Dear Editor,
As Nolan’s first birthday arrives, we are flooded with memories and overwhelming appreciation of what the last year of our lives has brought.
As Nolan battled prematurity, multiple surgeries and a long stay in the NICU, we never expected the amazingly kind gestures that arose

Nolan, son of Steve and Amber Schmidt of Madison, was born on Oct. 3, 2012. Grandparents are Don and Judy Postma of Sioux Falls and Albert and Mike Schmidt of Woonsocket.

from friends, family, co-workers and people within the community. The generosity was overwhelming and more than one can even imagine. We have been truly blessed with the love and support from everyone  in our community, and we know we live in an amazing town that no other can compare.
We want to extend a giant amount of appreciation and gratitude to Amber’s softball team and our friends who put together the Quarters for Nolan event back in January after Nolan got to come home, to the people who donated or purchased items at the fundraiser, those who gave privately, and to the people who had us in your thoughts and prayers.
This has been one tough, mentally exhausting, amazing and fast year; and we will never be able to fully thank all the people who have touched our lives and hearts. But please know we are forever grateful for your love and kindness.
Amber, Steve
and Nolan Schmidt
Madison

The ‘80s tune “Everybody’s Working for the Weekend” would describe my mood … I could see fun on the horizon Friday night. Esther and I were going to take in the Bon Jovi Tribute Band at the Corn Palace. We knew we were taking a risk with the $12 ticket charge. We agreed if it was bad we could walk out with no regrets.
Esther directed my supper choice to an Indian taco stand that her son-in-law, Bill, was helping to run by the Player’s Club Casino. I will now add Indian tacos to my list of things I refuse to eat in public (also ribs, sweet corn, chicken). I sat in my van balancing it on my lap trying to cut with a plastic fork and knife (tines of the fork broke immediately) and silently cursed Esther.
Since the Player’s Club was having its anniversary celebration and I had never been into the establishment, we decided to enter. What a surprise! I was prepared to see a dingy dive of an old gas station, but it could have been decorated by a decorator. (The patrons looked incongruous in that setting). Esther slyly sat me by a patron who proudly announced he had maintained his bar stool since 8:30 in the morning. (He was smitten with me it seems and did not recognize a cold shoulder when he saw it.)
By the time we got to the Palace, Esther was becoming alarmed at the lack of people moving about. We chose seats close to the beer and bathrooms (with age comes wisdom!). The band started out with a #1 hit and we were excited, but it went downhill by choosing to play slow, unfamiliar music. The crowd just sat or stood uninterested. I observed a couple in front of me who I swear never spoke to each other but one time. (Boy, were they having a good time.) Esther and I chose to yak and yak. I complained to an acquaintance about the band’s poor music choices. He replied that “familiar is boring”. I disagree. At concerts you want the hits that are old and comforting to sing along with.
We called it a night at 10 p.m. and decided to curl up to drink wine at Esther’s. Two sips and it hit me that I had to seek sleep. I fell undressed into blissful sleep until a headache awakened me around 5 in the morning. (Such misery when you have no idea where aspirin is in the house.) Thanks to my hostess, who always has the foresight to put a fan on me for my hot-flash comfort.
After coffee we toured rummage sales and found good stuff. I found a black and white houndstooth-checked skirt with a $44 price tag – their price was $5 – well worth it and name brand. But I still have to try to jew them down – I offered them $3 – they took it. (I feel I have a jewing complex. Is there help for that anywhere?)
The text arrived from Sioux Falls and Janet that we were invited to the VIP party at her new sports bar, Beef O’Brady’s, at the Sanford Sports Complex. (I even cringed a bit when I told Claude I would be gone AGAIN!) Gay, Georgia, Esther and I regrouped and Esther and Gay renewed their friendly animosity. Gay got the first dig in when she saw Esther’s “Boho Chic” flowy top. Gay remarked, “Are you trying to be the Queen of Sheba?” It was game on the whole trip. Nothing was sacred from attack — hairstyle, face moles, fashion choices, etc.
Beef O’Brady’s is all about location, location, location. Set on a corner with a hotel, Pentagon sports complex and 11 football fields (you know where everyone will be between games) and eventually they will have shopping.
The food was excellent. We chose to sample salads, prime rib sandwiches, wraps and reubens. I, of course, had to investigate the Bloody Mary’s, which arrived thick and spicy (just right).
We ran into our favorite couple, Lamoine and Barb Torgerson. Lamoine informed me that he has been tempted to write to the paper in retaliation (He immensely enjoyed Gay’s awful picture of me in the last edition). I told Barb to wad up anything he writes and throw it in the garbage when he isn’t looking. I related that I don’t know what I’ve ever done to Gay that she would seek to embarrass me (he-he).
I shared the story of how Claude had informed me he would soon be spending Friday and Saturday in Pierre at the cattle sales. I replied, “Can I move a boyfriend in?” Always unflappable, Claude said, “Could you find one that can do my chores too?”
Ta-Ta For No

