It had been a rough few days at the Casa de Bodiford. After the marathon trip from Vegas, I got to have an unexpected Mommy-Son Date at the Vanderbilt Urgent Care on Sunday morning. Daniel was diagnosed with Strep and I, not wanting to be left out of the fun, came out with an inner and outer ear infection. We don't believe in doing anything halfway. No sir.
Then, there was the rush-order eagle habitat diorama project thingy, Daniel returning to school to turn in project thingy in the pouring rain, followed by my ear infection turning into "There Has to Be a Midget Lodged in My Ear Stabbing Me With an Ice Pick" syndrome landing me back in urgent care for a re-evaluation.
Isn't this fun to read about? Oh but wait. There's more. Yes, I said more. The FUN IT NEVER STOPS, I TELL YA.
So after getting a shot in the boo-tay which made me feel a million and one times better, I tell D we are going to pick up Jacob, meet Dad for dinner and go find his Halloween costume. I showered. I picked out an outfit that was not made of a stretchy material, I put on make-up and I even DID MY HAIR (meaning no pigtails or ballcap, y'all. I'm not making this stuff up!). I might have even felt somewhat sassy. (I guess being clean will do that to ya)
So, I have picked up the youngest of my spawn and we are toodling (yes, I said toodling) down the highway picking up speed when all of a sudden BAM! a deer runs out onto the highway from my left hand side and straight into my van. It was such an out-of-the-blue startle, I tried to veer to the right but it was too late. I hit it full speed, it crashed into my door, knocked off the mirror, flipped onto my windshield breaking it before flying over the top of my van and into the unknown. Daniel (who has been in an accident before) flipped out and I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to console him before evaluating the damage.
After trying my door which would not open, I had to "Bo Duke-it" (if you don't get that reference, that means I am old) out the passenger side door. I called the police who showed up in full force making it look more like a drug bust than an accident scene.
The good thing is the boys and I were not hurt. Yes, Momma's Morning Party Van is a little banged up but it's nothing that can't be fixed. It is just another speed bump in the road of life...slowing us down and making us remember the important things. Life, loved ones and finding Halloween costumes which Daniel pointed out to me as I was answering the police officer's questions.
"We're STILL GONNA GO GET MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME RIGHT, MOM?"
"Yes, son. We're all alive and safe and not in an ambulance. And yes, we're going to get your costume."
See how good I am at teaching priorities?
So, here I sit, alive, still somewhat clean and nursing a 2 year old with a 102 fever. The Week of Non-Stop Fun Continues. :)
Stay Tuned....
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Motel 6 Will Leave the Light on For Ya, but Delta Won't...Just Sayin
I could have chosen to think of it as "mood lighting"... because the dim lights and darkened counters that I discovered at the Delta ticketing area at Las Vegas' McCarren International Airport at one o'clock this morning put me in a mood alright. But not a happy one, I assure you.
You see, I had chosen to take a red eye flight so that I could get to Birmingham in time to drive down to my Dad's, pick up the boys, and make it back to Nashville earlier rather than later. So, I stayed up last night and headed to the airport at 12:15 to return the rental car and check in for my flight. Even after trying to find my way into the airport because of road closures and returning a rental car, I walked into the terminal at 1:00am for a 1:50am flight. Since I was checking no bags and was armed with only a backpack, I thought it would be a breeze to board my flight and be home bound.
Not so much.
Because almost a full hour prior to my 1:50am flight, the Delta Airlines ticketing area showed no signs of life. No one to be found, Lights off. Self check-in kiosks beaming the message "Closed until 3:30am." WHAT? This had to be a mistake. How would I get my boarding pass for the flight since I was still under the typical 45-minute cut-off? I raced to the reader board and it said "Delta Flight 1788 to Memphis. Gate D36. On Time." So I knew there was at least ONE Delta employee in that airport checking folks in at the gate. But I did not have a boarding pass, so how would I get to them?
I ran to the security line, explained the situation and what was their Response Filled With Compassion and Humanity? It went something like this:
"Well, I can tell you this. You're not getting through here without a boarding pass."
