Today, in the midst of my running around and carrying on, I went to have my hair cut. 3 inches later, I walked out, feeling lovely. Get Child One from school, and get home to have this conversation:
Me: "Look! I got a haircut!"
Q: "Nice. Did you put some color in it?" (Keep in mind, he's 5.)
Me: "No... what kind of color?"
Q: "The hair colors. I know they sell it at the Wal-mart. I know it. Seriously."
Me: "And what color do you think I should make my hair?"
Q: "Red. I saw it at the Wal-mart."
Oooookay.
I'm not sure what I think about being a redhead...
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Wow, I've been absent!
So, I suppose sitting down to catch up exactly ten minutes before I need to run out the door is a bad idea. But... what the hell. It's ten minutes.
Alright, so since my last post, we had Halloween, where we went dressed up as a Fireman, and Raggedy Anne. Very cute, not particularly eventful, just the way I like it.
November came, and I had to have major under-arm surgery to remove a tumor. The tumor was benign, thank goodness, but having surgery the day before Thanksgiving certainly made the holiday entertaining. Recovery is going well, I am mostly healed, just a little problem with range of motion, and some nerve damage for the skin. It's coming back slowly, though, in interesting bursts of tingling.
Oh, November also brought the arrival of a new family member - Blake, our 2 year old black Lab/something or another mix. It's like having a 2 year old in the house. I swear to you, he threw a temper tantrum yesterday.
Christmas brought a packed-to-the-gills house. We had my best friend, her husband, and their five children stay with us for almost a week. The ages of the children in the house were as follows: 8, 5, 4, 4, almost 3, 17mos, and 5mos. Things were crazy. But Santa visited, the kids all got lots of goodies, many squeals insued, etc.
New Years hit. The first four days of the new year were ... how might one say... batshit crazy. But everything settled down, and we're back to a quasi-normal routine now.
Child One is seeing a new doctor, and we're making progress toward something useful. Child Two is in pre-k... and I'm not sure what my thoughts on that are. Mostly, I'm not pleased, but I'm hesitant to move her, because of the lateness in the year. Her year only runs to May, so I'm not sure a move would be best served.
I took them out to pick u-pick strawberries last Friday... This is my funny for the day, and I'll leave you with this, as I fling myself through the front door. I called the farm, to verify that they were in fact open, and that yes, there were strawberries to be had. "Yes! Come on down!" Packed up the children after school, and off we went.
We arrived, to be greeted with "Sorry, no more berries!" WTF? Y'all had some two hours ago. So, the girl told me some story about how they had been rained upon, how the sun hadn't shown, etc... and that there were no berries because of this. Uh huh. Ok, fine. Then she fed me this line: "Come back tomorrow! We'll have some then!"
::blinks:: You *had* berries this morning when I called, and now you don't have any, because of the rain, and yet you'll have some *just magically appear* TOMORROW?
I may not be the smartest person on the planet. I'm comfortable with (and comforted by) that. However... I'm not sure I buy this theory about the magically disappearing and reappearing strawberries.
So... My daughter, God bless her, turned on the water works, and made the girl behind the counter feel about like she was three inches tall. Ask me if I care.
And there you have it, in a nutshell. And I must bid you farewell, Internet Folks, as I am running behind (...again...) and need to drive like a madwoman.
Until we meet again....
Alright, so since my last post, we had Halloween, where we went dressed up as a Fireman, and Raggedy Anne. Very cute, not particularly eventful, just the way I like it.
November came, and I had to have major under-arm surgery to remove a tumor. The tumor was benign, thank goodness, but having surgery the day before Thanksgiving certainly made the holiday entertaining. Recovery is going well, I am mostly healed, just a little problem with range of motion, and some nerve damage for the skin. It's coming back slowly, though, in interesting bursts of tingling.
Oh, November also brought the arrival of a new family member - Blake, our 2 year old black Lab/something or another mix. It's like having a 2 year old in the house. I swear to you, he threw a temper tantrum yesterday.
Christmas brought a packed-to-the-gills house. We had my best friend, her husband, and their five children stay with us for almost a week. The ages of the children in the house were as follows: 8, 5, 4, 4, almost 3, 17mos, and 5mos. Things were crazy. But Santa visited, the kids all got lots of goodies, many squeals insued, etc.
New Years hit. The first four days of the new year were ... how might one say... batshit crazy. But everything settled down, and we're back to a quasi-normal routine now.
Child One is seeing a new doctor, and we're making progress toward something useful. Child Two is in pre-k... and I'm not sure what my thoughts on that are. Mostly, I'm not pleased, but I'm hesitant to move her, because of the lateness in the year. Her year only runs to May, so I'm not sure a move would be best served.
I took them out to pick u-pick strawberries last Friday... This is my funny for the day, and I'll leave you with this, as I fling myself through the front door. I called the farm, to verify that they were in fact open, and that yes, there were strawberries to be had. "Yes! Come on down!" Packed up the children after school, and off we went.
