The Langoliers (and picking up Efen's slack)

Ok, so I got kind of lazy. It didn't start out as lazy. It started out as busy, which turned into lazy. But then, two things happened:

Efen decided to go on blogger vacation. And as we all know, the rules state that no more than one blogger in an extended blogger family can go on blogger vacation at the same time. At least, according to the rules that I have made up in my own head. And then...

I totally got called out on Facebook by Vinomom, who, upon seeing my status as "Having the day off...." posts this comment:

"Well, I hope to see a new post up today!"

Curses! Totally busted. But she's right, I've been gone far too long, and truth be told, I've missed the pouring of my soul into blogland...whether you bitches have missed it or not. (And how is this for serendipity...just as I'm typing this, a comment from Momma on my previous post that she IS missing me! HA!)

Anyway...when last we spoke I was headed for the wild, wild west. And, I found it not particularly wild, but most definitely west. First let me say that Montana is flippin' breathtaking, and I'm forever grateful that I got to visit that beautiful state because chances are nil that I will ever go there again. By choice. Why? First of all, it's all far and stuff. Secondly, if you're not a skiier, hiker, snowboarder, rancher, snowball thrower, spelunker, or a cowboy on the lam looking to hide out, there isn't a whole lot there for ya. And as most of you know, I am none of those things. The shopping was limited. The restaurants were good, what few of them weren't chains. They have very little fast food, which was nice to see. But a girl can only shop so long in Target and Old Navy and Coldwater Creek. I'm just sayin'. And speaking of it being far...

It took me 17 hours from the time I boarded my first plane until I was safely ensconced in my hotel room. That's not counting the time from when I first woke up, got ready to go, drove to the airport, waited around there for a while...etc. My first flight to Atlanta was delayed due to fog. (Side note: Every time I fly now, I think of sweet GiGi...go visit her site and you'll know why!) My 2nd flight to Salt Lake City was delayed due to the fact that Atlanta is a ginormous hub and everything is always delayed from Atlanta. However...as we flew into Salt Lake, I have to say it was the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It was a beautiful, clear sunny day, and the view from the air was stunning. And I had quite a pleasant experience in their lovely airport, for the record. My flight to Bozeman was running on time, and I had just enough of a window to grab a bite of lunch and read my book for a bit. And then...things changed.

About 20 minutes before landing in Bozeman, the pilot announces that there "appears to be some weather" in Bozeman suddenly, and we would be diverted to Billings in order to re-fuel and determine what our next course of action would be. Okayyyy. Keep in mind that I'm about 12 hours into this foray by now, and I'm not a pleasant person to begin with. After we land, we're kept on the plane for a while, and the people around me start calling family and friends in Bozeman to find out what the story is.

"Ohhhh, really? That sounds bad."

"Is it still snowing? When did it start?"

"Blizzarding? No shit. Hmmm."

And they're all pretty calm about it, because evidently, this is the norm. Sunny and beautiful one minute, and white-out conditions the next. In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out how I can get to either a bar or the Billings Marriott, neither of which seems to be in reach at the moment. Finally, we're allowed to deplane. It's about 5:30 pm Montana time (whatever time that is...mountain? central? whatever) and the restaurant, bar, gift shop...everything....is already closed. WTF? This dinky little airport was deserted! It was just us...a small plane-load of unsuspecting travelers who found themselves in an eerily deserted airport..... Uh, huh, I'm telling you, it was like The Langoliers! I couldn't remember anything about that movie other than they landed in an eerily deserted airport, and I was pretty sure that eventually it was going to be like something out of "Lost". One older guy was going nuts, trying to rent a car to drive into the blizzardy Bozeman, over a mountain pass no less, and two younger guys were getting pissy with him and clearly wanted to beat his ass since he wouldn't shut up. My cell phone battery was nearly dead and I wanted to call Avis to make sure I could still pick up my damn car if and when I finally got to Bozeman, but....there were not even any payphones. OK...again, WTF?? Then I spied vending machines down the hall. I was pretty sure that if push came to shove, I could overpower most of the old people, if not the two younger guys. And the lady sitting in the seat next to me? Some sort of Hollywood wife, living in LA most of the time, but "has a home in Bozeman". Oh yeah, I could beat her pilates ass. Just because most of these people were all outdoorsy and athletic and shit didn't mean I couldn't scratch somebody to death with these fake nails if it came down to me or them in a Doritos showdown. Just sayin'.

