Random Acts of Vintage

The Bro Code: Live together, die together.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 05:17:00 +0000

After dinner.

Seth (holding up somethin from the fridge): "Do you think I can get salmonella from this?"
Me: "It has raw eggs in it. Yes, you could."

Seth stares at me silently as he pops it in his mouth.

Thomas: "What IS that?"
Seth: "Cookie dough."
Thomas: "Give me some."

Apparently they thumb their nose at death. At least when snickerdoodle cookie dough is involved.

December, 2011 in music and word.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 04:18:00 +0000

My life has changed this year, in ways I've never imagined. Here are a few:

I never knew that I could cry from my toes.
I found that I could cry in happiness or in the pit of despair, and people don't know the difference till I clue them in.
iPod purges are a very good thing, but are not permanent unless you choose for them to be.
The depth of crazy in your life is in direct proportion to the people you choose to spend your time with.
When life presents you a multiple choice question in which one of the options is to spend time with crazy people, choose ANY of the other options.
Exercise the right to be happy. It will change your life.
You may not know who your friends are until you think you have no friends. At that point, they will come out of the woodwork and prop you up until you can stand alone again.
An hour on the treadmill will work out almost any amount of anger.
Just because you think about doing something crazy like say, setting something on fire or blowing something up, does not mean that you need to do it. It's much more liberating knowing you made a conscious choice to sleep at night in your own bed solely because you didn't light the match.
My kids will never let me down. The depth of love between us is still being revealed to me every day. I would lay my life down for them, and I think they'd probably say the same about me. They've done some pretty darned difficult things just for me, and they really weren't tall enough to ride that roller coaster. I love them to the end of time and even more importantly, I respect them beyond measure.
Life can change in a second -- for good or for bad. Fortunately, I ended 2011 in the Very Good chair, and for that, I am very thankful.
I am surrounded on every side by love. Not bad for "a cynical bitch who doesn't have any friends." LOL
Never listen to the opinion of an idiot. Believe in yourself. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps and keep going. And if you can't find your bootstraps, call a friend and have them find them for you. They will.

And on that note, I end the year with a very special song. Adele pretty much wrote this song for me, because most of it is almost verbatim conversations that my boo and I have had. I am truly blessed, and am a better person having him as my huckleberry.

November, 2011 in music.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 04:39:00 +0000

This one says it all.

Further proof that Sethanese is catching

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 04:35:00 +0000

With the New Year fast approaching, I thought I'd share a tidbit of Sethanese, according to Jill. This happened around the 23rd of December.

Jill: "What time are we opening presents on Christmas morning?"
Me: "I think it will be after church."
Jill: "No, I mean Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve." (we open one present on Christmas Eve)
Me: "I am talking about Christmas Eve. Grandma and Grandpa are going to go to church, and I might too, so you guys can sleep in and we can open presents at around noon."
Jill: "Mom, they don't have church on Christmas Day."
Me: "Yes they do, when it's on a Sunday."
Jill: "Christmas is on a Sunday? Whose idea was that?"

October, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 02:28:00 +0000

Yes. I set fire to it and burned it to the ground. Yes.

Oh yeah. My kinda girl.

And finally. FINAL.

September, 2011 in music

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 05:03:00 +0000

August, 2011 in music

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 23:00:00 +0000

In Spanish (translation below):

Don't even think that I'm going to fight for him
or dream that I'm going to fight for him
I'm giving him to you.

Take him far away, he is bad luck
and I don't want him
My greatest revenge will be, will be
that with the passing of the years
you will discover his deception/unfaithfulness
and like a soul in pain
you will live to the end dying of love,
dying of love
while I laugh

Don't even think that I will suffer for him
or dream that I'll cry for him
I'm giving him to you

Take him far away, he is bad luck
and I am no longer going to complain
Well now I'm free
you have liberated me from insincerity

Play with fire
now he's all yours
Never again forget
that he who plays with fire
gets burnt
My greatest revenge will be, will be
that you stay with him

And finally...........a light appears.....