We arrived, to be greeted with "Sorry, no more berries!" WTF? Y'all had some two hours ago. So, the girl told me some story about how they had been rained upon, how the sun hadn't shown, etc... and that there were no berries because of this. Uh huh. Ok, fine. Then she fed me this line: "Come back tomorrow! We'll have some then!"
::blinks:: You *had* berries this morning when I called, and now you don't have any, because of the rain, and yet you'll have some *just magically appear* TOMORROW?
I may not be the smartest person on the planet. I'm comfortable with (and comforted by) that. However... I'm not sure I buy this theory about the magically disappearing and reappearing strawberries.
So... My daughter, God bless her, turned on the water works, and made the girl behind the counter feel about like she was three inches tall. Ask me if I care.
And there you have it, in a nutshell. And I must bid you farewell, Internet Folks, as I am running behind (...again...) and need to drive like a madwoman.
Until we meet again....
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I'm becoming a technophile.
I can hear Mr. H laughing from across the house... "Becoming," he thinks, "PAH! She's BEEN a technophile for an eternity. Just closeted technophile."
Alright, so he's probably right. More than likely right. Significant probability that he has postulated correctly.
But, this point has been hammered home in the past few days. We have procured a Wii, plus it's varying acoutrements. I've also scored myself an iPod! Welcome to this century, Michelle. Sheesh.
So, let's take a few minutes to go through what is currently on my iPod.
I am listening to a version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Rockapella. (Yes, I'm a nerd.)
The next ten songs, with the iPod set to shuffle, are as follows:
"Remember When" by Alan Jackson - aka my You're Getting Old song.
"Must Be Doin Something Right" by Billy Currington. Can I tell you he's yummish? Yes, indeed.
"Gonna Make You Sweat" by C&C Music Factory. EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
"Justify My Love" - Madonna. There's no need to justify my music.
"Wooly Booly" - you know you wanna sing along.
"It's Not Right but It's OK" - Whitney Houston. 90s pop angst. :-)
"Accidentally in Love" from the Counting Crows. Is there any way this song isn't the best bubblegum pop song on the planet?
"ABCD" from Laurie Berker. Mom-pod strikes again.
"Crimson and Clover" - Tommy James and the Shondells. OH YES.
"This Love" from Maroon 5. I love these people.
OK, so nothing too crazy. Some Vanilla Ice, but no Hammer. Great workout music (hey, I have a Wii now, I may as well use it, right?)
Now, I've decided that I <3 my iPod. Nothing like random Salt N Peppa to make you smile while trying to kill yourself working at the Wii workout. It's brilliant, and should have been invented ten years ago, when I had more free time (and fewer children to chase around).
So, let's discuss my Wii. That sounds naughty. Let's talk Wii. ... again, not exactly what I want to say in polite company. But you get the idea... I LIKE it. A lot. Why didn't we buy one of these sooner? Aside from the several hunded dollars, but still. It's worth it. And hey, guess what I've discovered? I like golf. Who knew? I actually got a birdie on Wii Golf today. Seriously, played an entire round at or under par. I'd have never thought I'd like it! Now, mind you, I'm not about to strap on cleats and go out for nine holes. After all, it's still Florida, and despite it being October, it's still 90 degrees out, and no matter what gold might lie at the end of the rainbow, it's freaking hot, and I don't like being outside. But, I'm OK with Wii Golf, and maybe my father-in-law will be proud of my birdie.
What's more than how much I like golf, though, is how much I like the boxing. Yes, boxing. Seriously... I apparently like to beat the crap out of things. Mike thinks I cheat, though... I like to punch my opponents in the kidneys. He suggests that this is, perhaps, not the most lady-like way to win. Ask me if I care! I get to hit things, and I can't be A) arrested, or B) investigated by CPS for these things. Score. If nothing else, I'll have some killer arms and shoulders. Perhaps killer isn't the best adjective to use there.... Boxing while The Spice Girls are blaring in my ears, sweating like a hog in the sun, and grinning like a fool. Heaven. :-) Maybe my fat butt will lose some weight, although considering my penchant for cooking everything with half a stick of butter, I won't bank on that. Again, though, killer arms. Maybe I can get away with sleeveless shirts again in the not-too-distant future.
So, wii! Or, whee, rather. I hurt in muscles I never thought I had, but I've had more fun. I'm trying desperately not to give myself gamer's elbow. But, I have to say, the funniest thing is watching Kid Two bowl. She loves it! And kid has a serious aim, too. She's wicked... Kicked my butt all over the place. Kid One has a serious hook, and has yet to learn how to compensate for it. I've got to get some video, though, of Kid Two, as she bowls. Everytime she releases the 'ball', she piroettes (how the hell do you spell that?). It's hysterical.
And now, you know where I'll be, if I go MIA for any length of time. I will be boxing until my heart's content, jamming out to Ace of Base.