But it didn't come to that, and a couple of hours later we were on our way to Bozeman, if only to circle the airport for an hour while trying to land. I was one huge raw nerve at that point, and while we were waiting for baggage, I meandered over to the car rental area and....no Avis. Say it with me now...WTF??? I asked, and oh, yeah, Avis is "off-site". Had to call. Had to wait for them to send their shuttle. Had to drag into that little office with fire shooting out of my eyes, waiting for there to be a problem with my car. But no...I even got an upgrade. Somebody either felt really sorry for me, or I was really, really scary. Care to wager?

Finally got to my hotel, gave my name, and "Oh yes, Ms. Elle, we have your reservation right here. And how would you like to pay?" WTF?!?! Everything is supposed to be paid for and taken care of by the training dept. for me...I just laid my head down right there on the desk. I guess that little guy felt sorry for me too, because he just decided to leave that little matter for the morning crew to take care of. Smart boy. I got upstairs to my nice, comfortable room, made a couple of phone calls, and slept the sleep of the dead. Or of a Langolier, or something.

The next morning, I look out my window, and this is what I see:




Pure, unadulterated, awesomeness.

Not sure if it made that dreadful trip all worth it...but it came pretty damn close.

Happy Almost Spring! (she said with sarcasm)

Yeah. So, it was like, 80 degrees last weekend, right? Not New Guy spun me right round in the little race car with the sunroof out and the windows down (I know, I know...the hair) and it felt soooo good after this long, dark winter. And then the next day it was Spring forward time, so there was extra sunshine to be had, and it really warmed me to my bones. I used to really love winter, surprisingly. I loved the cold, I loved the snow, I loved dressing in all these layers and snuggling up under a big blanket (ok, I still pretty much love the blanket part) and I reveled in winter while everyone else cursed me for doing so. This year? Not so much. So the fresh burst of Spring that came last weekend was most welcome, and you found me busting out the capris and the Spring handbags and scheduling the French pedi. Yea! The joy!

Then came the snow.

Yeah, you heard me. Thursday evening as I drove home from work, it began. Friday morning when I woke up, this is what greeted me.




Yeah. I know it's pretty. But it's MARCH, and I've had about all the pretty I care to take! And since then? Rain. Oh yeah, cold, drizzly, misting, sideways sting-ging rain, the kind that whips its way around your umbrella and settles itself into your hair, thus effectively ruining whatever attempt one might have made at styling. I'm thisfuckingclose to getting one of those attractive clear plastic kerchief things the old ladies wear to church and bingo. Just try me.

I was up at the crack of early this morning because I need to get some laundry done and get packed for Montana tomorrow. My flight leaves at 7:00 am, I have to be at the airport at an early enough time so as to beat the huge crowds of morning commuters flying out of one of the, oh I don't know, 5 gates that we have at this airport, and it takes me a minute or two to get ready in the mornings, so y'all know I need to be up around the same time Diane Sawyer's alarm clock goes off. My trip takes me from here to ATL, from ATL to Salt Lake City, and from there to Bozeman. By the time my travel day is over, I will have spent about 12 hours getting there. Anybody want to take bets on what my mood is going to be like when I get there? Anybody want to take bets on what happens to the Avis agent if she tells me there is a "problem" with my rental car? If that happens, I think it would be best if I just have Efen on speed dial, and hand the phone over. Between his mouth and the look of death on my face, I imagine we wouldn't have a problem for long. (hehe...that's kind of fun to think about, in an evil sort of way ;) I'm thinking about not even taking my laptop. I can't stand to carry on anything besides my purse (and even that is a chore once I overload that thing down) and I don't relish the thought of having to drag another heavy bag around with me for 12 hours. I'll have my iPhone, so I can get emails and catch up on blogs and Twitter and Facebook and all that other shit I can't seem to live without anymore. I'm still debating. I wish I could pack it in my suitcase, but I imagine if I want to ever see it again, that wouldn't be the most prudent choice.

