life, I have mine, and if all you don’t think that you have yours . . . well my friend you do.  We take time for granted, and we get so caught up in our own lives that we forget about the ones who really matter.  We have all said that the phone works both ways, but sometimes it takes you to pick up the phone.  There is something about getting a phone call from your family to just say hi.  It is a lot better than receiving a call saying that “Al there was a bad accident”.   So to my brothers Aric and Lucas, I love you very much, and you should really call mom and dad and “Thank them for giving birth to the best older sister”.  Until next week my friends.

Allie Enge

Thief River Falls, Minnesota

Good Job Allie

I had a Dr.  appointment today in Grand Forks.  I've been having some medical issues, nothing bad or anything like that.  It has been going on for about a year and to be honest after my brain surgery I really didn't want to deal with anything else.  It's not a life or death thing.  I broke my elbow a few years back, and it is true that when you break something when your young. . . You pay for it when your older.  I'm gonna be fine, I have options and lets hope they turn out like I want it to.   That is not what this post is about though.  I went to The Rehab in Grand Forks at Altru.  Turns out that the Dr. I seen today was my Rehab Dr.  He gave me a huge hug, and it brought back so many memories.  When we were done he shook my hand and told me that he was proud of me.  I seen some of my old nurses and they remembered me.  It hit me emotionally though because I seen folks that were inpatient and I remember the shock and pain being there.  A lady was struggling walking with a cane and I wanted to tell her that this place is only a pitstop and things get better.  So now going on 3 years since my stroke I tonight decided to write myself a letter.  I'm writing a letter to the girl that I was 3 years ago from the girl I am today.

Dear Allie, 

I'm not going to tell you that life is going to get better, no I'm going to tell you that life is going to get different.  It's ok to be angry, and it's ok to cry. It's ok to be frustrated and it's ok to be depressed.  When you ask God why he did this to you, also thank him for still giving your kids their mom.  Life isnt going to get any harder, life is simply going to be different.  Your going to question so many things, you will worry about financial struggles, worry about your parenting skills, you will question your faith.  You will question friendships, and friendships will question you.  You will struggle with loyality, and loyality will struggle with you.  Again taking a look at the Allie pre-stroke and 3 years post stroke these are all things that you faced before, the only difference is that they are different.  You are going to come out stronger, just as you have during any other obstacle, the only thing is that the courses are different.  So take time to grieve the loss of your life before, but don't take too much time because wasting time dwelling on the why's is a missed opportunity on the Wow's and girl you have a lot of them coming up if you allow yourself the vision to see them.

Your best friend and biggest Cheerleader, 

Allie 

Confession

My name is Allie Enge, and I am an animal hoarder.  Well ok maybe not a severe case but a large enough one for me to say to myself, "Self what the hell were you thinking".  We have 2 cats, 3 dogs, and a horse.  However the horse is in the process of being sold and then we will get another one.  My animals are well taken care of, and completely loved however NO MORE!  I'm gonna be honest and I'm sorry if I offend anyone, I don't like cats.  We have Tillie Peterson and Remington.  Tillie Peterson is a snot, she is fussy, anti-social, and a complete bit$!  Remington well you see he is new to my family, been in the house now ohhhhhh maybe 2 hours.  After the parade at the fair we dropped off our float and on the way back into town I got a call from Nolan.  He was screaming bloody murder, in my mind I knew that he fell off that damn ride "Zero Gravity", the ambulance was on the way and he was going to be airlifted to Fargo where it would be touch and go throughout the night.  Turns out there was only 1 free kitten left in the entire world and the lady was going to hold it for Nolan.  So I got to the fair and Nolan ran up to me, "Mom it's ok it's from the 'Free People'".  Yes I could have said bring it back, but you need to realize not even 3 minutes before in my mind my son was being airlifted to Fargo.  So I caved. . . . This could be interesting!  Nolan told me that Grandpa Rodney said that he can have a cat at his house that can be Nolan's.  So in a week or so it will hopefully go there.  Or maybe not . . . .Nolan has a way of wearing away at me as a parent and before I know it we are making room in our hearts for another member.  I can no longer say a darn thing when I see these people that have like 17 kids and wonder, "What were they thinking".  Don't throw stones at glass houses cause many people would just walk in my house and wonder the same thing.  Day 1 of the fair.  Nolan 1 ~ Mom 0.  Oh and the animal barns haven't even opened yet.  Ole Allie Enge had a farm ~ E~I~E~I~O

