Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Art Works

Conversation: We're done here.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

(In a phone call home...)

Me: Any news there?

Dad: Hmm. Not really. I buttoned my shirt up crooked this morning. You?

Me: I just ate a piece of cheese for breakfast.

Dad: That's better than I got.

Me: No other news there, besides the shirt?

Dad: Nope.

Me: Well, this phone conversation is done.

The Neidlinger 24-hour news channel would be an excruciating thing.

Labels: conversations, family

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Big news and great trepidation.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

Bath and Body Works is a store I approach with great trepidation. I can barely handle walking by it in any mall; the smells and perfumes that gush -- there is no wafting, believe me -- out of the store are almost paralyzing. You will lose nose hairs if you stand there too long. How anyone can work there is beyond me.

However, mom sent a couple of coupons in the mail, one of which offered a free lotion. I felt obligated to get the lotion and hang onto it until Christmas and give it away to whomever it is I forget to shop for. So, there I was, at the gaping mouth of a Superfund Site. I stood in front of the store, and tried to prepare myself.

Really, it's a store only second to Victoria's Secret as far as stores I dread entering are concerned. Victoria's Secret used to be dreadful merely because of the men who always seem to be "resting" on the mall benches in front of that store and also because of how I always felt depressed about my body image moments after entering; now the added Stink Creep (stores selling lotions and perfumes and candles) has also entered the V.S. fray.

I walked into Bath and Body Works and immediately I felt that three minutes were taken from my life. It's something akin to a farm chemical dealer. Or maybe, Parabens-R-Us. The ingredients in the products sold at BaBW are a kind of witches brew of dyes, preservatives, perfumes...

Four minutes were chopped from my life. I had to move quickly!

I hate shopping. And I can't shop quickly, whether it is groceries or clothes or books or, in this case, bath products. I have to mull over the total ounces, for example, and figure the cost per ounce. Then I have to figure in percentage discounts, the likelihood of the product being used or who I could give it to. I review the ingredients and at least try to avoid the one with DDT in it. And lastly, I smell it.

I'm pretty picky about smells; though, as you may know, I do love perfume.

I was in the middle of an internal debate between to possible final selections when my cell phone rang. It was dad. That was odd; I'd already had the Daily Dad Call.

I answered the phone.

"Are you ready for the big news here," he asked.

I'm a worst case scenario-ist with unexpected phone calls. "Oh no! Did the cat die did someone die who died??!!"

"No one died, Julie. But our 'pet' gophers that live out front of the house have figured out how to climb up to the bird feeders."

Several things:

I'm dying a slow and painful death in BaBW, and this call has only prolonged my misery.
I paid 15 cents on my contract-free cell phone plan for that?
How in the world could a ground gopher climb up a skinny, metal rod? Gophers don't climb like a squirrel, do they?

"You called to tell me that?" I asked, but with only slight amazement. After all, we are the family so desparate for news that we barely greet each other with "hello" anymore, choosing instead to cut right to the chase and ask "any news?"

"Yes. I thought you should know," he said.

I know you're wondering something, and the answer is "yes."

I was able to make it out of the store to a location where I could find oxygen.

Labels: conversations, family, my life

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Conversations: The daily dad call.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 7 comments link this post

Dad: Any news?

Me: Not really. My landings went better yesterday. There was one...interesting one...but they were better.

Dad: So he didn't just get out and walk away and leave, then?

Me: No, dad. That's not very nice.

(Then later, referring to an incident from running a few nights back...)

Dad: (joking) Should I bring your Walther down?

Me: No. I don't have a concealed weapons permit, anyway.

Dad: Do you see any women running with those fanny packs?

Me: No, not really. Wouldn't it go off with all the jostling around from running? The safety would probably be turned off, for sure.

Dad: It wouldn't go off unless someone pulled the trigger.

Me: Well, I'm not going to do that, and I don't have a concealed weapons permit. That's my next goal. Naomi has one, and I can't let her beat me on something, you know.

Dad: (probably rolling his eyes, because he knows how competitive I am) Yes yes. What if she gets married before you?

(Pause. How did we get on this conversation?)

Me: That's not very nice. Not much I can do about that, is there? Gee... jerk.

Dad: I know.

---------------------

Naomi is coming for a visit next week. I'll be all ready to compete. We have a good friendship, ha ha.

