Join Me in Snarkville

(For reasons I can not explain, I found a TON of posts in my draft file and not published.  I’m trying to go on and get them up — since sadly, some people call when I don’t post for a month —oppps.

I have been traveling in the ‘friendly’ skies for years.  I think my first commercial flights began when I was REALLY little, since I don’t remember them and by the time I remember flying as a child, I was an old hat and flying alone to visit my grandparents.  In all those years, I’ve not seen my flight details changed until this past year.  In the past year the airlines have taken to this idea that it is totally ok to change all sorts of flights (and often).  When I booked this most recent trip, I made sure that I had at least an hour layover in Houston in BOTH directions.  However, the airline decided to move the last flight UP and decrease my layover from an hour to a mere 35 minutes.  Have you seen the Houston airport?  It is large and confusing and REALLY big.

So, we planned.  We prepped Duke that one of us would carry his backpack and the other would carry him. (He was not pleased with this plan.) We planned our food by packing leftovers from our early Thanksgiving meal.  We were as ready as we could be.  And yet we worried.

Then we boarded flight one.  It literally pushed back from the gate 10 minutes early.  Ten full minutes early the doors were closed.  Now, I read the fine print, most airlines close boarding 10 minutes before the plane departs, which means that this plane was not letting on new passengers 20 minutes before the posted departure time.  Um…WHAT?

Next our pilot refused to obey any of the speed limits up in the skies.  We touched down in Houston nearly 30 minutes before we were scheduled to.  Prince and I take a deep breath, but then we worried that the next flight would be on this odd leave 10 minutes early plan.

So, we rushed across the entire length of Texas (or just the airport, who could tell the difference).  We got to the gate a full hour before the next plane was to leave.  URGH.

But we are home now, so I can begin to plan my Thanksgiving meal plus the meals of December.

Yes, I mean it.  I am proposing that all time zones be instantly abolished right now.  Yes, I realize that this means that the work day will be in the dark for half of the Earth, but seriously, haven’t we advanced enough to allow those people (because of course, I’d keep the US — the center of the known universe — on its current daylight/nighttime schedule) to have lightbulbs and blackout shades.

The sole reason for doing this of course would be so that I might return from the OTHER.SIDE.OF.THE.EARTH. without spending 4+ days waking up in the middle of night and drooling from lack of decent sleep.  Oh yes, it is all about me, why do you even ask at this point?

Back to reality and less about my sleepless dream world.  I have returned from the amazing trip.  There are few times I can say that this was a trip of a lifetime, but this in fact was.  In case you are not in the know, we were on the QE2 for her LAST trip around the British Isles.  We went to Ireland, England, Northern Ireland, and Scotland in that order.  At every port call there were thousands of people meeting the ship and even more to see her leave.  (There were about 60,000 in Greenock, the port town for Glasgow, alone.  Greenock is on the River Clyde where she was built and the QE2 was the LAST Scottish built ship.)  I quickly began to believe that the crowds were there to see me (I am the Queen of Snarkville afterall) and thus this trip has ruined me for all travels unless there will be grand welcomes, photographers, interviews, and well, fireworks.  I’m nothing if not realistic.

I have so much to share about the trip.  So many things about how I was the picture of poise and grace (hold on, I’m choking on something). So many photos that we took.  So many experiences that blow me away and the tears I cried as we departed.  We will get there, but lest this post take years to read, I’m forced to break it up a wee bit.

What I will tell you is that the QE2 is old, in ship years.  She was built at a time of multi-class travel.  There are stairs and lifts that don’t seem to go to the same places and she isn’t easy to get around.  She is, thankfully, smaller than the newer ships, so her odd stairs were easier to learn over time.  I want to say she has smaller cabins, but our cabin was rather large, though oddly laid out.  She did offer the last true single cabins on the seas — and those were, um….TINY.  She was unique in so many ways and they will never build a ship like her again (thankfully in some ways and sadly in others).  But I was there.  She has two more cruises left — one from NYC to Southampton and then from Southampton to Dubai where she will become a 5 star hotel.

