Where's the Head?

I have just been to my first rural Iowa wedding.  It was nothing like you're thinking.  There was no granny sitting in the corner with her shotgun.  The buffet was not all corn pudding, corn bread, and corn souffle.  Like any other wedding there was the happy bride and groom and attendants.  The guest gussied up in Sunday best and sparkles.  There was food and dancing.  But that seems to be where the similarities end.

 My third cousin was getting married.  I was privileged enough to be invited to the wedding.  The family had fingers crossed for months for no snow and no ice.  I think they must have forgotten to ask for an above freezing temperature.  Outside was a deep freeze but beautifully sunny.

It was a lovely ceremony with the bridesmaids in stunning black and pink.  The bride had a sparkly gown ending with a cascading train of white.  A long veil covered her face.  It is a well kept secret that brides wear veils not to cover their tears, but the cover the mascara tracks down their cheeks.

The ecstatic couple floated down the aisle after the "I dos."  I sprang to my feet only to be yanked down by my cousin.  "We can't leave yet.  The couple hasn't greeted us."

Greeted us?  I thought we congratulated them at the door.

Sure enough.  The bride had ditched her bouquet and the new Mr. and Mrs. were headed back down the carpeted aisle.  Pew by pew we filed out, hugging the new couple while they thanked us for coming.

Outside a gleaming stretch limo awaited the happy couple.  The guests stood shivering on the sidewalk armed with bubbles until everyone was properly thanked for coming.  Once the couple emerged a rainbow of bubbles assaulted them as they nonchalantly made their way to the getaway limo.

 The couple ducked in the limo not by themselves, but with the entire wedding party.  Minus the children.  This was foreign to me.  It occurred to me it was three o'clock in the afternoon and the reception was in a neighboring town at five o'clock.  What did we do for two hours?  What did the wedding party do for two hours?

My cousins patiently explained to me that the limo may take the party to various small bars (dives) on the way to the reception.  Well, what do we do?  If you knew my cousins you could have anticipated the next answer-go shopping!  I was whisked off on an impromptu shopping trip with a cousin and my 96 year old uncle.  He ain't stupid.  He came along for the nap!

The reception was full of food.  Meats and potatoes and salads.  There was pink punch to match the bridesmaids dresses.  I did not spy a wedding cake.  But five tiers of cupcakes left my mouth watering.  Each tier was a different flavor, white, chocolate, spice, and two others I didn't sample.

We anticipated the 96 year old uncle may want to leave before the carriage turned into a pumpkin. When asked he exclaimed, "No!  This is too exciting!"

And it was.

There was a photo booth hidden in the corner for amusing pictures.  There was a DJ who played a variety of music.  Guests of all ages lined danced, boogied, and did the YMCA. There were kids darting across the dance floor.  Everyone laughed and ate cupcakes.

I was startled when my female cousins jumped up searching wildly for their purses.  Once located they pulled out their wallets fat with one dollar bills.  They waved the bills like a flag on the Forth of July.  Didn't the bride have a bachelorette party?  Were they really going to...

Why, of course.  They were really going to pay to dance with the bride or groom.  What was I thinking?

The DJ announced it was time to throw the garter.  I love this part of the reception.  The groom shyly slides his hand up his new bride's leg and slowly slips off the garter.  Then I realized what the DJ really said-"It's time for the groom to remove the garter using no hands."

Sure enough the bride was seated front and center.  The groom knelt down and his head disappeared under the waves of white.  His hands were over his back in full view.  I began to wonder what was taking so long, when he emerged triumphantly with the garter secure in his teeth.

When the bride's turn came to throw the bouquet I was ready for anything.  But it was the usual-round up the single females and toss over the head.  The bouquet bounced off many hands before crashing to the floor.  It was snatched up by the bride's sister.  Her boyfriend happened to be sitting at our table.  All eyes swung to him.  He just leaned back and smiled.  Now we really like this boy, so there is pressure to keep him around.  Grandma may own a shotgun.

I arrived home from eight hours of celebrating totally exhausted.  I don't think I have been to a more interesting, fun wedding.  So, when my children get married, may I suggest a rural Iowa wedding?

*While sister, Makayla, may have caught the bouquet, she will not be the next to get married in my family.  Congratulations to my niece, Cayse!  She was proposed to on the top of a snow capped mountain.  Jay welcome to our wonderful, wacky family!

Stop the Madness!

There is something fishy going down on my road.  I don't like it.  Help is needed from all of you.

I love cats.  No news there.  Cats of all sorts show up at our house.  Gray cats, black cats, big cats, baby cats.  They all have one thing in common.  Hunger.  I feed them.  Love them.  Give them shelter in our hen house.  (Maybe it's a cat house.  No red lights!)

These are not feral cats.  They do not arch their backs and hiss at me.  They crave human petting and loving.  These are cats that have come from homes.  I have racked my brain wondering where all these sweet cats have come from.  One day it hit me like a cat pouncing on an unsuspecting bug.  I knew how these cats got to my house.

The coyotes.

Yes, we have coyotes hanging around.  They love to dine on fat cats.  I know they have installed a sign at the end of my road with a large red arrow and a caption that reads:  "Drop Cats Off This Way!"

These wise coyotes know the unsuspecting cats will be fattened up at my house.  They are given shelter where they can come and go as they please.  The devious coyotes keep watch through the dense pine trees until the cat has enough meat on it's bones and Bam!  Dinner is served.

This needs to stop!  That is where you come in.

When you pass by my road and spy the coyotes lurking around the sign don't keep on driving muttering, "It's a shame."

 Stop!

Hang your head out the window.  Yell at the coyotes,  "Kittens are poison.  You are going to die!" Show them your lead poisoning rifle.  Don't actually shoot them, we are all God's creatures, just scare the cat out of them.