Ha.

Labels: conversations, family, friends

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Conversation: Knickers.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

This morning, as my parents and I got ready to go eat breakfast at the restaurant near the motel, I took notice of dad's pants.

They were too short.

I wasn't going to say anything. I had no intention of mentioning that his dark gray dress pants floated high above the tops of his shoes and that his brilliant white socks almost blinded me. Surely mention of such would get the day off to a foul start. So I turned my head and laughed uproariously inside.

I mean, floods. White socks. So cute and hilarious.

He continued to busily pack his duffel bag, and then walked out of the room to put it in the vehicle parked in front of the door. He was back just moments later, with the duffel bag in hand.

"These pants are too short," he grumped.

Mom began apologizing, for she had shortened them and evidently gotten really medieval about it.

"If only you had dark socks," I said, trying to make the best of it, "the pants would be fine."

No. Not really. They were too short.

I began to envision ways to lengthen them, such as sewing a ruffle on the bottom.

"You know," I said, adding further insult to injury, "when I was in elementary school, knickers were really popular. That's what you have going on here. You have knickers."

I thought it was funny.

Dad put on a different pair of pants.

Labels: conversations, family, fashion

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Conversation: The orange stuff.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this post

"Do you see that orange stuff?" my little nephew Jesse asked me. He'd pulled me over to the large window in the second-floor hotel room, which overlooked the indoor atrium where the pool was. I'd stopped by the hotel since the family was in town on a vacation.

I looked intently for the orange stuff that Jesse was talking about. By the steps and handrail that led out of the shallow end of the pool, I saw what looked to be a pile of cheetos, smashed and soaked, in a peculiar pile on the tile floor.

"Yes, I see it," I said. "What is it?"

"That's where I threw up last night!" he said excitedly. "I got out of the pool and threw up!"

Oh, my.

Labels: conversations, family

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Conversation: No life.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

In a recent conversation with a person, I got to thinking about the phrase "I have no life" in terms of working at a job extensively vs. the concept that life = self free time.

"You work a lot," I said.

This person had a working schedule that would make me implode, since the jobs I've had always seemed to suck the life out of me and leave a kind of vacuum inside that made me wonder if I were just lazy or if it was even possible for anyone -- namely me -- to enjoy any paying job. More than one friend has expressed serious disillusion with their work, so I know I'm not alone.

The person nodded in agreement and jokingly replied. "Yeah, I work a lot. I have no life."

"I hope you enjoy your work," I replied.

"I do. I love my job."

"That's good," I said, rather blandly, but I was thinking that this person was so far ahead of most people that I could barely fathom it. Loved the job?

That's far more of a life than the average person working a job they disliked that made them try to overcompensate on both real off-the-clock time and the on-the-clock-but-wish-I-weren't time.

I would love to love a job. It would help cull some of the excessive restlessness inside, the constant push to find the next new opportunity that might be the job I could at least like. The truth in this case lies very close to the truth I am finally understanding about home and geography.

Home isn't geography. It isn't a specific geographical place. It's a fluid time, a compilation of moments, a sense of being where you are supposed to be, where you are safe and wanted. Home can be taken with you from place to place, on into the future, allowed to change, if the foundation was laid right. For too long I thought I had to be in a specific place to be home. That made moving on, and the passage of time and how it played out in people and buildings, a horrible thing. Once I released home from being locked to a place in geography, I could relax and just enjoy the compilation of memories.

And so, just as home isn't a place, I could love my work if I could finally get a handle on how it has nothing to do with the actual job.

I think.

If you love your job and you are constantly working, you have a life. It's those of us practicing truth-avoidance with a smile that have no life no matter how much time we call our own.

Labels: conversations, essay, personal, work

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Awake.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Dad drove home from church yesterday. I was a bit sleepy and the bright sun bothered my eyes, so I tilted my car seat back, closed my eyes, and jokingly told him to wake me up when we got home.

"I will, if I'm awake," he said.

That's not really funny.

Labels: conversations, family

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Conversation: Supper crisis.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Me: Dad, mom probably won't be home until late this evening. She's staying after school for the band concert.

Dad: (look of consternation, concern, irritation and panic twisting about on his face)

Me: You're mainly concerned about supper, aren't you?

