Laundry Question

I was away from home for exactly one week while Studly Doright stayed home with the cats. For my trip, I packed two pairs of jeans, five blouses, and undergarments. Having done some laundry while visiting in my daughter’s home, I returned to Doright Manor with just one blouse, a pair of jeans, and a couple of unmentionable items to be laundered. Everything else went right into the closet.

Studly, on the other hand, seems to have worn every single button down shirt he owns along with half a dozen golf shirts, ten t-shirts, and at least a dozen pants/shorts. It appears that he must’ve come home midday, every day I was gone to change shirts. Or maybe he wore two shirts at a time for a ridiculous layered look. Who knows? It’s like a math story problem:

If a woman goes out of town for one week and leaves her husband to fend for himself, how many loads of laundry will that husband do in her absence?

a) 1/2

b) 1/8

c) 0

d) 1 million

Peace, people.

Planted in Peoria

Today I was supposed to fly home to Florida from my daughter’s home in Illinois. My flight was scheduled for 11:28 a.m., and being somewhat anal about the whole two-hour pre-flight arrival time I checked in at, you guessed it, 9:28.

As I sat at the gate reading I received two texts in quick succession. The first pushed the flight back to noon, the second moved it forward to 11:40. No biggie. I’d still have plenty of time to make my connecting flight in Atlanta.

The flight arrived and we boarded the small commuter plane. I’d begun reading my book and barely noticed that the flight attendant was speaking. It seemed our plane needed some parts–parts that weren’t on hand, and even if they had been, there was no one available to install them.

We deplaned and now it looks doubtful that I’ll make it home tonight. They are attempting to send us a new plane (not NEW new, but new to us), but it will have to come from Burlington, VT. So, the current departure time is either five or six or maybe four or never, depending on who one asks.

The Peoria airport is pleasant, but tiny. It’s not like airports in Minneapolis or Orlando or Chicago that are basically shopping malls that accommodate air travel. I’ve already eaten at the only cafe twice and shopped at the lone shop three times. Who knows? By the time I leave the shop might have a completely new inventory.

Okay, I’m going to get up and walk. Maybe I’ll shop again.

Peace, people.

Musings from an Airport

Wondering why…

I rushed to the airport this morning only to have my flight delayed not once, but twice.

The guy who looks like an accountant is carrying a badass guitar case. Is this a new trend? Buttoned-down Rock? Calculator Cool?

The lady beside me can snore with such abandon in a bright, public space when I have trouble sleeping in a quiet, darkened room.

Some people wear their pajamas to the airport. Seriously? Don’t they know this isn’t Walmart?

I ate something spicy for breakfast. 😳

Flying seemed like such a good idea when I planned this trip. I could’ve been well down the road by now.

Peace, people!

A Little Tied Up

I didn’t write anything yesterday, but I asked my granddaughter to sub for me and she did so admirably. Today I totally spaced out and got nothing written. But, I did take the grand dog to get a pedicure, and I drove our grandson to play practice, and in just a few minutes I’m leaving to escort the youngest grandchild to her hip hop dance class.

My visit with my daughter’s family in western Illinois comes to an end tomorrow, and I’ll miss being with her and my grands. I’ve been a little tied up here, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Geek Heaven

On Saturday I was able to attend a Scholastic Bowl tournament that my eldest grandson competed in. Needless to say, I was in heaven; although, it was hell not to be able to blurt out answers.

In the first match I had to sit on my hands to keep from raising them to signal I had the answer.

For subsequent rounds I sat at the back of the room and scribbled answers on a piece of scrap paper. The act of writing kept me from doing something stupid like embarrassing my grandson.

His team didn’t win today. Maybe next time they’ll put me in the lineup. Surely I could pass for a 15-year-old geek. Well, at least the geek part.

Peace, people.

Hey Toto, This Isn’t Florida

This is what I awakened to this morning:

Maybe I needed a reminder that I wasn’t snuggled into my bed in Doright Manor near Quincy, FL, on this Friday morning. Or maybe it was time for my “Driving on Snowy Roads” refresher course.

Brrrrr! And peace, people.

Make It So

My daughter was being prepped for surgery this morning. She’s a real trouper, following every direction, asking smart questions, seemingly super relaxed. But she has tiny veins, and when it was time for the I.V. needle to be inserted she knew she was in for a bit of an ordeal.

The first nurse searched and palpated for a friendly vein on both arms before calling in an R.N. to help. Most R.N.’s are no-nonsense, and this one certainly fit the bill. She spied a spot, injected a bit of novacain, and inserted the needle in the back of A’s hand in the span of an eye blink. I happened to be holding my daughter’s other hand at the time and probably won’t be able to use that appendage for a month or so. There were big old tears coursing down her cheeks. I don’t care how old one’s child is, when they cry, you cry. So I cried.

In the midst of her pain and tears, though, my daughter quipped, “Why can’t they invent wireless I.V.’s?”

Now there’s a plan. Could someone make that happen like yesterday?

Peace, people.

First Grader

Today I was a first grader. Not for the entire day, just for lunch and recess. Here’s what I learned:

1. Lunch guests are instant celebrities. Everyone wanted to sit with me and tell me everything about their families, their pets, and their best friends. I spent an hour being the popular kid. It’s about time.

2. School lunches are better if you talk more than you eat.

3. You get in trouble if you talk more than you eat.

4. You know you’re in trouble when the supervisor has to blow her whistle, not once, not twice, but three times before all the kids stop talking.

5. My granddaughter has a boy friend that she really likes, but she doesn’t like like him, she just likes him. Intonation is everything.

6. I think I’m ready for 2nd grade now.

Peace, people.

Happy Place

Happiness is…

…being in my daughter’s home.

…listening to my eldest grandson talk about a book he’s writing.

…watching our middle granddaughter practice her cheerleading routine.

…waking up to the exuberant sounds of our youngest grandchild greeting a new day.

On this Wednesday morning, I am so incredibly happy.