Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. I don't know how they do it, but praise God they do. And, Mr. Clean kind of has that Diesel look about him, and you know I can't pass that up. He even makes mops now. Ya know, between Mr. Clean and that Brawny guy, a woman's needs should be just about all taken care of.

My first campus job was as a transcriptionist, typing up taped interviews for Germans from Russia Bibliographer Michael Miller. I was seeking some of my own writing samples the other night, and going a little deeper than The Spectrum, found this.

Erik wondered why I cried. I can still feel the graininess of the sand in my hair, in my not-so-white-anymore canvas shoes, and in my bra, after the sandbag line. You'd cry, too, with sand in your bra. But I will also never forget how it seemed to put a spring in everyone's step when Sam backed up the Y94 truck and blared music out the back. Lasered onto a frame in my mind is the view out of the Y studio, across the park, and the elderly apartment building's roof sticking out of the Red.

That was the year I first rode an airplane. I shook Al Gore's hand when he came to check us out. That was the year I turned 21. Thanks, Heather. Cranberry juice never has been the same.

This year, when Denver and New York are getting so much snow, they'll really need our prayers in another month or so, depending on how fast that all melts. Everywhere has its own thing, my beloved brother's beloved Nicole and I agreed, as we decided just where is the perfect place. Because hovercraft RVs aren't commonplace as yet, I guess we will just have to pick a spot, then accept, adapt, and continue. And Always Give Something Back.

Every so often, my mom sends me these care packagey stuffed envelopes, hermetically sealed with half a roll of packing tape, full of news clippings and Cathy cartoons and little "happies."

Thanks, Mom.

Tonight, while Erik made dinner, I stood in the kitchen and read to him all about Life in Washburn, ND, and how Vivian's phone number is taped to the front door of the museum if one wanted to arrange a special tour of the two buildings in the off-season (read: when it's COLD). I used to work at the Historical Society, so I know all about Lawrence Welk. Ask me anything. I read, out loud, all of the editorials, the columns, explained the location of the new bus barn at the high school, and about Dusty, Trav's childhood best friend, being somebody's best man.

A radio caller told me one night at Magic long ago she is Mexi-Wegian; Mexican and Norwegian. I asked her if she wraps tacos with lefse.

Erik informed me I'm a Germ Freek; German/French/Greek. While walking out of one of our favorite Greek restaurants the other night, I told him the best I can come up with for him, as he is Irish and Italian, is Irritating. According to the BBC, all of these countries now have confirmed cases of bird flu. Except Ireland. Perhaps because it is on an island and their little wings get tuckered out. Let's go there. So, is this where the souvlaki ends?

I have never loved Tanya more. Tonight, after dinner, I was transported to 2nd Floor South Weible Hall, NDSU, Fargo, ND. My roommate sent me a DVD of all of our friends, and it looks like our place was the party palace, the place to be.

Think I want some popcorn...