Alright, so he's probably right. More than likely right. Significant probability that he has postulated correctly.
But, this point has been hammered home in the past few days. We have procured a Wii, plus it's varying acoutrements. I've also scored myself an iPod! Welcome to this century, Michelle. Sheesh.
So, let's take a few minutes to go through what is currently on my iPod.
I am listening to a version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Rockapella. (Yes, I'm a nerd.)
The next ten songs, with the iPod set to shuffle, are as follows:
"Remember When" by Alan Jackson - aka my You're Getting Old song.
"Must Be Doin Something Right" by Billy Currington. Can I tell you he's yummish? Yes, indeed.
"Gonna Make You Sweat" by C&C Music Factory. EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!
"Justify My Love" - Madonna. There's no need to justify my music.
"Wooly Booly" - you know you wanna sing along.
"It's Not Right but It's OK" - Whitney Houston. 90s pop angst. :-)
"Accidentally in Love" from the Counting Crows. Is there any way this song isn't the best bubblegum pop song on the planet?
"ABCD" from Laurie Berker. Mom-pod strikes again.
"Crimson and Clover" - Tommy James and the Shondells. OH YES.
"This Love" from Maroon 5. I love these people.
OK, so nothing too crazy. Some Vanilla Ice, but no Hammer. Great workout music (hey, I have a Wii now, I may as well use it, right?)
Now, I've decided that I <3 my iPod. Nothing like random Salt N Peppa to make you smile while trying to kill yourself working at the Wii workout. It's brilliant, and should have been invented ten years ago, when I had more free time (and fewer children to chase around).
So, let's discuss my Wii. That sounds naughty. Let's talk Wii. ... again, not exactly what I want to say in polite company. But you get the idea... I LIKE it. A lot. Why didn't we buy one of these sooner? Aside from the several hunded dollars, but still. It's worth it. And hey, guess what I've discovered? I like golf. Who knew? I actually got a birdie on Wii Golf today. Seriously, played an entire round at or under par. I'd have never thought I'd like it! Now, mind you, I'm not about to strap on cleats and go out for nine holes. After all, it's still Florida, and despite it being October, it's still 90 degrees out, and no matter what gold might lie at the end of the rainbow, it's freaking hot, and I don't like being outside. But, I'm OK with Wii Golf, and maybe my father-in-law will be proud of my birdie.
What's more than how much I like golf, though, is how much I like the boxing. Yes, boxing. Seriously... I apparently like to beat the crap out of things. Mike thinks I cheat, though... I like to punch my opponents in the kidneys. He suggests that this is, perhaps, not the most lady-like way to win. Ask me if I care! I get to hit things, and I can't be A) arrested, or B) investigated by CPS for these things. Score. If nothing else, I'll have some killer arms and shoulders. Perhaps killer isn't the best adjective to use there.... Boxing while The Spice Girls are blaring in my ears, sweating like a hog in the sun, and grinning like a fool. Heaven. :-) Maybe my fat butt will lose some weight, although considering my penchant for cooking everything with half a stick of butter, I won't bank on that. Again, though, killer arms. Maybe I can get away with sleeveless shirts again in the not-too-distant future.
So, wii! Or, whee, rather. I hurt in muscles I never thought I had, but I've had more fun. I'm trying desperately not to give myself gamer's elbow. But, I have to say, the funniest thing is watching Kid Two bowl. She loves it! And kid has a serious aim, too. She's wicked... Kicked my butt all over the place. Kid One has a serious hook, and has yet to learn how to compensate for it. I've got to get some video, though, of Kid Two, as she bowls. Everytime she releases the 'ball', she piroettes (how the hell do you spell that?). It's hysterical.
And now, you know where I'll be, if I go MIA for any length of time. I will be boxing until my heart's content, jamming out to Ace of Base.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Nothing is EVER easy!!
So, Friday we flew out to the Atlanta Linux Fest, a fabulously well-thought-out and organized conference of All Things Nerdy, but you know, with me, travel can not be easy. Ever. Ever, ever, never.
And, therefore, I must blog.
Alright, Friday afternoon. Let's leave the house by 3:30!
3:32: Gas station. Go to pay for soda, inside store. CRAP. Forgot my debit card at home. No big deal, right? Well, typically no, I had other forms of payment with me... except we were on our way to the airport, and my plane tickets had been procured with my debit card, and both our rental car, and our hotel room, had been secured using it as well. I knew I would have to present it, in order to have a car to drive, and a room to sleep in. TURN AROUND.
3:35: Back in car, back on our way to airport. Michael gets on interstate, and begins speeding up to merge. As he does, he proclaims "SHIT! We're going the wrong way." CRAP, CRAP. We are speeding along at a nice 75 miles per hour, headed to Tampa. We're flying out of Orlando. TURN AROUND. again.