July, 2011 in music

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 12:35:00 +0000

It wasn't all about family drama in 2011. It was about positive change.

21

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 04:53:00 +0000

21 years ago today, Jillian Helene entered the world.

I had worked all day the day before. It was a crazy busy day in Special Care Nursery. I remember I had had cheesy vegetable soup for lunch. I got off work and went to my friend's house to pick up Thomas, and decided to sit and shoot the breeze for a while. And then it happened.

POP.

The pop that changed the world happened while I was sitting in her husband's favorite chair. I literally leapt into the kitchen. My friend looked at me like I was nuts and asked what the heck I was doing. I said "Ijustreallyreallyhavetogotothebathroom," and tore outta the room.

Positive towel sign. That's what we called it in OB when a patient came upstairs with a towel in between her legs. And that's exactly how I left my friend's house: with Thomas in a stroller and a towel in between my legs. Another of my friends was going to babysit Thomas for me, so I told her to meet me at the hospital and took off driving. This was in the days before cell phones, so I couldn't even call Dan, who was at work at the same hospital I was heading for.

I went up to Labor and Delivery, pushing Thomas in a stroller, towel in between my legs. Our secretary saw me standing there and asked "when the heck are you gonna have that baby" to which I responded, "probably about now, since my water broke half an hour ago." That got their attention. I got put into a room pretty quickly, got into my gown, and paged Dan to call my room. Here's the conversation:

Dan (sounding confused): "Where are you???"
Me: "Labor and Delivery."
Dan: "What the heck are you doing there?"
Me: "My water broke. You need to come up here."
Dan: "How do you know your water broke? Are you sure?"
Me: "They tested it. My water broke."
Dan: "How reliable is the test?"
::about this time, Thomas, who was 14 months old, tries to stand up in the stroller. I found myself stretching the phone across the bed to try to reach him before he tumbles onto the floor headfirst. The towel was history."
::in walks my nurse::
Me: "Would you just come up here, because I'm standing here with shit running down my legs."
::Nurse looks concerned::
Nurse: "Lisa, is it really shit?"

(Yes, we OB nurses do get worried about that, because it's a bad sign when baby poops before it's born.)

Me: "No, but he needs to get UP HERE."

He did, and we circled the city till 5am, which caused my OB to perspire. He had gotten temporary privileges to deliver me at that hospital, so he didn't have anyone to take over if I didn't deliver in a timely manner. He had an 8:30am flight the next morning, so we needed to get it rolling, but I was stuck at 5cm at 4:30am. He suggested an epidural. We told Dan that the particular anesthetist who was working was going to ask him to leave while she did it, and he was fine with that. Fine, that is, till she walked in.

Anesthetist: "I'm going to ask you to step out while I do this."
Dan: "Why? Why can't I stay?"
Anesthetist: "Because I need you to step out."
Dan: "I don't understand why I can't stay."
Anesthetist: "Because it's my personal preference."
Dan: "What about MY personal preference? Because I don't see why I need to leave my wife when she needs me...."
About this time, a voice straight from The Exorcist said "GET OUT....NOW."

Yep, that'd be me. And he left.

Ten minutes or so later, they laid me down, epidural complete. I told my nurse she'd better check me, so she did, and said nope, still 5 cm. I looked at her kinda crazy and said "you know, I think I need to push." There was another nurse in the corner, setting up instruments for the eventual delivery, and all I heard was her say "uh oh." So yep, my nurse put on gloves, checked me again, and people got a little excited.

Jill was born less than ten minutes later, at 5:09am. Only her name was Valerie. For a while. But that story has already been told. And yes, my OB made his flight.

Out of the mouths of (former) babies...

