Alice in Dairyland Finalists Announced in Chippewa County
Wisconsin Ag Connection - 03/30/2007
Five women have been selected to compete for the title of Wisconsin's 60th Alice in Dairyland. During a candidate briefing forum in Chippewa County on Friday, the Wisconsin Department of Agriculture informed the finalists about what the 'Alice' position entails and how to prepare for the finals event, which will be held in the county May 17-19.
This year's finalists include Brenda Cavanaugh, Prairie du Sac, a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-River Falls; Tolea Kamm-Peissig, Athens, a graduate of UW-River Falls; Amanda Levzow, Rio, attending the University of Wisconsin-Platteville; Jill Makovec, Muscoda, a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison; and Susan Orth, Fennimore, a graduate of UW-Madison.
The public is invited to attend the finals at the Sleep Inn & Suites in Eau Claire on May 19. They can also view the ceremony during a special live Webcast presented by Wisconsin Ag Connection, which is being sponsored by the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board and Accelerated Genetics.
Alice in Dairyland is a full-time public relations professional employed by the division of agricultural development for a one-year term.
The funny thing is I know all of these talented women! I had classes (and probably a few drinks) with Brenda at UWRF, definately had a few drinks with Tolea at UWRF, plus she is my brother-in-law's ag teacher in Athens. Amanda was my sister Kirsten's roommate in Madison while she was in short course, and Jill is from Muscoda and we both worked in the PR department at CRI. And lastly, Susan and I were in the district leadership team back in the day for 4-H. It's my favorite saying, so I'll say it again: isn't it a small world?
Friday, March 30, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
New York City!
Sorry I've been getting behind. Here's a link to photos of my trip to NYC:
http://uwrf.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2034022&l=51217&id=184904887
This week's column, a trip recap:
Since I got back from New York late Sunday night, everyone’s had the same question for me: “How was your trip?”
I got tired of answering after the eight or ninth person and told them to read my column this week instead. It saves me from having to tell the story over and over again.
Last week Tuesday night I headed west toward the Twin Cities. While driving, I began thinking about everything I had forgotten. When I reached Hudson to do my shopping, I called each of my fellow travelers. Turns out I wasn’t the only forgetful one. After arriving at Cindy’s, we reviewed our plans over an episode of Miami Ink. Cindy shared with us she wanted to get a tattoo. Meanwhile her husband Larry had a strange look on his face I took as disapproval. More on that later. I told Cindy to go ahead if she wanted, but get something small that can easily be covered.
I don’t think any of us slept more than two or three hours because 4:30 a.m. came awful fast Wednesday morning. After a quick stop for gas station coffee, we were on our way. As we pulled up at our drop-off point, Cindy suddenly realized she’d left one of her suitcases at home. Thankfully, it was an extra bag with just a towel, toiletries and a pair of pants. Nothing irreplaceable. Still, we figured that would be our disaster of the day.
The flight to Newark airport was rather routine. I planned to take a nap, but instead spent the time gabbing to Jen about newspaper stuff. She’s also a reporter at a weekly in the Twin Cities. We arrived, found our bags and boarded the train to the Big Apple. After getting a little disoriented, we finally found our place of residence for the next few days, the Big Apple Hostel. For those of you unfamiliar with hostels, it’s a very scaled down hotel. They’re more popular in Europe. They have bunk beds and shared bathrooms. Although this hostel accepts all ages, it’s most popular among the 30 and under crowd.
We wandered Times Square a bit (1/2 block from the hostel), then grabbed an awesome slice of New York pizza and visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
The rest of Wednesday afternoon was dedicated to getting seats at Conan O’Brien. We went and checked with a clerk in the gift shop on where to check in. He said it’s upstairs, but don’t bother checking in until the time on the ticket. We walked up anyway, and they were handing out wristbands to confirm seats. “Come back about 4:10,” she said. So we headed back out, watched the skaters in Rockefeller Plaza and shopped. We came back at 4:05 p.m. “Come back in 10 minutes,” he said. So we got something to drink and came back. As we started to walk up, a lady stopped us. “You have to go down there,” she said. So we went that direction. The next guy said, “You’re too late, you were supposed to be upstairs.”
I could have slapped him. We explained to him what we were told, and he took us up to the correct line. So after all that chasing around, we did get into see Conan. Although I must say none of the NBC interns seemed to know what was really going on. To be continued next week...
http://uwrf.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2034022&l=51217&id=184904887
This week's column, a trip recap:
Since I got back from New York late Sunday night, everyone’s had the same question for me: “How was your trip?”
I got tired of answering after the eight or ninth person and told them to read my column this week instead. It saves me from having to tell the story over and over again.
Last week Tuesday night I headed west toward the Twin Cities. While driving, I began thinking about everything I had forgotten. When I reached Hudson to do my shopping, I called each of my fellow travelers. Turns out I wasn’t the only forgetful one. After arriving at Cindy’s, we reviewed our plans over an episode of Miami Ink. Cindy shared with us she wanted to get a tattoo. Meanwhile her husband Larry had a strange look on his face I took as disapproval. More on that later. I told Cindy to go ahead if she wanted, but get something small that can easily be covered.
I don’t think any of us slept more than two or three hours because 4:30 a.m. came awful fast Wednesday morning. After a quick stop for gas station coffee, we were on our way. As we pulled up at our drop-off point, Cindy suddenly realized she’d left one of her suitcases at home. Thankfully, it was an extra bag with just a towel, toiletries and a pair of pants. Nothing irreplaceable. Still, we figured that would be our disaster of the day.
