Gator Tales and Everyday Ramblings

No Tan Lines

2014-05-19T08:44:00.001-05:00

My Prince gave me two time options for hailing our cab. 5:15 or 5:30. I chose 5:30 thinking surely he wouldn't give me any unreasonable options.

He silently cringed from afar (South Texas) and booked the cab. Our flight was scheduled to leave ATX at 6:35.

When we arrived at the airport our sleepy excitement turned to concern. It appeared every (mother ducking) high school kid in Austin was standing in front of us in the security line. Literally 300 kids and their band instruments standing between us and paradise.

In fact, the Delta kiosk told us we were too late to check in. Vacation doomed...

A Delta employee named Kasey checked us in manually, grabbed our bags from us and wished us luck. Our plane was boarding in 20 minutes and we were looking at a 2 hour security line.

Chase looked around and jumped into the TSA pre-screen line. I stubbornly refused to join him, standing in the regular ol' plebeian line until he called me on the phone. He pleaded with me in front of all 300 people. He said that if we didn't attempt to cut to the front of that line with pre-screen, we were ABSOLUTELY NOT going to make Mexico. Kasey had already told us all of Delta's connecting flights were booked completely full, so missing our first flight meant missing Vacation Day 1 and missing our massages he had scheduled for the morning of Day 2.

Tragic shit man. I realized he was right. Worst case scenario we were going to get kicked out of the pre-screen line and we would still miss our flight, so I joined him and held my breath.

The TSA security lady was scary as hell. I knew she could smell my fear. I thought we had pulled a quick one over on her until she stamped our boarding passes and pointed a finger across the way. She was letting us cut the long line. She wouldn't however let us through the true pre-screen line without going through a scanner.

5 excruciating minutes later we were totally through security and bolting down the terminal. After passing the first 5 gates I was thinking, "Thank God I work out on the regular." After passing the next five gates I was thinking, "Holy hell. (Gasping for air.) I should consider running more sprints."

As the gap between us was growing, I kind of wondered if Prince Charming hadn't bumped my at the starting line. My mind wanted to find any excuse for my somewhat poor performance. But let's be serious. He has legs like a GD gazelle. We'll chock it up to those amazing legs and his sheer determination of will. Don't mess with that man's vacation.

We arrived huffing at our terminal to find Kasey, all the way from Delta's check in counter, waiting for us. Just like a creepy butler from a funny movie.

He kind of shook his head in surprise as if to say, "I didn't really think I would see you here."

He told us the Prince's bag got tagged in security so it was slower moving through. He hoped it would make it on time, but if not they would forward it to our final destination.

We shrugged our shoulders and wondered what could have caused the delay as we waited for our screaming adrenaline levels to drop from "Holy fuck, I'm having a stroke" to "We made it to Mexico, bitches!"

And then we vacationed happily ever after and all luggage was accounted for. The end.

EPILOGUE:

Best massage of my life. Super grateful we didn't miss it :)

We still have no idea why "his" bag got tagged. I just assumed little Bella dog had stowed herself away.

Well actually, I might have a pretty good idea... When we unpacked it was apparent that it had been MY suitcase that had been searched. And that's another story for a different day, on an anonymous blog.

The end.

Loving You, Loving Me

2014-04-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

Dedicated to my dearest Prince Charming with one tiny caveat. It's now somewhat required that I sing, "I'm not gonna write you a love song, 'cause you asked for it, 'cause you need one..."

Darling Prince
Loving you
Loving me
Fairy tales on demand
Warm hands
Touching my soul
Kisses that caress
Falling more deeply each day
Surprisingly strong
Finding you
Finding me
Daring adventures
New beginnings
Wild abandon
Fearless with you by my side
Bright eyes that only see perfections
Touch something deep inside
A leap of faith that feels like coming home
Safe, warm, exciting
My biggest fan and I'm yours
Love like I have never known
Absolute approval
Unimaginable happiness
Insufficient words to describe
My heart grows stronger with your love
A heart more mine than ever before
Your eyes are a mirror for hope, joy and forever
Forever and one day
Loving me
Loving you
My darling Prince

Life is Short: Live Your Dream and Wear Purple Hair

2012-09-23T07:09:00.001-05:00

...Or maybe it's, "Life is short, live your dream and wear your passion."

Ah, hell! All I know is this: While I was all hopped up on turning 32, I read the side of a Lu Lu Lemon bag that told me to "Do something every day that you're afraid of...."

AND THEN, I came home with a mane full of shockingly purple hair. Some might even dare to call it a purple fro. Whatevs.

It's glorious. And it's purple. Really, REALLY purple :)

I'm not going to lie y'all. I suffered a massive cardiac infarction at its unveiling and then I shotgunned a beer to calm my nerves. When that didn't do the trick I turned to tequila. Soon thereafter, I decided that my new purple do was rather delightful.

I was really hopeful things were getting better when I took my first few showers and purple streamed down the drain. Sure enough, its lightened into an even MORE fabulous shade of purple. Not a more subtle shade. Nope. Not really. Just more purple and less electric blue :) And I really do love it!

I've already survived half of a day in the office (terrifying) and meeting the bf's (OMG) parents. (Quite unfortunate timing and he wouldn't let me reschedule ;)

See! Purple hair has brought a WHOLE new meaning to facing one's fears... Or even better, my personal favorite, just plain avoiding them.

Yeahhhhhh, so... About that... I have a sneaking suspicion when Pops and Sister get wind of this my ass is totally grass :) But until then I say: Watch out world! I've got my sassy pants on AND I'm rockin' this purple hair.

.

Conversations with Sister

2012-09-13T16:51:00.001-05:00

I have a pretty fantastic Sister.... And I really wanted to start this blog by writing, MY SISTER IS BETTER THAN YOUR SISTER! But seeing as that might cause a fist fight or spark an ugly debate, let's skip all that :) Please rest assured though, she is truly a splendiferous Sister and you should all be envious. Moving on.

So this morning I received a phone call at 8 am from said wonderful big Sister. Which is truly a shocking and note worthy event in itself. Anyone that knows this incredible woman KNOWS she's not exactly a morning person. (Understatement y'all) In fact, before having the world's most wonderful chil'rens, anyone tempting to speak to said Sister before noon, would run the risk of losing life or limb.

...And they named me Gator. Ha! Sister, aka: Bobeara (heavy emphasis on the "bear") has always been a powerful force to be reckoned with.

Now then... Back to my story. Sister called this morning just to check in as we've been playing phone tag seemingly for weeks. Chil'rens safely deposited at their respective educational institutions she had exactly two spare moments to potty alone and call her most favorite little sister. It sort of sounded like she might have been fending off the attack of a 4 pound Poo-Frische pup (also known as a Bichon-Poo, I like the sound of Poo Freeze best), but she remained non-plussed. She's a cool customer. Ice water in her veins.

When I told her I was considering a few tasteful purple highlights in my hair to mark the end of my State Board season and as a celebration of completing the first 32 years of my magical life... I was met with silence on the other end of the phone. Poor Sister.

I said, "So I'm totally thinking about having a few purple highlights put in my hair next week. Do you think I should do a small snip underneath my bangs, or a small lock underneath near my neck? I mean... I'd really prefer a few feather extensions, but they're soooooo 2011."

SILENCE.

I giggled. "Silly question right? Because I can actually feel you cringing from 200 miles away."

Sister answered, "Weeeelllll. What will your patients think? What if something goes wrong?"

As visions of Rainbow Bright-esque purple fringe filled my head, I shook it off and said, "Eh. It'll be fine. They're all hippies anyway. Besides, it's Austin. I'm either getting a tattoo or purple hair. Pick your poison."

Dearest Sister immediately responded, "Oh God! Purple hair! I think purple hair will look GREAT, AND I can cut it off while you're sleeping... That tattoo might be a little tougher..."

So there you have it folks. Conversations with Sister. And THAT'S just ONE of the many reasons I love my Sister so much and have decided that she's way cooler than yours. Or at least more conservative. Cool AND Conservative. That's my girl!

So what do y'all think? Purple bangs? Purple underneath? Tattoo?? ;)

Lessons From My Magical Life

2012-09-09T07:19:00.001-05:00

I will be 32 in just a few short days... And I'm stoked! How things change.

I look back to where I was at age 29, as I was approaching the horizon of the Big 3-0, and I remember all the fears and self doubt I had. That startling realization that regardless of whether or not you've decided to participate, life keeps flying by. The: How can I already be 30? Where did time go? I don't want to be a grown up! I'm not satisfied with my fitness. How come I'm not more successful or farther along in life?

And then! I had the best 30th birthday imaginable, one of the best years of my life and time has shown me that my magical life is truly getting better every single day. I honestly had no idea my 30's would be so damned amazing.

Then I have to wonder why my 20's were such a struggle... Was it school? Yes. That was traumatic but only because my perspective was so much different. Was it the fear of beginning a career? Was it my fear of the big, wide world and all of its magic, its opportunities and the risk of failure? Of course.

I realize I was so unsure and unhappy because I thought life happened TO me. I was a passive, dreary passenger just along for the ride. I viewed happiness as something to be found or caught like a herd of wild horses. Something fleeting that slipped through my fingers. I had yet to discover that I get to manufacture my own happiness, I get to decide to follow my own passions and it's a choice I make to live each day joyously. It's my choice to shine.

And here I am! I wake up everyday with overwhelming gratitude. Overwhelming joy! I am finally living an absolutely charmed life. I have an amazing, fulfilling career. I have the best family and the most fantastic friends a girl could ask for. I have achieved a rocking level of health and fitness and I enjoy the opportunity to improve a little more each day. I truly am a success on so many levels because I am following my passions and doing something daily that brings me joy.

So cheers to living life happily. Hurray for 32! Now then, can someone please turn the volume down on that little voice of alarm that peeks through my sunshine occasionally? The one that speaks aloud my fears and doubts. Please tell her that I've totally got this. I plan to shine a bit brighter everyday and I fully commit to basking in the magic that I create while I participate in my fantastical, splendiferous, amazingly charmed life :)

All Good Things

2012-07-28T15:11:00.001-05:00

Well... Like they say. All good things must come to an end! But I don't believe that for one single minute ;)

I do know that my vacation in Paradise is coming quickly to a close. Today was our last full day. Tomorrow we leave our resort around 12 noon and we and fly out around 4. What ever shall we do with 4 hours to kill in Paradise, you ask? I have a sneaking suspicion we will browse for local wares, eat, drink and be merry. Arriving home sober would be an absolute travesty. I shall need all the liquid courage I can muster.