High Heels and Dirty Dishes Issue # 1

Being a writer has never really been a dream of mine, although I found out a long time ago that I wasn’t really good at showing my emotions. So sometimes after a really crappy day, I would write. I am not Anne Frank and after I die, there is not going to be a notebook of unpublished writings. I usually would type out what was on my mind, and then click the delete button after every letter. It was only three years ago after my stroke that my writings were shared with people and that is because my family started a Caringbridge site, people started commenting to me and my family about my writings and said that they would like more. I am not a professional, and I am sure that my grammar is not going to be right. If you are reading my column to pick out the things that I am not using in proper terms, well get a highlighter and make it a part of your weekly ritual. My name is Allie, or when my mom is upset with me Allison. I am 36 years old, and yes my mother still gets upset with me. Writing this column is probably one of the most exciting things and honestly one of the scariest. I write about real things, I write the truth and sometimes the truth is not a fun thing to realize after you read it on paper. I don’t know what this column is going to lead to; I just know that I am happiest when I write. I am a real person, I have kids, I am married, and I have my own business. I have made mistakes in my life, and did something’s that I am not proud of. I might even write about them. When I shared with my family that I got this column they were all excited for me, HOWEVER. . . they did also say, “YOU BETTER NOT WRITE ABOUT ME”. How can I not write about them? For the love of God my father married my mother, and his brother married her sister, and their other brother married their first cousin? That in itself should have people talking for days. It is legal though, may raise a few eyebrows, and some figuring in the head. Let’s just say that those Bjerklie boys found good stock in those Sjulestads girls and didn’t have to travel too far north of the Neptune Bridge to find love. They have helped define who I am today. So I have to come up with some “fake names” for them. Like my aunt Joni maybe referred to as my friend Janice and my cousin Kelly will have to be Keisha my cousin from my father’s side. I am real; I am a north of Gully girl who can’t jump on a trampoline without peeing in my pants. I have a robust fear of public bathrooms, and I am completely aware that I swear too much. I grew up on a farm North of Gully. When I moved to the city it meant living close to Thief River Falls. I believe in Jesus, and if that offends you I am not sorry. I have learned that life is too short, and if I have an issue with someone I go right to the source. I have learned that people don’t like that. . . keeps life interesting. I have been dealt some pretty tough hands of cards in my life, and yes many times when I write I cry, sometimes I don’t even know why. It’s not fun realizing that you are angry with your brother who was killed, or upset at the fact that no matter how hard I try I look like Elaine from “Seinfeld” when I dance. Or that I can’t make banana bread like my little brother Lucas. I still think that he bought it from an Amish road side stand in Western North Dakota, and took a picture of it and tagged me on Facebook, just to make me mad. Welcome to my journey of writing. If you get anything out of this column, know that it is ok to be real. It’s ok not to call that 1-800 number that they talk about on the TV for loss of bladder control if you cough, sneeze, laugh, dance, or jump on a trampoline. You see I have this friend named Janice, and this cousin on my father’s side name Keisha that it happens to also. Keep it real, keep it honest, and I have found in life to be myself. Some people don't like me as myself, but I have found complete happiness in the ones that do. Until next week my friends.

