Year: 2011

  • I believe he wanted people to get on the plane to Newark

    So I finally made it to the med clinic yesterday. And I’m pretty sure they hosed the place down with bleach after I left. I don’t really have a cough that anyone would describe as delicate.

    They took my blood pressure and temperature and listened to me breathe in and out and ultimately determined that I have a bad case of bronchitis. Bronchitis with a touch of fluid that could turn to pneumonia. And then maybe yellow fever.

    Not really on the yellow fever part. I don’t even know if you get a cough with that.

    I was sent home with about six prescriptions (It made me long for the days that I worked in pharmaceutical sales and got all my medications for free.) and instructions to get a lot of rest over the next couple of days.

    Oh that Hazel. She’s a tough old bird.

    I couldn’t really get into it last night because my flight got in late and I was on the verge of tears by the time I got home, but the trip to Chicago was great. I mean, other than the moments I felt like a lung may come out. I was able to meet my editor along with so many great people that work for Tyndale and had the chance to let them know I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I think we all felt good about it.

    By the time I got to the Chicago airport I had almost no voice left. I bought some hot tea at Starbucks hoping that would help and went to sit at my departure gate even though my flight wasn’t leaving for a few hours. Sophie called to check on me and we tried to have a conversation but it became impossible thanks to my lack of voice and an overzealous gate worker who was very fanatical about the entire O’Hare airport knowing it was “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK”.

    “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    He announced it at fifteen second intervals for at least thirty minutes. It was as if he had found his one chance to be in the spotlight with a microphone in his hand and he was going to take full advantage.

    “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    Yes. We get it.

    “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    I believe you’ve mentioned that.

    “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    For the love of all that is sacred.

    “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    If they haven’t gotten the message by now then they don’t deserve to go to Newark. They shouldn’t ever leave their house again.

    I felt ceratin Hazel was about to bust out with a long lecture on how people should know when to board their plane and if they can’t be responsible enough to get there on time then they don’t deserve to fly and that the trouble with people today is all this hand-holding. You know when nobody was there to hold your hand? THE GREAT DEPRESSION. People need to take responsibility for their actions or lack thereof.

    But just then a couple strolled up next to me and sat down leisurely. And I heard the man say to the woman, “Yes, this is our gate. It doesn’t look like they’re boarding yet.”

    And I couldn’t help myself. I asked, “Are you going to Newark?”

    “Yes.”

    “Well then you should know it’s ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK.”

    Then, as if to emphasize my point, overzealous gate guy bellowed, “ALL ABOARD TO NEWARK”.

    How this couple had been unaware of that fact in spite of being in a fifty mile radius of the Newark gate will remain as one of the great mysteries of my life.

    Anyway, I eventually boarded my flight to Houston and by the time I arrived at the Houston airport I was really hungry. I hear that’s a symptom of the yellow fever. Since I’d been out of Texas for twenty-four hours I was naturally craving Mexican food and so I was delighted when I saw a sign that read “Todo Salsa”. Perfect. I know enough Spanish to know that meant “ALL THE SALSA” which was exactly what I wanted.

    Unfortunately, and I blame this on the cold medicine, it took me a few minutes to realize what I was actually seeing was a sign that read “Todo Salas”. Which means “ALL GATES” in Spanish and has nothing to do with Mexican food or salsa. Unless maybe you’re flying to Mexico.

    Clearly it was time to get Hazel home.

    By the time my final flight arrived in San Antonio I’m not sure who was more relieved we were on the ground, me or the poor man that had to sit next to me. All I know is it took everything in me to not yell “QUIT LOOKING AROUND AND GET OFF THE PLANE. MOVE IT, PEOPLE. MOVE IT.” In hindsight they may have moved faster if I’d announced I had the yellow fever.

    But I’m home now and have inhalers and steroids and antibiotics and, love of my life, prescription cough medicine that will help me sleep.

    And that’s what I plan to do until further notice.

  • The post that’s not really a post

    Well.

    I am home from Chicago. And I am sad to report that Hazel not only made the trip with me but she appears to have gotten angrier and more belligerent from all the travel.

    We’ll be going to the clinic tomorrow to see about some antibiotics or perhaps an iron lung. But in the meantime, I have to go to bed.

    I’ll see you on Thursday.

    P.S. Hazel wants you to know that airport security frowns on large bottles of Nyquil. Probably because they’re a bunch of communists.

  • Timing has never been her strong suit

    Well it started off as a great weekend around here. P and Caroline went to the ranch on Friday night and I managed to finish Season 1 of Army Wives. It wasn’t easy. I had to persevere through the air-conditioning repairman showing up to fix our circuit board and not leaving until 7:30. But I wasn’t going to let that stand in the way of my television goals.