Thank you. Thank you for that helpful tidbit of information.
Without going on about every painful detail of the next 20 minutes, I will give you a brief summary:
1. Dark ticketing area abandoned like a Wild West town without the tumbleweeds blowin around
2. Raced to D-gate security and encountered Ms. Congeniality and her faithful sidekick "I Don't Work for the Airlines So I Can't Help Ya"
3. Used white COURTESY phone (yeah, need a name change on that one) and was told to call Delta on their main 1-800 number. Yeah, that'll get me a quick local response.
4. Tried 10 more self check-in kiosks only to find them all glaring the words "Closed Until 4:15am"
5. Tried the white "Hotline from H-E-double-hockey-stick" again to discover a recorded menu "for driving directions to the airport, press one" (um, I'm already here? "for travel tips, press two" (um, yes, DON"T FLY DELTA would be my tip o' the moment.)
6. Used the white COURTESY phone one more time to have someone tell me "I talked to one of the luggage guys and he said you are now too late for the flight." IMAGINE THAT.
Needless to say, I spent a frustrating evening alone in a deserted airport surrounded only by the little Asian man buffing the floors and 5,300 slot machines singing "bing bing bing bing, bong, bong, bong, bong, Wheeeeeeeel! of! Fortuneeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" I will spare you the rest of the gory details about finally getting on a 6am flight, being charged a change fee to do so and the unbelieveable rudeness I experienced at the gate trying to board the plane. Needless to say, Delta did not make Katie's list of "Things I Love about Life" last Friday.
I lead a glamorous life, I tell ya. ;)
You see, I had chosen to take a red eye flight so that I could get to Birmingham in time to drive down to my Dad's, pick up the boys, and make it back to Nashville earlier rather than later. So, I stayed up last night and headed to the airport at 12:15 to return the rental car and check in for my flight. Even after trying to find my way into the airport because of road closures and returning a rental car, I walked into the terminal at 1:00am for a 1:50am flight. Since I was checking no bags and was armed with only a backpack, I thought it would be a breeze to board my flight and be home bound.
Not so much.
Because almost a full hour prior to my 1:50am flight, the Delta Airlines ticketing area showed no signs of life. No one to be found, Lights off. Self check-in kiosks beaming the message "Closed until 3:30am." WHAT? This had to be a mistake. How would I get my boarding pass for the flight since I was still under the typical 45-minute cut-off? I raced to the reader board and it said "Delta Flight 1788 to Memphis. Gate D36. On Time." So I knew there was at least ONE Delta employee in that airport checking folks in at the gate. But I did not have a boarding pass, so how would I get to them?
I ran to the security line, explained the situation and what was their Response Filled With Compassion and Humanity? It went something like this:
"Well, I can tell you this. You're not getting through here without a boarding pass."
Thank you. Thank you for that helpful tidbit of information.
Without going on about every painful detail of the next 20 minutes, I will give you a brief summary:
1. Dark ticketing area abandoned like a Wild West town without the tumbleweeds blowin around
2. Raced to D-gate security and encountered Ms. Congeniality and her faithful sidekick "I Don't Work for the Airlines So I Can't Help Ya"
3. Used white COURTESY phone (yeah, need a name change on that one) and was told to call Delta on their main 1-800 number. Yeah, that'll get me a quick local response.
4. Tried 10 more self check-in kiosks only to find them all glaring the words "Closed Until 4:15am"
5. Tried the white "Hotline from H-E-double-hockey-stick" again to discover a recorded menu "for driving directions to the airport, press one" (um, I'm already here? "for travel tips, press two" (um, yes, DON"T FLY DELTA would be my tip o' the moment.)
6. Used the white COURTESY phone one more time to have someone tell me "I talked to one of the luggage guys and he said you are now too late for the flight." IMAGINE THAT.