3:45: BACK on interstate, this time heading to Orlando... laughing hysterically at ourselves, cause you know these sorts of things only happen to us. Make it to the airport with out killing or maiming ourselves (which is a feat unto itself), get checked in, and head to security. Oh WAIT, we parked at A Terminal, and we are apparently leaving from B terminal. So, we schlep our way across the airport. Thank goodness we weren't running late.
Get to security, where, apparently, there is no air conditioning. I'm telling you, it had to have been approximately one trillion degrees, with 100% humidity, inside. I fully expected to see a little Eeyore-like raincloud moseying through the airport security area... and also fully expected to see it come find me, just to rain on my parade. OK, so through security we go. Orlando International Airport could use some instruction on how to effeciently make people stand in line... I seriously felt like a cow, on the way to the slaughter. Perhaps not the best feeling to have when going through the airport.
Get to the checkpoint. I'm sweating like a hog, and anxious about making it through security. Of course, the last time I flew, I was lovingly flagged by the TSA, and sent through security no less than 4 times, while they looked for a 'bottle of liquid' I did not possess. So, here I am, watching my laptop, shoes, and bag enter into what my brain deems as the Tunnel of Doom. The charming and friendly security person motions that I should walk through the metal detector, which I do, without blaring alarms. Score! And, as I watch, my shoes, laptop, and bag all make it out the otherside of the Tunnel of Doom without triggering a full-body-cavity search of my person. I swear, I heard the heavens open and choirs of angels sing the Halleluja chorus. Mike wanders his way through, leaves me to schlep the three bags we carry over to the bench, as he absent-mindedly wanders over to put on his shoes.
Alright, off we go, then. Monorail ride out to the terminal... uneventful, if not for the bizarre window decorations of the train. They're advertising for Disney's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party. Donald is dressed like Satan. I'm disturbed.
Off the train, making our way through the terminal. Our gate is the last one, of course. At least I'm not wheeling thirty-seven pieces of luggage behind me. We get to the gate, sit down, and look to our right. Oh sweet Jesus, we've got one of ~~those~~ passengers with us. Actually, two. Mike immediately deems the pair "Dead and Dying". Twelve seconds after we sit and begin people-watching, here comes the rescue team, backboard in hand, etc. Guess who they are coming for... Well, it's not me, so it must be Dead and Dying. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Dead stands up, begins flailing her arms, and starts carrying on about how someone hit her in the back with a Galley Cart, and how it caused her to have a seizure, how she feels her spine growing stiff, etc. Mike and I come to the conclusion that she is thoroughly intoxicated. I am sorta vaguely wondering where *I* can get something to drink, because I'm sure that the only way this woman would possibly make any sense to me is if I were thoroughly intoxicated. Meanwhile, there is much wailing, much gnashing of teeth, much writhing around on the floor. "Ma'am, let us call an ambulance for you, etc." is met with "No, must get on airplane." Damnit all. Dying is sitting in her wheelchair doing nothing more than, well, perhaps dying and looking thoroughly embarrassed about it. Dead is the one making all the racket... in her hot pink skinny jeans. Really now.
Finally, after much to-do, it comes time for us to board. Get in, get settled... Flight is mercifully uneventful. Thank heavens for that.
Get through the Atlanta airport... get our rental car... and start heading to the hotel, right? Wrong. We get on the interstate, again. GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION, again. Jesus H Christ bananas. Turn around. Go toward the hotel. Check in, 10 pm. I am starving!! Hadn't eaten lunch, cause I'm an idiot. Go down to the overpriced, overrated hotel "Grill." Eat fish and chips, because I don't want to pay $37 dollars for a steak (which, for all I know, would have been llama instead), and visit with some friends who happen to also be there for the Linux show.
Back to our room... to discover we are in, as Mike called it, the "short people room". Mike is not short. I, although shorter than him, am not 4 foot 7. It has one of those toilets that looks like it belongs in a pre-school bathroom. I am convinced that if it were any lower to the ground, I'd be sticking by butt through the ceiling of the floor below us. This is not good for business... or doing business, in fact.
Sleep. Ah, good lord, sleep.
Sleep IN. Whoops. No screaming children to awaken us, only a cell-phone alarm clock, which I promptly throw on the floor.
OK, so off we go. Check out of our room, go hang out with the fellas at the Linux fest. Met lots of great people, met some AMAZING girl-geeks. Nice to find some sisterhood in a swamp of testosterone. Learned some stuff, made some friends, discussed flying to Kansas (I need a frequent-flyer card). All in all, excellent time was had by all, and I'm glad we went.
Finish up at the fest, get into the rental car, tell the GPS that we want to head to Car Rental Row, by the airport. Must turn in rental car. Mabel, as we affectionately call her, gets us stuck in an indefinite loop. Oh, you think I'm being silly. No, she told us to make a right. Then another right, and another right, and a fourth right... wait, I'm sensing a trend, here. Every time we made this loop, it made us turn in a just-slightly-different-enough fashion that we didn't pass the same landmark until the third trip around this giant circle. Wait.A.Minute. We've been here before...
