So, my flight from New Zealand to Los Angeles was 12 hours, not that I noticed. I boarded the plane, watched a short movie, ate a very unmemorable dinner, folded my seat into a flat bed (oh the heaven that are business class seats) and promptly passed out for nine or so hours.
I slept through dessert. The duty free cart did not wake me up. I missed the sunrise. I slept through breakfast. I finally woke up about an hour before landing. It's a good thing I didn't sleep all the way to the gate.
When I finally woke up, I looked and felt a complete wreck. No problem, though, I am a frequent traveler and prepared for these contingencies. I went to the airplane bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and here is the key piece, people, changed my clothes.
I went back to my seat, feeling like a completely new person and congratulating myself for really pulling it together. I was busily organizing my luggage for landing when one of the flight attendants sidled up alongside. He asked, "Honey, did you do a complete change just now?"
Wide-eyed I looked at him and gasped out a "yes..."
He nodded seriously in reply and mock whispered, "Then I think you left something behind..."
I whipped my head around for the offending article of clothing. He just shook his head and handed me my unmentionables wrapped in a paper napkin.
The horrible question, that will forever remain unanswered, is where exactly did I drop them?
I didn't dare ask for breakfast after that.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Jumping the rainbow
Me and this blog, yeah, we almost broke up. But I think I finally might be able to start writing again.
You might have guessed that August was rough. My poor dear husband was stuck single parenting for weeks while I begged for "just one more hour at work, please."
And then to top it off, at the very height of the madness, I had to take a business trip for eight days. To New Zealand. I love New Zealand! But-- it's a really, really, reeeeally, long way away from here.
I owe my husband big time. And my mother. And my father. And my in-laws. Family is amazing. Family steps in and takes the wheel when you're too tired to drive.
It wasn't all bad though. On my very last day in New Zealand I spent the afternoon with friends. We went to a local grocery store and picked up fresh bread, hot roast chicken, and salad. We ate outside, savoring the early spring sunshine. (Because in New Zealand, the seasons are reversed, crazy, right?) Afterward we drove down to a little beach and hiked up one of the many bluffs that surround Auckland harbor. And as we rounded the bend a rainbow pierced the sky, as if on cue.
I arrived home just after midnight on Monday evening to a quiet, sleeping, house. The crickets were chirping, the fan was humming, and dog was snoring and I slipped back into the fold unnoticed. The next morning, when the girls piled into bed and smothered me with kisses and hugs it was like Christmas and my birthday all folded into one.
It is so good to be home.
You might have guessed that August was rough. My poor dear husband was stuck single parenting for weeks while I begged for "just one more hour at work, please."
And then to top it off, at the very height of the madness, I had to take a business trip for eight days. To New Zealand. I love New Zealand! But-- it's a really, really, reeeeally, long way away from here.
I owe my husband big time. And my mother. And my father. And my in-laws. Family is amazing. Family steps in and takes the wheel when you're too tired to drive.
It wasn't all bad though. On my very last day in New Zealand I spent the afternoon with friends. We went to a local grocery store and picked up fresh bread, hot roast chicken, and salad. We ate outside, savoring the early spring sunshine. (Because in New Zealand, the seasons are reversed, crazy, right?) Afterward we drove down to a little beach and hiked up one of the many bluffs that surround Auckland harbor. And as we rounded the bend a rainbow pierced the sky, as if on cue.
I arrived home just after midnight on Monday evening to a quiet, sleeping, house. The crickets were chirping, the fan was humming, and dog was snoring and I slipped back into the fold unnoticed. The next morning, when the girls piled into bed and smothered me with kisses and hugs it was like Christmas and my birthday all folded into one.
It is so good to be home.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
When the going gets tough
the tough bake pie. Really good pie. Lemon meringue pie. With lemons. And meringue.
And then, life gets a whole lot better.
The end.
And then, life gets a whole lot better.
The end.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
keep the old
One of the harder parts of our peripatetic lifestyle is the making and losing of many friends.
During the first year we lived in Latvia we had a nice group of good friends our age. None of us had kids and thus I have fond memories of long afternoons spent in the Irish pub in Riga. It was one of the few places in the city where you could get onion rings, and, oddly enough, they made great chimichangas. We would eat and drink and laugh and do all the things that young, childless people do.
After a year, these friends went on to other postings and we lost touch. I'm terrible at keeping in touch, even with my family. I don't write many letters or emails. I don't send cards for birthdays. I probably should, but between my two little darlings, working full time, and keeping the house reasonably decent I have to let a lot of things slip.
However, due to a series of fortunate events, we were able to have a mini Riga reunion this morning. One friend, who lives in Serbia, is spending the week in the U.S. for training. The other friend drove up from Norfolk. It has been four years since I have seen them. Four years, people, since we lived in Latvia. Four years since I have seen these friends of mine. It feels like four minutes ago.