But enough of that! Today I joined the Adopt A Family Program after meeting the lovely Bradford's from Palm Beach, Florida. We paddle boarded and rode the hobie cat most of the morning before I left them to their own vacation.

Next I lounged on the bay until the urge to snorkel over took me. I was so busy practicing my Olympic free style stroke I didn't realize I had travelled about 500 million yards from shore. When I finally surfaced and looked for land I realized I had truly swam about 3-400 yards from my starting point, directly toward Puerto Rico. I suffered a small stroke because I could suddenly hear the theme song from jaws playing very loudly in my head. Listening to that sweet little soundtrack, I made it back to shore in less than 30 seconds. My heart rate was no less than 220 BPM until I could stand in the shallows. But most importantly, I swam with a sting ray this afternoon and an iguana strolled under my lounger. Awesome.

If I don't return, you can look for me here:

Captain McScreamy Pants and The U.S. Coast Guard

2012-07-27T20:03:00.001-05:00

Today was a long, magically fantastic day. And I'm pretty sure that's exactly how all these tales have started while I've been here in Paradise ;)

We took a boat across the Atlantic and played on huge boulders that are several millions of years old. We jumped off the top of a rock that was 20 feet above the ocean and received a glorious salt water nasal passage power washing. We snorkeled again in water so clear and blue that it makes most swimming pools look cloudy. Absolute paradise.

One of the highlights of our excursion was when the captain of our boat gave me the wheel after 2.25 rum drinks (surprisingly I was the one who'd been drinking). He then left me with these terrifically detailed instructions: "Just point her over yonder and keep her out of the rocks."

Heh. Crossing a little snip of the Atlantic is no joke y'all. The waves were big enough to rock our boat at angles that had me laying down sideways on the captains bench before tossing me back into an upright position.

I don't know about your driving experiences folks, but laying down never seems like a good idea while attempting to maintain a good hold of the wheel and your eyes on the horizon. The first time a wave like that hit our Pretty Penny I literally almost shat myself.

The other 11 passengers aboard The PP were instilled with the utmost confidence by my piercing screams. You know the kind. The really high pitched girly ones that can only be made when you are absolutely certain you will die. Yep. That happened. And then we all giggled the next 40 miles to shore. Most importantly I refrained from screaming for the rest of my captain experience as my good friend Mr. Atlantic Ocean decided to quit f$@#ing with me. Thanks.

On our way home from our fantastical voyage we got pulled over by the real life U.S. Coast Guard. The waves were really rough so we thought perhaps they were doing a sobriety check, but thankfully this time I wasn't driving.

After ensuring our paperwork was in order, the Coast Guard took their tiny tug boat and their Tommy Gun and let us go on our merry way. Seriously. They had a machine gun on the front of their boat. Annnnnd they also had about 4 guns strapped to each leg. Most importantly, they only looked to be about 12 years old. It made us all feel a little bit like we were getting stopped by the Coast Guard's after school program ;)

And here is todays cache of photos:

Mongeese gone wild

2012-07-26T20:40:00.001-05:00

Today was a terrifically fantastic day. Again :) I have been informed that the working world hates me this week, so I just smile and answer, "Yes, but the Universe loves me!"

We visited a beach today that's on the top 10 list of all the best beaches in the entire WORLD. No big deal.

We floated about for hours and then I snorkeled at an extremely high rate of speed until I thought my arms would fall off. Best part? I swam with a real live, honest to God, sea turtle. It was incredible.

She was having a snack of sea weed before we made eye contact. She then swam up and gazed deeply into my eyes. After sharing that special little moment, she rammed me with her entire body and bitch slapped me with her fins.

Just kidding. She really and truly did gaze deeply into my sexy snorkel mask before she paddled away at warp speed. She was so close I could have reached out and touched her sweet little nose!

I saw a tarpon that was half my size, a school of angel fish and many other less than remarkable fish.

As we were leaving we caught a whole dirty parcel of Mongeese scampering about and one particularly interesting character. As we stopped to take photos he jerked his tiny swim trunks down, hiked his leg, and started licking himself. We decided to send his picture to Discovery channel and recommend they start a new show. "Mongeese gone wild" would be WAY cooler than Swamp People. Just sayin.

Hammocks and Paddle Boarding

2012-07-25T20:13:00.001-05:00

So this morning found me awake and somewhat less than bushy tailed at 6:30 am here in Paradise... Which is 5:30 am Texas time y'all. Boo. I mean yay!

After I drank my morning cappuccino y double espresso I stumbled to the gym and ran a 7.38 min mile. Yay espresso! And then I hit the weights and did a wee bit of core. Go team.

I left the gym with jello for legs and signed on for a little paddle boarding action on the cove. I paddle boarded in the surf for about an hour... And let me tell you what friends: The waves here are legit holmes. Those waves made town lake in the great ATX look JUST like a little pussy cat.

It took me roughly 15 minutes to calm down, loosen up, and to start using my common sense. I discovered quickly that paddling diagonally across the waves was a far better plan than battling them directly head on.

The Caribbean took me down to my knees twice and once overboard before that (huge) little realization was made. Whatevs. Better late than never.

I'm a school of hard knocks, battle shit head on, kind a girl. Perhaps an important life lesson was learned today: Patience, tact and proper technique, like approaching an obstacle from the side rather than directly head on, MIGHT get you ahead a tiny bit faster in this life... Or something along those lines...

Oh! I know! If your stand up paddle board's nose or tail go under a wave, you most likely will do the exact same. (And it's awfully salty y'all.)

Eh. Lots of good shit happened out there today. Lots of good shit ;) Here are some pictures from today's 'lil slice of Heaven.

Most importantly!!! I'm blogging from a hammock RIGHT now, ON the beach bitches. My soundtrack is the surf rolling up gently on the sand and bar music playing softly behind me.

Goodnight and good day friends. I feel a nap comin' on :)

Daydreamer

2012-07-24T21:34:00.001-05:00

We had the longest and yet greatest day ever today!

There were multiple episodes of intoxication and a few naps aboard our lovely Catamaran we chartered for the day. I might have even taken a quick catnap during dinner... Whatevs. Don't judge me. YOU should drink 6 or (was it 7?) painkillers and a few beers over the course of a long sunny day and attempt to stay awake. I dare you :)

Oh! And check it out! Guess who got voted off the island the very first night here in Paradise for snoring? ...Yep. I'm afraid so... Check out my private bed in my own private living room ;) Boo yah, bitches! Boo yah ;)

A Charmed Life Indeed

2012-07-24T05:16:00.001-05:00

Day one in Paradise was a great success but I'm so excited for today's adventures (Day Two) that I can't sleep! We will take a lovely catamaran out for snorkeling and such :) The bad news... I can't take my phone! Argh! The horror! I'm already experiencing the shakes.

Here are a few more images from Day One:

The beach views are from my lounger I posted right up in the surf from approximately 10 am to 4 pm. Whew! Rough day of work! The delicious pictures that include the green gorgeousness were taken from our balcony.

We had a few ducks come over for a visit, an iguana that swam up right out of the ocean and one little Kitta strolled over for meal time. The kitta was quite friendly at lunch and and then a wee bit ballsy last night at dinner. I swear on something Holy, he waltzed right up and bitch slapped my hand demanding a bit of my steak. I was almost afraid to deny his wishes, so he had a bit of rib eye and swordfish. I have also decided I shall NOT try to kidnap him home to Texas. You have my promise, stand down and breathe easy.

After dinner we watched Happy Feet on a movie screen outdoors! It was set up between a gorgeous swimming pool, an ocean and a bar. Can you say Heaven? You could relax in a hammock, the pool, the hot tub or a regular old chaise lounge chair to watch said movie. A charmed life indeed!

Paradise Found

2012-07-23T10:50:00.001-05:00

The Universe is shining on me :) I won the vacation lotto. I well earned and much needed rest and trip for recovery. Inside and out. Outside in.

If you need me I will be doing a bit of meditating here in Paradise.

Rio 2016

2012-06-25T00:37:00.001-05:00

Well! I did it! I competed in my first sporting clays tournament this past weekend after a short four weeks of shooting sporting clays. I got the competition fever about 3 weeks ago when a friend jokingly said he was taking me to a competition. And now it's begun!

2 weeks ago I met my new shooting coach on a whimsy, while shooting skeet with LG. Rip is a National Champ from Connecticut and a mighty fine clays coach if I do say so my own self! We got to shoot together 3 glorious times before he left for a world tour of awesomeness, and before he left little 'ol me, lonely for instruction.

I was incredibly nervous about this tournament so I spent the last week eating lots of carbs and shooting every moment I wasn't in the office. So nervous, in fact that I may have shot something like 600 clays in a 4 day period. Whatevs. Who needs life savings? Listen. I've totally got your back if we have a zombie apocalypse, and then what good would that life savings do you anyway? Exactly.

Moving on. Out of 76 shooters I placed higher than about 15 people. Perhaps maybe they were blind or wheel chair bound... But whatever. You've got to start somewhere and I've officially started. Out of the 5 women shooters I placed fifth. A most excellent showing and exactly where I thought I'd be for my first competition. I would have placed 4th had a broken 7 more birds. I would have taken 3rd if I had broken 10 more birds! All in all I was quite pleased with myself. Mostly because I didn't once think about throwing up (a real concern) and secondly because I had an absolute blast!

Now then! I have exactly 2 weeks or 9 days of practice before my next tournament. (Not that I'm counting or anything...) And this time... This time, I'm taking home a trophy.

Next on my list: The Olympics. Rio 2016 :-)

Escape to Galvatraz

2012-05-13T07:34:00.001-05:00

Friday morning found me awake at the crack of dawn, last minute panic packing for what was forecasted to be a typhoon weekend in Galveston.

Every, single, time I head to the coast a monsoon ensues. I have single handedly discovered how to end the drought in Texas. My fellow Texans: You. Are. Welcome!

