I was over-the-top excited. It was May 6th, 1959. I was in the first grade and it was Rally Day. We didn’t have to go to school on Rally Day. Instead, we went to the football field, which at that time was near the high school and next to the auditorium. I knew I was going to run in races, participate in the sack race, and broad jump. Billy was 14 and I had been to watch his activities but today, I was going to participate.

There was another exciting thing. My number was pinned to my shirt and it was #36. It was May 6th, Mom’s birthday, and my number was 36. Guess what? That’s how old she was that day. (I have since recalculated Mom’s real age. I was 7 yrs old, which means Mom had turned 38. Maybe the number 38 was already taken and Mom didn’t want me to feel bad.)

From left: Harriet Parish, Loretta Gustafson (Mom), Elsa Peck, and Florence Murphy.

My first grade class with our teacher, Mrs Sandy. The future class of 1970

I remember as if it were yesterday, standing in the hallway of our house, waiting for Billy to walk me to the field. I was sure he was being slow just to make me nervous. Like always with our family, we were among the first ones to get there. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I couldn’t wait to win some blue ribbons. I was hoping Billy would watch me.

We experience many firsts in our lives. Some not planned or expected. Those events usually change everything.

I never planned to live anywhere but South Dakota, yet I have lived in 5 states. I would have called anyone crazy, if they had suggested I would spend 30 years (so far) in Texas. Mom once told me she had to get a new address book because she ran out of room under our name, and she knew we would move again. We’ve lived in 5 different houses in Texas.

I was talking to my cousin, Val, and she asked me if I had gotten 2 other cousin’s Christmas letters. Another cousin, Mark, brought up two more. I was feeling sad. My family must not like me. My cousin said, “No, that’s not it…they have no idea where you are.”

Our email address has changed and I’ve lost count of all the houses we’ve lived in. We tease that we don’t do windows, so when they get dirty, we have to move. We turn the mattresses then, too. It’s my fault, anyway, because I know where all my relatives live. I did send them all the Sanderson Christmas story a couple of years ago.

So here I am…in Texas. And I have the most wonderful friends anyone could ask for. As my thoughts and memories reach back over the years, I can see I’ve always been surrounded by genuinely amazing people.

I’m sure glad I wasn’t the one running things..

My Aunt Irma Sanderson’s house. L to R: Harriet Parrish, Marce Lillibridge, Florence Murphy, Marge Bork, Evie Johnson, and Mom…They have all been in my stories. The doctor, the banker, and the dentist’s wives, and the lady whose little boy fell from the slide…These lady’s stories, like everyone’s are about changes they weren’t expecting.

You don’t have to be embarrassed, about an imperfection.

Each day that I get older, I add to my collection.

It became such a problem, I gave it some attention.

And soon I had created, a nifty new invention.

Now when I see myself, not one single flaw appears.

I use one of my darkened, demagnifying mirrors.

My invention has given me a lot of extra time.

My hair and face look perfect. Do I dare say they’re sublime?

I walked the dog this morning, using time that I had saved.

Neighbors stopped to chat, or simply smiled and waved.

More free time was used to read books that might inspire me.

I will take care of myself… have that colonoscopy.

I’ll catch up with my friends and write to relatives.

Take the grandkids to the zoo or some alternatives.

I find I need more time now. Where do I begin?

I’m paralyzed! I think I feel rigamortis setting in!

I am drawn to my old mirror that lights up and magnifies.

I can see weird looking make-up and horror in my eyes.

I find the website of my Rodan and Fields consultant.

http://mmcninch.myrandf.com

I order all the things I need, and all the things I’ve wanted.

I made myself a promise to be forever faithful.

And for my healthy glowing skin, I’ll be forever grateful.

I’ll still save time and money, because won’t need all that make-up.

When I use R and F skincare, I don’t want a cover-up.

The last thing I’ll apply, to my glowing face,

Is a moisturizer with just a little trace,

Of color our solution tool has deemed one I can’t resist.

The frosting on the cake is at the top of Oprah’s list.

My lashes after Lash Boost are much longer than before.

I add a light coat of mascara and I’m ready to hit the door.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

To look the way you want to feel, I think you will agree.

Use the number 1 skincare. We all look our best in “healthy.”