Many onbaord spoke of visiting her again in Dubai, which is a lovely thought — I think.  But of all the places in the world I have on my list to go, Dubai isn’t all that high, so I’m glad I saw and sailed her in her natural habiat.

But today, I’m back to real life.  Real life that includes laundry and dishes and dinner and such.  Yet, I’ve begun to think about it.  My daily life isn’t so different than my life on a cruise ship.

Every night on board the ship, the cabin steward leaves a chocolate on my pillow.  Every night at home, a cat leaves a hair ball on the floor by my bed.

…perhaps you might want to avoid my campsite.

Oh sure, I have the super duper cool, tree room tent, with a screened gazebo.  I have chairs, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.  I also seem to be completely amusing my husband with my dislike of dirt.

In my defense, I wasn’t ready for the fact that since I live in the world of no rain that the camp ground would be so dusty — I mean clouds of dust springing up when you walk.  That dust that sucks the little moisture out of your skin and makes you want to constantly wash your hands.  Yes, that level of dust.

But back to my story.  Apparently when faced with a single night of camping (read: hardest work on the planet), I turn into a raving lunatic.  Seriously, worse than normal.  Here’s proof:

1. I packed the car all by myself.  It was a masterful puzzle of pieces that got everything in the car, tight and perfect.  I did this while the boys were at class.
2. I was annoyed that Prince complimented my car packing skills.  You see he’s always the one who packs the car.  I decided I could do it and I did it and frankly I was good at it.  I have no idea why his compliment annoyed me — though I suspect it was a deep fear that I’d have to keep loading the car.
3. Driving to the campground, we drove by some beautiful valleys (think twisty roads, sharp drop offs, intense road grades, and rock faces really close to the road.  To add fun, this already narrow two lane road would occasionally NARROW more.)  I added to the fun by alternatively sucking in air and oohing over the glorious beauty and declaring that Prince isn’t allowed to look — sorry no, you must focus on not hitting that rock that I’m sure you will hit — WILL.YOU.PLEASE.SLOW.DOWN.  (Also, he got the thrill of worrying about us getting car sick — all of us, Duke, Me and the Dog.)
4. We get to the campsite.  We set-up camp.  I’m all helpful by putting up the tent.  Prince unpacks my perfectly packed car.
5. Prince leads the charge to find firewood.  I sweat and complain about dirt.  Prince is amused and also a wee bit scared.
6. Duke is having a blast making dust clouds and chasing the dog.
7. We get back to camp and I begin to make dinner, discovering in the process that though I packed dog food — it never made it into the tote of food.  (Also, realizing that we didn’t leave more food down for the cats –all animals are fine, the cats were a wee bit more anger that we left them though.)
8. Duke declares he doesn’t like what I made.  No worries, since I completely overpacked food, we made THREE total meals for dinner — think of it like a sampler platter.
9. We roast marshmallows.   I make exactly ONE s’more.  I eat it.  I offered it to Duke who declared he didn’t want a graham cracker — but he’d accept the s’more if I’d make it without the graham cracker (um, dude, I’m not giving you marshmallows and chocolate and sending you to bed — how insane do you think I am.  Also, stop getting dirty.)
10. Duke went to bed.
11. I have no idea what happened to Duke between going to bed and sleeping — but when we checked on him about 10pm, he was sound asleep, not in his sleeping bag, and though he only had a sleeping bag, air mattress, and his clothes in his tent — his tent was a MESS.
12. Prince and I read for a bit by lantern light.
13. I listened to my iPod and went to sleep.  Prince complained about our talkative neighbors.  I couldn’t get comfortable — a feeling that was echo’d by the dog who couldn’t decide where/with whom/if he was going to sleep.
14. Dawn thought about cracking and Duke awoke.
15. Duke and I snuggled for a bit in the cool morning and then we got up to make breakfast.
16. I made the single best pot of coffee ever — on my campstove.
17. We broke camp.
18. Tired and cranky, I’m sure I was a delight as I pulled down the tent, packed it away, and such.
19. Prince tried to recreate the perfection of my packing.  Somehow it not only wasn’t happening, even though we threw out a trash bag of stuff while there, we had somehow expanded enough to be a tighter fit.  I even had trouble packing it up and thus it became a group effort.
20. We got on the road, chose a different WAY twisty/dangerous route home.  Duke slept.
21. I declared that if we were going to do this again, we had to do it better next time.