    On Saturday morning Caroline had a soccer game at 10:30. Which, in my opinion, is the perfect time for a soccer game. And she scored three goals. Then we came home to watch the Aggies play Baylor. Even though my blood pressure was above normal for a good portion of the game, we managed to pull out a decisive win. And by we, I mean a team full of college boys playing their hearts out while I sat on the couch eating chips and hyperventilating.

    The rest of Saturday was spent taking a little trip to the pumpkin patch and making a quick stop by Home Depot to pick up some mums. Caroline and her friend Gabi helped me plant the mums and decorate the yard with spider webs and pumpkins. I’d be lying if I didn’t confess to a serious case of front yard pride. The mums are a HUGE improvement over the dead liriope that had been in my urns for the last two months or so.

    We went to eat Italian food with Mimi and Bops that night. Caroline went to bed pretty soon after we got home and I was prepared to enjoy a little more Army Wives. But then something happened.

    Hazel Ludendorff showed up.

    Some of you may remember Hazel from last year. She’s the three-pack-a-day smoker in her eighties that becomes my alternate personality when I develop a bit of a chest cold. And she showed up with virtually no warning. Sure I’ve been a little congested, but I felt sure it was just some mild allergies. I was not prepared for a visit from Hazel.

    To make matters worse, I’m flying to Chicago on Monday morning to meet with my editor for the first time and I really hate that Hazel is going to be part of that equation. I want to put my best foot forward and Hazel is likely to want to spout her views on politics and religion. Hazel might say those protesters on Wall Street might be better served to quit camping out and go try to make something of their lives. She might say that nice young fellow named Steve Jobs that just passed away (God rest his soul) didn’t change the world by sitting around crying and feeling entitled, but by using his brain to create some type of computer in his garage. IN HIS GARAGE. Can you even imagine such?

    And those iPhones? Hazel thinks part of the problem with the world today is everyone’s obsession with a phone that’s smarter than them. Who needs a phone that you can talk to? Back in her day if you wanted to talk to someone you joined a bridge club or brought a covered dish to the neighbors. Talking to a phone? NONSENSE.

    So I’m going to see about getting into the medical clinic down the street before my flight. I feel it would be best for everyone concerned if Hazel got some type of steroid shot or prescription cough medicine before she heads to Chicago.

    Hopefully I’ll be back to post an update tomorrow, but Hazel isn’t sure about bringing the computer along for the trip. Air travel has been hard enough since they quit serving lobster cocktail, letting you smoke, and make you take off all your clothes at security.

    No need to complicate things with a computer.

  • Fashion Friday: Edition our air conditioning is out

    Yes. It’s true. Our air-conditioning is out. On the bright side, it’s only the unit that cools our bedroom. Yet on the downside, we like to sleep in our bedrooms. And on another downside, the repairman had to order a part and told us our circuit board is dead. I’ll be honest, that doesn’t sound cheap.

    But I don’t want to let my personal A/C tragedy interfere with fashion.

    Also, I have to tell you two things that happened today that made me believe I might have some sort of sixth sense.

    First, I tweeted yesterday morning that Gap can’t even make clothes that look good on the models on their website anymore. And that doesn’t bode well for those of us who are normal. Then I read just a little while ago that Gap is closing a third of their stores nationwide.

    This comes as no surprise to me. I want to like Gap, I really do. Plaid walking shorts from Gap were a staple of my college wardrobe along with their side zip black skinny pants. But I can’t remember the last time I bought something there for myself. Dear Gap, where did it all go wrong?

    Secondly, I was dropping off a shirt at the drycleaners’ and was standing in line behind a man wearing a t-shirt that read, “I DRESS MYSELF”. I didn’t need the shirt to tell me that was the case because the fact he had on knee-high white socks with shorts told the whole story.

    Now for a few things I’ve found that you may or may not have some interest in knowing about.

    1. raking leaves striped asymmetrical cardigan

    I’m sure someday I’ll regret all the striped items I’ve accumulated in my closet over the last six months.

    2. coach tour dress in vert

    This is really cute, but it doesn’t really go with my life. I rarely wear dresses anymore because I just don’t. But if I were still working I’d totally buy this dress.

    3. brandee ruffle knit cardigan

    Love that this could just go on over a white t-shirt and some jeans.

    4. favorite lounge tee

    I’m always on the lookout for great pieces to layer under jackets or sweaters or just to wear on their own.

    5. tulle highlands wool peacoat

    I love a great camel-colored coat. So versatile.

    6. bb dakota zeke striped brown coat

    This has potential. I love the thought of it with skinny jeans and boots.

    7. two faced scarf

    Pretty scarf.

    8. taupe tribal top

    Love this top.

    9. mandarin navy jacket

    I thought this was really pretty.

    10. where there’s smoke dress

    Now I love this. Great with leggings or skinny jeans or tights with boots.

    That’s it for today.

    Hope y’all have a great Friday.