Dad: (funny look on face)

Me: That's it, isn't it? Your first thought was what would happen for supper, wasn't it?

Dad: (still saying nothing, but starting to laugh)

Me: (rolling my eyes) Don't worry about it. I'm making a homemade pizza.

Gotta get your priorities right, I guess.

Labels: conversations, family, food

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Dumb questions.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

There are dumb questions.

I already wrote my thesis on this.

But, as I will now reveal from my secret life on Facebook, even a benign profile photo can begin the discussion again, right there in the photo's discussion area.

(Begin sarcasm.)

Anna: It's a tiny picture but I do believe I see leaves on those trees. Was that taken today? And why are you holding your face like that?

Me: My chin was falling off. I took this photo inside the Kennedy Space Center. Any other dumb questions?

Anna: There is no such thing as a dumb question. However, there are certainly dumb answers as you've just now shown us.

Me: No, there are dumb questions. For example: If I put my hand in this raging fire, will it hurt? That's a dumb question.

Anna: Not if you have the disorder where you can't feel anything. It seems like that would be a legitimate question. Next...

Me: "Would it be OK if I drank this anti-freeze that says 'poison: will kill you' on the side of the container?"

Anna: Perhaps that wouldn't be considered dumb if the person was suicidal and was really asking you to help out with your caring and concern...oops.

Me: "Can I use this office stapler to staple my eye shut?"

Anna: Well, what if a person had a serious eye problem...maybe her eye kept popping out and she couldn't get to a doctor because of the dangling eye and no one was offering to drive her and the phones weren't working so she could call a cab even if she could concentrate on dialing a phone...it would make sense that stapling her eye shut would be a temporary solution and she was really asking you to do the stapling because her hands were a little shaky and it is sort of hard to staple your own eye shut. Ah hem.

Me: "Why are you still doing this?"

Anna: That certainly is not a dumb question as it is used to gain much useful information in many different circumstances.

Me: "No really. Why are you still doing this?"
"That wasn't hypothetical. It was a real question."
"Don't let these quotes confuse you."
"You know how I love to use quotes."

(End sarcasm.)

(Anna's a good sport.)

Labels: conversations, facebook, friends, internet

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Conversations: Finding a tic tac.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Last week I subbed at school and found myself chatting with one of the young students who had to stay in during recess. We got to talking about what he could expect when he got to high school and had to dissect animals.

"What did you dissect?" he asked.

"Oh, we dissected a fetus pig, a frog, and a worm," I replied.

"Cool. What was that like? Was it gross?"

"Nah, it wasn't too bad. The fetus pig was the best. The little heart and organs were amazing."

"I saw on CSI that pigs are the most like humans organ-wise," he said.

"Yes, I saw that, too. I wonder if that's true."

"Oh, it's true," he said confidently. "What about the frog?"

I told him of how we had lab partners and how we worked on the frog for about a week, and how we all named our frogs.

"What did you name your frog?" he asked.

"Hmm. I can't remember. It might have been 'Pancho Villa' or something like that."

I then told him of how, in the frog I worked on, we found a cricket in its mouth, its stomach, and its intestine.

"Cool!"

"My lab partner didn't think so. Right about the time I sliced open the stomach and a partially digested cricket leg popped out, she grabbed at her mouth and ran to the bathroom," I said. "The rest of the class gathered around though, and we found it rather fascinating, the cricket in three digested stages. The frog ate three crickets at just the right time."

"What about the worm?"

"The worm was anti-climactic."

"What do you mean?"

"After the pig and the frog, the worm wasn't very exciting or interesting," I said, trying to rephrase my statement.

"How do you dissect a worm? I mean, it's a worm," he said. "What's it like?"

I thought for a moment, trying to find the analogy that would make the most sense.

"Dissecting a worm is a bit like cutting open a gummy worm and finding a tic tac."

He snickered.

But it's true.

And I'll never eat a tic tac again.

Labels: conversations, kids, my life

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Conversation: Not in the shower.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

I met with Michael and Colleen for coffee today. I was frustrated with work; I am at the point in life where, after a decade of doing the same thing, essentially, I can't possibly come up with another design for another school sports event, nor do I find any sense of purpose or fulfillment in putting names on pants and shirts. I was, in other words, Debbie Downer.

Me: (sliding low in my chair) If I have to create another name for another hockey jersey, I am...I am.. I'll just... hang myself.