Feeling travel deprivation I gladly accepted  an invitation from Cole to attend a Twins ball game – my first professional baseball game. Hearing the news from me, most people said, “Why aren’t you going to a football game?” It’s because I don’t understand football. To me it’s all just run-hit-fall down.
Since I was feeling totally unappreciated by Claude I decided to leave early on Thursday night. It all boils down to I’m at the bottom of the pyramid: #1 farm, #2 dog, #3 alcohol, #4 friends and #5 subfloor – Dee. I arrived at Janet’s and she made me a couple of marvelous pomegranate  martinis and suddenly the world was brighter.
I was awakened as Vacation Dee and discovered in the shower my leg hair was out of control. I asked Janet if she had heard me yelling “Timber” when I cut them. At the Pancake House I was surprised to be greeted by the former Haley Jones (Sorry, I don’t know your married name), Dave and Jodi Jones’ youngest daughter. She looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous even though her due date is only a few weeks away. I always looked and felt like a beached whale. I went out of the box and ordered a new menu choice. This is layer by layer – sliced onions and peppers,  fried spuds, leftover pot roast, nacho cheese and fried eggs drizzled in hot Cholula sauce, (A whole day’s calories in one meal).
My first challenge was when Cole informed me he wasn’t stopping for bathroom breaks on the trip. I made only one clear to Minneapolis. We veered off to pick up his buddy, Jeremy, who is also in the nuclear business. He had the casual look of movie star Bradley Cooper, but Cole referred to his longer hair as “artsy”. My next challenge was trying to enter my room at the Hyatt. Apparently I’m behind the times ‘cuz I was trying to find a hole to slide my card and after five minutes of frustration, I discovered the door scans your card.
I told the boys supper was my treat and all we had to do was walk across the street to the Japanese restaurant “Schiban”. Cole wanted me to experience where the chef cooks your whole meal right in front of you on a grill. We sat in a semi-circle of eight and the Japanese lady explained how to order. Unfortunately with her accent I missed 99 percent of comprehension and ended up with chicken livers as a side dish, (Yuck, I hate their texture.) The chef was the Flying Knife Madman and I feared we would be skewered. He chopped at super-speed. (I don’t even have good wrist action for foosball). When I received the bill I sent out the text – “The price of tonight’s supper equaled 16 hours work in the melon field – time with Cole priceless.” I barhopped ‘til midnight and last stop was Brit’s Pub and then I bade the boys to carry on without me. No one needs a mom as a chic magnet.
Next morning we dined at Hell’s Kitchen in a rustic basement complete with a lively bar and jazz and blues band. I decided to start the day off with a mimosa (champagne and orange juice), oatmeal and a giant caramel roll swimming in sauce and pecans. Wowser! We strolled the city and walked it off, saw the old Millstone Museum, Cole’s former workplace and I marveled that Cole could call a taxi with his phone and also pay for it. It’s a lot for a technical dinosaur to digest.
Since I tend to be a schleprock, of course it chose to rain the entire ball game. Thank goodness we chose seats under the awning. The food prices were atrocious (a pint of jalapeño mac & cheese was $11. Best buy was a baseball helmet full of super nachos for $14.) We stuck it out during an hour and a half rain delay and were amused by the live-cam of people dancing-kissing-smiling (that’s how we discovered Austin Olson and Katie Heimstra were there also. Cole and Jeremy passed the time asking mathematical  equations and I informed them that I had quit chemistry when I read the introduction.  So they had to lower themselves to history trivia and etc. All in all I absolutely loved the whole baseball experience. Afterwards Cole shared that he had been to eight Twin games and they had lost them all.
Next day’s brunch was at the restaurant “The Keys.” We arrived at 10:30 a.m. and it was a dull roar with a crowd I estimated of 200 people. The wait was 20 minutes and well worth it. I observed while waiting how everyone had their cell phone in hand and I told Jeremy that in the future people would be born without mouths because people choose not to converse with each other. The art of personal conversation is a thing of the past. Noteworthy was the speed of service – our excellent omelets arrived within five minutes. True story!
The long road home began and with it the knowledge that the real world would begin on Monday. No more comfy bed and spacious bathroom with the T.V. to myself.
Dee Baby