Banjo man

Banjo man
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Bickerson.

On the left, Lee, mastermind of Peeing with Banjo Accompaniment. On the right, first chair banjo of Ragbrai.

Storm 1 a.m.

Storm 1 a.m.
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Bickerson.

Scene from ragbrai

Scene from ragbrai
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Bickerson.

Guess the celebrity

Guess the celebrity
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Bickerson.

Performance art

Most Inspired Performance Art Award goes to Tall Dog's president, Lee, who recruited a banjo-player/cyclist to follow him to the nearest cornfield and accompany him with Foggy Mountain Breakdown while he peed in the cornfield. It was spectacularly surreal. Check back here in a few days for a G-rated picture.

A Des Moines Register columnist coined the phrase "rolling circus" to describe RAGBRAI to people who haven't ridden it. And that's exactly what it is.

Back to the bike...

Fenton, Iowa

Hello from Fenton, Iowa, home of Captain Cornelius, a guy dressed up in a foam corn costume (I know, I'd never heard of him either).

Gary and our riding buddy, Eric, hit the pub while I keep you all updated on our goings on.

We have 20 miles of tail-wind today. God bless the wind from the north! We have ridden in the most extreme weather: 101 at the start, then icy shards of rain from hell, headwind, and of course the storm in Sheldon that blew everyone's tents away.

Gary and Eric and I just enjoyed a fantabulous lunch of penne with salmon at The Pastafari set-up several miles up the road. You have never had such tasty chow sitting in a farmer's yard, listening to reggae, with cornfields nearby, and friendly bicyclists from all over the country.

We will head on down the road now. I'm looking forward to at least two pieces of pie (if not more) before Algona.

Gratitude

I've only felt the urgent need to pray out loud twice in my life. Once when our son was born when there was a few tense minutes waiting for him to turn from blue to pink. The second time was Monday night in Sheldon, Iowa. We had camped on the grounds of a nursing home and the weather that day had been in the high 90s. Storms moved in around 11 p.m., and we watched the lighting for awhile and went to sleep. We were awaked around 12:45 a.m. to our tent lifting on one side, wind bearing down on our tent like I've only seen in movies. There was pouring rain and nonstop lighting directly above our heads. The sky lit up with the lighting and we saw the blue/green hue that makes you start to feel sick in your stomach. We could hear people yelling as our camp coordinators worked to tear down an awning in the middle of all the storm. Tents were collapsing all around us. Finally we made a dash for the nursing facility's dining room. There were sirens blaring but you could barely hear them above the storm. In the morning we found out that a boy had been killed by a tree falling in the main campground.

Anyway, I said my prayers out loud in the tent while Gary and I were trying to hold it down and decide whether to stay or run. I am so thankful to be alive.

Breakfast

Breakfast
Originally uploaded by Mrs. Bickerson.

Skirt alert

Watching Fox News this morning and there is a substitute gal sitting between the two regular guys on "Fox and Friends." I wonder what the producers do when the regular woman calls in sick early in the morning.

"Joe, we need a sub this morning. E. D. is sick. Quick! Get me the number of that other woman who is willing to sit on stage with a camera aimed up her skirt! We've got breaking news!"

Math skills

Do chickens have sharp talons?



It's five days old so it's not as impressive as it was on Saturday but this is the result of running 13 miles with a good friend who is training for the San Francisco Marathon. Word to the wise: Avoid math calculations while running or this could be you.

Nee Nees

TMI perhaps but funny to me. Also kind of humiliating but here you go:

Tikka will be three in a little less than a month and she still chooses to partake of the nee nees (i.e., is still nursing) before bedtime and naptime. I have been patiently waiting for her to give it up completely for about a year because at this point it can be very annoying. Example: Tonight she said, "I want nee nees. Are you sweaty?" I mowed the lawn late this afternoon. I said, "No, I am not." She touched my cheek and asked, "You take a shower? You hot?" "No, I did not take a shower but I am not hot and I am not sweaty. Have your damn nee nees and be gone." She cautiously started to nurse and then exclaimed, "BLECH! You ARE sweaty!!"

Bike ride

Alrighty then. The dog smells better. Man, I would say eau d'rotten bird's egg rivals fresh skunk stink when it comes to really, really bad, bad smells.

Ragbrai is the Des Moines Register's Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa that has been held every summer since the mid-70s. It's the vacation where Americana hospitality reigns. Beer also reigns. So does pie. Tons and tons of pie. Also Porto-Pots.

The first year I rode Ragbrai was 1996 and I traveled with a club from Iowa City. At that particular time in our lives Mr. Bickerson was all about solitude and the serenity of the Boundary Waters. He had no desire (like I did) to wait in line with 10,000-13,000 people from all over the United States to use portable toilets, eat, shower in icy water, and ride a bike in the dead heat and humidity of Iowa in July. So I went without him but with some friends and had a HOOT of a time. I did it the next year as well and by 1999 he had found out about the surplus of beer and then he was all about going with me. By the way, 1999 was the hottest Ragbrai ever and to make it even better I had just discovered that I was pregnant with Spidey.

But we will be off together this year, riding across Iowa in 90 degree heat with thousands of people from all over the world. I am looking forward to riding this year without the morning sickness (I will never eat a sausage biscuit from Hardee's again -- EVER) and fatigue! I am also looking forward to peace, tranquility, peach pie, small town Iowa friendliness, Pastafari, and most of all, The Corn Woman for some new corn earrings and a massage or two.