Needless to say, I spent a frustrating evening alone in a deserted airport surrounded only by the little Asian man buffing the floors and 5,300 slot machines singing "bing bing bing bing, bong, bong, bong, bong, Wheeeeeeeel! of! Fortuneeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" I will spare you the rest of the gory details about finally getting on a 6am flight, being charged a change fee to do so and the unbelieveable rudeness I experienced at the gate trying to board the plane. Needless to say, Delta did not make Katie's list of "Things I Love about Life" last Friday.
I lead a glamorous life, I tell ya. ;)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
My Name's Not Flo, But You Can Still Kiss My Grits
As the warm, gentle glow of morning light softly kisses the horizon and the stars fade as a new day opens its sleepy eyes to greet me, I hear "POP TART CHOCATE MILK!"
Such is the good morning greeting I get from the youngest of my spawn.
Everyone has a routine of sorts in the morning-- even if their routine is to not have a routine at all. Lately, mine has been the demand of a 2 year old for a Pop Tart. Lest he think that is how to get what you want, I go through the motherly motions of "is that how we are supposed to ask?" or... "what would be a better way to ask Mommy?" So, then he tries again: "Peez Momma, may I have PopTart and chocate milk?"
Much better.
The culinary demands of my oldest are much more refined. He has developed a negotiation strategy that has served him well. "If I get up on the first try, will you make me an omelette?" Now, seeing as this child makes a toothpick look meaty, I will pretty much cook him anything he wants if he will eat it. After the terms of the agreement are ironed out, he jumps out of bed and I head to the kitchen (a.k.a. Katie's Trusty Skillet) to fulfill his request.
Although the "getting-ready-for-school-catch-the-bus-where's-my-other-shoe-did-you-grab-your-homework" hub-bub of my mornings can be a bit chaotic at times, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Pop tarts and chocolate milk and cheese omelettes aside, those little fellas need me. But for now, I wear my Short Order Cook uniform proudly and will serve up whatever their hearts desire (within reason, of course!) :)
Ding. Ding. Order up.
Such is the good morning greeting I get from the youngest of my spawn.
Everyone has a routine of sorts in the morning-- even if their routine is to not have a routine at all. Lately, mine has been the demand of a 2 year old for a Pop Tart. Lest he think that is how to get what you want, I go through the motherly motions of "is that how we are supposed to ask?" or... "what would be a better way to ask Mommy?" So, then he tries again: "Peez Momma, may I have PopTart and chocate milk?"
Much better.
The culinary demands of my oldest are much more refined. He has developed a negotiation strategy that has served him well. "If I get up on the first try, will you make me an omelette?" Now, seeing as this child makes a toothpick look meaty, I will pretty much cook him anything he wants if he will eat it. After the terms of the agreement are ironed out, he jumps out of bed and I head to the kitchen (a.k.a. Katie's Trusty Skillet) to fulfill his request.
Although the "getting-ready-for-school-catch-the-bus-where's-my-other-shoe-did-you-grab-your-homework" hub-bub of my mornings can be a bit chaotic at times, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Pop tarts and chocolate milk and cheese omelettes aside, those little fellas need me. But for now, I wear my Short Order Cook uniform proudly and will serve up whatever their hearts desire (within reason, of course!) :)
Ding. Ding. Order up.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
No Olympic Feat...But an Accomplishment All the Same
The sun was just cresting the hillside in the distance as I laced up my shoes for my morning walk. It had been too long since I had done the 2.3 mile loop the encloses the pasture across the way...and I was ready.
Before heading out I fired up the trusty iPod and did some stretching. Just the process of getting ready to walk was as cathartic to me as the walk itself. Making myself crawl out of bed, get dressed, stretch and actually walk down the steep hill to the road-- all essential parts of the "getting back to taking care of Katie" process.
Now I gotta tell ya, I know 2.3 miles is not as noteworthy accomplishment. My morning dose of Facebook reminds me of this. "I did my 20 miles today..." and "Time to run for 5 hours..." seem to be status updates that are popping up more often. So I do know that my walk doesn't rank up there in the realm of Astounding Athletic Accomplishments. But that doesn't matter. Not a bit.
