My Little Paris

This is what I call Des Moines because of all the artists, musicians and writers.

I was trying to explain this to the guy next to me at the wifi wine bar yesterday in St. Paul. He didn't believe me.

No really I say. People in Des Moines are not just musicians, they're in 2-3 bands. They're not just artists, they have studios. They're not just writers, they earn a living.

The guy wasn't buying it. Gave me a huge crumpled face look as though I was crazy.

Seriously, I further explain. And all the grocery stores have full liquor sections inside. It's very cultured and civilized.

And then there's the Iowa caucuses system.

I don't think he knew what those were. That's OK, I didn't either before I went to one.

Why is it that where ever you live you believe it's superior to other places? And why do I always want to be somewhere else even when I like where I am? I'm thinking about my frequent flier miles even as I happily return home to get all my ears full of simultaneous updates in stereo from Amanda and Aidan.

dress up day at school
who wore what
the best dress ups
lets go to the vintage store
new piano teacher
finger exercises
rollerskating
play date
what did I buy them
the basketball game
the youth group meeting
can we go to the movie
the Indian buffet

It's great to be home! And it's fantastic to open up your life.

photo: Cafe di Scala, This is where the St. John's call committee suggested for me and Bob when we came down for his final interview. The night we went there was a woman crooning torchy songs over the piano. Have you ever met a church who would send their prospective new pastor to a place like this? Only in Des Moines. My little Paris. (Ed and Mari, If you're out there, thanks again for this.)

Take care everyone!

With love, T

Too Much Information

Friends, I'm telling you right now. Don't read this blog dispatch. You will regret it. I know I should not even write it except for that I have to. There are some stories that must be told. Dignity be damned.

There is an imaginary family who live in a midwestern suburb. An ordinary family. Mom, Dad, Sister, and Brother. And two kittens who are living on the edge. 

One member of the ordinary family who will not be named. . .well, Ok, let's just say that member of the family needed some immediate emergency attention by both Mom and Dad. In the bathroom. With the assistance of head lice shampoo and fine toothed combs. They say it takes up to three hours for this process. Especially if that un-mentioned family member has long and thick hair. 

Anywho, so it's a real family affair. The three of us in a small bathroom combing and picking and disguarding tiny little nasties. Search and destroy over the vanity sink.

Wait. 

Not three of us. Four. 

Because the more agresssive of the two cats has decided to do its yoga routine at the feet of the unmentionable lice victim. Languidly sprawling out on his furry little back on her feet, on the tiles in front of the heat vent. 

O no, not four. There are five of us. 

Because now the lice victim's brother has to pee and he's too scared to use the bathroom downstairs because his entire family and pets are in this bathroom. What can they do? He crawls past everyone and. . .you know. Make your own sound effect.

CRASH.

Darn. The ordinary suburban mother's wine glass just shattered all over the bathroom floor. That's right folks. This was the perfect setting for a smooth Friday night merlot. Wash the week away. Down the drain. Flush the toilet. Brush the comb. Disinfest the scalp. Sweep the floor. 

Human bonding, people. 

And if you actually did read this dispatch, I am very sorry for the truths you have just learned about this imaginary ordinary midwestern suburban family. And yet I'm so grateful that you came over because as you can imagine these people need all the friends they can muster.

Take care, T