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