Sunday, December 30, 2012

something festive i borrowed from post secret....

i keep forgetting to share this with you. i didn't submit it, but the stocking fits, so i'm wearing it:

i'll be laying low for a few days after this, partially because i have a bunch of paperwork to do for job #3 (and christmas just hit my credit card and i need to get it back off again asap), and partially because i've felt a little "off" since getting back to town, and i think my free time may be best spent both horizontal and unconscious.

if you haven't heard from me by mlk day, send a scout- preferably gerard butler. 

Saturday, December 29, 2012

home again, home again, jiggety jig

where did i leave off? had my life flashed before my eyes as the winged tin can bounced around in the air? was it before, or after the mass consumption of fudge? was i making snow angels on a square foot of snow surrounded by dry grass, or was there enough snow that passers-by didn't automatically think i was having some sort of a seizure?

none of that had happened yet?

well, i guess we have a little catching up to do, don't we?

my second flight last sunday was on a winged tin can (also known as a cessna). aside from the pilot, rob, and his copilot, whose name i didn't catch, there were four passengers on the plane, including a guy from chicago who had zero experience flying in such a vessel.*

after the pilot introduced himself, he told us to "feel free to ask any questions".

my inquiry regarding whether or not we'd be dusting crops during the flight did not go over well, with my question regarding the stewardess bringing around the beverage service faring only slightly better. (i thought it best to save my query about the "in flight movie" for the return trip. you know- assuming i survived this one.)

aside from some rather, uh, invigorating, turbulence, the flight was relatively uneventful, although our approach for landing resulted in a definite shift in priorities upon landing.**

before i go on, i should mention (especially to those who don't know me well) that i am not a passive vacationer. when i travel, i try to explore as much of my surroundings as possible. going someplace exotic only to get drunk by the pool and catch up on back issues of "people" magazine is more suited to people who have more money than imagination. when i travel solo, i tend to be up at first light, down after dark, and out and about in between.

however, there is one exception to this rule: the annual holiday trip to see mama in maine.

something about being there causes my system to switch to autopilot. i catch up on weeks' worth of sleep. i finish books i'd started reading months before. i brush up on my scrabble skills. fudge is procured from our favorite store an hour's drive away, and if there's any left by the time my departure date rolls around, i declare victory. if we don't plan on leaving the house, i don't plan on leaving my pajamas.

this vacation was no different, except with a surprise extension, due to a moist breath of cold air from mother nature, beginning a few hours before i was supposed to board another winged tin can for the first leg of the trip home. (winged tin cans don't do so hot in high winds or snowstorms, as i understand it.) 

i believe i may have been responsible for this little development.

during my annual visit, i always make at least one snow angel. always

given the lack of snow this time around, i did the only sensible thing. i plopped down atop the tiny remnants of last week's storm and made my snow angel.

fortunately, she does not live in the middle of a major metropolis, so it's not like her neighbors were likely to pass by, wondering who on earth was having a seizure in the middle of her lawn.

apparently, such an action is the winter equivalent of a "rain dance", as there was about 4" of snow covering her lawn less than 24 hours later, with a stiff wind blowing it into drifts of 6" or so- conditions that, as i mentioned before, are not ideal when one is trying to fly a teeny, tiny aircraft. 

while i suppose some would have felt inconvenienced by the delay, i was actually pretty thrilled. my next shift at the full time job was still a couple of days off, and there was fresh snow to play in. the only thing that would make the day better would be the addition of scalloped potatoes and ham (which mama happened to be making a batch of for her lunches next week).

play was balanced with a little shoveling, mostly to keep mama from doing it all herself, though i must admit i had ulterior motives- i'd consumed mass quantities of fudge over the past few days, and i was a little concerned the my jeans and i might not be such a good fit for each other upon my return home. (it didn't help that mama defrosted more fudge as soon as she'd learned my flight was cancelled.)

by the time i was asked yesterday morning how much i'd weighed***, i was fairly confident that i'd only gained a pound or two. (thankfully, the ticketing agent/gate agent/baggage handler/little orange baton wielder at the augusta airport didn't shatter the illusion by asking me to hop on the scale. then again, i suppose it was pretty close to the truth by the time we boarded, since i went to the restroom at least twice while we waited for the pilot to free himself from his driveway and arrive at the airport.)