As I raced toward the office for my super early day (that would be 8 am sharp :) my truck started to shake and shimmy. Panic welled up in my soul as I was JUST thinking how fantastic it would be if my darling truck coughed and seized up mid trip, somewhere along the 200 mile hike to Galveston. I immediately called Yost Automotive and scheduled my drop off, the deciding factors being: A) They would shuttle me to and from work, and B) They are located within 2 miles of my office.

Yost was fantastic! They got me all fixed up in a jiffy (spark plug and coil failure) and let's just go ahead and throw it out there... They're also REALLY good looking. When the dream boat mechanic picked me up from the office around noon, he asked what kind of shooting I've been doing.

I was all like, "What gave me away?"

His reply, "Uh, it was definitely the two CASES of shotgun shells in your front seat."

Riiiiight... So after discussing the merits of 20 gauges versus 12 gauges, the pros and cons of the over and under versus the semi-auto, he totally asked me on a Skeet shooting date. Yep. That happened.

After an excellent save by Yost, I raced to College Station to meet the Cake Boss before driving on toward the coast. We had many encouraging texts along the way from our island sponsor and the love of our life, Little Tiny Tinsley.

Some of the good ones included:

"Good morning you magnificent bitches! Let me know your progress through the day. Weather is shitty down here so be careful!"

"Hahah! So you guys have planned to leave so you get stuck in Houston traffic again.... Good job. Stay on the beltway this time!"

To which we immediately ignored her advice. Thus we got stuck on 610 in hella traffic, made 18 pit stops due to the mass quantities of Cerveza the co-pilot was drinking (me) and randomly ran into a gorgeous friend from high school at the mall (pit stop # 16). All in all, fantastic trip. The best part? NO RAIN!

We met the Clam (MKT, Screaming Eagle, The Kid, Dirty D and Tiny) for fantastic chow at Luna's in the Friendly Wood, before kickin' it at the casa of MKT and the Cap. Sadly we missed the Cap as he was a workin.'

Saturday morning Dirty D, the host with the most, cooked our bleary faces some breakfast tacos while Tiny took Pooch Number Two to the vet. Poor Seamus had been coerced to eat a rawhide bone before he decided swallowing it whole was the most efficient way to accomplish that task. His sad face and constant whining won him a free round trip ticket to the radiology department. Apparently he was only deficient in vitamin X, as a good dose of irradiation fixed his sad self right up. Diagnosis: colic. Annnnd no more rawhides for that little dummy. The end.

After breakfast, Cake Boss and I busted out a Crossfit WOD with Tiny before we headed out to jog the beach. It was fantabulous. And hot. And then poor Cake Boss sent me this text, mid jog: "Break my window and hot wire my truck. Come get me. I'm dying."

But we survived and we also took some fab photos.

Disclaimer: I'm using a new blogger app for my smart phone... So I have NO IDEA where those photos will post... Or how to move them about. So please enjoy the randomness!

Saturday afternoon we packed up Dirty D's truck and headed to the West Side (insert gang sign) of Galveston Beach. We soaked up some sand and sun and generally shot the shit. We finished our day with burgers, Bloody Mary's and a little Ben and Jerry's. Eh. What can I say? Ben and Jerry's happens to the best of us :-)

Now then. Cake Boss and I have one more jog to conquer and this time
I'm taking the love of my life, Russell B. Frio Dawg with us. I enjoy a good drag first thing in morning!

We're hitting' the road early today so we can get back in time to celebrate our wonderful Mothers.

I sure hope you all had as great of a weekend in your respective parts of the world. And please, remember to call your Mothers!

An Exercise in Love

2012-05-10T17:40:00.000-05:00

This past week I finally pushed through a shit pile of resistance and joined a women’s coaching group hosted by a dear friend of mine who is an amazing life coach. You can check out her fantastic work here: Kayla Burns Floyd.

Once I agreed and jotted the date down on my calendar, it was shockingly easy. Like floating through light, fluffy clouds instead of trudging up this muddy stream of shit I had created in my mind. It really took no effort at all. I just had to be willing.

Frankly, I had also run flat out of excuses. Kayla may have also looked me directly in the eye and told me point blank to get my ass there.

Whatevs. Something worked. And I am so grateful am I that I was finally brave enough to say yes.

The format for this meeting was self love and self nurturing. Whoo whee! Well isn’t that some deep shit homies? And how appropriate were these topics as I embark on my newest journey of singledom?

If you are anything like me, self deprecation comes much to easy and this self love mumbo jumbo is a wee bit more difficult to get your mind around.

In fact, I feel as if I’ve spent the majority of my life looking for love and nurturing from my significant other, my fuzzy little critters, my friends, my family and my God. I have looked high and low for something to fill my emptiness, something to patch my insides, meanwhile forgetting that first and foremost I am ALLOWED to love myself. Did you know we are allowed to say kind things to ourselves and nurture our own happiness? Yep. That’s a true story folks.

After our group ended we were each asked what we were able to take away from the evening.

Right then I set an intention to write myself a love letter like Kayla had shared with us. Instead of looking for love in all the wrong places, I plan to start practicing some self love. Like right now. Or between playing golf and shooting skeet… And in between my polo lessons and work. ;-)

Here it goes:

Dearest Gator,

I will always love you. Just like your most favorite dog. Even more than that, and you know that’s a whole helluva lot. I will always be by your side. You will never be alone. I will always have a warm embrace waiting for you. I will always be your bestfriend.

I will encourage your silliness and your happiness. I will encourage your dreams and indulge your desires. I will give you a gentle nudge when you get stuck in fear or hesitation. I will hold you close every night and kiss your forehead gently before you close your beautiful eyes. I will never, ever leave you.

My heart shatters when you are sad or lonely because I am always here for you. I will do my best every day to brighten your world, to make you smile. You have the most beautiful smile. I wish that you may never quit smiling, not even for a moment.

I want to grow old with you. I absolutely can’t wait to see where this magical life shall next lead. I will walk hand in hand with you across beaches and down sidewalks. I want to spend the rest of our life eating delicious ice cream cones and capturing sunrises and sunsets together. I will always be right here, just for you.

Gator, I am so incredibly proud of you! You could never disappoint me. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. Trust in that. Trust in you. I will always keep you safe in my loving embrace. Keep shining my love.

Sister Love!

Living Out Loud

2012-05-10T16:56:00.000-05:00

I moved into my new place February 17^th and began “borrowing” internet from my neighbor until approximately the end of March… Before he grew wise, secured his network and I began living a somewhat quiet life without cable and without internet. The hell! The Agony!

With nothing but time, time, time on my hands… I’ve taken up a few new hobbies. Drinking, dancing and cavorting being the most predominate.

But I have also fallen in love with this little lady whom I’ve named Lucy:

Isn't she just darling?

So thus I’ve begun spending a large portion of my time shooting shit.

If you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend it. It’s incredibly empowering and super LOUD. When you live in the oldest barrio in Tejas it’s nice to have a little Lucy sleeping beside you. Or right under your pillow. Whatever your preference.

Owning a handgun has also brought me and my Pops a bit closer. My new gun enthusiasm has also sparked some mighty interesting conversations. Pops was at Academy a few weeks ago picking up shells for the range and he called to ask what I was shooting. When I asked him to grab me some 38 special + P, he texted me back to say, “No baby. We already discussed this. Those are for shooting INSIDE the house!”

Oh, yes… Yes, of course! What was I thinking? (He wants me to keep a better class of ammo for home protection rather than blasting the expensive stuff all willy nilly on the range. And I send up prayers on the regular to the Sweet Baby Jesus in the sky that I never have to actually shoot inside my house. But, if I must, that I’m an accurate shot. Amen.)

Pops and I were at the range testing out a new assault rifle when he confidently informed me that the AR 15 is the leading gun for home protection. “Oh really?” I asked skeptically. (Eyebrows raised. Insert crazy face.) “Where do you think we live Pops? This isn’t exactly the fucking Congo.” To which he just smiled and shook his head before gently placing the little beauty that is the AR 15 into my hands.

Although the gun range has proven beneficial for dad and daughter bonding, I’ve also decided that it’s a fantastic place for dates. First dates or otherwise. I’ve come to the realization that all women should be armed while out on dates, but mostly I just need someone to pull for me while I shoot skeet.

One of my friends brought this little fella out to the range a few months ago and I fell hook, line and sinker… I am in LOVE with shooting clays.

Browning Citori Over and Under Shotgun

I need to buy stock in Academy and/or McBride’s with the amount of shopping I’ve been doing there recently. I'm trying to practice shooting skeet once or twice a week, ever since my most favorite brother in law in the whole wide world loaned me this little lady:

Remington 780 Single Pump Shotgun

Her name’s Stella.

I had my first skeet shooting lesson last week and what can I say folks? I’m kind of a rock star. It appears that I managed to inherit a fair share of my Pops’ eye hand coordination along with his hypoglycemia and fantastic temper. Yay!

Did I mention I managed to break DOUBLES with Stella, my single action pump shotgun? Yep. I sure did. Boo yah bitches. Boo yah. My tee-tiny instructor may have also told me that I have great natural eye hand coordination and that it was really fun to coach somebody that can actually break clays. Wahoo! I almost tackled her with a joyous bear hug because I could hardly contain the enthusiasm that was bursting from my insides. But don’t worry, I totally managed to keep my cool. Instead I settled for a little jumping, yelling and fist pumping. Like I said, I was totally cool.

And that’s what’s a happening in my happy little world. How goes it in yours?

Tangled and Shiny

2012-03-20T00:08:00.000-05:00

Big changes have been afoot. Huge. I’ve had an impossible time finding a way to write about my newest adventures and thus have not been able to write at all.

My life and emotions have been nothing short of tangled. Have you seen that movie?

The Disney movie Tangled? The one they actually got right?

There’s a terrific scene where Rapunzel has just escaped her tower. She is dancing around the forest flitting from exuberance over her new found freedom and then she is overwhelmed by fear because she has decided to leave all that she has ever known… The anguish of hurting someone she loves so dearly almost drives her home.

And that’s pretty much where I find myself these days. The last few months. Tangled.