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 03:54:00 +0000

Thomas is a huge movie buff, and has been for years. At any given time, he might be watching a movie in Swedish, Vietnamese, French, Japanese, or even English. So imagine the other day: in walks Thomas. He says "dude, I just got done watching the BEST Christmas movie ever made!" To which I reply "It's a Wonderful Life?" "No, Mom." "A Christmas Story?" (remembering the time he himself stuck his tongue to our metal doorknob when it was 20 below outside). "No, Mom."

He was starting to sound a little exasperated, so I asked what the heck movie he had watched, cause something told me it wasn't White Christmas. He hates musicals.

"Die Hard, Mom. Best Christmas movie ever made."

And I will let you know the reason why this makes perfect sense to me in another post.

Yippy-ki-yay.....

June, 2011 in music

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 12:19:00 +0000

May, 2011 in music.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 04:44:00 +0000

And if you want the So You Think You Can Dance performance that goes with it, this one is amazing.

April, 2011 in music.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 21:29:00 +0000

This one says it all.

March, 2011 in music (in which I start getting my mojo back)

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 23:17:00 +0000

Oh yeah. Love me some Gaga.

February, 2011 in music

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 05:19:00 +0000

The perfect video, hands down, to interpret the perfect song. And the perfect interpretation of February, when I took comfort in my friends.

And then...........

The year in music: January, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 05:59:00 +0000

Love me some Gaga, cause she is crazy. And that's what life was then. A Bad Romance.

And yes, this song is so beautiful. The situation wasn't. But the song is perfect for what I felt.

The Year in Music: December, 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 12:55:00 +0000

So, I've been thinking about teh evolution of me lately, and how I would interpret it into music. I love music -- something I inherited from my parents -- and listen to ALL kinds of music. As in, my iPod contains songs in English, French, Spanish, Italian, and Hindi, to name a few. I seriously love music. So, as I'm driving around during the day, I have been thinking, wow, that song has some serious meaning to my life in 2011. I thought I'd do a little compilation.

Keep in mind that the videos do not necessarily interpret how the song fits into my life. Music is auditory, and only occasionally visual.

So, let's go back to November, 2011, when all the drama started, and I'm gonna work forward from there. You don't have to like my choices. It's my life, after all.

And be forewarned, some of them may be kind of offensive to some, because some of this year has BEEN offensive.

November, 2011:

Original version on my iPod.

Carrie Underwood's version, with lyrics:

One year later..........

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 03:39:00 +0000

It was Thanksgiving night last night when I got The Speech: "I don't love you, I never loved you, I never wanted to get married, and I never wanted all these responsibilities." Hmmmm......
The next day, it became, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, can you ever forgive me." Hmmm.......
So yeah, the holiday season sucked last year, till the last weekend in January, when he moved out for good. The divorce was final October 24th, at which point I fairly shouted "Free at last, free at last.......thank God Almighty, I'm free at last."

After almost a year of hurt (a lot), healing (a good start), and hilarity (at times), let's fast forward to this Thanksviging week. I've kind of been talking to someone -- as in a man -- and it's been nice. So, we are having an honest to God official date this weekend. As in, dinner. Yeah, 26 years off the market, and Mama's going out. So, what to do? Tell the kids, don't tell the kids? Heck, I don't know, cause it's just dinner, after all. They've certainly been through their share of drama and lies and stupidity this year, and I surely don't want to add anything to their plate, but it became apparent that I couldn't evade it this afternoon.

Jill asked if I wanted to go to the movies with her, her boyfriend and his family tomorrow. Just by happenstance, they are going out at the exact same time as I set up said going-out-with-a-man, so I said no, I was gonna go with my mom later this week (which, by the way, is completely true). She kept asking me why I didn't want to go, and why I didn't want to meet his family, and on and on and on, till I finally looked at her and said "what makes you think I don't have other plans?" She looked a little incredulous and said "what kind of plans?" "As in, plans." A few interrogations later, and very little information given to her, she pronounced that she was ok with it if Seth was ok with it, and how did he feel? He doesn't know, I told her, because I was debating if and when to tell them, because it's just dinner.

