Journal #49 Crop Circles again

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There are crop circles in my hometown again. They have been there several times now. The first time they were in Llewellyn’s fields. Then, 3 years ago they were in Haden’s field. This year they are in Cindy and Greg Geib’s field. This made news big over the past week. Cindy has done multiple radio shows all over the country. There have been over 30 stories done and over 100 people have shown up to see it, or stand in it. When I first heard about it I told Cindy I was getting my tin foil hat and heading her way. I think the reason it is bigger news this time is because Cindy is so cool. Who wouldn’t want to talk to her about her crop circles? Or, maybe it is just a boring summer and this is the kind of news people like. Are they real? I think they are real, in the sense that they exist. I don’t know who made them, but I know the farmers who keep finding them in their fields didn’t do it. They are too busy to spend time doing that. Also, they lost almost and acre of wheat so I know they wouldn’t do that to themselves. One of the radio guys asked if an acre was going to hurt them much, he asked if they had thousands of acres and Cindy said they had millions of acres. She’s so funny.

I just tell people there have been aliens visiting Wilbur for years. When I was little they visited the Walters’ farm.  They took pictures of it, but the air force confiscated their film. When my brother was young, he came running home one evening scared because he had seen something. My sister and her friend Marcia also saw something – above buttercup hill. Now that I think about it, maybe the aliens stole my wildflowers. I don’t know if there are aliens, but I can’t say for sure that there aren’t. Thank goodness I’m not writing a research paper about it.

The first reason I think Aliens are good, the second reason, the third reason…..

I could never pull that one off.

I have never seen them. But I bet they’ve seen me. I have my crazy language, after all, maybe they taught it to me. Also, people always tell me they can’t understand my telephone messages. I try speaking very clearly, but for some reason they can never understand me. I just say it is the aliens garbling my speech – they are always interfering. I don’t know why they are so interested in Wilbur, or me, for that matter. I guess Wilbur is a good place. I like it. In fact, I love it a little. It was the best place to grow up. I don’t know if I would want to live there now, but I would like to spend more time there. I know hubby would like to retire there so he could fish Lake Roosevelt every weekend. He loves it. He is there now – without me. I am jealous.

Journal #8 Sophie

 Just sharing another of my 10 minute journal entries from English Composition:

Sitting here this morning I am thinking about Sophie. Sophie is my 16-year-old miniature dachshund. My son brought her home from the neighbors when he was 12 years old. He begged me to let him have her. At the time we had a dog and at least 1 cat. His argument was that the dog liked his sister best and the cat was mine. He needed a pet of his own.  She was cute, only a few months old and her coat was the shiniest black. He said they had been calling her “Poopy” but he wanted to call her Sophie. I gave in and let him have the dog. Now he is gone and she is mine. I should have known there was a reason for her original name – she has lived up to being “poopy.” I love her, but she has never become the perfect lap dog.

Sophie is now what I would call matte black and has a lot of white hair on the top of her head. She’s had most of her teeth pulled and has fatty tumors on her belly. The vet says her heart and lungs are still strong. One thing this dog has is a good heart. She is loyal and sweet, to the people she knows. She doesn’t like strangers unless they sit down immediately and let her smell them and lick their faces. Once that is out of the way she will stop barking, but as soon as they stand up again she forgets who they are and starts barking again.

I try to get her out for walks a few times a week. It is getting harder for her to navigate the speed bumps, as her tiny little legs are not as strong as they once were. She often has to be carried down the stairs, but that might just be laziness.

One of Sophie’s really bad habits is sneaking in to eat the cat food. I once heard that a dachshund would eat itself to death if you let it, and I think that might be true. She never seems to have her fill of food. We did block off the area where the cat has his food so now she stands there looking at the door, as if it will magically move to allow her in. She is a funny girl. She also licks the carpet. I am not sure why she licks the carpet, but I read online that it could be due to some deficiency. She had her teeth cleaned again and was treated for an infection, which I thought might cure the carpet licking, but it didn’t. When we got new carpet I thought she might stop, but she didn’t. It isn’t a terrible habit but it is a little weird.

Sophie is getting old and I am afraid for the day I will have to say goodbye. Losing pets is the worst part about having them. I know it is the part that keeps some people from ever getting them in the first place. I love my pets so much, but my heart is strong enough to endure the loss if I know I have given them my best.