Rapunzel says, “I can't believe I did this,” in disbelief.

“I can't believe I did this!” with exuberance.

“Mother would be so furious.”

“That's OK though, I mean what she doesn't know won't kill her,” she says with hope in her voice.

“Oh my gosh. This would kill her,” back to anguish…

And then joy, “This is so fun!”

“I, am a horrible daughter.”

“I'm going back.”

“I am never going back!”

“I am a despicable human being.”

“Woo-hoo! Best. Day. Ever!”

And then she begins sobbing.

After spending the last 9 years together with JS, I find myself single. A joint decision that has us starting over. Again. Separate. Shiny. New.

A bit tangled and yet full of hope.

I am overwhelmed with emotions. There aren’t enough words to describe my gratitude to JS, who has been my very best friend. There are no words adequate enough to describe the sadness. No words to explain my excitement for the future, my fears, my joy.

Each day is a new adventure. When I wake up tangled I remind myself to trust my heart. Trust in my decisions and trust that the Universe will get me and JS exactly where we need to be. Exactly where we want to go.

I remind myself that I am the director of this fairy tale. This new life is mine to create and I am choosing to be hopeful and to shine.

Beach Time: Birthday Bonanza at the Beef House

2012-01-16T11:20:00.000-06:00

WAHOO! A wonderful weekend recapped in pictures.

Our trip to Surfside began on Friday in October with a looooong drive down to the Texas coastline.

Bad Ass Beach Casa.

Photo credit: MKT

She's a real beaut!
Photo credit: SRT

The weekend had a long and colorful cast of characters:

Tiny Birthday Girl

Photo Credit: MKT

Dirty D. The birthday girl's other half.

Photo Credit: MKT

MKT and the Captain.

Wee Show Pony and JoJo Killer.

Photo credit: MKT

Sweets, aka Cake Boss.

Photo credit: MKT

Supernova Surprise.

Photo credit: MKT

Mrs. Crawfish and Homer.

Stolen from facebook.

The Golden Boy and Uncle Supernova (again.).

Photo Credit: Jojo

The Kid. She's kind of magical.

Photo credit: SRT and stolen from Facebook.

JS.

Photo credit: MKT

Friday Night Lights.

Photo Credit: MKT

One Gator. Toasted.

Photo Credit: SRT

The Little Queen.

Photo credit: Jojo

And last but not least: A family of Squidbillies.

Photo credit: MKT

Our Friday night began with BIG burgers and booze.

Photo credit: Jojo

Captain almost burned the cottage down with his bonfire on the grill however, the magnificent burgers were well worth it. JS was a great grilling supervisor and sidekick until Dirty D arrived. Then the two of them bravely kept the Cap company next to his roaring flames. We also enjoyed a fair amount of cold wind and delicious cupcakes...

Photo credit: Jojo

Photo Credit: Cake Boss

And there were snacks galore.

Unsanctioned snack activities.
Photo Credit: Jojo

Saturday found me awake bright and early to enjoy a special morning moment with Cap. He actually said, "Good morning," instead of making his usual grunting noises like in the past when I have suggested that indeed the morning was fine.

Sunrise at Surfside, TX.

I laced up my sneakers and took a long jog toward South America (according to Cap's directions) and Cap positioned his beach chairs and poles for a little fishing. I made it down to Surfside proper before I realized my goal of reaching South America by foot in one morning was likely unobtainable. After cursing my early morning ambition that found me so far from home, I re-jogged my path back to the house at a much slower pace.

I got home just in time for a delightful breakfast feast of savory sausage balls and eggs, after which my newest friend Cap and I began sharing a mornin' drank. A game of horse shoes quickly ensued.

Photo Credit: SRT

A guest arrived midday, much to the birthday girl's surprise.

Surprise!

Photo credit: MKT

Supernova scared the ever lovin' shiz out of us. Or at least myself. I suffered a small stroke and perhaps a tiny tinkle when he leapt from the dunes.

After Tiny's Supernova Surprise we wound down the day lounging atop the hot tub, creating punkin master pieces, shooting the breeze and awaiting the promise of crawfish pies.

There was a general theme throughout the evening that involved lots of dancing:

Lots of forced love and affection:

Pumpkin Carving:

Bottoms up:

And a wee bit of gayness:

Jojo made the most magnificent margaritas that left us all goofy and giggly.

Photo Credit: Jojo

The deadly Jo-Ritas and a few shots of Grand Marnier inspired this fantastical afternoon pattern combination.

Photo credit: Jojo

Don't judge me. Plaid, polka dot and floral are in, bitches. Did I mention the Jo-Ritas were deadly?

Do work son.

Photo Credit: Jojo

Next up, about dark 30, Mrs. Crawfish whipped us up some fine eats. There was great concern (on my part) that she was never going to cook dinner but it was well worth the wait. She made some amazingly delicious cheesy crawfish concoction, and then folded it all up into a pastry crust and baked 'em. She fittingly calls these little delights crawfish pies.

OMG people. You CAN'T. EVEN. IMAGINE. How freaking amazing these things are. I told Homer to watch his back (her husband). I would like very much to live with this woman for the rest of my LIFE. I ate like 10 crawfish pies by my ownself... And I didn't want to share any food with Friday Night Lights, thus I became a hostile (still somewhat intoxicated) crazy crawfish pie guarding lunatic, when those poor boys arrived. They arrived mid-feast and I'm pretty sure I told the biggest one that his football scholarship to Harvard was lame... I could ABSOLUTELY die of shame. My sincere apologies. I shall forever blame it on the insanity that was my crawfish pie and Grand Marnier addled brain. I'm not going to lie. I was roughly, two very small sips away from Mexico-swimming-pool-wrestling level of intoxication. For all the members of JS's family that were there for that little incident, (Hi, Momma of JS!) you can imagine what state I was in. Heh.

Moving on... Oh the SHAME!!! For real this time. Sorry T. You kind of rock and we are all SO PROUD OF YOU. Annnnd I'm over it...

Later that same evening there was a significant amount of dancing in the dark, hot tub tomfoolery and general drunk and disorderly conduct. I passed out roughly around 10 pm and missed the most spectacular pieces, thus all of those little secrets are safe from the blog-o-sphere. And a collective sigh of relief is heard around the world.

Unfortunately, I did not go to bed before the following was captured:

Sexy lobster dancing.

Photo credit: MKT

Proof that I don't really detest the Captain.

At least not after a full bottle of Grand Marnier ;)

Photo credit: MKT

Surprisingly, Sunday morning I woke feeling exactly like wholly hammered dog shiz and thus decided I should indeed take a quick little jog to Florida. It was just what the doctor ordered. I probably sweated out the Grang Marnier and deadly Jo-Rita's 'round about mile four, but the crawfish pie was not to be shaken. I arrived back at the beach house to find the hot tub junkies at it again. True story: Brown hot tub bubbles did not slow this group down even a little, and thus had me questioning if anyone was actually sober.

Whatevs. To each their own. We wrapped up our marvelous celebratory weekend with a quick clean and dash. MKT is THE hostess with the MOSTEST, and she is welcome to come ~~clean~~ stay at my home anytime she likes! Why must good times always come to an end, friends?

This weekend made me realize that I may love Texas beaches as much as any foreign beach I've ever visited and thus the search for a beachy home begins. Let's work that into my 5 year plan. Stat.

Now then.

Let's make this trip happen again next year. Better yet. Let's do it again next month. Life needs more festivus.

Happy 30th Birthday Tiny! You did it up RIGHT.

Parting Shots:

Rampant beach graffiti

Such a pretty kitty.

You should always sleep with one eye open.

Float and Talk

2011-10-16T14:14:00.001-05:00

Sorry about the tardiness of this post friends. I forgot that I hadn't finished it. My bad. Senility is a real biotch.

July 2011 found us rockin' it old school at the Goosinheimer Haus.... Or maybe it was the Waffle Haus... Oh look, it actually says:

Photo Credit: MKT

Riiiight, anyways:

I joined the infamous Tinsley-Gardner Clam (plus friends) in New Braunfels for a weekend of merrymaking. MKT found us this fab little German Haus (sleeps roughly 80) and we did it up right. Bonus track: We had our very own bar a mere 10 feet up our driveway AND our Haus came equipped with critter pens. Next time we shall properly prepare by bringing our own livestock.

Riley's is the place.

Photo Credit: MKT

Brother Juan and I were the first to arrive on that glorious Friday. Juanito had found himself earlier in the day held in the lap of a lovely lady at the Yellow Rose Cantina. Thus he was starry eyed and boozy when I slid my bar stool up next to his at Riley's. We busied ourselves before the rest of of our crew arrived by exploring the Haus, chatting up the locals, quenching our parched throats and dining on the local fare. We devoured some bad ass burgers from this place:

Happy Cow indeed. I'm sad to say we missed

the Belt Sander Races but the fare was fine.

Juanito shares some smooches at the Hog Haus.

Nap time for young Harry Potter. That's a legit claw foot tub y'all!

Annnnd I'm pretty sure it came with it's own ghost. *shivers*

Dancing Juan. Disturbed.

Photo Credit: STR

Fabulous hair piece. Frightful dancing.

Haus of Chicken.

Photo Credit: MKT

Perhaps a safer option than it's indoor haunted counterpart.

Photo Credit: MKT

Always an admirable endeavor.

Photo Credit: MKT

No Farm Haus is complete without it's very own windmill.

Photo Credit: MKT

The neighbors. Come and knock on our door...

We'll be waiting for yooouuuu!

Photo Credit: MKT

Juanito and I were napping off our early afternoon booze fest when the rest of the gang started trickling in. We had 12 people total and procured not one single group shot. Shame. As with all Tinsley-Gardner shindigs we partook of the traditional shooting of the shit, washer olympics and general making of merryness.

For this particular trip, chalk art was also in order.

Photo and Art Credit: MKT

Half Baked Gator illustrated by Gator

Photo Credit: MKT

Squatch Country: Before the Addition of Genitalia.
Illustrated by JG

Photo Credit: MKT

All sermons were held here.

Photo Credit: MKT

Supernova doing work. He took a time-out from washers
to model his Crazy Bird.

Photo Credit: STR

Juanito steals a bike.