So tonight, Seth and I were out, and I mentioned that I wasn't going to be home for dinner tomorrow.
"How come" he said.
"I have plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Dinner plans."
"With who?"
"A person."
"What person?"
"A person." ::gave him the look::
"Oooooh....." he said. "Who is he? What's his name?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"What is he, Yugoslavian?"

That's my boy. Who apparently seems to be just fine with his mother going out on the town. I think.

How I know God exists

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 03:00:00 +0000

There are some who doubt the existence of God. I don't, and I will tell you a recent example of why.

I am a homecare nurse. I have a patient who lives alone and is confined to her bed. We will call her Pat (not her real name). I visit her nearly every day. She's a treasure -- a woman with serious health issues who has steadfast faith in God. She's amazing, and I just love her. We tease and harass each other all the time, but I really love her.

Last week, I went to see Pat. I walked in and the lights were off, her covers thrown off the bed, and the phone on the floor. Remember, she is bedbound, so she had no way to communicate with the outside world if that phone isn't within reach of her one good arm. It wasn't. I took one look at her and knew something was not right. "What's wrong," I asked her. Her reply was a weak "I'm sick." She looked like hell, quite frankly. We ended up sending her to the hospital, and within an hour, she was unresponsive. It's been a touch and go few days, but she's improving slowly, and it looks like she will make it. Thank God.

But you ask, why does this prove the existence of God? Let me tell you. Pat had called the agency that day to cancel my visit, as well as her aide's visit. She thought that she had caught a GI bug from her grandkids, and didn't want to expose us. I told her to never cancel your nurse when you're sick -- that's what we're here for. In either event, she tried to cancel me, but I never got the message. I even checked my voicemail later -- nothing.

I am watching over another patient -- we'll call her Amber -- while her nurse has a couple of weeks off. Amber gets a nurse visit one time every month, so I had her on my schedule for the next week, a month from her last visit. On the day this all happened, I was on my way to the other patient's house, when Amber's mom called, wondering where I was. Turned out that the regular nurse sets up the monthly appointment in advance but she didn't tell me, so mom was waiting for me, and I didn't know it. I asked the mom if she wanted me to go ahead and come -- hoping she'd say no, because I was almost to Pat's house, which is close to home for me. Going back would've meant a half hour drive one way, then the visit, the return trip to my patient's house, and me being late getting home. No, the mom decided to wait till the next day for the visit, so I went ahead to Pat's home. I ended up calling 911 for her.

What are the odds that I would not get the first message? Add to it that I didn't get the second message about Amber's prescheduled appointment, then add that the mom declined me coming late, and that's three strikes. If I had made that visit, I would've been at least an hour late to see Pat -- rememberm an hour after I got to her house on time, she was unresponsive in the ER. If I hadn't come in when I did, she would've been alone all evening, and who knows how it would've ended.

God works in mysterious ways, they say. I firmly believe that God put me Pat's house to save her life. Don't get me wrong -- this is not about anything I did. Not at all. It's about God using me for that patient, on that day. I am just a vessel. That's why I love being a nurse. And that's why I believe in God.

A day in the life of Utter Chaos.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 01:26:00 +0000

So here is how my day went.

First, I got up and got dressed for my meeting. The irony of the fact that I'm scheduled for a two day seminar about Relationship Development the day after my divorce became final does not escape me. Anyway, I get up, get dressed, and man, do I look cute. Dress, accessories, tights, boots -- I feel great. So I drive up to Community North -- about 20 minutes away -- park, walk into the Professional Building, and make my way up to the room where the meeting is.

But the room is occupied by a bunch of corporate types. Not peons like me. I walk in, they all stare at me, and I realize I must be in the wrong room. Walk out. No, not wrong room. Wrong DAY. Turned out it's tomorrow, not today. Oh man.............