Stop the car.  Get out.  Make yourself tall, like a wild grizzly bear.  Growl.  Chase the coyotes.  Bring spray paint.  Tag the sign-"Cats Rule.  Coyotes Drool."

Together we can stop the madness.  Cats will stop showing up at my driveway.  Coyotes will go eat at another county.

I have found and kept numerous cats in the two and half years we have lived here.  Three have come inside.  Many have stayed outside and become chow.  I now have a new hungry friend.  He is black with white tips on his paws and a white wide face.  He allows me to hold him and love on him while he looks at me with his twinkly yellow eyes.  His pink nose and snow white whiskers twitch at me.  If anyone has misplaced this lovey fur ball, come and take him home!  If you would like a wonderful cat for, say Thanksgiving, come on out-he's yours!

This could be a battle.  Our cry will be "Remember the Hen House!"  We will win.  The sign will go down!

Wonderful Autumn

Autumn is a magical time in Iowa.  Leaves pop with color.  Farm implements appear in the fields reaping the year's toil .  Blistering summer days are replaced with cool sweater weather. Cooler weather also mean some unwanted visitors begin to appear.

One brisk autumn day the truck cried for a road trip.  I rushed through my chores-fed and watered the cats-and backed out of the garage.  I slammed on the brakes at the end of my driveway.  My own yard was awash with shades of yellows, oranges, reds, and greens.  The mums surrounding the house were opening their green buds into oranges flames of color.  I needed to get out of the house more.

Thirty minutes later I found myself at the county park, Prairie Rose.  I strolled around the lake admiring all the foliage glistening onto the water like a mirror.  I have lived in the big city most of my life and am extra cautious when hiking alone.  So when the bushes began to rustle and shake, I wondered what I could hit someone with besides my powerful fists.  A doe bounded out of the brush twenty yards ahead of me.  Tall and graceful she swished her stubby white tail at me.  We stood there for a full five minutes assessing each other's beauty until another doe peered around the bush.  I am certain I heard her tell my new deer friend, "Idiot!  Run!"  They leaped back into the dense trees to find safer places to romp.

Later that afternoon I arrived home looking forward to a quiet relaxing cup of tea.  My first sip of tea scalded my fingers not my tongue.  There was a horrible ruckus outside.  An ear deafening humming, followed by clanging, and roars.  The noise was headed down the road towards my house.  The Trojan army must be attacking!

I sprinted to the window.  My eyes did not find a wooden horse, but a large green combine.  It maneuvered into the field on the north side of our house.  The parade didn't stop with that bumpy implement.  No.  It had loyal followers.  A massive green grain cart being pulled along by an equally bouncy huge green tractor.  Two empty semi trucks braked to a halt waiting to be loaded with yellow gold.

The hungry combine set to work eating corn and making dust.  It ate, then spit the corn into the grain cart.  The grain cart lumbered over to an idling semi and spewed corn into the trailer.  The semi tore down the hill with dust swirling in its wake.  The yellow gold was deposited into the shiny grain bin.  Then the entire process was repeated hundreds of times.

Now that the corn was gone, I again have a view of the area.  What a beautiful view it is!  But, being a realist, I know that the vegetarian combine has scared critters out of hiding.

That night I was sleeping peacefully with a cat by my back, a cat by my feet, a cat between my legs and a cat by my neck.  I was cozy and warm and happy.  Until the scratching started in the wall.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  Up and down the wall all night! Darn that combine.  He had scared the mice out of their habitat.

Blurry eyed the next morning, I tramped down the basement stairs in search of my treadmill.  That's when I spotted it.  A mouse!  It looked like a scene from "I Love Lucy."  I hopped on the treadmill and opened my mouth to scream.

Wait!  Who will hear me?  The cats.  Last time we had a mouse in the house the cats were terrified.  They would be no help.

I spied an empty orange juice container within reaching distance.  (Please don't ask why there was an empty orange juice container in my basement.)  I gingerly stepped off the treadmill, snatched up the jug and hurled it at the offending mouse.

No movement.  Was it dead or playing opossum?  Hiking up my big girl panties, I tiptoed toward the mouse.  Still no movement.  Yup, it was dead.

Poor mouse!  It really was kind-a cute.

Yes, autumn is a wonderful time in Iowa.  I give thanks for all the colors and cool weather.  And I give thanks to my wonderful husband for planting mouse poison in the attic.

Ode to My Computer

I had a computer I liked.
Not loved.  But liked.
It was sick and needed an operation.
Surgery did not go well.
Poor computer ended up in hell.

A sleek new computer arrived on the scene.
For me it was the fanciest I have seen.
It is in it's terrible twos stage.
Slow and digging in it's heels.
It has made me make devil deals.

"Computer please work. I'll give you a treat."
Mechanical thing thought, "Halloween, Trick or Treat!"
Trick was to take a break every nine minutes.
Gurgle and churn and rattle.
If I could find my husband, I'd tattle!

There's apps on your new baby.  They're great.
These apps on my nerves they grate.
They have weird pictures and names that change.
One day all in Spanish it was all there.
I can't learn another language.  I'd pull out my hair!

These new-fangled computers are good for your heart.
Yes.  If exploding in your chest brings peace to the heart.
I think my smart new computer is the dumbest thing ever.
Then I look west.
At my husband's desk.

He has a computer he loves.
Not likes.  But loves.
It is so intelligent and gives him no trouble.
Why then are there two screens?
And two typie-things.  Keyboards, I mean.

I guess this naughty thing will do.
I won't chuck it out into the morning dew.
I will learn to handle it with kid gloves.
Cause for me it would be a sin,
to be like my husband and have twins!