Finally, we figure out that perhaps Mabel is not being friendly, and rather has developed a mean streak. Ha, ha, Mabel, you have an off button. We turn her off, and decide to go about this the old fashioned way... Look, SIGNS! Remember that chorus of angels earlier? Yeah, their presence was known a second time.
Returned the car. Went through the security again... Again, sweating like a pig, again worried about making the FBI most-wanted list. Successfully negotiated my way through security again, and went to eat at one of the airport's various restaurants. I have some phenomental chicken. I am a southern girl by birth, and a Paula Deen fan to boot. I like things friend, and think that all food is made better with a half stick of butter. Fried chicken, baked mac and cheese, black eyed peas, and corn muffins. Someone loves me.
Go hang out, waiting for the gate to open. Twiddle my thumbs a bit, read a book a bit... Finally board.
Flight is uneventful. Lovely flight attendant. Nothing remarkable. Whoo hoo!! Just the overtly religious folks behind us talking the entire time about Jesus. Not that there's anything wrong with Jesus, mind, but I was exhausted, and some quiet time would have been lovely. The mommy in me was very, very tempted to shout "TALKING TIME-OUT" at them, but I refrained. Be proud of me.
Back on the ground in Orlando. Offload with no particular difficulty. Get out through the terminal, over to the main part of the airport. Realize we're walking the wrong direction, turn around. AGAIN. I sense a theme.
Get to the elevators where we go down to the parking garage. Out into the parking garage... we had parked on the row directly in front of the elevators, on Row C. We get off the elevator, and look up at Row K. FART. We took the wrong damn elevators. Jesus. I needed him in that moment, let me tell you. So, off we go schlepping 13 rows down through the airport parking garage. It is 8 pm, but it is Orlando, FLORIDA, and we're working with about 97% humidity. I don my swim fins, and make my way to the car, which seemed a lot further down the row than we remembered it being. Finally found it, and off we went.
We mostly managed to get on the interstate going in the right direction... and finally made our way home. 9:27pm, and we are home, and I declare that Jetsetting is perhaps not my thing.
SLEEP.
Today, I get up, and now have what I affectionately refer to as the conference-airplane-exhaustion-flu.
Going to bed now.
And, therefore, I must blog.
Alright, Friday afternoon. Let's leave the house by 3:30!
3:32: Gas station. Go to pay for soda, inside store. CRAP. Forgot my debit card at home. No big deal, right? Well, typically no, I had other forms of payment with me... except we were on our way to the airport, and my plane tickets had been procured with my debit card, and both our rental car, and our hotel room, had been secured using it as well. I knew I would have to present it, in order to have a car to drive, and a room to sleep in. TURN AROUND.
3:35: Back in car, back on our way to airport. Michael gets on interstate, and begins speeding up to merge. As he does, he proclaims "SHIT! We're going the wrong way." CRAP, CRAP. We are speeding along at a nice 75 miles per hour, headed to Tampa. We're flying out of Orlando. TURN AROUND. again.
3:45: BACK on interstate, this time heading to Orlando... laughing hysterically at ourselves, cause you know these sorts of things only happen to us. Make it to the airport with out killing or maiming ourselves (which is a feat unto itself), get checked in, and head to security. Oh WAIT, we parked at A Terminal, and we are apparently leaving from B terminal. So, we schlep our way across the airport. Thank goodness we weren't running late.
Get to security, where, apparently, there is no air conditioning. I'm telling you, it had to have been approximately one trillion degrees, with 100% humidity, inside. I fully expected to see a little Eeyore-like raincloud moseying through the airport security area... and also fully expected to see it come find me, just to rain on my parade. OK, so through security we go. Orlando International Airport could use some instruction on how to effeciently make people stand in line... I seriously felt like a cow, on the way to the slaughter. Perhaps not the best feeling to have when going through the airport.
Get to the checkpoint. I'm sweating like a hog, and anxious about making it through security. Of course, the last time I flew, I was lovingly flagged by the TSA, and sent through security no less than 4 times, while they looked for a 'bottle of liquid' I did not possess. So, here I am, watching my laptop, shoes, and bag enter into what my brain deems as the Tunnel of Doom. The charming and friendly security person motions that I should walk through the metal detector, which I do, without blaring alarms. Score! And, as I watch, my shoes, laptop, and bag all make it out the otherside of the Tunnel of Doom without triggering a full-body-cavity search of my person. I swear, I heard the heavens open and choirs of angels sing the Halleluja chorus. Mike wanders his way through, leaves me to schlep the three bags we carry over to the bench, as he absent-mindedly wanders over to put on his shoes.
Alright, off we go, then. Monorail ride out to the terminal... uneventful, if not for the bizarre window decorations of the train. They're advertising for Disney's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party. Donald is dressed like Satan. I'm disturbed.