So I drive home, walk in, and Mom is there doing laundry. She's surprised to see me, but even more surprised to see that I walk straight into my room, still looking cute, and walk out wearing khakis and a polo -- my work uniform. "Why did you change," says Mom. "You looked so cute." ::sigh:: (I told you I looked cute.)

So, I text the co-workers, cause now I need to get a lineup of patients to see, since no one gave me anyone for today, since I was in a meeting all day. I get a quick list of four patients, and start making calls. Keep in mind that I get paid mileage when I arrive at the first house, so when you're a homecare nurse, you want to have at least one visit close to home. Only none of these are -- they're all over 15 miles away. Oh MAN! So, I start making calls, and no one answers. As in, three of four people don't answer. The fourth one answers, but doesn't want to be seen till late afternoon. What the heck am I gonna do till then?

So I call scheduling, and they give me two more patients. I call and get them scheduled -- they're 15 miles away too, so forget the mileage for today. I drive down the hospital and get a call about yet another patient, so I call that one and schedule. Her daughter is mad, cause she apparently wanted her mom to be seen at 9am, but the message was never received. I didn't find out about her mom till after 10, so there was nothing I could do but listen to her unload on me, with frequent "but I know it's not your fault but......" Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing HER, cause she is on fire. Let's just say there were more miscommunications that were going to make this a potentially powderkeg of a visit. Went right along with my day thus far.

I go do the first visit and it goes well. Second visit, ok. I go see the one with the crabby daughter, and it even goes well. The daughter had given up the ghost and went to bed, so I was in and out. I was supposed to pick up some of our equipment, and I didn't realize till later that I had forgotten one piece. Greeeeaaaaat.

So off I go to Martinsville, which took about 45 minutes. Go to the address that's in the patient's profile, and see the name on the mailbox, as well as the number. I go to the door and knock, all while being madly barked at by their dog. No answer at the door. Knock knock again. No answer. I've now made peace with the dog. I go back to my car and call the patient and tell him "I'm here." He says ok, with an odd tone to his voice. Tells me not to park behind the physical therapist's car, cause she's just finishing up. At that point, I realize that there is no other car in the driveway. How can I be at the wrong house? The name is the same, and the number is the same. What the heck?

I pull out of the driveway, totally confused, and drive a bit further down the road, only to realize that there is ANOTHER mailbox next door with the same number and name on it. WHAT THE HECK? How can that be? Well, I pulled in and parked next to the PT's car. I never told the people that I'd been knocking on the neighbor's door. I wonder if the dog will tell them..........

About that time, I got a call telling me that the last of the patients I'd been trying to reach had finally called back and wanted to be seen. I thought I'd be done around 4, but this added another hour on to the already whacky day. Walk in, find out that the patient is a nurse who is trying to apply for a job in a department where a friend of mine is the manager. Small world. At least we had a nice visit, and everything went ok.

All in all, six patients, four dogs, two cats, a few vials of blood, and no lunch later, I came home and raked leaves. And tomorrow, I will be at Community North, looking cute. Hopefully all day this time.

Things you need to know as a result of Our Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 01:37:00 +0000