Because on this morning, I am happy. I am awake and alive and watching the golden rays of a sunrise illumninate the weathered wood of an old barn. I am feeling the brisk air on my skin and watching the water trickle over rocks in the creekbed below. I am snapping mental photographs of the vine crawling over the split rail fence as I crest the hill and I am singing my favorite playlist at the top of my lungs with only the horses and cows as an audience.
As I came around the last bend, I delighted in the sight of the morning sunlight slanting through the trees of a deep creekbed, casting long shadows on the grass still wet with morning dew. It is here I spent the most time. Walking back and forth, I soaked in all this morning had to offer.
I was happy on my walk today. Motivated. Alive. And maybe, just maybe, inspired to do it again tomorrow.
We shall see. :)
Before heading out I fired up the trusty iPod and did some stretching. Just the process of getting ready to walk was as cathartic to me as the walk itself. Making myself crawl out of bed, get dressed, stretch and actually walk down the steep hill to the road-- all essential parts of the "getting back to taking care of Katie" process.
Now I gotta tell ya, I know 2.3 miles is not as noteworthy accomplishment. My morning dose of Facebook reminds me of this. "I did my 20 miles today..." and "Time to run for 5 hours..." seem to be status updates that are popping up more often. So I do know that my walk doesn't rank up there in the realm of Astounding Athletic Accomplishments. But that doesn't matter. Not a bit.
Because on this morning, I am happy. I am awake and alive and watching the golden rays of a sunrise illumninate the weathered wood of an old barn. I am feeling the brisk air on my skin and watching the water trickle over rocks in the creekbed below. I am snapping mental photographs of the vine crawling over the split rail fence as I crest the hill and I am singing my favorite playlist at the top of my lungs with only the horses and cows as an audience.
As I came around the last bend, I delighted in the sight of the morning sunlight slanting through the trees of a deep creekbed, casting long shadows on the grass still wet with morning dew. It is here I spent the most time. Walking back and forth, I soaked in all this morning had to offer.
I was happy on my walk today. Motivated. Alive. And maybe, just maybe, inspired to do it again tomorrow.
We shall see. :)
Saturday, October 09, 2010
The Agony of Defeat
I have been accused of being a somewhat passionate sports fan. And competitive at that. So when my Crimson Tide went down today at the hands of a very capable South Carolina Gamecock team...I had calls of condolence and numerous Facebook messages from empathetic friends.
Now I love the game as much as the next person and, although I am bummed that our winning streak has been broken and that we will no longer hold the #1 spot in college football, there are worse things that could happen. For example, Blue Bell could decide to stop producing their Homemade Vanilla ice cream. Bruce Springsteen, or leg warmers for that matter, could make a big comeback. Or, the television show Modern Family could be cancelled. And, perhaps worst of all, I could be a fan of a team whose colors contain any shade of orange. I say this not in reference to any particular team but because orange is just simply not my signature color.
You see, there are worse fates.
But for now, I celebrate the run we had. I celebrate 19 wins, an SEC and National Championship last year and 5 wins so far this year. I celebrate the time spent with friends and hearing the fight song on a crisp autumn day and pom pons waving in the air. I applaud the effort our guys have shown and the light that this loss will shine on areas of needed improvement.
You see, as cliche as it may sound....football is just a game. I say that when we are winning and when we are losing. It is a game. And I was actually happy for those South Carolina players today because they played their hearts out and were rewarded with a sweet victory over the strongest team in the nation. For them, I was happy.
But lest you think I am a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize with my open-minded and mature view on collegiate athletics, let me tell you...had it been a team like Auburn, I might not have included that last paragraph. I mean, a girl may be classy in the way she handles the disappointment of defeat--but I do have my limits, y'all. ;)
Goodnight and Roll Tide!
Now I love the game as much as the next person and, although I am bummed that our winning streak has been broken and that we will no longer hold the #1 spot in college football, there are worse things that could happen. For example, Blue Bell could decide to stop producing their Homemade Vanilla ice cream. Bruce Springsteen, or leg warmers for that matter, could make a big comeback. Or, the television show Modern Family could be cancelled. And, perhaps worst of all, I could be a fan of a team whose colors contain any shade of orange. I say this not in reference to any particular team but because orange is just simply not my signature color.