I challenged myself to write a whole blog without mentioning me, myself or I.

Well…it looks like I already blew that, so I’m going to tell you about my bad haircut. Without checking first to see if my girl was there, I went with Kip to get a trim. When we got to the haircut place, I said I wanted Nancy to cut my hair. Nancy was standing just a few feet away. The girl helping us said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Nancy doesn’t come in until 3:00.”

Kip gave me a look because I had mistaken someone else for Nancy the last time we were there. Anyway, They asked me if I wanted to come back or stay and have someone else give me a haircut. I said, “I’ll stay. No, I’ll come back. Final answer, I’ll stay.”

We sat down to wait. “Are you sure you even know the girl who cuts your hair is named Nancy?”

“Yes, I have her card…somewhere.”

Eventually, it was my turn. The stylist seemed nice enough and I felt a little better. I thought I should give her all the information I could about how to cut my hair, but I think I lost her about the third descriptive sentence into it. I decided to try to find some pictures on my phone. The stylist became impatient. I could almost here her thinking, “What do you expect from me? You’re a senior! You are only charged $12.00…(They went up a dollar since last time.)

“It says on the card here that your hair is cut in the swing-bob style.” Shall I just trim it a little?”

When I left there I didn’t have a bob and my hair was way too short to swing. I couldn’t believe I got a bad haircut when I didn’t even have a reunion or something to go to. The last time my hair was this short, Kip told me it was okay to have hair.

I’m showing my swing-bob while whitening my teeth,

It doesn’t matter. I got over it quickly. I was excited to go pick up my tooth tray and the whitening solution. I really laughed when I saw what I had gone through 3.5 hours of being waterboarded for. By the way, if you see the container they gave me to contain my trays, be sure and return it to me. They only fit my teeth, anyway. I recognized the trays as soon as I saw my own crooked teeth made from plastic.

Yram Sicnarf is on her way back to Gun Barrel City. Her reasons are simple, but then Yram is simple. She hasn’t snagged any bigshot interviews in Murdo for months. That last one with Dean Lindquist pretty much nipped her budding career in the bud. I mean, it’s pretty impossible to get a good interview when you have to stay 500 feet from the interviewee. Well, at least there are no restraining orders against her around Gun Barrel…at least not yet!.

Though she doesn’t have an appointment, (it usually works out better that way), Yram follows the directions to the address she was given by some guy at the Church by the name of Jube. Yram wondered why he uttered these words as he handed her the folded slip of paper.

“Heed my words, crack-up reporter. Don’t park behind her.” Then he grabbed her arm and said, “And don’t park in front of her, or beside her, either. Maybe you should walk from here!”

Yram thought Jube was kidding around with her, but as she drove up Church Lady’s street, she noticed there were no cars, anywhere. The only sign anyone had even been on the street was a broken up statue of an Eagle and several for sale signs.

Yram, not being one to walk very far, parked in the driveway, right behind the Church Lady’s car. She got out of her vehicle, walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell. Minutes later, a lovely lady with a big smile on her face, opened the door.

“Come on in,” she said. “I’ll make some coffee and cook a big breakfast! Are you related to Murdo Girl? Except for the yellow hair, you look a lot like her.”

“Everyone says that, but my teeth are whiter. My name is Yram and I’m a crack-up reporter. I’m from here, but I went to Murdo, SD to advance my career. I came back.”

Church Lady: What can I do for you, Ymam? I have to get to the church in a few minutes. I left too late the other day, and knocked that big eagle over. Oh well, there’s another one right beside it. One is enough, I’d say.

Yram: Please call me Yram. Ymam was my mother. Say, that bacon smells good! I can take it with me if you have to leave before I eat it. I’m parked behind you, so I’ll have to move my car.

Church Lady: That won’t be necessary Ywhatever, I’ll just take the ditch. Say…did that policeman who mistakenly said I was speeding to Church send you over here to investigate me? This can’t go in the paper. I don’t want to put the choir in a bad light. I have cinnamon rolls, too!

Yram: Well if you insist…Oh my, they look homemade. Listen, Church Lady, we’re going to have to talk about another interest of yours, so we don’t have to leave the choir in the dark. What else do you like to do besides speed?