1. We have discovered that Thomas is the Fish God. Every time he gets into the water, schools of fishes swarm around him, and follow him wherever he goes. Every time. It's crazy.
2. Something about The King of all Chickens in a game of pseudo-pictionary is still cracking these kids up, two days later. I, however, slept thru it.
3. Raccoons climb palm trees. Who knew?
4. When Michael falls off a bed, he does NOT bounce.
5. Cell phones demagnetize hotel keys. This was a lesson not learned the first two or three times it happened.
6. Waffle House at 4:30am is a pretty funny place to be.
7. In Florida, liquor can't be sold in grocery stores. It can, however, be sold in a store with the same name as the grocery store, attached to the grocery store, but with a different entrance. And you thought Indiana had weird liquor laws.
9. . There is a store here called Condom Knowledge that I really wanted to investigate, but never did. ::sad face::
9. Avoid Nashville in rush hour at all costs. Seriously.
10. It is possible to have someone draw a huge penis in the sand -- along with HAHA -- on the beach front of a hotel balcony, and it will not be removed quickly. Note: this was NOT our artwork.
11. A dolphin sculpture created in the sand, with a huge wall around it, will be destroyed. The wall, however, will not. People are dumb.
12. No matter where you are in the water, the waves break about 15 feet away from where you are.
13. There must be, at all times, a man on the beach in a Speedo. And he is always too old and too heavy to even think of truly being able to carry it off.
14. You could be wakened in the morning and find that your hotel door is open. And people have been going to the elevator across from said door for over an hour. Probably all laughing at the people sleeping inside. Oh well, life is short.
15. Young children should be given bathroom rights first, lest they wake up the neighbors yelling "let me IN, I gotta POOP!" Repeatedly.
16. Give the parents the secret password to the alarm system before you leave, or the police WILL show up and try to arrest them. NOTE: this could make vacation infinitely more interesting, should you choose not to do it.
17. Colllege students WILL do homework on vacation. High school students will talk about it, then never do it.

I'm sure there are more, but I can't remember them at the moment, so perhaps I will add some later.

Also heard..........

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 02:21:00 +0000

Seth: "Why are fast food workers alwasy so lazy?"

Thomas: "Maybe because they are working fast food."

Seth: "Yeah, they all are so annoying."

::Michael, in back seat, is silent. With wide eyes::

Me: "You do realize that Michael worked fast food all last summer."

::Michael bursts out laughing::

Me: "Michael, are you planning to..."

Michael: "NO!"

Me: "You seem pretty emphatic about that."

::Michael nods::

Me: "So you guys had better be nicer about fast food workers, or Michael is gonna go all ninja on you."

Thomas: "I'm not seein' that."

Seth: "Yeah, I'm not seein' that at all."

Michael: "You can't see me cause I'm a ninja."

Touche, good sir. Touche.

He fits right in.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 20:37:00 +0000

Michael, Jill's boyfriend, is wonderful. I tell her all the time that she is never allowed to hurt him, because it would be like killing a puppy, he's so sweet. And he fits right in with us -- not that we're sweet, mind you, but the sense of humor is killer. Take this conversation, heard on the way to Panama City. Caution: it is partially in Nerdspeak.

Thomas: "Did you know that they have gotten particles to move faster than the speed of light? That's crazy."
Seth: "How did they do that?"
Thomas: "That particle accelerator they built."
Seth: "What's that?"
Thomas: "It accelerates particles, stupid."
Seth: "What for?"
Thomas: "So they can make things move really fast."
Michael: "So kinda like Nascar, only cool."

I love that boy.

Sethanese, thus far.

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 03:52:00 +0000

So yeah, we are on our way to a short fall break getaway that basically involves my feet, the Gulf and a beach chair. We have thus far made it to Evansville, where we are picking up The Girl and her main squeeze, and take off tomorrow after class.

Seth will be going to class with her. University of Southern Indiana may never be the same.

If you've done much reading about our past car trips, or about Seth in General, you should know that Seth is our main form of entertainment in the car, and tonight was no exception. I plugged in my iPod, and along came Michael Buble's "All I Do Is Dream of You." Here was the conversation that followed.

Me: "This song makes me smile."
Seth: "I like this guy, but he sounds so much like Barry Manilow."
Me: "Barry Manilow? What the heck?"
Seth: "Yeah. Or that other guy. I don't remember his name."
Me: "Frank Sinatra?"
Seth: "Yeah, him. I never remember his name."

After we got to Jill's apartment, a conversation about Hank Williams, Jr. ensued, which involved the word cattle calling.

Seth: "Cattle calling. Isn't that what construction workers do?"
::blank looks pointed at Seth from all four of us in the room::
Me: "Uh, I think you are thinking of cat calls, not cattle calls."

::sigh:: Apparently my child confuses hot women with cows. My chances of becoming a grandmother some day just dropped substantially.