The flight to Newark airport was rather routine. I planned to take a nap, but instead spent the time gabbing to Jen about newspaper stuff. She’s also a reporter at a weekly in the Twin Cities. We arrived, found our bags and boarded the train to the Big Apple. After getting a little disoriented, we finally found our place of residence for the next few days, the Big Apple Hostel. For those of you unfamiliar with hostels, it’s a very scaled down hotel. They’re more popular in Europe. They have bunk beds and shared bathrooms. Although this hostel accepts all ages, it’s most popular among the 30 and under crowd.
We wandered Times Square a bit (1/2 block from the hostel), then grabbed an awesome slice of New York pizza and visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
The rest of Wednesday afternoon was dedicated to getting seats at Conan O’Brien. We went and checked with a clerk in the gift shop on where to check in. He said it’s upstairs, but don’t bother checking in until the time on the ticket. We walked up anyway, and they were handing out wristbands to confirm seats. “Come back about 4:10,” she said. So we headed back out, watched the skaters in Rockefeller Plaza and shopped. We came back at 4:05 p.m. “Come back in 10 minutes,” he said. So we got something to drink and came back. As we started to walk up, a lady stopped us. “You have to go down there,” she said. So we went that direction. The next guy said, “You’re too late, you were supposed to be upstairs.”
I could have slapped him. We explained to him what we were told, and he took us up to the correct line. So after all that chasing around, we did get into see Conan. Although I must say none of the NBC interns seemed to know what was really going on. To be continued next week...
Friday, March 02, 2007
Last week's column
The time has finally come for us to say goodbye to our home of nearly two years. Well, not quite yet. I still have a few months to get used to the idea, but so far it just doesn’t want to sink in. I’ve written in the past about our quest to purchase a home of our own. We’ve run the gamut of ideas: anything from building new to parking in camper in Nate’s parents’ yard. Of course, I told Nate he would be living alone in that camper.
Truth is we’re sick of driving, and so is my car. This week’s been especially complicated between illness and trying to finish up our taxes. On Monday my trusty, now-getting-old car racked up 150 miles in one day. I know this because I filled the gas tank and reset the trip ticker that morning. On Tuesday morning when I left home I checked it again. Monday’s fiasco actually started last week. Jacob came down with a touch of stomach flu which he graciously passed on to me. After spending the weekend on the couch, I was only moving at half-speed most of Monday.
I dropped Jacob off at daycare knowing he was cranky and not feeling 100 percent, but I knew I didn’t have a choice until noon. I decided then the worst part of being a working mom is when the kids are sick. You feel guilty not staying home with them, and you feel guilty not being at work. It’s hard to tell which blade of that double-edged sword is sharper. Nate and I were able to work it out, but not without a lot of running. I picked him up and took him to Dad at the farm during Nate’s break between chores, then rushed to Dorchester to see U.S. Senator Russ Feingold.
Afterward it was back to the farm to keep an eye on the kid while the guys went back out to the barn. When Grandma Bubbles got home from work I headed out to my evening of school board and basketball. In the meantime, Jacob’s caretaker shifted to Auntie Hun Bun while Grandma headed to her own basketball game. I found him sleeping on the living room floor a few hours later when I went to retrieve him. All the different faces that day must have just worn him right out.
So 150 miles later, Nate and I made it back to our humble, rented abode. This is when the decision to break our lease was solidified. All this driving is costing us money that could be making a house payment, not to mention the dollars we’re sinking into rent. So how is the house coming? (As is the favorite question of all our friends, neighbors, relatives and even the guy who picks up our milk.) It’s making progress. The outside is nearly complete and the sheetrock is up inside. Dry wall should go in soon, followed by the kitchen fixtures, plumbing and heat ducts. But will it get done by May 1? That’s still a little up in the air. If not I guess there’s always a camper in the yard.
Truth is we’re sick of driving, and so is my car. This week’s been especially complicated between illness and trying to finish up our taxes. On Monday my trusty, now-getting-old car racked up 150 miles in one day. I know this because I filled the gas tank and reset the trip ticker that morning. On Tuesday morning when I left home I checked it again. Monday’s fiasco actually started last week. Jacob came down with a touch of stomach flu which he graciously passed on to me. After spending the weekend on the couch, I was only moving at half-speed most of Monday.
I dropped Jacob off at daycare knowing he was cranky and not feeling 100 percent, but I knew I didn’t have a choice until noon. I decided then the worst part of being a working mom is when the kids are sick. You feel guilty not staying home with them, and you feel guilty not being at work. It’s hard to tell which blade of that double-edged sword is sharper. Nate and I were able to work it out, but not without a lot of running. I picked him up and took him to Dad at the farm during Nate’s break between chores, then rushed to Dorchester to see U.S. Senator Russ Feingold.
Afterward it was back to the farm to keep an eye on the kid while the guys went back out to the barn. When Grandma Bubbles got home from work I headed out to my evening of school board and basketball. In the meantime, Jacob’s caretaker shifted to Auntie Hun Bun while Grandma headed to her own basketball game. I found him sleeping on the living room floor a few hours later when I went to retrieve him. All the different faces that day must have just worn him right out.
So 150 miles later, Nate and I made it back to our humble, rented abode. This is when the decision to break our lease was solidified. All this driving is costing us money that could be making a house payment, not to mention the dollars we’re sinking into rent. So how is the house coming? (As is the favorite question of all our friends, neighbors, relatives and even the guy who picks up our milk.) It’s making progress. The outside is nearly complete and the sheetrock is up inside. Dry wall should go in soon, followed by the kitchen fixtures, plumbing and heat ducts. But will it get done by May 1? That’s still a little up in the air. If not I guess there’s always a camper in the yard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
