Iowa called again last night—twice. It's getting to be a bit much. Several times a week now the phone rings, my caller ID flashes the offending 319 area code, and the hair stands up on my arms. I tried shaving my arms, but you know how it is. It just seems to stand up whether it's there or not.
This is starting to look like a repeat of what happened with Arkansas, with whom I was in frequent contact after Oregon and I went our separate ways. It seems that states—the central, land-bound ones anyway—never want to do anything half way. There's always a plan that takes up an entire weekend, or a state fair, or a centennial celebration that "just can't be missed!"
I'm just not the type to become so overly attached that I build my life around someone else's needs. And let me tell you, Arkansas had needs up the yin-yang, and Iowa's sure as hell showing itself to be one whiny-ass bridesmaid. If I hear another god-damn peep about topsoil loss or a clogged corn processing pipe in Cedar Rapids, I'm going to blow.
And I tell you, I'm getting pretty tired of these voice mails attacking my character and making vague threats. Especially when they're followed by sobbing, backpedalling, and "We'll always have Muscatine."
Sometimes when gazing out the window at the hoards of hummingbirds attacking smaller groups of juncos, I think about North Dakota. Others criticized me for giving North Dakota too many second chances, and have no appreciation for its stubborn, windy nature. But at least North Dakota knew when to stay out of my face, and gave me time alone and a vastly wide berth when I needed it.
Funny. I can't recall now where that all went wrong. Maybe I'll give North Dakota a call this weekend. You know—just to catch up.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Silver lining
It’s not easy for me to talk about my illness—a journey that took me on an RV trip through friendly small towns and lonely big cities. I witnessed quaint lemonade stands and great, big truck stop steaks, and had great, big truck stop love affairs. It was a trip of fantastic roadside attractions, including a family of contusionists from one of Wyoming’s largest metropolitan areas. Oh the things I learned! It was this journey that planted the seed for my business endeavors. Who’d have thought that within a few months I would be named Entrepreneurial Woman of the Year with 1.2 million dollars in sales!
When my journey came to an “end,” I found myself lost. I began to haunt the treatment centers where I had spent so much of my time. I would sit in the waiting rooms reading the magazines and help myself to the free tea, complimentary bottles of Boost nutritional energy drink, and the occasional box of Russell Stover Assorted Creams at the receptionist’s desk. I was searching—searching for answers, antibacterial gel, and perhaps a friendly face.
I finally found solace in the dressing rooms. At first I would just sit in these tiny rooms. Sometimes I’d bring in a magazine, or just stare for hours at myself in the full-length mirror. Then at some point I started putting on the exam gowns. How I’d missed their texture! I’d take one from the top of the neatly folded pile, remove my blouse, put a gown on, and put my blouse on back over it. I’d tuck in the ends so it didn’t hang out. Then I’d walk down the street to the bakery and get a cupcake.
So began my love affair with the humblest of textiles. And I found that with some seam binding tape, a pair of pinking shears, a Bedazzler, and a top-notch PR firm, I could share this love with others. Maybe you’ve seen my creations spotlighted on Entertainment Tonight, or have spotted my special cost-conscious summer collection at target.com.
You may ask, “How do you keep up with the demand? Surely, you can’t keep going back to the clinic dressing room for more gowns!”
Well, first of all, don’t call me Shirley! Ha ha! But yes, to answer honestly, at a certain point the clinic staff did get suspicious. I almost had to shut down production after the hospitals started recognizing me and asked if I hadn’t finished treatments months earlier. So my next step was to ever so quietly recruit, which wasn’t difficult, as I’d made plenty of friends over the jigsaw puzzles and free magazines in the waiting rooms!
So this is where you come in. Are you currently in treatment? Are you facing grave illness, or for any reason at all required to make frequent appointments at medical facilities? If so, give my assistant a call, and we’ll send you a Franchise Application Packet. Believe me, I know what you’re going through, and how difficult it is to stay upbeat under grave circumstances. Let us give you a boost!
And I don’t mean an energy drink! Ha ha! Hope to hear from you soon!
When my journey came to an “end,” I found myself lost. I began to haunt the treatment centers where I had spent so much of my time. I would sit in the waiting rooms reading the magazines and help myself to the free tea, complimentary bottles of Boost nutritional energy drink, and the occasional box of Russell Stover Assorted Creams at the receptionist’s desk. I was searching—searching for answers, antibacterial gel, and perhaps a friendly face.
I finally found solace in the dressing rooms. At first I would just sit in these tiny rooms. Sometimes I’d bring in a magazine, or just stare for hours at myself in the full-length mirror. Then at some point I started putting on the exam gowns. How I’d missed their texture! I’d take one from the top of the neatly folded pile, remove my blouse, put a gown on, and put my blouse on back over it. I’d tuck in the ends so it didn’t hang out. Then I’d walk down the street to the bakery and get a cupcake.
So began my love affair with the humblest of textiles. And I found that with some seam binding tape, a pair of pinking shears, a Bedazzler, and a top-notch PR firm, I could share this love with others. Maybe you’ve seen my creations spotlighted on Entertainment Tonight, or have spotted my special cost-conscious summer collection at target.com.
You may ask, “How do you keep up with the demand? Surely, you can’t keep going back to the clinic dressing room for more gowns!”
Well, first of all, don’t call me Shirley! Ha ha! But yes, to answer honestly, at a certain point the clinic staff did get suspicious. I almost had to shut down production after the hospitals started recognizing me and asked if I hadn’t finished treatments months earlier. So my next step was to ever so quietly recruit, which wasn’t difficult, as I’d made plenty of friends over the jigsaw puzzles and free magazines in the waiting rooms!
So this is where you come in. Are you currently in treatment? Are you facing grave illness, or for any reason at all required to make frequent appointments at medical facilities? If so, give my assistant a call, and we’ll send you a Franchise Application Packet. Believe me, I know what you’re going through, and how difficult it is to stay upbeat under grave circumstances. Let us give you a boost!
And I don’t mean an energy drink! Ha ha! Hope to hear from you soon!
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