Church Lady: Well, music is my life, but I’m also a belonger. If there’s a meeting somewhere, I’m in! I moved a lot closer to the Church, but I still speed to get there. Oh, and I judge things, like pies at the Texas State Fair, awards show performances, fashion shows. Wherever something is happening, I’m there! Now grab your food and let’s go. Your coming to the Church with me. I want you to meet our choir, and of course Lance…..and and and…. We all need a good preacher in our lives. Do you sing alto? Can you put a hat on that yellow hair? I’ll take you to a couple of places and we’ll find you something you’ll love.

Yram: What’s that noise? It sounds like a siren. Is that a policeman behind us? I don’t need anymore trouble.

The Church Lady screeches to stop and a policeman walks up to the car.

Yram: Please don’t tell me you have a restraining order!

Policeman: Heck no! I can see you have your seat belt on. Mrs. Church Lady, follow me. I’ll make sure everyone’s safe while you drive to Church.

Yram: I’ll be able to say hi to Jube and tell him I get it!

Church Lady: You’ll see all five of them.

My brain is deader than a door nail today. Hmm, I thought door nail was one word, but spellcheck tells me, no. I used to think spellcheck was two words, but spellcheck told me it’s one. Sometimes I get tired of spellcheck being so much smarter than I am. The only voice that makes me feel dumber than spellcheck is that of the GPS lady. If I decide to deviate 2 feet from the route, she gets very excited and says things like, “Make a U-turn in 400 feet!!!” At that point bells and whistles go off, and the screen starts going in circles and flashes, “Rerouting! Rerouting!” I know she’s thinking, “I gave you a route AND an alternate route, can’t you just pick one and stick to it??”

I don’t like my every move put into question. In the first place, it’s rather unsettling to have inanimate objects telling me what to do all the time. Kip and I find ourselves whispering if we’re contemplating an unexpected stop. Is it really worth it if it gives the poor woman a coronary? Do I really have to go that badly?

Truth be told, I’m worried that I can’t live without GPS or spellcheck. It all sounds like an example of a sick and twisted relationship doesn’t it? (According to spellcheck, I have misspelled 4 words so far.)

I think that I’m pretty even-tempered. I don’t get ruffled too easily. I have tried to be really good-natured about all the age related teasing. (Spellcheck tried to change natured to matured.) I have listened to all of the advice of well-meaning people who seem to think it’s time for me to change my ways. This all became more of an issue when I reached the age of 65 last week.(This was written two years ago, I’m 67, now.)

I was standing behind a woman in line at the supermarket checkout, yesterday. She was leafing through a health magazine. I guess she thought I needed some helpful suggestions because she said, “Do you know that regular exercise is the best thing you can do to promote longevity?” I said, “I’m over 65. Pushing 70 is exercise enough for me.” Then I added, “These Jelly donuts are for my 102 year old sister.”

I just spelled exercise incorrectly 3 times. I’m glad I finally paid attention. Spellcheck changed it to supersize, then to oversize. Sometimes it tells me, (not in so many words), “Hey, I got nothing for you.”

I went to the dentist yesterday to get my teeth cleaned. Before that, I got my eyes checked. I’m really hard on contacts, but glasses are uncomfortable because of the wide distance between my eyes.

Back to the dentist. I hadn’t been there in a while…a long while. And I paid for it yesterday. He said I had to have a deep cleaning which involved getting my gums really numbed up. He showed me how much this would cost. I gulped and suddenly remembered why it’s been a while since I had darkened a dentist’s door.

Then he started with the needles. There were six of them shooting awful tasting stuff into my gums. The dentist and assistant left me alone while my face puffed up to three times its normal size. I felt like I was going to start floating toward the ceiling. I was wishing I had eaten a bigger lunch because it was going to be days before this was going down and I could feel anything below my cheekbones, again.

The dentist began his work as he sprayed water into my mouth while the assistant used a suction hose to suck it up. I remembered the second reason I hate having my teeth worked on. I choke easily. I tried to relax, but it wasn’t long before I choked and water went up my nose. The dentist raised my chair up and told me it was important that I sit still. I said,”Ischanesill, Indwondin.” The dentist said, “What?”

The assistant said, “She said she can’t stay still, she’s drowning.”