Columbo - the dog

Journal #41

When I was a very young girl – I think 13 – I got an adorable tiny black puppy. I named him Columbo. I liked the detective show of that same name, and for some weird reason, which I can’t explain, I liked Peter Falk. I must be a strange girl, or maybe I was strange then and I’m okay now? I’m not really sure which. I have a scrapbook, like most young girls would keep. It has clippings of the things that went on in school, report cards, newspaper photos, movie tickets and many, many pages of pictures of Peter Falk. In my defense (if I need one) they are only pictures of Peter Falk as Columbo. You see, to me, he was just the character. I didn’t think he was handsome, not even in a crumply, cute way. I just liked him enough to keep a scrapbook and name a puppy after him. I also used to think George Hamilton was handsome – so much so that I became a Hank Williams Sr. fan when I was 12. George Hamilton played Hank Williams in a movie. My grandma loved it that I was suddenly a country music fan – especially that I liked “old” country music. I can say that I do still like the music of Hank Williams. So, back to my dog, this morning I posted a photo of a little dog that needs a home onto Facebook. I do that a lot to help the poor little homeless dogs and cats. My friend from high school saw it and she remarked that it looked like Columbo. Another friend said it looked like Toto. I am also a huge Wizard of Oz fan. In fact, I used to collect all things Oz. I still have the collection, but I no longer add to it, not in any big significant way. So now I can’t get the little dog out of my mind, but I know I can’t have him. I already have a dog and a cat and they are more than enough for this little house. We don’t have room, or the means right now to take another pet. I really hope he finds someone to love him. My little Columbo dog, he was sweet. I still remember him rolling in the snow – he was still tiny enough to almost get lost in the Wilbur snow, which is much more impressive than Tri-City snow. When spring came, my sister got up early to walk downtown to her job at The Billy Burger (greasy spoon that we all love.) She didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that Columbo was following her. I found out from my mom later that morning that my Columbo was dead. A car hit him when he tried to cross Main Street. I don’t even know why he was outside; I guess my parents must not have allowed him in the house. I really can’t remember. I am much more responsible as a pet owner now, but back then it was small town 70s and no one kept their dogs tied up. I wish I had kept him safe.

Miss Alphabet

Journal #15

Yesterday in English Composition the professor was handing back assignments. He was calling out our names because he is still not familiar enough to know each of us individually. When he said “Miss Alphabet” I held out my hand. He said, “You knew I meant you?”  A couple days earlier he had asked how to say my last name so I figured it was my name he was referring to. I already knew my hyphenated last name was a bit long and difficult. I am the one who has to sign it all the time. Yesterday was the first time I thought about the fact that I do have exactly half of the alphabet in my name. N-A-C-Y-U-B-E-R-T-I-P-K-S.

I still don’t regret my decision to keep my name and there is a reason for it. Until I was 18 years old I was Nancy Aubertin. Then I got married and for the next 16 years I was Nancy Arvan. I kept that name for another 10 or more years, even after I got divorced. I had nothing against the name Arvan – both my kids are Arvans and they are fabulous. There was always a part of me that missed being an Aubertin and I wanted to change it. I had all the papers to change it at one time, but then Noah joined the Marines and he was deployed to Iraq and I just couldn’t part with the name that we shared. A couple years after Noah was home I had come to the conclusion that my long-time boyfriend was never going to propose – I changed my name to Aubertin. Two years later, after dating for 9 years, guess who proposed? That’s right, Darrell Pipkins proposed. I knew at that moment that I would take his name, but I wasn’t ready to give up mine. It had taken me a long time to get it back and I didn’t want to lose it again. I know I am always the same person, no mater what name I have. But I felt more connected to my past and the person I truly am with the Aubertin name. So, now I am Nancy Aubertin-Pipkins. Yes, it is a long name and I get annoyed myself with having to sign it. I am learning to fit it into the tiny spaces that are often on forms that need to be filled out. I am learning that some places can’t accommodate the hyphen so I become Aubertinpipkins. Some places also will choose (without consulting me for my preference) one or the other and then I have to guess as to how they have put me in their system. If anyone has difficulty with my name, well, I guess you can call me Miss Alphabet. I like the alphabet. In fact, I have my own language I have concocted out of the alphabet. I will save that for another journal entry.

Dogs and fireworks - Journal #10

Dogs are smarter than people. I’ll tell you how I know. When people start lighting fireworks, dogs either hide, or run away. Don’t get me wrong; when I was a kid I loved them too. I loved snakes and sparklers. I remember dad trying to find the perfect place to nail the pinwheel so it would spin without stopping. We had a lot of fun back then. We always had the hose ready to go in case of a wayward spark, but I can’t say we were very safe with our handling of fireworks. That could be because our dad was known for loving to blow things up. When we were older dad would go in his shop and fill a plastic milk jug with acetylene gas and put a paper towel in the top for a torch. We never knew when the next explosion would come. The guys actually threw firecrackers behind each other at times. Luckily, no one was ever hurt. I can’t forget to mention the windows that got blown out of the ranch house though. It was July 4, 1980. The men decided there was some old dynamite that needed to be blown up (because it was dangerous.). They put it in a 50 gallon drum out in the field and started taking turns shooting at it. The women were in the house making food, of course. I was pregnant with my first child, but not barefoot.

One of the men hit the mark and we heard the loud kaboom! Simultaneously, the bay windows were sucked out of the house. When we all ran out to tell the men, they didn’t believe us. That is one Fourth of July that has not been forgotten!

Once I had children of my own my love affair with fireworks ended. Then all I could think about was the dangers and I became one of those annoyingly over-protective mothers. Step back! Your face is too close! Be careful!

I woke up this morning and saw that a 61-year-old man was killed last night in a fireworks explosion. There weren’t many details, other than that the bomb squad was investigating. I wonder when people will figure out how dangerous the fireworks can be and start following the law.

I know that if my dad had died in an explosion, we would have probably said that he died having fun. But I am sure that wouldn’t really be a comfort to us and I’m sure it isn’t a comfort to the family of the man killed last night. I had a bad feeling all day. That comes when it is hot outside and you live in a 30 year old mobile home in a mobile home park. I could hear the booms long after I went to bed and I was not able to sleep. I worry a lot, but you know, my fears are not unreasonable. I am afraid of things that do pose dangers to others and myself.  This is my birthday.