You see, there are worse fates.
But for now, I celebrate the run we had. I celebrate 19 wins, an SEC and National Championship last year and 5 wins so far this year. I celebrate the time spent with friends and hearing the fight song on a crisp autumn day and pom pons waving in the air. I applaud the effort our guys have shown and the light that this loss will shine on areas of needed improvement.
You see, as cliche as it may sound....football is just a game. I say that when we are winning and when we are losing. It is a game. And I was actually happy for those South Carolina players today because they played their hearts out and were rewarded with a sweet victory over the strongest team in the nation. For them, I was happy.
But lest you think I am a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize with my open-minded and mature view on collegiate athletics, let me tell you...had it been a team like Auburn, I might not have included that last paragraph. I mean, a girl may be classy in the way she handles the disappointment of defeat--but I do have my limits, y'all. ;)
Goodnight and Roll Tide!
Friday, October 08, 2010
Blair Witch Project Got Nothin On Me
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to star in a horror film where a marching band (well that's not sounding very scary)...a marching band of killer zombies comes slamming through your back door at 10:30 at night while you are home alone with your children?
OK, so maybe zombie killers is a tad much but bear with me.
I had tucked the boys safely in their beds last night and was working in my office when the LOUDEST, CLANGIEST, DRUM-BEATING, WINDOW-RATTLING sound started pouring out of the laundry room. This was not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill-the-washer-is-off-balance-because-of-a-heavy-blanket sound. Noooooo. This was "the house is falling down around us" banging. I jumped up from my chair just as the boys came screaming and crying down the hall with their hands over their ears. Just then, the sound stopped.
Silence.
I slowly crept down the hall lacking only a shaky video camera to document the terror. I turned the corner to find our front-loading washer sitting squarely in the middle of the laundry room, hose stretched as far as it could without snapping off, door hanging wide open, storage drawer popped out and dead as a doornail. I tried to close the door and it was broken. I surveyed my now lifeless (brand new) washer for signs of foul but even my best NCIS investigative skills turned up nothing. What would cause my nearly-new washing machine to go mad? I had been working it a lot harder than normal this week. Was this some sort of freakish Appliance Protest?
With no clue or solution at hand, I left it as I found it and returned the boys to their beds assuring them that the "monster washer" was not out to get them (although not fully convinced myself).
Hopefully a repairman can come and check on it today so my laundry doesn't pile up again. Until then, be looking for us on the latest episode of "When Appliances Go Mad."
My life. Lawd.
OK, so maybe zombie killers is a tad much but bear with me.
I had tucked the boys safely in their beds last night and was working in my office when the LOUDEST, CLANGIEST, DRUM-BEATING, WINDOW-RATTLING sound started pouring out of the laundry room. This was not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill-the-washer-is-off-balance-because-of-a-heavy-blanket sound. Noooooo. This was "the house is falling down around us" banging. I jumped up from my chair just as the boys came screaming and crying down the hall with their hands over their ears. Just then, the sound stopped.
Silence.
I slowly crept down the hall lacking only a shaky video camera to document the terror. I turned the corner to find our front-loading washer sitting squarely in the middle of the laundry room, hose stretched as far as it could without snapping off, door hanging wide open, storage drawer popped out and dead as a doornail. I tried to close the door and it was broken. I surveyed my now lifeless (brand new) washer for signs of foul but even my best NCIS investigative skills turned up nothing. What would cause my nearly-new washing machine to go mad? I had been working it a lot harder than normal this week. Was this some sort of freakish Appliance Protest?
With no clue or solution at hand, I left it as I found it and returned the boys to their beds assuring them that the "monster washer" was not out to get them (although not fully convinced myself).
Hopefully a repairman can come and check on it today so my laundry doesn't pile up again. Until then, be looking for us on the latest episode of "When Appliances Go Mad."
My life. Lawd.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)