Photo Credit: MKT

The Tinsley Clam

Photo Credit: Dirty D

Do you guys hear that train?

The Clam in action.

The Roberts

Photo Credit: MKT

Juanito and Supernova at rest between washer matches.

Photo Credit: MKT

Just a swangin'

Photo Credit: MKT

Saturday found me and Tiny Tinsley up rather early and ready to get our Crossfit WOD on.

...Warning: Mother, just go ahead and quit reading. Skip on down past this next paragraph....

But first we took a death defying bike ride down a logging road. I was jammin' to my ipod in preparation for the Girl Talk concert later the same day while simultaneously trying NOT to crap my pants every time an eighteen wheeler rolled by. After our ride Tiny said she couldn't tell if I was singing or screaming out in fear. I told her it was most certainly a good combination of both.

Post Crossfit WOD our group scampered about the Haus too long on Saturday and we kind of blew our opportunity to float, as it's a very timely endeavor. Thus we decided to kick it riverside instead.

Horseshoe hotties.

Photo Credit: SRT

The Cap at work.

Photo Credit: SRT

Which was probably for the best. Floating the river makes for a long day of drinking. There is simply nothing else to do when you are trapped for hours in an inner tube. Besides pee on yourself. True story.

Lounging riverside allowed for us to chillax, keep an eye on a large number of drunkards and collect stray beers that escaped less fortunate floaters. There must have been a decent set of rapids above us on the Whitewater Horse Shoe as Dirty D, Supernova and The Cap collected at least a 6 pack of assorted cold beers and a flask of whiskey. MKT was super pumped about the whiskey and who can blame her?

After we got cleaned up, (read: We changed in our cars and most definitely flashed some folks. You're welcome) we waited in line like forever to secure front row spots for Girl Talk.

Front row, bitches!

Photo Credit: SRT

Lemme just point out the obvious. If you are not a person that is fond of drunk people in their pre-20's elbowing and jostling all the good right out of your soul, then you've got no business on the front row of any concert... Unless it's like a Stevie Nix show or something. Or Cher... Celine Dion might also be safe. But then again, I reckon even those broads have a few hardcore fans of their own.

Can you picture Pops Tinsley elbowing his way to the front of a Fleetwood Mac concert rocking his ZZ Top beard? Yes. Yes you can.

Back to my point. I'm not sure why it takes all of us several repeat front row attempts before it's realized once again that we're all getting too old for this shiz, man. Not too old to enjoy a really great concert, but much too old to take crap from a drunk baby and then not give that same baby a well deserved black eye.

The bleachers were made for people like us. People with short fuses and an innately low tolerance for stupid shenanigans other than our own.

Bright Light Social Hour.

Photo Credit: SRT

Spitting image of Jesus rockin' short, shorts.

Photo Credit: SRT

Greg aka Girl Talk. He was stoked about being outside in "Austin."

Photo Credit: SRT

Mesmerized by a glow stick, brought to you by Red Bull and Vodka.

Photo Credit: SRT

Magical confetti drop.

Photo Credit: SRT

This is completely normal.

Another side effect of living life on the front row.

Photo Credit: SRT

Raptor Dancing, another Tinsley Clam Ritual.

Inspired by good times and good music.

Photo Credit: MKT

All in all, Float and Talk was another smashing success!

And y'all be sure to stay tuned folks. Little Tiny Tinsley celebrates her Big 3-0 in less than 10 days and the Tinsley-Gardner Clam will be burning it down at the beach house.

Now then! If you haven't already done so, join the 21st Century and download your free Girl Talk tunes HERE.

Parting shot:

Incredible detail, Cap. Incredible.

Photo Credit: MKT

Utah Part Two: Baby Girl Gets Married At The Draper Temple

2011-10-02T23:19:00.000-05:00

Saturday September 24th 2011 found us all awake at the butt crack of dawn to join G on her Holy Day of Matrimony.

Naturally Nina, Dub and I were late (Dub's fault and also the theme for our ENTIRE trip) which somehow worked in our favor ;)

Because we are not members in good standing (or otherwise) with the Church of Latter Day Saints, we immensely enjoyed the magical weather and spectacular views outside the Temple while another family member took over our duties.

We were supposed to babysit G's utterly darling and super duper rambunctious nephew, as well as her 10 day old baby niece, but alas 'twas not meant to be. (Dub's fault, just in case you forgot.) There also may have been a large amount of traffic to blame... Whatevs.

You're WELCOME G! We were so glad we could help!

No, seriously... So sorry my sister. Our bad. (Mostly Dub's)

Brevan the Wonder Boy sure loves his Aunt G!
Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

Baby Chloe. Dee-licious in her sweet little dress!
Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

After running around like a harlot without a jacket to cover my shoulders, pointing and waving at all the beautiful Mormons entering and exiting the Temple and then trying to capture silly pictures with the Golden Trumpeter that MAY or may NOT have been Joseph Smith affixed to the top of the Temple... G, Hobs and the beautiful fam finally exited the building and the professional photog had her way with us.

Gorgeous, right? But seriously...
Who is that guy on top of the Draper Temple?
Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

Oh! Oh! MOST IMPORTANTLY I got to drive the BLACK SS CAMARO that Hobs had rented on the behalf of his blushing bride! (Which immediately made the guy a'ight in my book. And he may not have actually given me permission to drive his car. But I drove it when he wasn't looking and enjoyed every single second of it.)

There were actually a few minutes when I considered hitting the road and never looking back but I decided against it only because it was G's big day... Had it been any other day this story totally would have ended with "Adios Muchachos" and squealing tires. Just sayin'.

There also would have been fabulous pictures of me driving that sexy beast of a car captured via Nina's camera, which is also known as 'The Vault' however, she flat refused to take any... Something about people were watching and I was stealing a car. Buzz kill.

But I think we can all imagine the glory...

A little bit of this...

Yeah, baby!

And a little bit of that...

Any who, after I enjoyed my 60 seconds of delight I turned over the keys and we headed north to Park City for more pictures. We found ourselves freakishly famished and delighted at the opportunity to look pretty amidst some of the most gorgeous countryside ever seen.

Follow the light my friends!
The tunnel under the highway that led to the farm.

Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

The beautiful and resourceful Kami swatted down a hubcap
sized tarantula as it was crawling up Elizabeth's leg.
...End photo shoot.

I was totaly in looove with Missy Allen, the worlds greatest photog until she suggested that we should all drive back to Salt Lake City to eat lunch, which resides about 40 minutes south of where we were standing in Park City. At 2 pm. When our last meal had been eaten at 8 am. She was afraid we'd get stuck behind traffic from a bike race... And I was afraid I was going to have to eat the photographer. Thus her slightly insane/ thoughtful suggestion was politely ignored and we raced the wrong way (my bad) toward Squatters Pubs and Beers. Yuuuuuuuuuuum.

Oh happy glorious day! Dub came as close as I've ever seen him to an actual melt down before we arrived at the restaurant. He stubbornly refused to eat a protein bar based on his account that the protein bar in question tasted just like a roofing shingle. A roofing shingle? Really? But we all survived, the fab photog included and then we raced our separate ways back to SLC for speed naps.

After speed naps we performed an abbreviated version of our beautification routine and joined G and Hobs at their spectacular wedding reception.

Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

The reception was hosted by Hobs' gorgeous Aunt and her lovely family. It was truly paradise. I could not get over how amazing the grass was! Gardens? What gardens? I was too busy rubbing my face on the oh, so sweet and amazingly green grass to notice any gardens.

Carpet or grass? You be the judge.
Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

One of the highlights of the reception, besides catching up with old friends and visiting with all the wonderful new friends we made over the weekend, was the photo booth. Just in case you were wondering... This is how sobber people have fun y'all ;) Although by the look of those cayuuute boys... I'm not sure everyone was sobber. I knew they were holding out on us!

Fab, fab family!

Blame it on the punch.

Cutest Sister and Brother in Law ever.

And a SMOOCH for Papa G.

All photo booth photos are courtesy of Jim Beam and Missy Allen Photography.

Oops! I meant Jen Dean and Missy Allen.

Sadly I knew my fantasy weekend had come to an end when my pilot announced on my return flight, "Welcome to Texas Folks. It's still hot and dry without any chance of rain, just in case you were wondering."

When the shuttle bus driver gave us an honest to God, "Welcome home y'all," a little tear escaped from my eye.

I realized that a combination of our never ending Texas heat and a bit of starvation makes me crankier than a momma mongoose at feeding time. And yahoos that talk too loudly, among other things...

So, until we meet again... Au revoire my lovelies and CONGRATULATIONS!

Photo courtesy of Missy Allen Photography

48 Hours In Utah

2011-09-25T21:59:00.000-05:00

McPolin Farm Park Cities, Utah

Wowzers! My trip to Utah to celebrate the nuptials of my home girl G Money began bright and early Friday morning... 1:45 am, 2:38 am, 3:41 am to be exact, and I finally just pitched in the towel around 4:40 am... My alarm was set for 5:30 am. Boo internal rooster. I hear this is what happens as you get older, however my pounding heart indicated that it wasn't merely old age at work. I was getting espresso sized shots of cortisol roughly every hour after midnight. Neat trick Mr. Adrenal Gland. Neat. Trick.

Friday morning at Austin International Airport is a busy, busy, busy time. I almost had to push down a posse of college boys sporting Lutheran College shirts cuz they were so GD slow in the breakfast taco line. Momma was hungry. And tired. Which means Momma was a hair's breadth away from killin' folk. I was about to put the beat down on those choads until I realized I could order at the little computer kiosk. Awesome. And thus I was saved from being tackled by TSA and possible assault charges. No one got bitten 'cept the most delicious bacon, egg and cheesy breakfast sammie. Ever. Yum.

