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.

Up, Up, and Away

There’s an airline ticket for today with my name on it. Not a paper ticket; how passé those are these days. No, mine is an e-ticket, which of course I printed out because at my age it’s still a little unnerving not to have physical proof of my reservation. Never mind that the acknowledgment of my ticket purchase is in my email, and that I also took a screenshot of it. Nothing makes me feel more secure than having the darned thing printed on something tangible.

I remember when airline travel was the purview of the well-to-do. Women dressed to fly as if they were headed to church, and gentlemen donned suits and ties. Flight attendants were all female and had to meet strict age, height, and weight guidelines.

By the time I finally got to fly, airlines were much more egalitarian. No one got all dressed up to sit on a crowded plane between two sweaty businessmen. Flight attendants, male and female alike, looked like normal people instead of models. Still, flying was an exciting event for me. It still is.

Even though I flew regularly as part of my job with a non-profit for several years, I never tired of traveling by plane. Sure, there have been trying times–lost luggage, cancelled flights, ornery seat-kicking kids in the row directly behind mine, but still I’m entranced by the magical experience of a giant metal machine full of people overcoming the bonds of gravity to soar from point A to point B.

Hopefully all will go smoothly today, and in just a few hours after taking off from the Tallahassee airport I’ll be with my daughter and her family in Illinois. Magic.

Peace, people!

Unpacking to Repack and Freaking Out

I might’ve used this title before. If so, my apologies. Surely no one is keeping tabs, least of all me. It just seems that my life is divided into two unequal parts: 4/5 a yawn worthy routine and 1/5 “holy cow I’ve got back to back events, and I’d better freak out a little.”

Freaking out is my go to mode when the routine is broken up, and since I’ve had the same reaction for as much of my life as I can remember I recognize it for what it is and just roll with the feelings. Sometimes I can even use them to help me focus on the task at hand.

Studly Doright and I broke up our normal routine and spent Friday night in Orlando, FL, so I’d packed an overnight bag with just the essentials. Of course in freak out mode the essentials ended up being the entire contents of my cosmetics drawer and enough outfits to have stayed for a week instead of just one night.

Saturday was used to recover from a Friday night spent at Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, and once we were back home I slept much of the day. Getting scared silly multiple times for five straight hours is exhausting. Part of me knew there was something I was supposed to be freaking out about, but I was too tired to care.

So on Sunday morning, I’m back to full on freak out. I’m flying from Tallahassee to our daughter’s home in Illinois on Tuesday to stay for a week, hoping to help out around the house after she undergoes surgery. I say “hoping” because sometimes I’m more of an annoyance in those situations than I am a help. I have given myself pep talks, and made promises to myself not to be a nuisance or a hoverer. Hovering is my unwanted super power.

At least my bag is still partially packed from the trip to Orlando, but if I needed seven tops for an overnight trip I’m going to need at least 49 for a seven day trip, right? And at least 40 of those need to be sweaters because it’s way colder at her house than it is in Florida this time of year. And boots. I’ll need boots and socks. No flip flops! Maybe just one pair, you know, just in case the temps warm up, and a coat. Will I wear the coat on the plane or should I try to pack it in my carry on with the 40 sweaters? Everything has to go in the carry on. I’m not checking a bag! That’s an extra $60 both ways. Well, maybe I should just pay the extra, but wait, what if my luggage gets lost and I have to go buy all new clothes while I’m there? Better to cram as much as I can in my carry on. Or not. Argh!

See? Freak out mode. BUT, I get to see my daughter and my Illinois grandkids in a few days! Totally worth the freak out. Right?

Now, where is that other pair of jeans? No, not those, the dark blue ones.

Peace, people!