  • Our little elf

    Caroline was only a little over four months old when she celebrated her first Christmas. And naturally I felt like she needed some festive Christmas pajamas to mark the occasion so I bought her a pair that conveniently came with a little elf hat.

    Here’s my little elf on her first Christmas.

    Oh my heart.

    Those cheeks. And that expression. That’s the expression she made almost every moment of her first six months of life. Like she was an accountant in the middle of tax season. She was here to take care of business and had no interest in laughing at you or your silly bumblebee rattle.

    When I was out of town a couple of weeks ago, P texted me this photo of Caroline sleeping.

    That’s the same hat.

    Except she has now reached a level of sophistication that requires her to wear it as a hat/sleeping mask combo. Third grade can be exhausting and a girl needs her beauty sleep.

    Strangely, I find little comfort in knowing that her head hasn’t changed much in the last eight years because the rest of her is growing up way too fast.

  • And speaking of Spanish…

    Do you remember when I mentioned about two weeks ago that I’d gone to get a passport photo taken because my passport was about to expire? Not that I expect you to remember. I can barely recall it myself and it’s my life. But I do remember being kind of surprised that no one asked me why I needed a passport.

    I guess all my attempts to convey how glamorous my life really is have paid off. Of course I guess it’s obvious that a 40-year-old woman who spends an entire weekend by herself watching Season 1 of Army Wives on Netflix likes to live life in the fast lane.

    Well I Fedexed my passport renewal application, two new passport photos, and my old passport to the passport folks about two weeks ago. I assumed everything was fine until they called me on Monday to inform me that the State Department requested that I send in two additional passport photos.

    “But I sent in the required two passport photos. I’m the girl with the long hair who looks like she’s in the middle of asking ‘Where?'”

    They replied, “Yes ma’am. We received those photos but the State Department needs two additional photos.”

    “Why?”

    “We don’t know.”

    Okay. Thanks. That’s incredibly informative.

    So yesterday I went back to CVS to take yet another passport photo. I knew I was playing with fire to wear my hair back in a ponytail because I wore a ponytail in my original passport photo taken ten years ago and I have never looked worse. Ever. In fact, the bright side to this whole passport expiration has been the prospect of a better picture.

    I even wondered if the State Department needed an additional photo of me because the photo on my original passport was SO HORRIFIC that they didn’t believe the new photos I sent in two weeks ago depicted the same person. Maybe they thought there was some sort of international scam afoot involving an awkward girl with long hair who asks too many questions while getting her picture taken.

    But, thanks to yesterday’s passport photo retake, I can rest assured that Customs Officials everywhere will continue to be rendered speechless by the horror on my passport. Honestly, I don’t know that my self-esteem has ever taken a hit like the one it took yesterday when the lady at CVS handed me my new passport photos.

    The worst part is I walked in there feeling fairly good about myself. I had on makeup. And a cute jacket. It was the ponytail’s fault. Along with some unfortunate side-swept bangs that were too far to the side thanks to the humidity. In related news, my forehead is enormous.

    But (452 words later) none of that is important. What’s really important is why I suddenly need to have a passport.

    I’ve been invited to travel to Ecuador with Compassion International this November 7-12th. Needless to say, I am excited and scared and alternate between feeling like I can’t wait another minute to get my hands on those sweet Compassion kids and wanting to throw up. We’re going to spend a couple of days in Quito and then eventually make our way into the Amazon rainforest.

    Excuse me while I go throw up.

    Y’all. There are snakes there. And monkeys. Monkeys that aren’t in cages. And piranhas. Obviously Caroline is just sick that she’s not old enough to go with me because these things are her love language.

    But in spite of my fear and a lot of stepping outside my comfort zone, I am beyond excited to go on another Compassion trip. When I went to the Dominican Republic three years ago it changed a part of my heart forever. It humbled me and made me grateful in a whole new way. It also showed me that so many of us walk around in our first world comforts with a poverty of spirit these kids don’t have because they get that Jesus is everything. Not a new Wii or a fancy pair of boots.

    Humbling. Convicting. Life-changing.

    Shaun Groves and Patricia Jones will be our fearless leaders, along with our amazing photographer Keely Scott. The bloggers going in addition to me are Amanda Jones, Kelly Stamps, Ann Voskamp and Sophie.

    Y’all, there are so many times when I think about how silly blogging really is. I mean why do I feel like anyone cares that I started watching Army Wives this weekend? And that I can’t stop?

    But it’s moments like this when it all feels worth it. It’s about something bigger. It’s about these kids that could have so easily been forgotten but for Compassion International and their desire to give them hope and a future. My prayer is that you would follow our trip and consider sponsoring one of these kids if you haven’t already or even if you have. It doesn’t take much to change a life.


    So if you want to pray that the State Department approves my new, even more hideous photos, for safe travel and easy trip preparations, and that God would use our words to make a difference, it would be appreciated.