(as you will note, unlike those magic growing sponges, water did not make this thing any bigger.) 

the first leg of my return trip was much like my previous experience on the winged tin can, except this time the question that didn't go over well involved the in-flight movie. oh- and i became seriously concerned as we headed into boston that we might be in for an unscheduled water landing. that would have been a very bad thing, not just because my swimming skills resemble that of a dog with a couple of broken legs, but also because i seriously doubt the extra fudge mama threw into my backpack would float.

*had mama not found this out from his mother, i probably still would have figured it out. we kept grabbing the seats in front of us at the same time. if "synchronized panic" were an olympic sport, we would have gotten the gold, for sure.

**"hi, mama. where's the can?"

***a question that was just as unsettling then as it was a few days prior

Sunday, December 23, 2012

hopefully not the last you hear from me....

"please tell me i'm going to be flying on one of the larger tin cans with wings out there," i said.

the ticketing agent looked at me as if i were insane, then said* "you are on a nine passenger plane."


(that's not in quotes only because i barely managed to keep it in my head. it was a close call , though.)

"so, that's a "no"' huh?"

instead of answering my very important query, she responded by asking about my weight.

"well, it was 117 yesterday." 

i thought about pointing out that i'd eaten since then, but i figured it might have been balanced out at the other end during the course of the day. (my love of cheese is well-known, but i didn't have that much yesterday.)

for the first time ever, my carry ons were even weighed.**

now, don't get me wrong- i'm not normally a freaked-out flier. i love airports, from west yellowstone (my favorite little domestic airport), to kulusuk (my favorite tiny foreign airport), to bwi (long live the stained glass crab of my youth), to salt lake city (my favorite place to spend a long layover), to charlotte, my localish airport (though i cursed them this morning, when i couldn't get connected to their wireless internet to save my life.)

i also have come to enjoy flying, which is, let's face it, the most convenient way to travel between airports. 

however, when mama said a few days ago, "you know you're going to be on a tiny plane, right?", i was not filled with the warm fuzziness of happiness and contentment. 

dear reader, i'm afraid i uttered an exclamation that would require multiple asterisks to shield your delicate peepers from its vulgarity.

now, when you also take into account the very rough landing we had on the large plane coming in from charlotte***, you can probably understand why the news that i only have 9 other people with me is not comforting. in fact, i was strongly considering turning around and boarding the bus to bangor, but then i saw this:

i don't normally engage in "retail therapy", but my new swatch is pretty sweet- and waterproof to 100 feet, just in case of a water landing. 

*with more than a hint of attitude, i might add.

**a good thing this isn't a regular occurance. my heavier bag weighs 29 pounds. i'd packed light, for once.

***while i did not toss my cookies, i cannot say i had completely ruled it out, either.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

though it's cold and lonely in the deep, dark night....

it's officially the 22nd here in columbia, south carolina.

i'm still here. you're still here.(judging from all of the calls i've gotten here at the answering service this evening, we're not the only ones who survived the nopacalypse.)

i also realized this afternoon that this turn of events (lack of events?) has disappointed not only the mayans, but meatloaf, as well.

on the bright side, the world might not actually be scheduled to end until sunday. i'm not sure if this is due to the mayans skipping a couple of leap days, or merely a mathematical error- i'm certainly the last person who should call anyone out on the latter.

this extension is a good thing, as i still haven't taken care of anything on this list. (not that i intend to do anything involving soccer mom porn, bright red lipstick, or online dating, but i'm pretty sure a ben & jerry's banana split is the breakfast of champions.)

i suppose this means it's as good a time as any to tell you that your outfit is fabulous, your smile is dazzling (though you probably should check for green stuff stuck between a couple of your pearly whites), and i think you have a truly dizzying intellect.

oh, and just in case i haven't told you already, i love you.*

*until the end of time, currently slated for sunday.   

Saturday, December 01, 2012

my latest shameful little secret

i should probably be ashamed of myself. 

i suppose i could blame it on being traumatized last weekend (scroll down if you missed the post), though, really, when the "victim advocate" called, i assured him that i really hadn't felt too victimized, as the perpetrator was unarmed. 

i could blame it on the phase of the moon, or this head cold i keep waking up with. 

however, realistically, i have only myself to blame. (well, myself and the catchy hook in this tune, which i have listened to more times than i should admit in the two days since my copy of "now that's what i call music 80"*):

never mind the fact that these guys hadn't been born by the time the new kids on the block released "step by step"- i dig them anyway. 

*the european series is soooooo much better than the american one