Then I stopped.  Then I retold the story of the trip again and remembered the single best thing.  On Sunday Morning I woke up and asked Duke, “So, what’s the best thing about being five thus far?”  “Roasting Mashmallows, that’s my favorite.”  He’s also been asking to go camping again since arriving home yesterday.  Maybe he didn’t notice that I wasn’t much fun.

Home again, bathed and tired.  I feel better.  I have declared that I will not do this one night camping trip again.  That’s too much work not to get at least two days out of it.  And I think two days might be my limit for dirt.  I fear my idea of roughing it is more like a 3 star hotel, than a tent in the woods.

Yes, yes, I did drop off the face of the world, why do you ask?

Let’s review, in the past month, I’ve flown something close to 10,000 miles, spent less than 96 total hours in my home (and as a result in my very own bed), had exactly 4 home cooked meals TOTAL, worn the same clothes that I packed for a one week cruise to Alaska for three straight weeks — yes, I did a little laundry along the way, and finally, I stayed in 5 hotel rooms, one cruise ship cabin, and flew on 10 different airplanes.

Yes, I’m still tired — but I’m unpacked.  I’m two loads of laundry away from that being done and yet I still need to put a few odds and ends away — like yarn.

But the big news is that summer vacation can FINALLY begin.  The problem is that even though the vacation can begin, I’m too tired to care.  I have two weeks before summer camp begins and I had grand plans of fun outings, cooking, playing, and such in those weeks.  As of this moment, I’m hoping we get dressed most days and maybe make it out to a park once or twice.  That’s me — over promise and under deliver!

I have so much to tell you, like why I stayed in so many hotel rooms or the time I feel down in a yarn shop that everything was 50% off and they weren’t going out of business. I also want to tell you that I did lots of knitting, but sadly I didn’t — it was like my knitting mojo was on break.  I’m finally ready to get back into the groove, but the need to vacuum is calling my name first.

So — what’s been happening with you?

As of the typing of this, I’m sitting at a Recharge station in the Atlanta airport.  I’m sitting here because I took a bump off my flight across country in exchange for money.  (Cold Hard Cash!!  Mir would be proud, I think)

However, this is not a simple story of me going from having a seat on one flight to sitting on the next flight.  No, because this is me, it comes with a story.  Does anyone remember the “Perfect Storm”  where the forces of nature unite together and create a horrible storm and people die?  Well, no one dies in my story, but it about as many things that can go wrong as humanly possible. (more…)

Ok, so after the snack issues I had the night before leaving for Las Vegas, I promptly was sucked into the vortex of the underbelly of the gambling lifestyle for a few days.  When I finally came up for air, it was time to pack up and go home.  Thus, you get the highlights of the trip to Las Vegas. (more…)

Neither do I.

Seriously, I was sent off to the store today with the single purpose of buying snack food for tomorrow’s road trip.  I wandered the aisles looking for foods I like to have on the road.  Do I go for junk or healthy? (Junk of course, who are we kidding.)  Sweet or salty?  Chips or crackers?  I have no idea what I’m going to want tomorrow.

This is a problem I have with road trips.  You see, I grew up traveling the open road with the bottomless pit of a cooler.  My dad was able to pack a cooler to meet all of our needs while riding.  You get thristy; he’d have a drink.  You want a ham sandwich on rye with mustard and not mayo; oh, yes it would be in there — packed up with a pickle and some chips, maybe even a cookie.  I am very spoiled.  We didn’t stop at the road side gas stations for our food — no, we’d pull over and eat picnics from the trunk.