Michael: (sips his coffee) In the shower or in a barn?

Me: (pausing to think) It'd have to be a barn. Our shower's too short. Not enough altitude.

Michael: Do you guys have barns?

Me: Yes, several.

Colleen: That's right, you do, don't you...

Michael: You could jump out of the hay mow.

Me: (shaking my head) No. That's questionably reliable.

Michael: Yeah, you'd probably just hurt yourself.

(pause)

Michael: So which chapter in the book are you going to teach for Sunday school this week?

Me: Not sure. I'll let you know.

And then I went back to work.

Note: Comments are closed. I have such good readers -- many of whom will kindly lecture me on joking or making light of this subject -- that I have just gone and closed them and saved you the trouble. Rest assured, I am not giving away my prized possessions.

Labels: conversations, friends, work

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Conversation: Put me in the game, coach.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Freshly happened email conversation with Michael, the other Sunday school teacher at church. We are going to be doing some lessons from a book we both received, and I said I'd start, teaching this coming Sunday.::

Michael: So if you want to start next Sunday with one...

Me: Yeah, I'll do Sunday school this coming Sunday, and use one from the book.

Michael: Don't sound so overjoyed...

Me: "Yes! Excellent! I'm thrilled to do Sunday School this Sunday, if only you'll let me! Put me in the game, coach!!!!" Better?

Michael: Better, but not real good.

Me: I have nothing better to offer. I am, however, blogging this conversation. It's a slow day.

::The thing is, I'm actually looking forward to it. For me, at least, I'm finding that the book is written, and I'm reading it, in a way that makes it good material to foster discussion and come up with questions for the class to discuss. But evidently, I need to be more emphatic in my responses to meet Michael's Emote-O-Meter Acceptability Scale requirements.

I will probably be putting stuff that I come up with from the book online over on the Lone Prairie Studies blog, where I put most of my Bible study/Christian/church posts.::

Labels: church life, conversations, friends

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Conversation: Torching hot dogs.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Me: I'm cooking you supper. You're having fish, a salad, and some squash. You're going to eat it and like it and not make a hot dog.

Dad: I can make a hot dog if I want to.

Me: I will unplug the microwave.

Dad: I'll just boil it.

Me: I will unplug the stove.

Dad: I'll just go out to my shop and use the torch.

Me: Oh, right. "Sorry, dad can't come to the phone right now because he's OUT IN THE SHOP COOKING A HOT DOG WITH THE TORCH."

Dad: I can have a hot dog if I want to.

Labels: conversations, family, food

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Conversation: I missed the news.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::At our house, the most often-asked question is: Any news? Also, the 6 p.m. hour is sacred. That's when the local news comes on. News is important. So, with that in mind, the setting for this stellar conversation is upstairs in the computer room where dad is surfing the web on one computer, and I am working on the other desktop computer.::

6:15

Dad: I missed the news again.
Me: Who's fault is that?
Dad: I'm sure it's yours.
Me: I can't see how.

6:45

Dad: ...and of course, I missed the news.
Me: We already established that. Are we still having that conversation?

Silence. Mouse clicking.

Dad: (clicking onto the Grand Forks Herald web site, reading a headline aloud)...Men's Hockey: Sioux stun Pioneers. Huh. They should have more respect for the elderly.

I burst out in my trademark cackle of laughter.

It's hard to concentrate when dad is surfing the internet. He comes up with the funniest things.

Labels: conversations, family

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Conversation: Electrifying, with a little scripture thrown in.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

::I had just put the cat down after holding it, and, along with making him irate, his hair was standing on end.::

Dad: The poor cat was probably getting multiple shocks while you were holding it.

Me: I think I have weird electricity issues. I really do. I can't keep a watch running for more than a week, if it's on my wrist, and I'm constantly getting painful jolts whenever I touch electronic devices. When I get out of any car, I get huge shocks when other people don't.

Dad: It's amazing your computer has held up this long.

Me: You don't believe me.

Dad: I didn't say that. It's probably your winter coat that causes it.

Me: Well, I believe me. It happens all the time, not just winter. It can't all be attributed to coat-related incidents.

Dad: Maybe you've been abducted by aliens and have been electrified.

Me: You're mocking me.

Dad: No, I just watch the History Channel.