So they raised my chair a little and I did my best to get through it. I only grabbed at the water hose once and said, “Shwo dona!, glub, glub.”

We finally finished with that ordeal and the receptionist brought me the estimate for the six minor fillings I needed. She said, “Would you like to come back on Friday?”

I guess my sign language told them that if they let me go, I wouldn’t be back.  When they told me they would have to numb me up again on Friday, I pinned myself to the chair. They found room in their schedule to finish-up, right then.

Thirty years ago and now. Yram has whiter teeth

 

I had been there three and a half hours…Then came the moment I had been waiting for. I got up from the chair and reached for my purse which held a coupon that said I would get my teeth whitened for free if I got x rays and a cleaning.

The assistant said, “Oh, that’s not the professional cleaning, that’s where we make a mold of your teeth and give you a whitening solution to put in the tray made from the mold.”

I sat in the chair and pointed to my teeth. The dentist, assistant, and receptionist were beginning to understand me. They took the mold and I pick up my tray on Monday.

I figure I’m good for three or four years, which is what I told Kip when he saw the bill. He wasn’t happy, but I think he was slightly relieved that I had gone to the dentist and hadn’t been somewhere to get a botched up botox job on my lips. He doesn’t know I’m into the natural look.

 

Things have changed since the old Brickhouse days, when Murdo Girl was Next Pres and Lav was Next Vice Pres. Back then, they reigned over a place called Murdo’elot as well as a few surrounding counties. They occupied the old Murdo High School building and renamed it the Brickhouse.

The next admin filled all the usual government positions with one big difference. They weren’t paid a dime, which came close to what they were worth. Nevertheless, they were hard working and loyal, albeit two cards shy of a full deck.

Eventually, they all followed their own dreams and were scattered to the winds.

Lav wound up in Palm Springs. Today, we find her lounging by the pool at a luxury hotel. Looks like she’s landed on her feet and prospered. She’s even getting a shoulder massage.

(A man comes through the patio doors. He’s carrying a phone and hands it to Lav.)

“You have a phone call,” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning motel rooms?”

Lav picks up the phone.

“Hello, who is this?”

A little while later, we zoom in on a beautiful horse ranch. Is that TC (TownCrier)? Looks like she’s traded her cheese head in for a Stetson. Does she own all those beautiful horses in the huge corral? Why is she holding a microphone? Uh, oh, looks like she’s an auctioneer. I bet that gives new meaning to the phrase, “For crying out loud.” When someone brings her a telephone, she forgets to turn off her mic.

“HELLO!!! CAN YOU HEAR YE, HEAR YE, NOW!”

Now where are we going?

It appears we’re headed to a well known art gallery. It seems that a well known photographic drawer is showing her works. Also in the room, is a lesser known photographic drawer who is with some reporter trying to get an interview with the famous person. The phone rings and we hear, “Is there a PG and a crack -up reporter in the house?”

(Below is PG…the insert on the left is Yram Sicnarf, crack-up reporter, on the right, is an example of PG’S photographic drawing genius.)

The day goes on…and on…and on. Each place we go, we run into old Brickhouse personnel, and a few extras, getting what appears to be an important phone call from someone who has yet to be identified. It’s kind of like Charlie’s Angels, only without Charlie and the angels.

Who is the person on the other end of the telephone? What do they want with this motley crew.

Who is flying this airplane?

Who am I?

Who are Patty Cake, KK, DM, Treason, Jerry the Bean Counter, and PICO?

I’m Patty Cake. I don’t like this job. I’d rather serve cake.

I’m KK (Kodak Kadoka) I take awesome pictures of still life. If something is moving, PG draws it!

The pilots are Airy Heart, and Windy Lindy Berg.

The truck driver is A I, Aggressive Informant.

The dog’s name is Arf. He’s on the run!

We’re still trying to hunt down Treason, PICO, and Jerry the Bean Counter.

The Queen finds us no matter where we go.

Look out, Murdo’elot, I think they’re headed your way….but why?

I had a family member whose favorite expression was, “If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” He always talked about his bad luck. I’m not like that. If I dropped to my knees everytime I thought something bad was going to happen, but it didn’t, I would be on the floor most of the time.

