Skip to main content

Partying in Pardeeville

There are people (Iowans, mostly) who laugh out loud when I say the name "Pardeeville."
It's a community in my newspaper's coverage area,  population about 2,000, located about 12 miles from the Columbia County seat of Portage. It's a fun and newsy village,  home of the International Watermelon Speed-eating and Seed-spitting competition, a huge Labor Day weekend antique car show, and (in my totally unbiased opinion) Columbia County's best Fourth of July celebration, bar none.
Pardeeville is where I've been for most of the last 10 Fourths of July, and it's where I'll be tomorrow.
And I'm preparing my body for what I know will be a test of strength and endurance.
The parade steps off at high noon. If the day is even a little bit sunny, it is a huge challenge to find a camera angle that isn't full of glares and shadows. That means staking out a bench near the elementary school before somebody else gets it, and jumping up and running several times while about 100 parade units pass by.
Last year, my achy-breaky knee gave me nine kinds of hell about this traditional annual news assignment. And that was before the parade started, while I moseyed through the staging area taking photos and talking to people who had particularly creative floats, most with 55-gallon drums of candy, ready to throw at parade-goers who brought plastic bags and gallon-size ice cream containers to collect it.
The new knee is protesting even now, in anticipation.
So here's our strategy for tomorrow, New Knee:

  • We'll skip the Pardeeville Area Business Association breakfast. Sure, it's PABA's biggest annual fundraiser, and sure, it's a chance to hobnob with a lot of nice Pardeeville people. But the entree -- cheesy eggs, scrambled in a skillet 5 feet in diameter -- is a killer for someone who's trying to hang on to a bikini body. OK, maybe I'll come early enough to take pictures of the guys making eggs and hash browns in the giant skillet. But no eggs for me. No hash browns. And definitely no sweet rolls. Instead, I'll have a healthy breakfast at home.
  • We will sit when we need to. Period. Even if I can't find a bench. And especially if it gets hot and humid.
  • We will carry water. In my stocking last Christmas, I found that Santa had given me an unbreakable bottle with a charcoal filter in the spout. That bottle will be filled with chilled water, carried in my purse and frequently used. And if I empty the bottle, the folks in the Pardeeville Fire Department will be more than happy to turn on their hoses to refill it.
  • In the likely event that candy comes flying at me from floats, we will take only one or two Tootsie Rolls and maybe a Dum Dum sucker. Nothing else, and no more. OK, we might score a Tootsie Pop. But just one.
  • We will see if the Pardeeville Subway (my favorite Subway location in Columbia County) is open on a holiday. And if it is, we'll get a nice sandwich on 9-grain wheat, loaded down with peppers and onions, and maybe take it to Chandler Park to eat. But even if Subway is closed, we will be prepared, with an assortment of granola bars in my purse. 
  • We will take a prophylactic dose of acetaminophen or ibuprofen before leaving for Pardeeville, and carry a bottle of OTC medication in case pain flares up.
  • We will have a good time, as we always do in Pardeeville. Happy Fourth of July!



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

It's way more complicated than that: Why I'm reviving this blog today

Hi again. It's been a while. Those who know me, including the approximately three of you that read "My Body, My Identity," know that I've got different concerns these days -- concerns that are related only tangentially to body weight, body identity, fitness and lifestyle. I have cancer -- diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, diagnosed March 8. My focus now is on killing those malignant cells before they eat me alive, and with a chemotherapy regimen, administered at the UW's Carbone Cancer Center, the chances of that happening are very, very good. With two of my six chemo treatments completed (I get treated every three weeks), I have good days and bad days -- mostly good, but I'm sitting out a bad day today. With cancer and chemo, my weight has become less of a priority. But concern has not entirely abated about maintaining the 135-pound weight loss I worked so hard to attain over the last two years. The diet that my oncologist recommended is pretty close to wh...

Food porn

What you are about to see is pornography -- hard-core food pornography. Images like this one -- and even more obscene images, such as buttercream-y cakes and chocolate-y EVERYTHING -- pop up on my Facebook feed from time to time. Unless you are carbing up for three consecutive triathlons, this is not fuel. This is ballast. Biggie-bottom, fat-rolls-around-the-midsection ballast. I'd say, "Get it out of my sight!", except for one thing: I've been raised to crave food like this, and so has just about everybody I know. We grew up on monstrous-size portions of cheesy, saucy, meaty, greasy, creamy, sugary foods that neither fuel nor strengthen us, just fill us and fatten us. As fond as I am of approaching food the way the Apostle Paul approached ethical behavior for Christians -- "All things are lawful, but not all things are helpful" -- I have to be bluntly honest, and say that if you're serious about losing weight and keeping it off, you have to stay a...

On loan

One year ago, I wrote this Facebook post.  Today, a twinge in my "operative" knee reminds me it's still true. How's my knee? It's actually behaving itself. I've had a long string of "good knee days" -- but folks, I don't take them for granted! Everything about our bodies -- our mobility, our senses, our strength, our minds, even our very lives -- are on loan to us. We are called to treat them with the best stewardship possible. But even if we do so, none of these things are ours to keep. Yeah, I get a little PO'd about that, but I work through it. God graciously listens to my rants.