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

After many, many years of verbal, or editorial abuse, from her sister, Dee Baby, Gay recently came across a letter Dee had written to her, many, many years ago, when they both belonged to TOPS.  She didn’t start writing her column “From the Barnyard” until about 2004, but this letter will show that her writing ability started way before then.  Enjoy!!!
The editorial abused sister,  Gay

I’m sure you’ve heard of the Gangster Chronicles, well this is entitled the
“Fat Chronicles”
Dedicated to Gay Swenson Tops’ Leader
“My first week in the
Fat War”
By Dee Sandness
Monday, Jan. 26: I am fat, I am fat, yes, I am fat. Admit it, the pants aren’t shrinking, the body mass is increasing. The brain says to go back  to Tops (and find a friend to go with you, coward.) Can I face Gay?
Tuesday, Jan. 27: My last splurge of human food as I’ve known it (meatloaf). Linda reminds me ketchup is 52 calories a tablespoon. I may bite her. I use at least a half cup. An acquaintance calls me water buffalo. I resolve to make him eat crow in a month.

DEE “BABY” Baysinger working in sister Gay’s melon fields, circa ???.

Wednesday, Jan. 28: I manage one day of dieting. Why does it seem like a year-long? I look in the mirror 10 times expecting my pants to look baggy. Dreamer! I become excited over three heads of lettuce for a dollar.
Thursday, Jan. 29: Had my first “Fat Nighmare”. I dream Linda and I go to Mitchell, order a slice of meat at Shopko and were served a 10-section smorgasbord plate. We eat, not wanting food to go to waste. I’m sick we’ve blown our diet so soon and together! Pray this is not an omen of things to come.
Friday, Jan. 30: Everyone begins to look as if they should lose weight too. I decide to hate thin people, especially rich ones. I lose my composure gazing at dressing covered in gravy.
Saturday, Jan. 31: Self-doubt about living through the weekend. Suicide might be preferable but could a bullet penetrate this fat?
Sunday, Feb. 1: Working at L-K surrounded by an ocean of food and drink. A living torture! Caramel rolls, caramel rolls, caramel rolls.
Monday, Feb. 2: Go to bed hungry, get up hungry, a vicious cycle. The week is almost up. My dieting resolve still strong. Linda and are excited!
Tuesday, Feb. 3: Today is the day. Have not weighed all week on a scale. Mine is a notorious liar on any portion of floor. Can hardly wait until 6 o’clock.
Ending: But wait, I did as you know ‘cuz after all that, I missed the  weigh-in. And so the agonizing diet story goes on, and on, etc.
Signed,
Mean to be Lean
Dee

The temps are taking a northern turn, kids roaming Woony on bikes have been put behind classroom doors and the dimwits in Washington are bickering like children as the yearly government shutdown date looms near.
What does this all mean? It’s football season!
What would fall be without football? A dreary, cold, brown, depressing season inevitably leading into a drearier, colder, white depressing season.
So God made football.
I don’t pretend to be an expert, but I enjoy watching football on all levels. Last Friday night I got to watch the little guys (and girl) be heroes under the lights at Wessington Springs. This is the first year in our communities for this third through sixth grade football program and it has been met with tons of enthusiasm. Enthusiasm enough for plenty of kids that four teams can scrimmage against each other.
One may argue that third, fourth, etc. grade kids are too young to play tackle football … and one may have a point. But think about this … what are these kids doing anyway — at home, at recess, after school, in the back of the end zone of high school football games? Playing football, or sometimes a namely rougher version I remember as a child called, “Kill the Carrier”.
Kids will be kids. They will get hurt from time to time. We can’t put them in a bubble, as it seems mainstream America wants to these days. Yes, football is a rough sport, but it’s part of our culture, and despite more and more criticism for its violence, it’s not going away anytime soon. Doesn’t it make sense to give these kids pads and helmets to do what they were doing anyway?
These little gridders are fun to watch and their skill level at this early age is really kind of amazing. It will be exciting watching them develop these skills throughout the next years. In no time at all we will be cheering them on under the Friday night lights, while the next generation mimics their high school heroes in the back of the end zone.
***
Good luck goes out to the Blackhawks as they host Sunshine Bible for Friday night’s homecoming game. The boys are coming off of an early bye week preceded by a well-earned overtime win against Mt. Vernon/Plankinton. The Blackhawks are 1-1 going into this game. Kickoff is at 7 p.m. in Forestburg.
***
This weekend is an exciting one for Jacks fans (that’s South Dakota State … you know THE state school … NOT the mangy mutts that wear red). For just the third time in history, SDSU will play the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Big deal? Yes, sir! The University of Nebraska at Lincoln is one of those 10 schools considered to be of the elite. That would be why they put them in the “Big Ten” Conference.
Last time these two met in 2010 … well, it wasn’t a complete blow out as many expected. This year the Jacks are 3-0 heading down to Lincoln and considered one of the top teams in the Football Championship Subdivision (FCS) with a number six ranking. Could they cause some trouble for the Huskers, who are 2-1 and were recently dropped from national ranking? Hard to say, but who really cares?
The exciting part is that SDSU is receiving well-deserved national attention; that people are learning where li’l ol’ Brookings is located on the map. Brookings, the town I called home for a few short years, the town that nearly doubles in size during the school year, the town that proudly celebrates hobos.
Well I, for one, will throw on something blue and make the trek to Lincoln this weekend to see for myself what all the hype is about.
GO JACKS!