We feasted on egg and pepper strata, banana muffins, and cantaloupe. Instead of watching cricket on the tvs at the pub, we watched Miss Cheeks and Miss Bee play wildly. (Oh do they love to show off for guests.) And then we talked about our home renovation projects. We parted with no false promises of renewed friendship. But I do sincerely hope that it will be less than four years before I see these wonderful ladies again.
During the first year we lived in Latvia we had a nice group of good friends our age. None of us had kids and thus I have fond memories of long afternoons spent in the Irish pub in Riga. It was one of the few places in the city where you could get onion rings, and, oddly enough, they made great chimichangas. We would eat and drink and laugh and do all the things that young, childless people do.
After a year, these friends went on to other postings and we lost touch. I'm terrible at keeping in touch, even with my family. I don't write many letters or emails. I don't send cards for birthdays. I probably should, but between my two little darlings, working full time, and keeping the house reasonably decent I have to let a lot of things slip.
However, due to a series of fortunate events, we were able to have a mini Riga reunion this morning. One friend, who lives in Serbia, is spending the week in the U.S. for training. The other friend drove up from Norfolk. It has been four years since I have seen them. Four years, people, since we lived in Latvia. Four years since I have seen these friends of mine. It feels like four minutes ago.
We feasted on egg and pepper strata, banana muffins, and cantaloupe. Instead of watching cricket on the tvs at the pub, we watched Miss Cheeks and Miss Bee play wildly. (Oh do they love to show off for guests.) And then we talked about our home renovation projects. We parted with no false promises of renewed friendship. But I do sincerely hope that it will be less than four years before I see these wonderful ladies again.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Frosty
Oh my goodness. This week has been hot, even by Washington, D.C. in the summer standards.
Poor Frosty would last about five minutes before he turned into a puddle.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Why I love summer
Pizza topped with garden-basil.
Tomatoes ripening on the vine.
Watching Cheeks ride her trike.
Buying fresh corn for supper.
Pretty flowers in hanging baskets.
Miss Bee longing for the pool.
Tomatoes ripening on the vine.
Watching Cheeks ride her trike.
Buying fresh corn for supper.
Pretty flowers in hanging baskets.
Miss Bee longing for the pool.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Still here--
Just taking a moment to peek at my very neglected blog. I have no particularly good excuse or explanation for vanishing, I'm-a just a-very tired these days.
There are months when I think I have it all together, and family, work, and life seem to harmonize pretty well.
And then there are months where I feel like I am banging all the piano keys at once. Life in discord. An exquisite cacophony.
I read status updates enviously as my friends go off on vacation, or revel in that sweet space between job assignments. In the morning, I stare, sad-eyed at the carefree tourists navigating downtown D.C.--toting water bottles and metro maps.
However, the ballerinas are the worst of all. Every morning on my way to the office I pass a group of 10-15 teenage ballerinas, clustered at a bus stop, heading off to rehearsals. They wear sweaters over their leotards (in this Washington D.C. humidity)! They are languid; I am rushing. I try to walk gracefully past, swishing by in my wool suit. Answering emails all day doesn't really compare to Giselle and pas de deux though.
There are a few quiet corners in my crazy life-- though, like this past Saturday morning when both girls inexplicably slept past 7 am and I reveled in a few extra hours of sleep--and when I took fat Max running and he actually made it all the way home with me (never mind that part when he lay down in the grass and refused to get up for a good ten minutes)--and when the kiddies were giggling and being cute at the grocery store and then there was NO LINE at checkout. There's good stuff in there, too. I just gotta hold on tight to those little things for a while.
There are months when I think I have it all together, and family, work, and life seem to harmonize pretty well.
And then there are months where I feel like I am banging all the piano keys at once. Life in discord. An exquisite cacophony.
I read status updates enviously as my friends go off on vacation, or revel in that sweet space between job assignments. In the morning, I stare, sad-eyed at the carefree tourists navigating downtown D.C.--toting water bottles and metro maps.
However, the ballerinas are the worst of all. Every morning on my way to the office I pass a group of 10-15 teenage ballerinas, clustered at a bus stop, heading off to rehearsals. They wear sweaters over their leotards (in this Washington D.C. humidity)! They are languid; I am rushing. I try to walk gracefully past, swishing by in my wool suit. Answering emails all day doesn't really compare to Giselle and pas de deux though.
There are a few quiet corners in my crazy life-- though, like this past Saturday morning when both girls inexplicably slept past 7 am and I reveled in a few extra hours of sleep--and when I took fat Max running and he actually made it all the way home with me (never mind that part when he lay down in the grass and refused to get up for a good ten minutes)--and when the kiddies were giggling and being cute at the grocery store and then there was NO LINE at checkout. There's good stuff in there, too. I just gotta hold on tight to those little things for a while.
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