Me: It says in the Bible that fathers shouldn't exasperate their children.

Dad: I'm not exasperating you.

Me: I feel exasperated.

Dad: Well, those people must experience something.

Me: Did I ever have you read that book by those three Christian scientists...Lights in the Sky and Little Green Men? That was a good book. Interesting theories.

Dad: I think I read some of it.

Me: I got into a discussion online about that stuff. But I do have an electricity issue. I do. What do you think about Bigfoot?

::That's a pretty typical conversation.::

Labels: conversations, family

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Conversation: Where it's warm.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

Dad (talking on the phone to Chuck, who must have asked how cold it was here): Last time I looked it was climbing up to six below. Breeze picked up, temperature's going up.

(Pause.)

Dad: Well, it's pretty warm where I plan on being. In the house.

This ties in with this.

Labels: conversations, family

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Conversations: Take a gander at the dogs.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

My sister: Hey, do you want to take a gander out the door and see what the dogs are doing?

My sister has a large dog, and my niece has a new puppy which she leaves at my sister's house while she's at work. My sister just came home from work and let the dogs out, and I, fresh from a medical study, was available to do the gandering.

Me: Hmmm.

The puppy, Max, was following and annoying Nakita all around the yard. Max then decided to leap on top of Nakita, who was trying to go to the bathroom. This was not acceptable.

Me: The big dog is eating the little dog.

Labels: conversations, family, pets

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Conversation: Opposable thumbs.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

::In a recent conversation¹ with my cat, the following transpired.::

Me: Brutus, you look unsettled and unhappy. Having some emotional difficulties today?

Brutus²: Yes.

Me: Perhaps you're considering furthering your education? Tired of life as it is for you now?

Brutus: Yes.

Me: That's all well and good, kitty, but how do you plan on paying for your education?

Brutus: I was thinking about a job.

Me: Hmm. I admire your determination, fuzzy-head, but I do question your skills and employment qualifications. Not to mention, you have no opposable thumbs, which makes it hard to hold onto anything, much less a job.

::I've become an idiot. I was thinking about subscribing Brutus to some random free newsletters so he could get mail.::

---------------------------------

¹ The cat does not actually speak. Hence, you now have evidence of the sad point I've come to in my life. Oddly, the cat is capable of better return conversation than many people I know. Hence, you now have evidence of the sad point other people have come to in life.

² I either provide Brutus with a voice or I continue on with the conversation as if he'd replied.

Labels: brutus, conversations

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Conversations: Horse sweat.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Scene: Sitting with my parents at the Grizzly's in Grand Forks. All of us happily munching on our just-arrived late afternoon lunch.

Me: (Putting down my Chicken Caesar wrap after finally identifying the smell that my Lodge Potatoes side dish reminded me of.) These potatoes are delicious. They also smell like horse sweat.

Dad: What?

Me: These potatoes. They look and taste great, but they smell exactly like horse sweat.

Mom: (Nods her head and agrees that the potatoes look delicious and continues to eat her salad.)

Me: (Pushing the plate towards dad.) Smell them. What do they remind you of?

Dad: (Leans in and smells the crispy potatoes with seasoning mixed with grilled tomatoes and onions.) Huh. They smell like horse sweat.

Me: (Pulling the plate back and taking another bite.) Exactly. (I take another, savory bite.) Oddly, it doesn't bother me.

I finished my meal with the odd sensation of enjoying a tasty sup while having specific memories of horses from childhood galloping through my mind.

Really strange. I have no idea what the seasonings were, but it smelled exactly -- EXACTLY -- like a sweaty horse. Tasted fabulous, though.

Labels: conversations, family, food

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Conversation: We're done here.

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Big news and great trepidation.

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Conversations: The daily dad call.

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Conversation: Knickers.

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Conversation: The orange stuff.

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Conversation: No life.

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Awake.

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Conversation: Supper crisis.

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Dumb questions.

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Conversations: Finding a tic tac.

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Conversation: Not in the shower.

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Conversation: Put me in the game, coach.

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Conversation: Torching hot dogs.

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Conversation: I missed the news.

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Conversation: Electrifying, with a little scripture thrown in.

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Conversation: Where it's warm.

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Conversations: Take a gander at the dogs.

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Conversation: Opposable thumbs.

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Conversations: Horse sweat.