Take the time I flew from Casper, WY to Billings, MT. My company decided to send me to take care of our little real estate loan office in Billings. I would be there for three days while the staff went to a training meeting in the home office. I will begin the story at the Casper, airport.

I already had my ticket, so I went to the counter to get my boarding pass. The name of the airline was Big Sky. I asked the lady helping me if I could please have an aisle seat. She leaned over the counter and said, “Honey, they’re all aisle seats. I thought she was kidding. I didn’t know how small the airplane was until I walked out on the tarmac. When I saw it, I turned around to leave and ran straight into Kip, who had decided he’d better see me off.

I got on the plane and sat directly behind the pilot and co-pilot. There was no barrier between us. A man boarded and sat behind me. Another man sat behind him, and a woman sat on the other side. Without getting up from his seat, the pilot asked the second man on my side to move across the aisle, so the airplane would be more balanced.

I wanted to ask everyone how much they weighed, but I held off. As we took off, the man behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “They call this airline, Big Scare.” I started to feel light-headed and then we took off. Just as the pilots were trying to get high enough to get over the Big Horns, It started to rain. The extremely capable pilots turned the windshield wipers on.

“Looky here!” The co-pilot said. “My wipers only work half the time. I sure hope you can see okay.”

“Yeah, I can see okay…as long as it doesn’t rain too hard.”

I was not believing this, but what was I going to do? Bail out over the mountains! Everyone on that airplane was letting all the air out of their lungs in hopes it would help us climb higher.”

We finally made it to Billings and for the next three days, I worried about flying back. Little did I know…..

There was one other person sitting there and no pilots. Finally, here came the same two who had flown me to Billings. “Sorry we’re late,” the pilot said. “We had to fill out some paperwork.”

I was grateful when in no time at all, we began our descent. Once we landed, I looked around at surroundings I had never seen before. Someone came running out onto the tarmac as the pilot struggled to open his window.

“What are you doing here?” The guy asked. “You aren’t supposed to land in Sheridan. It’s a straight flight to Casper.

“Oh,” said the pilot. “Do you have any paperwork for us to sign?” When the airport guy shook his head, the pilot turned around and asked his two passengers if we wanted to go inside and use the bathroom. We both declined.

(Our house in Casper)

The next day, when I got to work, the first thing I did was ask my boss if she knew anything about Big Sky Airlines. She looked at me rather sheepishly.

“A little,” she confessed. “A friend of mine was on the plane and they forgot to put her bag in the baggage compartment, It got caught in the propeller or they ran over it or something, and she saw her clothes, most of them new, flying all over the tarmac. Those pilots got an earful,”

“Must be why the pilots have so much paperwork,” I said to her as I talked myself into forgiving her. Later it began to set in. “I must be the luckiest girl in the world,” I thought.

It was definitely a kneel down on the floor moment and I was grateful there was a floor beneath my feet.

No…You don’t have to be crazy to be my friend. I’ll train you!

Happy Friday!

When I was in the eighth grade, we moved to a new school building. Our teacher suddenly became obsessed with the black marks our shoes were making on the shiny new floor. One day after school, thinking we were alone in the room, some of us started to mock him. I would look under someone’s desk and say, “Just look at this gigantic black mark!! These two tiles are ruined I tell you! From now on, this kid is going to be wearing snoopy slippers to school, and not those slippers with the skid resistant foot. I haven’t had a chance to investigate the damage they can do to this gleaming new floor.”

Then I would kneel down and kiss his precious floor..

Just as I had completed my exaggerated imitation and it was someone else’s turn, I looked up and saw the teacher standing there, looking at me, arms folded, and slowly shaking his head.

He said, “Mary, (I wasn’t MG yet), I stay up nights worrying about you, and I worry, and I worry, and I worry.” And then, he turned and walked out.

Tammy Lindquist Van Dam and I standing outside the school that was new in 1966. Tammy works there and does so much for the school, the kids and the community. I was her babysitter many years ago.

I made a short video of some of you who, as far as I know, have not yet discussed an intervention regarding my, ” lighter side.” I’m sure I’ll look at it later and say, “Oh, No! I forgot someone who should be in there.” Please forgive me. I love all of my friends. You’re the best!

*The video did not include the 50 pics it was supposed to. I added some of them at the beginning of the blog