I flew Delta which was the first time since I can recall. Potentially the first time ever. It was a tee-tiny fast as F-word mama jama. I somehow managed to pack 3 pairs of sandals, 1 pair of heels (gasp), a pair of winter boots, 2 dresses, 2 pairs of jeans, 2 cuteashell sweaters, 1 swim suit, 2 pairs of shorts, 2 t-shirts, jammies, a gallon sized plastic bag of tiny toiletries AND my blow dryer in one red carry-on bag plus a bulging backpack. Boo yah, bitches. Boo yah. Yes, it may have weighed approximately 50 pounds combined but it was still FREE, so there ;)

I got a 'lil pink tag for my red roly bag when I scanned my ticket at boarding and then a fella (I'm almost CERTAIN he said he was our PILOT) took it from me and stored it under our plane... (Still free!) I hope Delta pays their pilots extra for these little luxuries. It made me smile to myself and I thought out loud to the gentleman behind me as I'm often apt to do, "Well... That's neat. I wonder if it makes him fly more safely because he's seen all of our smiling faces?"

Verdict says: No. Or since we didn't crash, I guess he was flying safe... Any who, all I could picture on take off (other than stuffing a dirty gym sock in the mouth of the woman 2 ROWS behind me that we shall now refer to as the OVER SHARER) was his long curly, well groomed hair gently waving in the breeze of the pilots cabin as the g force from our 10 second take off plastered the rest of us passengers to our seatbacks. Just as we had almost reached cruising 'tude he banked East so hard we saw all of Austin at a stunning 45 degree angle and the chick sitting next to me almost got to see what I ate for breakfast. That take off was legit y'all.

Austin Aerial. Stolen from the internet here:
www.dipity.com/tickr/Flickr_austin_in_tx/

Back to the in-cabin fiesta. As I was trying to sit in my seat upon boarding, the flight attendant walked up behind me and NEVER SLOWED down. Like my backpack is in the aisle. I'm trying to sit in my seat simultaneously while trying to shove a 30 pound back pack into a 10 pound bag alcove in front of my feet. I was trying to lift my feet that had somehow become tangled in the arm straps of the same damn (but really well packed) backpack and Godzilla was like PUSHING me. I almost had to hit a sister. No, truthfully I almost asked her if she wouldn't just prefer to jump over. About 5 minutes later she paid me back for my dawdling by throwing her chunky elbow into the side of my head as she walked past.

Godzilla 2 - Gator 0.

Oh! I almost forgot. She handed me my ice water and then booty bumped my elbow so hard that I almost ended up wearing the whole cup.

The replay shows, Godzilla 3 - Gator 0.

And then there was the over sharer. The worst 10 minutes of my LIFE was taxi, takeoff and that time before we can turn our beautiful, wonderful electronic devices back on to drown out the weirdos. For real. She either owns the world's oldest functioning uterus, or she has adopted children, or she just likes to spin tall tales. She told her poor seat mate and the rest of the 44 passengers aboard our flight all about her 5 kids ranging from college age to diapers. Activities, intellect, driving abilities, personalities... OMG she would not shut up.

Best part? Her soundtrack was punctuated by the smell of baby farts. Between she and I sat a little baby with what seemed to be severe gastrointestinal issues. And may I suggest to his parents that dairy does not seem to agree with their stinky little angel? Or maybe it was Dad...

Any way, I do realize that my last comment has just insured that any children that I may or may not ever own will only shit outside of their diapers, in public places. Awesome.

Landing was almost as much fun as take off... If you don't count all the turbulence and crying from seat 14B. No... The ass dropping baby was sitting in 15B. The cries seemed to be originating from my own body.

But we lived... And THEN...

While standing in line to pick up our rental car for tooling around SLC a large fellow with very scary toes approached me. Like, his toe nails looked exactly like shanks that he had carefully been cultivating in prison. Ew. Any who, scary toes was so engrossed with his phone call regarding bail bondsman, which posse of attorneys to contact and keeping his swim trunks aboard his scaly body, he failed to notice that he cut in front of Momma Hungry Bear. In a line where I was already 12 Mormons deep, I couldn't bear (pun intended) to wait even 5 minutes longer to secure my ride yo, and most importantly my lunch.

After his 20 minute conversation he pocketed the phone long enough for me to say, "Pardon me sir. I believe I was in front of you."

To which came his less than friendly reply, "I'm from Hawaii, where we just don't get in a hurry. (Unless you wanted to count his most recent and slightly frantic get someone outa jail convo.) If you're in that big of a hurry you just go right ahead and get up here."

At this point I'm trying not to make eye contact with Crazy Island Guy while I finished a text to my mother that said, "Sweet Baby Jesus I really just went and did it now. Don't be alarmed, but I love you very much and the man that I'm about to go hand to hand with is ugly AND smelly with toenails that should be classified as weapons."

I've heard you shouldn't make eye contact with wild animals (or was it dogs?) because it can be perceived as aggressive behavior further perpetuating dangerous "situations," if you will... But alas it didn't seem to be helping. All the full grown menfolk standing about were visibly and courageously melting into the concourse leaving me a lone woman on an island of self made insanity.

Mr. Crazy Pants continued his rant as I began to steam, "Know what I'm gonna do for you? I'm gonna pay all these people 20 bucks so you can go straight to the front of the line! Right now! I'll make that guys whole day!"

"No thanks." I said, less than successfully biting back my sarcasm. "That won't be necessary but aren't you generous and ever so helpful?"

Crazy: "You're WELCOME! Glad I could HELP!

Gator: "Yeah buddy, thanks a lot."

Crazy: "And I hope you learned something from this conversation today. This'll be one conversation you won't ever forget!"

Gator: Now standing at my full height and channeling Colonel Crazy Makookoo myself, totally catching Crazy Pants off guard with my full blown death stare... "Oh really? And what LESSON would that be?"

Why is it that I continued to poke Mr Shanks-Fer-Toes you ask? Who knows? Actually, it's recently been called to my attention that I occasionally like some spicy drama, I like to pretend to be "in control" and I also like to be "right." Laughable, yes? But mostly I just wanted to hear this nut job's twisted logic. It was like watching Bella smash into the side of the bed when she's launched herself too low. I kinda know it won't end well, but I can't turn away from the horror.

Mr. Sandals-Were-A-Poor-Choice-O-Foot-Garb finished with his coupe de grace, "ALOHA! That's what you've learned today. You've learned to say ALOHA."

TOTALLY lame... But an admirable recovery as I'm certain he too was momentarily unsure of the important and memorable lesson at hand.

I made my, "Hmmm, well aren't you an ass hat face," spun on my heel and left him BEHIND my cold shoulder while I palmed my tiny hairspray can for protection. I know, I'm somewhat of a genius... Then I used my sunglasses in the other hand to watch his reflection for any sudden movements while simultaneously giving disapproving looks to all the pussy cats surrounding me.

My excellent behavior in line was then rewarded by a FREE upgrade from a full-sized car to an SUV. What, what? 10 minutes later I was blasting the wrong way outa SLC aeropuerte in my Chevy Traverse making the first of many illegal u-turns on red for the weekend, and in desperate search of Walmart.

My phone was redlining after documenting my air travel and my showdown at the SLC corral so acquiring a car charger was first item of business, hunger be damned. Thankfully I had just enough juice to map myself directly to the only two-story Walmart I have ever laid eyes upon. My goth guide at the register recommended "Alchemy" for a good cup of Joe and something delightful to nosh on, and off I went again.

Although quite skeptical that the Mormons could make a good cup of coffee, Alchemy did not disappoint. I had a fall flavored beverage chock full of liquid life and the best hummus veggie plate EVER made. Yum.

A fine place to rest my weary bones.

Alchemy's Day of the Dead Decor.

After refueling and recharging my weary body and essential electrical devices I raced back to the airport to collect Nina and Dub, two of my most favorite partners in crime.

After satisfactory hugs and smooches were doled out we loaded the Traverse and skedaddled on down to Sandy, Utah (home of the Beet Diggers y'all!) which is just south of SLC where we checked into our double sa-weet at the Marriot. Food being the second item of order we quickly found ourselves ensconced in a cozy booth at "Healthy Tomato" or some such jazz. They offered a salad buffet with pizza, pasta, fresh baked bread, BROWNIES, and soft serve. Awesome.

While Nina and I chose to do a little hiking at the University of Utah's Arboreteum to work off our 'salad bar,' Dub enjoyed himself a nap-a-roosky in our sa-weet. Nina and I tremendously enjoyed gossiping while also running from bees. I managed to quickly roll in the verdant beauty Utah calls GRASS and Texas is now calling CHAR. We even managed to capture some very interesting photos that will never see the light of day because my dear Nina says she KNOWS where her camera cord is for uploading, she just can't remember exactly WHERE she put it... Boo.

Pictures in summary:

1. Gator poses as if she is drinking from a snake which turned out looking much more pornographic than it sounds. What? It was a water fountain.

2. Nina poses in the herb garden. Ha, ha! I said, Herb.

3-5. We both take pictures riding a bronzed moose, which surprisingly looks LESS pornographic than it sounds.

6-1200. Random shots of beautiful shizzle including but not limited to: Gardens, roses, some other flowers, canyons and mountain views.

Good times.

Next stop: The timely business of beautification, rousing Dub from his bear like slumber and a rehearsal barbecue honoring G and Hobs' imminent wedding fiesta.

The barbecue was hosted by Hobs' gorgeous sister, brother and babes at their magnificent home overlooking Lake Utah. We watched parachute planes descend into fields of wild antelope. Fabulous!

The antelope ran away to a safe distance, sat back and kicked up their heels with a cold one from the Wasatch Brewery and also seem to enjoy the show. They're cool cats those antelope. They seem completely nonplussed to be wearing out their welcome in front gardens or while nibbling away at the farmers' small profit margins.

My personal fave.
http://www.wasatchbeers.com/

Can someone google "Antelope Management Utah," and tell me how they keep those critters from taking over the skyways and the highways? Curious minds would like to know!

Too be continued!

A Birthday Blog In Pictures

2011-09-18T16:45:00.001-05:00

This weekend found me celebrating 31 years of AWESOME! in Gruene, Texas with my beloved JS.

Gruene is located just beside (in) New Braunfels, Texas and boasts good eatin', dancing and some good 'ol German history. It's nestled right up on the banks of the Guadalupe River and draws an eclectic crowd of kids and adults alike.

Friday night we started off here at the Gristmill.

If you've never eaten here friends, stop what you're doing and immediately drive straight over. Trust me. You'll be glad that you did. A piece of sage advice, dance first, eat second.