Allie Enge

Thief River Falls, Minnesota

My first column is at the Editor

I have decided that my columns are not going to posted on my blog at least night right away.  I had so much fun writing it, and you know what it isn't about the me that I want people to think that I am.  It is the me, the real me.  The me that some people don't like, and let's be honest here there are some people that don't.  Don't judge cause there are people that don't like you either, truth is there are some people that don't all of us.  I don't hate anyone, but my aunt once told me that we get a pass in life not to like one person.  There are some that I don't care for, but I don't see them on a daily basis anyway.  The article is going to be in the Tri-County Canary weekly, and it is in the section that serves the Oklee Herald, Grygla Eagle, and a couple of others.  If you want to get a subscription call Richards Publishing in Gonvick and let them know.  I tried a few years ago to get a weekly or monthly column in The Times, but apparently they didn't want me.  Maybe the Tri-County wont want me either, but hey I got my foot in the door.  But I can promise you this, I'm gonna keep it real just the way that I would want it.  Do I dream of being a published writer and have a book deal and have my books on sale somewhere.  Well I have a little ADHD and I think that my chapters would be all over the map, kind of like my conversations if you have ever had to listen to my talk for more than 20 seconds at a time, so at this time I am going to focus on a weekly column and see where the path leads me.  I am really happy right now, and I am sure that will change as some negativity comes out of my topics.  After I let my family know about the column, 3 of my main people text me, "YOU BETTER NOT WRITE ABOUT ME".  So I did write about them, but they have enough ammo that I better keep it clean.  I am not going to write anything mean, or anything like that.  I mean, these are the people that come when I need help at The Shed, or the people that within 1 phone call are there without even to have to ask.  So even though I may have a lot of surface friends, I better not piss off the real ones that I have.  If people want to read about how to grow a garden, I am not the girl.  If you want to read about the girl who thought that the white flowers that were beautiful in my garden were amazing, and my aunt pointed out that they were weeds and I pulled them out in front of customers while trying to sell flowers out of my greenhouse . . . Well I am your girl.  Or the girl that can't eat Taco Johns without being 2 minutes away from the toilet. . . yup me again.  Or how I hate painting my toe nails, so when I do and the color starts to wear off I am too lazy to rub it off with polish remover and paint over it with a darker color. . . yup that would be me too.  Or how one of my goals in life is to learn Vietnamese and when those two ladies are talking while working on my toes I can simply say, "Man this feels good" ~ in Vietnamese.
14 years ago this week, I gave birth to our oldest child Hannah.  I think that she has turned into an amazing girl, and I am so proud to be her mom.  Yes she makes me mad, but sometimes after I get mad at her I realize that I am getting mad at her for things that I do too.  Why is it that I can get mad at her but when I do it, I find it completely acceptable.  I remember the day that she was born, and it still amazes me that I didn't realize that I was going to be a mom until I seen the top of her head coming out.  I remember thinking, "Put her back, Put her back".  She was my saving grace in life, and she is the key factors to me finding success within myself.  I worked harder, made smarter decisions, and had a family that kept me grounded.  When I get a big head, they are the first ones to remind me that they have pictures of me.  Now not those kind of pictures, worse!  Ones of me butchering chickens in no shoes, pretending I was dropping deuce at Theodore National Park on a freshly squeezed buffalo turd, and Ahhh then there is The Red Neck Bachelorette Party.  UFF DA!  You will also hear about Nolan, he is my son with the biggest heart, and the reason why parents drink in heavy amounts.  He is a great kid, but man is he busy.  Right when I think that I can not possibly take anymore of him, he melts me with a hug, and then I forget about why I was so mad at him.  That is until I go to the bathroom and remember my son and the "Flush" switch doesn't work.
I thank you all for your pm's, and texts, and what not about my last post.  I never intended to inspire people with writing about my horse shit terrible day dealing with Ryan's death.  I use to drown my troubles with cigarettes, and endless days of having a cold heart.  It has taken 4 years for the the issues that have been bothering me actually surface on the why's.  Now it's Diet Coke, Nicorette Gum, and my fingers doing the typing.  Thank you ~ Thank You ~ Thank You

My first writing column!

It's official I got my first weekly writing column for the Tri-County Canary.  I got the news and pooped 3 times in 5 minutes I got so excited.  I pretty much can write about anything, how much you want to bet that my family will tell me many times over and over again, "And don't you dare write about me". . . .