Not alone

Misery loves company. It is comforting to know we are not the only family that is dealing with amazingly exhausting bad kid behavior this summer. I really don't wish for families to have to deal with the tears and the whining and the sibling fights and the crying and the yelling and the hitting and the not sharing and the not listening and the begging for candy for breakfast, but it is a bit of a relief to know that all this bad behavior may not be directly tied to my poor parenting skills. I've talked to several moms who are all getting to experience similar anarchy on the homefront.

What is it? Is it a stage? Anticipation and of kindergarten and preschool? Summer blahs? I can't see how it can be that because we have filled our summer up with some pretty fun stuff, and I don't think we're over-doing it either. Is it the heat and humidity? It has been excessively hot the last week. All I know is that I keep hearing that Bill Cosby line in my head: The beatings will now begin!

(Time-out for bike boxing in the garage with Mr. B and Peggy.)


OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Is this a joke? Peggy has found a rotten -- and by rotten I mean ROTTEN!!! -- bird egg in the grass south of the garage that she has carefully and enthusiastically smeared on her cheeks, neck and ears. It's 9 p.m. and I'll now be bathing a pooch.

Adios.

Why I love Mr. Bickerson

Reason No. 6023:

We're going on a bike trip in the near future and he ordered a couple of jerseys to supplement his jersey supply of one. He tried them on last night and modeled them for me in the living room and asked me, "Honey, does this jersey make me look fat?" I said that no, it definitely does not. He said, "You're right! It's my FAT that makes me look fat!"

"My Dog is Tom Cruise"

Oh my. This is the funniest thing I've read in a while.

My Dog is Tom Cruise

Donny update

Okay, my friend Mary wants to know if I made it to the concert last night. Alas, no. I was a little sad to miss it but then I realized that the fantasy of what might have happened is better with my not going.

Kid swearing update:

Peggy's birth mother stopped by this afternoon to pick up a doggy bed I had purchased for her new adopted puppy (who has irritable bowel syndrome, by the way, can you think of anything worse than that?). She and her girls couldn't stay long to play and Tikka wanted to know why:

T: "Why can't you stay, Katherine?"

K: "Because we have to go home and have lunch."

T: "OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

Everyone howled with laughter so I won't be surprised if she lets that one fly at Bible School by the end of the week. I wonder how much the cheapest military boarding school costs.

Once there was a tooth

And then it was gone!



As a mother, I have surprised myself with the things that do not gross me out like I thought they would: poop in the diaper, poop in the underpants, pee on the kitchen floor, boogers everywhere, etc., etc.

But when it comes to loose teeth and pulling them out. Yeeks! It creeps me out. But I pulled that little tooth out -- at the dinner table no less -- and Hank was A-OK with it.

Dreams fade

Although I was all excited that Mr. Bickerson had given me the go-ahead to attend the Donny Osmond performance at The Mall of America tonight (I was gonna wear my purple hat!) it looks like there's little hope of getting an autograph. How was I to know you have to get up early to get a wristband and wait in line all damn day. Rules, schmules.

And just in case you think I have to get permission from my husband to go to Donny Osmond concerts, I don't. But when I told Gary that I would get a babysitter tonight so he could go with me, he told me he wanted no part of helping a 40 year-old mother of two fulfill her Osmond fantasy at The Mall of America. He would probably rather have a vasectomy. First of all, he hates The Mall. Second of all, he thinks putting a Donny Osmond concert IN the Mall is like making the place exponentially worse. I believe he refers to The Mall as Fanny Pack City.

So, he was going to stay home with the kids and let me go make a fool of myself in relative anonymity. But I can't get an autograph, so, I don't know. I guess I could still go and just hear him sing. Maybe if he looks out over the crowd and spies a pathetic, wristband-less, 40 year-old woman in a 30 year-old purple velvet hat, well, who knows what could happen.

Minnesota nice?

The American Dream?

Hair

I Tivo'd a couple of shows from the SciFi Channel for Spidey late last night and I'm previewing one now. Every other commercial is an ad for a hair replacement product. What's the correlation? 3 o'clock in the morning television watchers tend to be bald? Buck Rogers fans are balding? I guess I'll have to tape some middle of the night shows on Lifetime to see what else going on.

Harp

The music concept for the class this day was A-B-A form ("same-different-same").

The kids get to play instruments from each group as the summer goes on. Today was Irish Harp. Later that day when his dad asked him what he did in music Spidey said, "We played the Maraschino Harp!"

That old "sh" sound occurs in a lot of words. It's easy to make a mistake like that.

Tour fever

We've got the fever for the tour.



Now we just need some helmets that fit.

Happy belated Fourth of July

One sick husband + two semi-whiny children + one rambunctious canine = not too much fun in the 4th of July.

Thankfully, things are looking up.

Catch phrase

I'm working this phrase into as many conversations as possible. You should too.



For further information click this link.

Scenes from camp

We attended Family Night at camp yesterday. Spidey gave us a little tour, we met his counselors, had hotdogs for supper, and watched as each group of campers got up to perform their favorite camp songs.

This is Spidey's group, The Caterpillar Crew:


Each group has a fort where they keep their backpacks. Can you tell Tikka had to go to the bathroom?


A favorite activity:


He's off on the bus for his last day this week. He did not want me to take his picture this morning.


The camp counselors sang a lot of camp songs at the beginning of the variety show. They were all of the call and response "repeat after me" style. My favorite is "Boom chicka boom." So the counselors were all down in front acting crazy and singing their songs. Spidey was sitting with us, singing along, and I didn't look around at the other parents but I still think I might have been the only one crying. I was just overwhelmed by having a kid old enough to go to camp, having the opportunity to do something so fun and memorable, and thinking about all the other experiences in store for our kids as they grow. It's just awesome being a parent.