If you're looking to scoot a boot at Gruene Hall, Texas' oldest dance hall, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT eat at the Gristmill first. It is absolutely impossible to enjoy oneself on the dance floor after you bust a gut filling up on all the excellent eats here at this fine restaurant. IMPOSSIBLE. Even if you only ordered the salad. Which would just be plain stupid anyway. Leave yourself at least 3 to 4 hours post Gristmill eatin' to do anything that requires cardiovascular type activity. And wear your stretchy pants. Amen.

See? Chicken wire on the windows. Awesome.

Because we arrived in Gruene around 7 pm on Friday ravenous and in desperate need of fabulous eats, we immediately dined at the Gristmill and thus ruined ourselves for dancing. Which suited JS just fine. Reckless Kelly was playing Gruene Hall (again known as Texas' oldest dance hall, which is not to be confused with Texas' largest Chicken Coop) and my dear JS is not a huge fan of country music. Instead of scooting our boots (flip flops in my case) we waddled our fat, swollen sausage-like toes over to Oma Gruene's Secret Garden for some outdoor Jazz. Charlie And The Cool Catz were righteous with their ear splitting amperage so we quickly ambled on over to The Stone Coffee Bar.

The manager of The Stone created this gorgeous mural on one entire wall in less than 6 weeks. It's creativity requires everyone that enters to take a few pictures and to touch its beauty. Incredible.

The call of a bubble bath in our giant jacuzzi tub and the need for a little sleep quickly had us shuffling toward "home."

We stayed the weekend at the Gruene River Inn, a family owned and operated Bed and Breakfast towering on the banks of the Guadalupe. Magical! I could have stayed here happily for weeks.

Our balcony provided us with these spectacular views:

Saturday morning found me awake bright and early and thus I got to enjoy the glow from our beautiful stained glass window...

With nothing but time and 31 years of age on my hands, I decided to take the old hip flexors for a spin... Verdict says: They're still a little sad but not completely debilitating. After roughly 3 miles of hills and broken pavement I was limping only a little... And some might even mistake it for swagger ;) When I got back to the Inn JS and I shared breakfast tacos and weak coffee in the common room with some Sooner fans before we began my birthday day.

Birthday day went as follows:

Woke up WAY too early.
Went out for a jog.
Ate yummy breakfast tacos.
Enjoyed another bubble bath.
Left the Inn and walked over to the Gruene Grind Coffee Company for the "good stuff."
Relaxed into our caffeine buzz and puzzled at a high rate of speed.

I was only able to complete the border of the puzzle before
my wing flapping demanded that we mooooove on.

Then we:
Toured the vendors at Gruene's Market Days.
Ate lunch at Adobe Verde to avoid the downpour.
Drank a marvelous birthday beverage.

Mango Margarita, yum!

Which made Momma a little cranky and then made for a really loooong and rejuvinating birthday nap!

Princess Cotton Top sleeps off her crankiness.
Note to self: Although that new hair color is super fun...
Bleach applied directly to your forehead will in fact leave small chemical burns. That itching she was talking about... Is your forehead dying. Boo Radley.

After my nap we entertained ourselves by watching from our balcony the floaters below screaming and cursing the only (and apparently chilly) rain that our hill country has seen in 5 long months. When we were finally able to tear ourselves away from the irony on the river we got cleaned up and watched the Horns put the smack down on UCLA. Unfortunately our Ags were only available on PPV and none of the local bars picked up the game...

...So we were forced once again to stuff ourselves (this time at Mozie's) and then we toured the town on foot.

Mozie's on the left. Antique-was on the right.

I got to pose with George Straight at Gruene Hall.
You should definitely be jealous ;) Another engaging little piece of history: John Travolta filmed part of the movie "Michael" here.

We found some great t-shirts at Cotton Eyed Joe's...

And then we ~~arm wrestled over~~ shared a root beer float here at The General Store and ate a huge chunk of the most incredible pumpkin walnut fudge ever made...

With blood sugar hovering in the thousands we sped between the live music playing at Gruene Hall and Oma Gruene's before we landed at the Vineyard.

A rose, a little wine and a bit of fudge:
A beautiful evening they do make!

After which the following took place:

And sadly

We'll just blame it on the birthday fudge ;)

Annnnnd many more!!!!!!!

My Dog Has Venereal Disease And Other Good News

2011-09-10T16:07:00.000-05:00

Well... It's been confirmed. Tica Tammy is a Hoochie Mamma!

Dr. Jessica Jimenez got the results back from the cytologist and she has confirmed that Tam has TVT.

It's a TUMOR. No... It's NOT A TUMOR.

Actually... I don't know what the hell it is, however this is what Wikapedia had to say on the matter:

"Canine transmissible venereal tumor (CTVT) is also called transmissable venereal tumor (TVT) and it's only one of three transmissible cancers." (Seems similar to HPV or genital warts in humans.) "TVT is most commonly seen in sexually active dogs in tropical and subtropical climates." (Yep... i.e. Costa Rica, the land of loooove.) "The disease is spread when dogs mate, and it can even be transmitted to other canine species, such as foxes and coyotes." (Woe is the unknown dangers of interspecies relations...) "Spontaneous regression of the tumor can occur, probably due to a response from the immune system." (Insert Chiropractic adjustment.) "TVT undergoes a predictable cycle: the initial growth phase of four to six months (P phase), a stable phase, and a regression phase (R phase), although not all TVTs will regress." (Boo.) "The tumor does not often metastasize (occurring in about 5 percent of cases), except in puppies and immunocompromised dogs." (None of those here.) "Metastasis is most commonly to regional lymph nodes, but can also be seen in the skin, brain, eye, liver, spleen, testicle, and muscle. Biopsy is necessary for diagnosis." (Confirmed.)

So, it IS in fact a tumor... But apparently it has a very high survivability rate. Wahoo! Unlike the regular old non-transmissible cancer, which would have been worst case scenario.

Jessica reported that Tam had her very first "treatment" this past Wednesday after which she was a little sad and didn't eat well. Today's update said she was back to her beach lovin' self and eating great. (She is no doubt missing her lobster tail and tuna steak dinners of yore. What can I say? This girl knows how to get around y'all.) Four or five more treatments should find Tam as good as new.

In other good (sad) news: Jessica says she is talking to people that may be interested in adopting Tammy. As much I would love Tica Tam to live in Texas, the quicker she gets a home the quicker I can rebuild my life savings... And the longer that Bella the Barbarian gets to live.

I think Tica Tam would miss the rain and frolicking on the beach... Nor would she enjoy the 110(+) degrees of awesome that has been our most recent summer.

And now I have just talked MYSELF out of living in Texas... Who's down for moving to Costa Rica?

Note to Self: Next time, try to bring home the baby.
It should be easier.

I’m Proud Of Me: No More Apologies and A Tica Tam Update

2011-09-03T08:17:00.002-05:00

Hi, my name is Gator and I’m a total softie. Let me rephrase.

I’m proud of being a softie. No more apologies.

I will proudly stop my car on the side of the road to pick up mangy puppies. I will trap hungry stray cats and try to find them homes. After witnessing a squirrel get hit by a car and watching his little body thrash in the road until peace comes, I will cry for no less than three days and probably need a large dose of therapy. I might even scoop up a full grown squirrel with my bare hands and a dish towel in hopes that my local vet can save him.

I am the girl that rescues abandoned kittens and bottle feeds them every 3 hours, all night long and somehow manages to convince all of my high school teachers to allow me to tote them to class.

I am really and truly over trying to save Cotton Tail rabbits (they become ungrateful mean bunnies) but I’ve nursed 2 back to health successfully and 2 unsuccessfully. My most favorite little bunny slept in my shirt pocket right next to my heart for 4 days, nursed from a tiny bunny bottle every 2 hours, and then passed away taking a little piece of my soul.

I am the girl that ran over a cat in high school and then spent 2 months working off the vet bill. I am the girl that rescues nasty black birds with broken wings and baby birds from hungry dogs. I have taken in too many strays to count and then found them loving, forever homes.

I am the woman who tries the impossible, like attempting to fly a dog home from Costa Rica in one of the hottest summers recorded in Texas history, and I am the woman who is going to be proud of this little piece of good that I possess.

It’s who I am. I really am proud of me.

http://www.behappyinlife.com/inspiration/i_am_proud_of_me.php

I will also be proud of myself because as much as I love all of God’s little critters, I only posses 2.5 dogs. (Tam is the 0.5 seeing as she’s in CR and I’m here in Texas) So, there’s no need to call ‘Hoarders’ just yet folks! But perhaps we should keep them on speed dial, at any rate…

Tica Tammy Update:

Good news: Tammy is heart worm free!! Amazing but true. I was 100% certain that I came home from Costa Rica with heartworms and yet some how little Tam Tam is negative. Wahoo! (The mosquitoes are off the chain in Tamarindo y’all.) This makes me think that the mosquitoes in CR don’t carry the HW microfilaria, and let us all praise the Sweet Baby Jesus for that.

Tammy is still staying with Dr. Jessica Jimenez.

“Like” her page on Facebook and help me say thank you!

https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Veterinaria-Jim%C3%A9nez/182532835095826

Jessica says that Tica Tam is sleeping on her own personal couch at night and she is following her absolutely everywhere during the day. Always under foot, that little Tam Tam. She knows she’s found a good thing and she doesn’t want her people to get away. Little baby dog wants a human pack desperately.

Bad news: Tam has erlichiosis or canine hemorrhagic fever. It’s a tick borne disease and it causes lots of terrible side effects if left untreated, like hemorrhage, blindness and neurological disease. Although the erlichia is very easy to treat, Jessica also found a little tumor on Tammy’s vulva that was bleeding a bit. She hopes that it's only a venereal disease, again easy to treat however, she fears that it could be cancer. Tam was spayed before she was left to roam the wilds but the vet proposed that if she wasn’t spayed well, she may still cycle and that would explain a venereal disease. The cytology results will be back from the laboratory this time next week, so please keep your paws crossed that all comes back well.

Are there any other scenarios in life where the lesser of two evils hangs on the hope that your kiddo is in fact a hoochie mamma? I think not.