Slap in the face

Now most of you know that I lost my brother 4 1/2 years ago in a car accident.  It wasn't yesterday, wasn't today, and it wasn't last week, it was 1599 days ago.  Do I grieve his passing every day?  To be be honest some days I don't even think about it.  Or I should say that I don't allow myself to think about it.  But then there are days like today that just slap you in the face.  Slap you so hard you feel that you just received the call that there was an accident.  I look back at that day, and can play the first 20 minutes in pretty much slow motion, and with hardly any emotion.  The lack of emotion in the first 20 minutes of the play by play story is basically what happened I didn't have any emotion.  I didn't cry, I didn't scream, I remember standing outside that cold crisp February morning smoking looking at the sun rising in the east, watching the exhaust come from the passing cars, and thinking. . ."So this is what it is like".  Things were in slow motion.  Kim came over and was hugging me, and I remember thinking, "What is she saying, I hear words, but I don't understand".  I remember wanting to get ready for work, and Aaron telling me we had to go to my parent's.  The feeling of being pissed off because he wouldn't let me get ready for work.  I just wanted things to be normal and getting ready for work was normal for me.  If I close my eyes I can still smell and feel the coldness of the air, but not feeling cold on the outside.  Just hollow on the inside.  The next days were filled with tears, hugs, food, tears, wanting to scream if anyone else hugged me, cigarettes, and diet pepsi.  People bringing all sorts of food, and wondering why no one was bringing special k bars or diet pepsi.  I am not in that place anymore, and I can say that where I was 1599 days ago from where I am today is different, but there are days like today that just slap a person in the face.  It wasn't his birthday, or really any special day that we would have celebrated with him.  But to be honest it was just that, a day without him.  Yes I know that he is dead, I can say it 100 times and not feel anything when it comes to saying dead.  Because I don't think about what I am saying.  Last Tuesday night I was about ready to fall asleep, and was in that la la land sleep.  You know the stage right before I fall into a deep sleep and my body starts making noises no woman should ever make.  I remember thinking to myself, "Oh my God he really is dead", and I kept on saying that in my mind.  It honestly felt that my body tore in two.  That my left side and my right side parted, and there was a huge gap in the middle on where I wanted to fix it and make everything right.  I composed myself, didn't cry but felt hollow for the next how many minutes trying to calm myself so I didn't have an anxiety attack.  I remember grabbing both sides of my head and thinking to myself get a grip.  I am not really open about my emotions on Ryan's death.  Some family members are, and I respect that.  I am a private person on how I deal with certain things.  It's not that I don't care, but I don't cry because of a picture on the wall, or even a certain memory.  It just doesn't come out like it does for other people.  Should I have gone to therapy?  Well you tell me one person that at one point should not have gone to therapy.  I dealt with, and deal with Ryan's death the best that I can.  I miss him, but most of all I miss the family that I once had.  Now my family is pretty great now, but there is not a single good thing that came out of his death.  Or at least I haven't seen it yet.  At least with my stroke and brain surgery I finally feel good, I for the first time I actually feel good.  I have good days, and bad days, but I am happy with the results.  My own fate and life span has me thinking about my own death.  I have a fear of a messy house, and so I am kind of crazy about keeping my house clean.  It never dawned on me until today that the reason being is if something happened to me when I was gone and I died, I wouldn't want people to come to my house and see it messy.  How stupid is that?  Today opened up a wound that I didn't know was there.  I happened to relive 3 days of emotions after Ryan died, and I was not prepared at all.  I did go to Ryan's grave tonight, and I know that he wasn't there.  But I did see that a bird has shit on his head stone 3 times, and it is a old myth that it is good luck when a bird shits on someone's head.  So his headstone was shit on 3 times, so he must be lucky.  I wish that I would let go of the anger that I have, but it's really hard.  So tonight I am angry with my brother Ryan, and I am ashamed.  I often wonder if he knew how much I loved him, and how much pain we are all in since he died.  I don't want him dead, I want him here still.  I want to be able to call him and tell him about my truck, I want to call and tell him that Nolan shot another rabbit in the yard, ask him the most important question when is he coming home, but the truth is that he already there.

Looking At Life through Pictures

So as the scanning project draws down, I have about 300 more negative slides to scan.  This was an added on project to the existing one.  Now many of you may have never heard of a mounted slide, or never had "Slide Parties" in your house.  You know where your parents cover the windows with sheets take all of the pictures from the big wall, and project the pictures on the wall.  Big bowls of popcorn, beverages and life size pictures of people.  I remember this happening as a child at my parent's house, I don't really member a whole lot about it.  For some reason, I remember the sheets on the wall, and the green Tupperware bowl full of popcorn.

I have realized a lot on this project, and yes it will be good to have it done.  When the recipient's of these pictures get their own pictures back, many will be grateful, and will give many thanks.  I however need to be the one to give the thanks.