Off the train, making our way through the terminal. Our gate is the last one, of course. At least I'm not wheeling thirty-seven pieces of luggage behind me. We get to the gate, sit down, and look to our right. Oh sweet Jesus, we've got one of ~~those~~ passengers with us. Actually, two. Mike immediately deems the pair "Dead and Dying". Twelve seconds after we sit and begin people-watching, here comes the rescue team, backboard in hand, etc. Guess who they are coming for... Well, it's not me, so it must be Dead and Dying. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Dead stands up, begins flailing her arms, and starts carrying on about how someone hit her in the back with a Galley Cart, and how it caused her to have a seizure, how she feels her spine growing stiff, etc. Mike and I come to the conclusion that she is thoroughly intoxicated. I am sorta vaguely wondering where *I* can get something to drink, because I'm sure that the only way this woman would possibly make any sense to me is if I were thoroughly intoxicated. Meanwhile, there is much wailing, much gnashing of teeth, much writhing around on the floor. "Ma'am, let us call an ambulance for you, etc." is met with "No, must get on airplane." Damnit all. Dying is sitting in her wheelchair doing nothing more than, well, perhaps dying and looking thoroughly embarrassed about it. Dead is the one making all the racket... in her hot pink skinny jeans. Really now.
Finally, after much to-do, it comes time for us to board. Get in, get settled... Flight is mercifully uneventful. Thank heavens for that.
Get through the Atlanta airport... get our rental car... and start heading to the hotel, right? Wrong. We get on the interstate, again. GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION, again. Jesus H Christ bananas. Turn around. Go toward the hotel. Check in, 10 pm. I am starving!! Hadn't eaten lunch, cause I'm an idiot. Go down to the overpriced, overrated hotel "Grill." Eat fish and chips, because I don't want to pay $37 dollars for a steak (which, for all I know, would have been llama instead), and visit with some friends who happen to also be there for the Linux show.
Back to our room... to discover we are in, as Mike called it, the "short people room". Mike is not short. I, although shorter than him, am not 4 foot 7. It has one of those toilets that looks like it belongs in a pre-school bathroom. I am convinced that if it were any lower to the ground, I'd be sticking by butt through the ceiling of the floor below us. This is not good for business... or doing business, in fact.
Sleep. Ah, good lord, sleep.
Sleep IN. Whoops. No screaming children to awaken us, only a cell-phone alarm clock, which I promptly throw on the floor.
OK, so off we go. Check out of our room, go hang out with the fellas at the Linux fest. Met lots of great people, met some AMAZING girl-geeks. Nice to find some sisterhood in a swamp of testosterone. Learned some stuff, made some friends, discussed flying to Kansas (I need a frequent-flyer card). All in all, excellent time was had by all, and I'm glad we went.
Finish up at the fest, get into the rental car, tell the GPS that we want to head to Car Rental Row, by the airport. Must turn in rental car. Mabel, as we affectionately call her, gets us stuck in an indefinite loop. Oh, you think I'm being silly. No, she told us to make a right. Then another right, and another right, and a fourth right... wait, I'm sensing a trend, here. Every time we made this loop, it made us turn in a just-slightly-different-enough fashion that we didn't pass the same landmark until the third trip around this giant circle. Wait.A.Minute. We've been here before...
Finally, we figure out that perhaps Mabel is not being friendly, and rather has developed a mean streak. Ha, ha, Mabel, you have an off button. We turn her off, and decide to go about this the old fashioned way... Look, SIGNS! Remember that chorus of angels earlier? Yeah, their presence was known a second time.
Returned the car. Went through the security again... Again, sweating like a pig, again worried about making the FBI most-wanted list. Successfully negotiated my way through security again, and went to eat at one of the airport's various restaurants. I have some phenomental chicken. I am a southern girl by birth, and a Paula Deen fan to boot. I like things friend, and think that all food is made better with a half stick of butter. Fried chicken, baked mac and cheese, black eyed peas, and corn muffins. Someone loves me.
Go hang out, waiting for the gate to open. Twiddle my thumbs a bit, read a book a bit... Finally board.
Flight is uneventful. Lovely flight attendant. Nothing remarkable. Whoo hoo!! Just the overtly religious folks behind us talking the entire time about Jesus. Not that there's anything wrong with Jesus, mind, but I was exhausted, and some quiet time would have been lovely. The mommy in me was very, very tempted to shout "TALKING TIME-OUT" at them, but I refrained. Be proud of me.
Back on the ground in Orlando. Offload with no particular difficulty. Get out through the terminal, over to the main part of the airport. Realize we're walking the wrong direction, turn around. AGAIN. I sense a theme.