Fast forward to my life today.  Today, I’m not as organized about pulling together a trunk picnic.  I never know what it is that I want.  Prince doesn’t know either and he’s more likely to say, don’t worry about it, we’ll pick something up along the way (can we say chips and beef jerky?  I might pout and get some sour gummy somethings).  Really, it is sad what we tend to eat on the road — and without fail, it is never what I’m truly want, whatever that is.

So, today, today I stood in the grocery store, knowing that I wasn’t making ham sandwiches tonight, but wondering what I was going to put in the cars to prevent beef jerky and chips and sour gummy things in my car.  I asked Prince what he wanted, Cheez-Its and Flips.  Ok, done.  Duke is easy — blueberries and cheese.  Me?  Well, I’m the wild card.  For me, I got chips, rice cakes (um, yes, I like them), crackers, cookies, dried fruit, and so on and so on.  Here’s hoping at least ONE of those things will be what I’m craving tomorrow.

You know it has been a long time since you blogged when your browser doesn’t recognize your blog address.  I’m sorry, folks, I did the horrible….

I went away AGAIN.  This time you can feel ok about it, because I went away and promptly got the plague and proceeded to be sick — well, I’m still a little ill.  (I also shared and gave the plague to both Duke and Prince.  Let me tell you, the recipe for a great vacation begins with getting the plague and then sharing it with the people you are sharing a room with.  Add to this, leave the country — where your ability to get things like Nyquil aren’t easy and you will have enjoyed the perfect vacation.)

Now don’t get me wrong, in between all the drama — what? you think me having the plague didn’t involve a little drama? it is like you don’t even know me. — we did have fun.  Well, we were snarky and laughed and ate reasonable food for days.  I drank more hot tea than anyone should be allowed to.

I flew back to Snarkville on a very full flight.  SO full that we were delayed while they re-calculated the fuel needed to get us from point A to point B.  This flight was made more fun, by the plague soaked, tired people I was traveling with who needed to sleep (and sweat) on me.  Oh yes, I can tell you are jealous of my life.

I’m sure I owe you a photo or fourteen, and they will be up soon enough (right after Paris), but let’s leave this post with the most important news to share. (more…)

Just having come back from yet another trip, I have questions that I don’t get or think are totally unfair.

1. Why does it take 4 hours to fly east and 6 hours to fly west?

2. How is it possible to need twice the normal amount of sleep just because you are traveling when you really want to see people?

3. Why do you wear twice the number of normal clothing when away?  The laundry alone is not fair.

4. How can a cat with no thumbs have the ability to take ornaments off the tree?

5. Why is it I am so lame that I left the pattern I was working on in the rental car when we turned it in?  Oh, and the magazine is sold out.

6. Why do our cats think that our return is cause for a party and thus had night crazies at 5am after we went to bed at 2am?

Welcome home to me…

Yes, I’m back to the world of the blogging.  I’m sorry for leaving you a whole week with nothing, but since I barely got my bags packed I had no time to actually get the posts ready to go.  Problems with getting bags packed involved me being both the primary packer of useful stuff (Prince is going to have a cow here, but it is true.  I pack things like clothes, underwear, and such.  He packs power cords.  He can spend hours packing up a camera, where I spend less time making sure three people aren’t naked for a week.  In total fairness, he does pack his own toiletries — as my passive aggressive ways would require that I leave out something important like his razor if he didn’t) and being affected by the plague.  (what a run-on sentence, um, sorry.)

So, not only am I back in the blogging world, I’ve stopped coughing up a lung to return.  I also sound like a girl too — just saying that’s relatively new too.

Want to know where I’ve been? What I’ve done?  Why?  Me, too — when you figure it out, please share.  Since, it has been too long since I’ve been bonding with you, I have a list of stuff — just random stuff from the past week. (more…)