Imagine your life being only told in pictures, for some of these people that it what I will know.  During this project it has brought many laughs and tears for the family.  Some of the pictures are from a time that we would rather forget about our lives.  The years that teeth were so mangled that all we can see is that kid that was teased, the pictures of the kid in glasses and the knowing how despite the gift of eye sight it brought unwanted banter amongst the siblings, the weight problems, the picture of a kid eating birthday cake remembering that was the first year after their dad passed away.  One would automatically think, "Remove that picture, I hate it", I know for a fact that I have thought myself on my own pictures.  Many of these pictures we may not hate the picture, we actually hate the memory associated with it.  One day in the future we are going to be dead, the stories of your life will diminish as the years go by.  This is life, and as much as we think that we are important and valued through the decades our lives become lost and some what forgotten.
Last night when scanning a slide I had to take a double take of a picture of my father about Nolan's age, and told Nolan, "Nolan look at this picture".  He looked it mouth wide open, and said, "Mom that looks just like me", he couldn't get over it.  I was a little shocked too!  Some of the pictures are of family that I don't remember, or if I do my older memories consist of them being older.  There are many pictures that I can see a resemblance of my cousins kids, my nieces and nephews and myself.  Most of us are going to leave this world poor, sick, and everything else in between.  We aren't going to be famous and through the years our life story will become shorter and shorter.  So instead of deleting that picture of you not looking as pretty as you should, Don't do it.  One day your grandchildrens children might look at it, and notice that you are standing the same way that they stand, or that you got your smile from your grandma's sister.  They won't judge the girl with the bad teeth, the extra pounds, no they will smile like me and think to themselves, "I am just like you", and you will feel that you are connected more to that picture in the negative slide than you ever thought was possible.

Here are some pictures that really stand out to me.

 

Here is my Dad and my brother Lucas around the same age.

 

 

 

 

Now here is my dad

 

Now here is Nolan

 

Nolan is going to remember my dad for as long as he lives.  The next two pictures really hit me hard.  I never got to go know my Grandpa Ludvig Bjerklie, he died before my parent's were born.  I have heard some stories about him, but never really felt a connection until this picture.  Here is my Grandpa Ludvig holding his son Duane at his sons last birthday.  The next one is of my late brother Ryan, Alissa, and Blake.  The resemblance is scary, I have never noticed it any other picture that I have ever seen of Grandpa.  So let this be a lesson for all of us, my Grandfather seen this picture at one time.  He probably felt a lot of pain over the memories of the loss of his son.  He knew that Duane was dying and the picture of last birthday could have been thrown.  I thank you Grandpa for not throwing this picture, over 60 years have passed and I feel a connection so strong to this man.  He looked like my brother that I miss and love very much. 

 

 

 

I leave you with this thought, the next time you look in the mirror ask yourself who you look like.  If you don't know, pull out your pictures.

A year in heaven

Grandma has been in heaven now for a year today.  I dont really now how I feel.  Yes I'm sad, but you know not many people can say that they had their grandma for a month shy of 35 years.  Instead I think of the picture of the four year old little boy that died of cancer, and how his mom got to see him again.  So instead of thinking about all that has happened here this year, I'm going to cry a tear today and then smile many smiles thinking about what may have happened in heaven over the last 365 days.  I sure hope that when your in heaven you can see things that happen on earth, well or at least the things worth seeing. Tonight was one of them!  Man did we have fun.  I met up with Kelly, Emily, Kristen, and Matt at the VFW about 8:30.  They had played bingo and it is a rarity for us to get together in Thief River.  Well they had Karoake, now those that really know me, know that I am tune deaf BAD!  I was shy at first then Matt and I sang, "All The Gold in California", in mechanical terms it "Primed The Pump".  The five of us sang I know at least 20 different songs.  Some all together, and some alone.  Alone meaning Kristen, the vocalist of the group.  We all sang, "Will The Circle Be Unbroken", and it was amazing.  It was something that we all sang from our heart.  Now we weren't drunk and singing foolishly, we sang it not to be proud or boastful.  The words flowed, and our hearts were full of love.  I sure hope Grandma heard it.  Now it was really a one time deal.  Tonight despite the change of events turned out to be a successful one.  Not only did I have an amazing night with my siblings, I feel that I'm not going to focus on today being a date on a calendar that my Grandma died.  I want to make sure that I can always remember the tune of a song that us five sang from our hearts with the final words being, "There is a better home a-waiting, In the sky Lord in the sky".