We also discovered that Thomas didn't understand that the word "scarecrow" was derived from the idea that particular item Scares Crows. And when asked by his sister what "germane" means, The Heir to the Throne responded "it's what people from Germany are called." WOW. In all fairness, he ultimately pointed out that he meant Germanic, but I prefer the realization that Sethanese may have a cousin, as yet to be named.

As usual, this will be another interesting trip.

Blankety-blank

noreply@blogger.com (Lisa @ the Vintage Fashion Library) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 23:27:00 +0000

I remember very well, the events of that day in 2001, when our lives were changed forever. I remember how scared we were, wondering how many more planes would go down, or what would happen next. I remember sitting in line at the gas station, because my car was WAY below E, and being worried I would run out before I got to the pump -- all because people were panicked that gas prices would quadruple overnight.

I remember.

I remember every day, even now, when I hear a plane fly overhead. I thank God that they've changed airline security, but always wonder if it is enough to keep us safe, when people are willing to put bombs in their shoes or their underwear. And I remember our first flight after 9/11 happened.

We were flying to Florida. Dan and I were going on a cruise just before Halloween, and the kids were going to divide their time between both sets of grandparents. It was the first time we flew together as a family, and everyone was incredulous. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked "aren't you AFRAID to fly right now" they'd ask. My response was always no. My theory was, if something happened to me, I wouldn't want my kids to be left alone. And if something happened to my kids, well, bury me right along with them, because I could not go on anyway. I figured that if someone bombed our plane, we'd all die together, and no one would be left alone.

Yeah, people thought I was weird. Heck, people still think I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.

So, in preparation for the flight, I called the airport. When I finally got hold of someone in security, I asked if they would allow my then 6 year old son to bring his blanket on the plane. Specifically, I asked if they would let him through security with it, because if we got to the airport and they confiscated it, we would all end up on CNN, with the headline "6 Year Old Succumbs to Blanket Separation Anxiety." Not taking this blanket was NOT an option. Well, the lady in security's response was "of COURSE he can bring his blanket," in a very condescending tone. "Well, I wasn't sure." "Why in the world would he not be allowed to take his blanket," she replied."

"Well, I didn't know, since it's a queen sized quilt." There was a pregnant pause.
"Well, I hardly think he could carry that," she said.
"Oh, he does quite fine with it, actually," I said, "but if they take it away from him at security, it could get very ugly and loud very quickly."

She still sounded like she thought I was stupid when I hung up the phone. But trust me, Seth lugged that huge quilt everywhere. So we went to the airport, checked in, and got on the plane. I was sitting in front of him and Dan, when suddenly, a child-sized shirt flew over the seat, landing in my lap. I turned around to see what the heck the kid was doing. There he was, topless, wrapped in his blanket. He looked at me, shrugged, and said "I was hot."

After the cruise to nowhere (there was a hurricane, but that's another story), we confirmed our flight home. We had to report to the airport 2 1/2 hours early -- remember, they were being really crazy about the security at the time -- so we went, the father in law dropped us off, and we got in line. When we finally got to the counter, the boy there -- named Mohammed, which sadly, gave me pause, but again, remember how it was at in those days -- informed us that the flight time had changed, and that we were about to miss our flight.

We took off at a full run, with three kids, trailing that queen sized quilt behind us all the way to the tram in the Orlando airport. After we jumped out of the tram, making sure that the quilt wasn't caught in the door, we ran to the gate and made it, just in time to check in before we took off.

We've flown several times since then, sometimes with the blanket, sometimes not. He takes it camping, on vacation, on overnights, and he plans to take it when he goes to Europe for 17 days next summer. And you know what? If he's found something that gives him comfort, why not, because we cannot stay entrenched in post 9/11 fear. We have moved forward, learning the lessons that come from that day, and know that we live in a safer world than ten years ago. There is comfort in simplicity. I think Seth's got it all figured out.