I'll spend Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday in my trainee's store, and I imagine there won't be a lot of time for sightseeing, but I'm excited to see Montana (from the rental car, and the hotel window, and the airplane, anyway). Remember, I'm going to see Nature Girl again, the one who suggested I check out a cave when I got out there. I'll nip that right in the bud and make sure to take only shoes that have no chance of ever seeing any sort of terrain. Poppa called me the other day and wants me to pick him up a map of "anything to do with fishing". Mmmmmmkay. (Seems he and Mimi are ditching the China thing and instead are thinking about RV-ing throughout the countryside for weeks on end.) So, when I get home Friday evening, guess what will be here to greet me?

Um, besides Mimi and Poppa, who are coming for a visit.

That's right...I'm coming home on March 20th, the first official day of Spring.

And it better. Be. SPRING. For real this time. Not fake-out Spring. Otherwise, I'm getting Efen back on speed dial.

(Mrs. Wally...we miss you!)

Can You Drive To China?

How is it possible that I finally get an entire weekend off, and I'm up at 5:00 am? Seriously? I might have been able to go back to sleep if A.) I hadn't eaten 679,392 carbs before bedtime and I woke up hungry, and B.) it wasn't some kind of effing kiln in the bedroom. Ok, maybe I tend to stretch things a little. Maybe. A little. But still. It's warmish here, and while that is a very welcome feeling, my bedroom is unprepared for warmish. So today I shall shun the quilt and get the Spring bedding prepared....which as we all know means that three days from now we'll have a massive blizzard and the entire Mid-Atlantic region will be covered in ice until May.

Anyway.

So, I got a call the other day from my beloved Mimi. She and Poppa are preparing to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary this summer. (August 26, in fact...my birthday. Way to steal a girl's thunder, y'all.) They figure that since they've managed to stay married that long, raise 3 somewhat well-adjusted children, and somehow still have not killed and/or maimed each other or any of us kids, they deserve to treat themselves. I'm almost certain that in Mimizzle's mind, "treat" is akin to "big ass diamond". However, Poppa has something else in mind.

He wants to go to China.

Aack! China! I KNOW. Who goes to China? I'm not particularly surprised that my dad would want to go there...he's all interested in history and cultures and things of that nature. Mimi, on the other hand, is interested in diamonds. My dad was in the Marines back in the day, and he's seen much of Europe but has always wanted to go to Asia. Mimi, on the the other hand, was poor back in the day, and she's had smallish to mediumish to somewhat largish diamonds, but she's always wanted the Grand Behemoth of Bling. So, they're making a compromise. They will plan their trip together, and then secretly, Mimi will buy her own diamond, and I guarantee he won't even notice. Everybody's happy! See how they've managed to stay together so long?

Okay, back to China. First, Mimi has issues with flying. She has terrible anxiety, her ears get plugged up, and she's miserable for a couple of days afterward. I'm still not certain she realizes exactly how long this trip is going to take....but she's already put the word on the street that she'll be requiring some lovely American parting gifts in the form of Xanax and Valium. So...you know that as soon as the news broke, my smartass brothers (and Jenny Fabulous too!) had to start with the fun-making.


"You know that it's not like going to the China Buffet, right?"

"I'd stay away from the duck sauce. I'm just sayin'."

"I really don't have the money to get you out of a Communist jail."

"Maybe mom can get some accupuncture for her Gurd while she's there."

"China? They're not going to adopt anybody are they?" (Hehe....that from J-Fab!)

"Heaven help her if she gets over there and her bladder falls out again."

"I really can't think of anything I want you to bring me from China. Can you go to Paris instead?"

And so it goes.....my family can find just about anything to make fun of about each other. It's part of our charm. They're also thinking about a Mediterranean cruise instead, because, you know, that's the same. ;) Truthfully, I don't care where they go, as long as they have the time of their lives.

And they don't spend too much of my inheritance.