Is it just me or has anyone ever started a project and during the cusp of it thought to yourself, "What the hell was I thinking?", well that is this project scanning Grandma B's has been just that.  I am not complaining, so I don't want anyone to think that I am.  Looking back over the last month, I think that there was reason that some of the first pictures that I looked at were of my Uncle Duane.  I feel that I needed to see those pictures to begin this journey.  It was something that should not have been taken lightly.  I began the journey seeing the pictures of Duane, and seeing the pictures of Duane's little casket.  I could have stopped too and not picked them back up.  I can't say that the three weeks that I didn't look at the pictures that I did soul searching.  I actually just needed to remove myself from them.  It has been emotional, but man has it been rewarding.  It is draining, I need to walk away.  For those of you including myself that have Facebook know that it can be fun, and sometimes like really what were these people thinking.  Anyway, I can tell you right now that Facebook if any other purpose that it may have has served it to the fullest for me.  Originally these pictures were not meant to be in my possession.  A couple of the sibilings were going to get together and divide them and scan then.  Well days turned into weeks, and years actually.  We are all busy, to get together seems impossible.  So what I have done is create private albums on Facebook for these pictures were only the family that has been selected can view them.  They are all going to get CD's of the pictures, and the originals will be divided up.  These family members are the ones that keep me going, keep my motived to do more.  At one point while scanning these picture there are my cousins, my parent's, my uncles and aunts, siblings, family in Seattle all commenting on pictures at the same time.  They are all going through the same emotion as I am.  They shed tears over a dad they lost too young in life, us Grandchildren feeling a sense of being lost when it comes to looking at picture of a Grandpa that none of them got to know.  Laughter upon laughter when it comes to family birthdays, hair do's that were all the rage back then, looking at a picture of me wearing a dress, then a year later seeing it on my cousin Jami, then a year later seeing it on either Andrea or Megan.  It reminds us of the days when we didn't know we were poor, we thought everyone shared clothes, that everyone always drank milk straight out of a bulk tank, that everyone had a grandma that when it came time to build a teepee went to the Indian Reservation and got a "Real" Indian brought them to Hickory Township and built one.
Now this project has been hard, and isn't even 1/2 done.  But with every phone call and every text it pushs me on an emotional level to keep going.  In life if you have never been emotionally drained, you have never emotional given.
It is going to be a year next week since she has died.  Grandma was in her 90's when she passed away.  I look at the beautiful woman that she was growing up, and the beautiful woman she was when she passed away.  In life she buried a 4 year son.  She buried a husband and was left with young children, and trying to find a way to keep the farm.  She buried another husband, and her "First" grandson who always said that her house was "A little bit his too".  In life we don't know what is going to happen.  Take a good look at this picture of my young grandma.

If Jesus would have told her right after this picture that in her life she will have to bury her first born child because of cancer, in her life she will have to bury her husband when she has 5 children at home and try to find a way to pay the bills, in her life she will have to bury all but 1 sibling, another husband, and her 1st born grandchild that she so much adored.  That money will never be plentiful.  Any person in her right mind would say, "Jesus the loss seems so great, I refuse to have children, to be married because this way my life may seem happy, and not have so much hurt".  That would make sense wouldn't it?

Now take a good look at this picture of Grandma days before she passed away with what was then her newest great grandchild Liam.

What the first picture doesn't say is that yes you will feel hurt, you will feel pain, your loss will be great.  However in the end your reward will be worth it.  You will have 6 children that will be proud to call you their mom, you will have 15 grandchildren, you will have more than 19 great grandchildren.  Your name will no longer be Clara, it will be Grandma B, Mom, Ma or even Grandma Corella.  Your house will have a revolving door for those looking for an ice cream cone, sugar cookie, donut, coffee, and pop from the back bedroom, which actually turned out to be your closet.  That your grandchildren will tell stories to their children, and that most importantly you will leave this world loved by more people that you can even imagine.  Now that doesn't seem so bad now doesn't it.  She wasn't perfect, she made mistakes, we all do.  But in the end God gave her a life that wasn't easy, but it wasn't too darn bad either.