Get to the elevators where we go down to the parking garage. Out into the parking garage... we had parked on the row directly in front of the elevators, on Row C. We get off the elevator, and look up at Row K. FART. We took the wrong damn elevators. Jesus. I needed him in that moment, let me tell you. So, off we go schlepping 13 rows down through the airport parking garage. It is 8 pm, but it is Orlando, FLORIDA, and we're working with about 97% humidity. I don my swim fins, and make my way to the car, which seemed a lot further down the row than we remembered it being. Finally found it, and off we went.
We mostly managed to get on the interstate going in the right direction... and finally made our way home. 9:27pm, and we are home, and I declare that Jetsetting is perhaps not my thing.
SLEEP.
Today, I get up, and now have what I affectionately refer to as the conference-airplane-exhaustion-flu.
Going to bed now.
Monday, September 14, 2009
I've hit a wall!
So, I suck at most everything these days, it seems.
The laundry trolls have overpopulated, again, and the dust bunnies have formed colonies in places I never expected to find them... under the laundry trolls. Alas, I should probably do something about that, like call the Orkin Man, or something, but I genuinely have no inclination to do so.
Things I've procrastinated:
Writing a presentation for Saturday.
Packing clothing so I do not give presentation Saturday in my birthday suit.
Washing said laundry.
Locating my sanity.
And about a brazillion other things. But hey, I feel sorta bad about it. Sorta. Not 100% bad about it... maybe 35%.
I feel as thought I have been negligent in posting here... No, wait, it's a cold, solid, look-you-in-the-eye fact that I've been negligent, and for that I apologize. I will not apologize for the laundry trolls. In fact, if you come visit, you can locate me under Hall Family Laundry Mountain. What are you looking at? Don't just stand there, fold a sock!
Things have been amiss. We have had troubles at school, we've had challenges at home... We've started the process of finding YET another specialist, and that alone makes me want to pull my hair out and braid it into a rug for relaxation purposes. The last thing I've wanted to do has been write. Wait, more lies from myself. I just haven't had any inspiration to say something witty.
So, here I am, out of sheer obligation, yammering on about nothing in particular. Not particularly funny, nor particularly relevant. However, I'm hoping it will catapult me off my ass and into the laundry room... I might stop in the kitchen, though. I *do* have cookie dough in the fridge that really needs to get used. Hhmmm....
But, because these sorts of things only happen to me, I will tell you this. Yesterday I was driving down the road, at a reasonable speed, I promise, when I got passed, going the other direction, by a miniature horse.
Yes.
Pulling a miniature buggy.
With a teenage girl at the reins.
I suppose when you're too young to get your driver's license, you get creative, right? I've seen mopeds, I've seen ATVs, I've seen golf carts, all manned by underage drivers driving like bats just released from the gates of Hell itself. But a miniature horse? AND buggy? This one is new on me.
Only here in Polk County. And only to moi.
The laundry trolls have overpopulated, again, and the dust bunnies have formed colonies in places I never expected to find them... under the laundry trolls. Alas, I should probably do something about that, like call the Orkin Man, or something, but I genuinely have no inclination to do so.
Things I've procrastinated:
Writing a presentation for Saturday.
Packing clothing so I do not give presentation Saturday in my birthday suit.
Washing said laundry.
Locating my sanity.
And about a brazillion other things. But hey, I feel sorta bad about it. Sorta. Not 100% bad about it... maybe 35%.
I feel as thought I have been negligent in posting here... No, wait, it's a cold, solid, look-you-in-the-eye fact that I've been negligent, and for that I apologize. I will not apologize for the laundry trolls. In fact, if you come visit, you can locate me under Hall Family Laundry Mountain. What are you looking at? Don't just stand there, fold a sock!
Things have been amiss. We have had troubles at school, we've had challenges at home... We've started the process of finding YET another specialist, and that alone makes me want to pull my hair out and braid it into a rug for relaxation purposes. The last thing I've wanted to do has been write. Wait, more lies from myself. I just haven't had any inspiration to say something witty.
So, here I am, out of sheer obligation, yammering on about nothing in particular. Not particularly funny, nor particularly relevant. However, I'm hoping it will catapult me off my ass and into the laundry room... I might stop in the kitchen, though. I *do* have cookie dough in the fridge that really needs to get used. Hhmmm....
But, because these sorts of things only happen to me, I will tell you this. Yesterday I was driving down the road, at a reasonable speed, I promise, when I got passed, going the other direction, by a miniature horse.
Yes.
Pulling a miniature buggy.
With a teenage girl at the reins.
I suppose when you're too young to get your driver's license, you get creative, right? I've seen mopeds, I've seen ATVs, I've seen golf carts, all manned by underage drivers driving like bats just released from the gates of Hell itself. But a miniature horse? AND buggy? This one is new on me.
Only here in Polk County. And only to moi.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I am well and truly blessed.
I wish I had more time and energy to reflect on all of the silliness of this week, and I will yet.
But, I wanted to make a note, before I forget my good manners, to be thankful for how blessed I genuinely am. For family and friends, for good health (more or less) and for good fun.