Good news: Although Tammy’s rescue mission turned into a wee bit of a nightmare, I can quit beating myself up for doing what I believe was the right thing. I can quit beating myself up for embracing that good little piece of me. Tam would have died a slow horrible death on the beach if it weren’t for my harebrained scheme, the help and patience of my travelling companions and the good hearted efforts of complete strangers. And a large heartfelt thanks goes out to JS, my best friend!

Now here’s to hoping Dr. Jessica falls madly in love with Tica Tam like I did!

Plan B includes finding Tammy a forever home in Costa Rica.

Plan C would involve inconveniencing more perfectly good strangers and asking family members of one of my dear patients to graciously lug Tam Tam home from Costa Rica when they visit Texas in November.

Plan D, and my favorite would have crappy American Airlines fly me roundtrip back to Costa Rica at no charge to fetch Tammy my own self, (when it’s a bit cooler of course) after they agree that the $200.00 voucher that they emailed me is terribly insulting and simply less than helpful in this current predicament.

All of these plans include living happily ever after.

Got your paws crossed?

Best Worst Trip Ever: Costa Rica Finale

2011-08-28T20:34:00.000-05:00

Well... I feel like a complete asshole. An exhausted asshole that needs a whole new vacation to recover from the last one. An exhausted asshole that owes 5 friends and one disgruntled/ shell shocked JS an entire vacation re-do...

I pleaded and I begged for JS to get on board with my harebrained idea to kidnap a Costa Rica stray dawg and brang her home to Texas. I held numerous round table discussions on the matter. I interviewed the locals, my gang of merry travelers and the entire blogosphere...

I even polled two separate vets who both agreed that the best thing for said dawg was a new life in Texas. The number one killer of pooches in CR is motor vehicle accident followed closely by painful bloody hemorrhage from Tick Fever. THEN if the stray pups survive all of those things, there is the ever pleasant death by heart worms.

I spent half my week in CR driving here and there and everywhere to get all the paperwork signed, sealed and delivered. That's not even mentioning the effort we spent cleaning, feeding and loving Tica Tammy to prepare her for her new life. And JS refused to speak to me for approximately 4 out of our 7 days of vacation. Not awesome.

AND after ALL OF THAT... I'm unhappily home in Texas while Tica Tammy was left confused in Costa Rica. Added bonus: The waterworks come and go every few hours with little or no provocation.

I shall let my letter of complaint to American Airlines explain the rest:

To Whom It May Concern,

This past week found me travelling in Costa Rica via your American Airlines company. I travel internationally at least once a year with a large group of friends and nationally several times a year, both while using your airline.

Unfortunately, after my most recent travels and horrifying experience at your Liberia, Costa Rica American Airlines counter, I will no longer be an American Airlines customer.

I must say I have never been more disappointed and distraught over any other incident as I was at your Costa Rican American Airlines counter yesterday, August 27, 2011. I was met with a complete lack of assistance and terribly misleading information from your associates. Due to this deceptive information and the extreme time delay that the misinformation caused, I was left with no other option but to literally leave my dog on the sidewalk in front of the Liberia airport with a complete stranger. Luckily, my veterinarian was then able to cancel all of her afternoon appointments and drive two hours to the airport to fetch my terrified dog, where she remains now, frightened in a strange kennel in Costa Rica while I am at home in Texas.

From the beginning:

When I decided I would like to ship my dog from Costa Rica to Texas I called your Costa Rica office, via your Worldwide Reservations Phone Number: 2-248-9010. I was told exactly these six things:

1. I needed a health certificate for my dog.

2. My dog must be contained in a kennel and the entire package could not exceed 100 pounds.

3. My dog would not be able to fly outside of the temperature regulations stated on the website unless I had an acclimation letter from my vet.

4. I must bring my dog to the airport three hours prior check in.

5. The person I was speaking to was able to make a reservation for my dog but was not allowed to provide me with a direct phone number to the American Airlines ticket counter in Liberia, Costa Rica. Thus the only way for me to get any further information was to drive two hours one-way to the airport and speak to the ticket counter in person.

6. She also directed me to your website.

Under your “Traveling with Pets” page I read through all of the information under temperature regulations. My veterinarian had already informed me that she would be able to provide a temperature acclimation letter and that my dog would then be able to fly regardless of the temperature. She seemed to think that my dog was capable of surviving temperatures closer to 110 degrees Fahrenheit if provided ample water. She believed this to be the truth because she has had several clients fly out of Liberia with no problem, even during the summer, on multiple airline carriers and she is familiar with dogs outdoors year round in very hot climates. As I’m currently observing one of my dogs at 14 years of age voluntarily lying directly in the sun in my backyard where its 107 degrees and she is suffering no ill effects, I wholeheartedly believe my veterinarian and my own eyes.

When I arrived at your American Airlines ticket counter Saturday, August 27th I first spoke to Ivan. Ivan told me that as long as I had my temperature acclimation letter and all of my other required paperwork, my dog would be able to fly to Dallas with me on Saturday, August 27th. This was at 12:00pm. My flight was leaving Costa Rica at 2:35pm. By the time my veterinarian in Costa Rica prepared my letter, it was 1:00 pm. When I asked Ivan for his fax number so that my veterinarian could send him the acclimation letter, he then informed me that the letter was invalid unless it was dated 30 days before traveling. No problem. I called the veterinarian again who agreed to post date the letter and fax it over; now it was 1:30 pm. After the veterinarian sent the letter, Ivan and his supervisor (who was a female, name begins with a J) informed me that regardless of the letter, the law stated that no animal is allowed to fly as cargo if the temperature anywhere upon the route was higher than 90 degrees Fahrenheit. However, your website says 85 degrees is acceptable for regular-nosed dogs. It was also called to my attention that he had provided this EXACT same information to Mr. C H who was similarly trying to fly his dog to Dallas on the same flight, but he told Mr. H he was unable to ship his dog even with his temperature acclimation letter at 12:00 pm. Thus, Ivan had already turned away one customer due to the heat in Dallas but willingly neglected to be truthful to me. This intentional dishonesty left me with two options: Postpone my flight so I could take my dog with me at a later date, or leave my dog in Costa Rica. This also left me with less than one hour, thanks to the incompetence of Ivan and his supervisor, to find other travel arrangements.

When I asked Ivan if he could help me re-route a travel course over the next few days in attempt to get my dog to Texas he told me he simply did not have time. He also mistakenly told me American refused to fly dogs as cargo. He stated that dogs could only fly on American as a checked bag with an owner/representative on the same flight. He did not offer any phone number to contact American Airlines or any other suggestions for help. After asking how I could research other flights he referred me to aa.com, however, there is no internet service provided at Liberia airport. After all of the above, when I directly asked for a phone number he reluctantly gave me an American Airlines contact in Costa Rica.

Today I spoke with a different American Airlines Customer Representative located in the US and she also told me that she was not allowed to give out the phone number for the ticket counter in Liberia. This is why I cannot state the full name of Ivan or his unhelpful supervisor. The supervisor on duty Saturday, August 27th refused to speak to us until we had less than one hour before boarding and then she was very hostile and very rude. Your US Customer Representative also seemed to “think” that there actually is no law stating animals cannot be shipped above 85 degrees, and she was further “under the impression” that the supervisor on duty was the person with the final say in this matter.

This entire incident leads me to believe that all of your associates need better training and your website needs to firmly state all of your policies, state laws or otherwise. Obviously this is a source of mass confusion for multiple veterinarians, travelers, and most importantly, your very own personnel.

I truly regret booking my travel accommodations with American Airlines immensely and I have suffered extreme financial and emotional upheaval over this incident, not to mention the distress my dog has had to suffer. I obviously do not want to subject my dog or any others to unhealthy temperatures, however, I find it very difficult to believe that your personnel are so incompetent as to leave any animal on the tarmac for a lengthy amount of time, as would cause harm to their health. At least that had been my impression up until recently. I never doubted the competence of your personnel before this incident. Now it is clear that I cannot trust that any of your staff is well-informed or trained properly.

I also wonder why your airline does not offer a space to load one or two kennels inside the main cabin if absolutely necessary? We can travel in the main cabin with yowling cats, small barking dogs under 20 pounds, and multiple screaming babies, however, my 40 pound dog that fits in a medium sized crate, who would not so much as make a peep, is denied access. I think this system is terribly flawed, and you may rest assured that I will no longer patronize your company for my travel needs. Moreover, I will utilize every possible opportunity in both my personal and professional life to discourage potential American Airlines customers from spending any money with your company.

Sincerely,

PISSED OFF AND HEART BROKEN

(Although it has also been suggested that instead I sign: F-YOU ASSHOLES.)

The good news came in an email yesterday from Dr. Jessica Jimenez when I arrived sans Tica Tam in Dallas. Right before I drank myself silly.

www.drajimenez.com

Dr. Jimenez is my Costa Rica Veterinarian who also happens to be my identical soul-sister. She went above and beyond to help a perfect stranger and a sweet stray pooch that was stranded at an airport 2 hours away from her busy work schedule, ON A SATURDAY, no less.

This is what she sent to me:

Hello Abby,
Hope your flight was ok. Tammy is here with me, safe and happy.
She is giving me the look like, "ok what is going on?" but she will relax
later. She is a very calm dog and a cutie. She will be free in the clinic during the day and at night she will be in the kennel because I would worry she would get out or do something naughty ( I have this idea because my dog does these things.) I will take her with me tomorrow because I will be all day home, if I do not get any emergencies. If you do not get to communicate with me tomorrow it is because of the reception problem but she will be ok. I will talk to you on Monday because I have no internet in the house. I know it sounds crazy but this is Costa Rica and I live in a area that looks like the jungle, but I love it, that is the reason whyI moved here.
Take care.
PS I love the purple nails.

WAH! Tears of joy! Can you believe my luck? I got to speak to her today before she took all of her pooches and Tica Tammy to the beach!! She says Tammy is a lazy pooch and she is a bit shy, but not aggressive.

So... I'm off to do more research and soul searching. I've already logged a good 8 hours but I still can't decide if I should have Dr. Jimenez find Tam a home in CR (she said it could take months) or wait until the end of September/ beginning of October to ship Tam as cargo?

Go ahead. Say it.  I'm beginning to think you were right... I probably should have left well enough alone and TicaTam on the GD beach in Tamarindo :(