My Great Uncle

Today I started going through pictures again.  I didn't think that it would be so emotionally exhausting.  After the last post about my uncle Duane, I put them down and couldn't look at them again.  They have been in my living room now for a couple of weeks and this afternoon I started with them again.  This time there really isn't words to describe the feeling that I have.  Grandma B had thousands of pictures.  Many of them were given to her, and many of them were taken.  It is funny how a second in time recorded in a photograph can bring back so many memories.  It can bring back a sound, a feeling of jealousy seeing a shirt that Kelly had that I wanted, a sense of loss, laughter, more laughter, and a few phone calls later sharing your experience.  I found a picture of Johnny and Sophie Nelson, they were our neighbors growing up.  They didn't have kids, and when we got to go there it was a big deal.  I seen their picture, and it reminded me of my childhood prayer.  At the end of every nighttime prayer I would say, "God Bless everyone in the world, even Johnny Nelson".  Or pictures of Joni and Rickys old house and how Kelly and I ate too many vitamins and got the spanking of our life.  Now I have looked at hundreds of pictures today, after a while you put in the correct pile and go on.  Well there was a picture of what looked like my Great Uncle Ernest, the only living sibling of my Grandma B.  He looked to be about 20 and the first one is of him and two spotted fawns and he is feeding them with a bottle.  The next one is of him and a deer on its hind legs and he is feeding the deer with a bottle.  For some reason the picture stayed in my mind all day.  So tonight I did something that I have never did.  I called up Ernest and told him what I was doing and told him that I found a picture of him and a deer, immediately he says, "Is it the one of me and a deer on its hind legs", I said "yes", he goes with a voice on a verge of tears, "I've always wondered throughout the years what happened to that picture".  I told him that he would get it within a week or so, what he doesn't know is that I am going to enlarge it for him.  So I asked him to tell me the story behind the deer.  He told me that the year was 1941 and Bert Good found these two baby fawns on the reservation.  He told me that they figure that the mother had gotten shot.  He brought the deer to Ernest and Ernest raised them for a couple of years.  He said that he would pound on the tub and no matter where the deer were they would come running.  Ernest was so gracious and thanked me multiple times.  I didn't call him to gloat that I had this photo.  For all I knew he had a copy, I wanted to know the story.  What I learned afterwards that yes going through these pictures has brought up a lot of emotions for me good and bad.  Although these pictures aren't all about me and my feelings.  Ernest is a man that has lost his parents in life, and all of his siblings.  Even though he is old his pain is no less in the loss of a brother or sister than mine is.  So in a few short days this picture will go back to it's owner, where it will bring back memories from years before where all he had to do is pound on a drum and two deer would coming running because that meant Ernest was there to feed them.

Near Death Experience

There is a little joke in my family about Near Death Experiences, particularly with mom and Joni.  They usually have "Near Death Experiences", you know the kind when your in a paddle boat wearing life jackets still tied to the dock in 2 feet of water and the paddle boat starts taking on water and you hear 2 woman yelling and screaming proclaiming a "Near Death Experience".  Ok - maybe the story didn't go just like that, but they were wearing life jackets.

So a little confession to make, a couple of months ago I made an appointment with a medium in Minneapolis.  I told NO ONE!  I figured people would laugh at me, or judge severely.  It actually took me about a month to actually be put on a waiting list for this lady.  Most of us have seen the show on TLC Long Island Medium, and well I like to watch Teresa Caputo, and wondered how I would be in that situation, or what I would say or do.  So I was like, I need to find one.  Back in the day I called a psychic when I was growing up at mom and dads and mom just about killed me when she got the phone bill.  I ended up chickening out, and cancelled.  It just kind of freaked me out, and I elected not to go.  I would like to proclaim my love of Jesus and his word and that I don't need anyone telling me differently.  Truth is is scared the BaJesus out of me.  I was just like I'm not comfortable on someone telling me that there are spirits with me all of the time seeing my every move.  After Ryan died I was scared to be naked in the bathroom after taking a shower and trekking to my bedroom in case he might see me.  Now I think that was a silly thought, since when do "Ghosts use doors".  Anyway, I just didn't feel right about it.  So I figured that if something was making me so uncomfortable, why do it?  I'm not against people that do, more power to you.  Do I believe them?  I think there are some valid people out there, the one psychic I talked to back in the day told me that I was going to marry a musician.  Really?  Don't anyone go making appointments for me now, I am completely fine on where I am right now.

I got a call from my girlfriend this afternoon today about my post about being fake.  She goes I can't believe you said that.  I go yeah nothing to be proud of huh, she goes no I can't believe you had the balls to admit you do something that everyone else does too.  I'm not proud of it, I'm not proud of a lot of things.  But I am strong enough with who I am to say, I am ashamed of not only that instance but others too.  I just hope next time I actually think before I act.  I'm judged all of the time, some of it is valid, some of it I'm like really?  I actually heard that someone said I faked my brain surgery.  I tried to put out "fires", even thought of posted a video of the surgery itself.  Then I was like why?  Maybe I did have brain surgery, maybe I didn't?  It's not going to change some people thinking that I didn't really have it.  I am who I am, some people are going to only read this to gossip.  Some of the best advice I got from friend of mine saying, "Don't ever put anything in print that you can't defend", she also told me that when I die she will make sure that I am always wearing mascara.  She is a good friend because at Ryan's prayer service she came up to me gave me a hug and said, "Go put on mascara", and I did.