Mr. H and I run a charity in our hometown, recycling computers for children. Yesterday, we hosted a build-day, and I took a minute, once we got started, to stand back and survey the goings-on, and reflect on how amazing it was. We had an approximate 75 bodies building computers yesterday, kids from 5 up to grown adults in the late phases of life, from all walks. The kids were kids who came not from well-to-do families, but kids from an emergency shelter in our home town. It was amazing to watch. And all-total, we processed a grand total of 47 computers in some form or fashion, within the span of about 4 hours.
Everyone came back to our house for dinner, afterward. We had almost 30 bodies in and out for dinner. The only part of the day that went horribly awry was a burnt pan of lasagna, but it was the last pan out, and everyone had already gone back for seconds, so we were all good.
Today, the house is quiet. I'm not tripping over twelve thousand monitors, pieces and parts. We had a plan of attack for the next time. We learned a lot, we met good people, we reconfirmed some old friendships. We stand a chance at having seriously impacted the lives of those in our community. And how truly blessed are we, to be able to have a day like that?
I'll go through it more, here and in other places... But I wanted to make a note, while it was fresh in my brain, to remind myself of how blessed we can be, and how blessings arise from struggles and trials. If it hadn't been for one little boy.
But, I wanted to make a note, before I forget my good manners, to be thankful for how blessed I genuinely am. For family and friends, for good health (more or less) and for good fun.
Mr. H and I run a charity in our hometown, recycling computers for children. Yesterday, we hosted a build-day, and I took a minute, once we got started, to stand back and survey the goings-on, and reflect on how amazing it was. We had an approximate 75 bodies building computers yesterday, kids from 5 up to grown adults in the late phases of life, from all walks. The kids were kids who came not from well-to-do families, but kids from an emergency shelter in our home town. It was amazing to watch. And all-total, we processed a grand total of 47 computers in some form or fashion, within the span of about 4 hours.
Everyone came back to our house for dinner, afterward. We had almost 30 bodies in and out for dinner. The only part of the day that went horribly awry was a burnt pan of lasagna, but it was the last pan out, and everyone had already gone back for seconds, so we were all good.
Today, the house is quiet. I'm not tripping over twelve thousand monitors, pieces and parts. We had a plan of attack for the next time. We learned a lot, we met good people, we reconfirmed some old friendships. We stand a chance at having seriously impacted the lives of those in our community. And how truly blessed are we, to be able to have a day like that?
I'll go through it more, here and in other places... But I wanted to make a note, while it was fresh in my brain, to remind myself of how blessed we can be, and how blessings arise from struggles and trials. If it hadn't been for one little boy.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Home Improvements, I think.
This morning, Mr. H and I set out to 'improve our home'. Riiiiiight, cause I look so much like Bob Vila. But off we went.
The goals: To put shelving units up in the front (12-foot-long) closet, and paint one wall in our bedroom a lovely mocha brown. We can do this. We're capable, aren't we?
Sure we are!!
So, we get started, and Kid One sees us carrying out the hammer, the drill, etc., into the front closet, since we're gonna tackle the shelves first. Kid One doesn't like loud noises; it's part of who he is. He generally chooses to be elsewhere when we're doing some sort of construction. However, the closet is in front of, and shares a wall with, the bonus playroom, where Kid One and his sister were currently coloring.
You should note that part of who he is results in interesting language patterns. His verbs are askew, he often says things by verbifying the noun he's referring to. He's nailing a nail, for instance.
So there we are, in the closet, when we hear this from Kid One, out in the bonus room:
"Remember to shut the closet door before you screw!"
OMG... I almost died of an aneurysm, I laughed so hard!
Long story short, we did not get those shelves hung, due to lack of correct hardware, but we have successfully gotten coat 1 of the paint up in our room. And so far, it looks lovely.
And we've learned an important life lesson, as well. Always shut the door before you screw, folks.
The goals: To put shelving units up in the front (12-foot-long) closet, and paint one wall in our bedroom a lovely mocha brown. We can do this. We're capable, aren't we?
Sure we are!!
So, we get started, and Kid One sees us carrying out the hammer, the drill, etc., into the front closet, since we're gonna tackle the shelves first. Kid One doesn't like loud noises; it's part of who he is. He generally chooses to be elsewhere when we're doing some sort of construction. However, the closet is in front of, and shares a wall with, the bonus playroom, where Kid One and his sister were currently coloring.
You should note that part of who he is results in interesting language patterns. His verbs are askew, he often says things by verbifying the noun he's referring to. He's nailing a nail, for instance.
So there we are, in the closet, when we hear this from Kid One, out in the bonus room:
"Remember to shut the closet door before you screw!"
OMG... I almost died of an aneurysm, I laughed so hard!
Long story short, we did not get those shelves hung, due to lack of correct hardware, but we have successfully gotten coat 1 of the paint up in our room. And so far, it looks lovely.
And we've learned an important life lesson, as well. Always shut the door before you screw, folks.
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