Bitchin' and Moanin'

You, dear Readers, know I travel.  A Lot.  Now there is plenty of fodder for my bitching in traveling but let me tackle one issue which absolutely drives me batshit insane each and every time I travel.

Disembarking the plane.

For some odd reason, despite the change in cabin pressure, despite the wheels hitting the ground and despite the captain ever-so-helpfully announcing the "welcome to (city)," people just can't figure out how to get off a damn plane.

It is the incessant packing up of their shit (in the middle of the freakin' aisle), it is the "helpless" who packed their damn bags but now can't seem to lift them, it is the infirm and elderly who now apparently have a schedule to keep (at 1 mph) and the ones with fourteen kids all with their own personal bags that make me insane.

Rules for flying -- Athena Style.

1. What goes up, must come down.  Take note, fellow passengers, of this handy rule of physics.  If you aren't completely packed up by the time the plane is unloading, feel free to take as much time as the flight attendants will allow - in your particular seat/row.  Do not, under any circumstance, get into the aisle.

2. Packing a "too heavy" or "too cumbersome" bag -- tip #2 involves the use of "checked" luggage and Sherpas.  Spend the freaking $20 and let someone else shlump your crap around for you.  Then, pay for a Sherpa of some sort to haul your crap from the bag claim to wherever.  Just do not, I repeat, do not, pack a too heavy bag and get on the plane expecting others to do your bitchwork.  This is why you tip the skycap, quit being a cheapass.

3. If the infirm and elderly/those with small children get to board first because they "need more time" I get it.  No complaints.  On the other hand, when disembarking the plane, the reverse should hold.  You get on first (because you need more time) you get off last (because you need more time).  Quit moving at the speed of sloth and expect everyone else to deal with it.  Be kind, sit peacefully until the plane is emptied and then get all your bags, your kids fourteen bags and toys and gummy bears and whatever and get off the plane.

4. This rule is universal to many things: just because you can doesn't mean you should.  Just because you "can" take two bags with you as carry-ons and your children can take two bags as carry-ons doesn't mean you should.  Trust.  No child under the age of five wants to carry shit, in fact, they want you to carry them (and all their shit).  So refer to rule #2 and make all of us fellow flyers happier people.

ADDITION: November 2, 2010:

5. This rule shall be henceforth known as the 'Don't monkey it up' rule.  My friend Jay from over at Plays With Sirens states that if you are in the back of the plane, just relax.  You aren't getting off the plane first and as such, there is no sense for you to stand in the aisle "monkeying it up" as he says.  Just relax, sit tight and get up when the three rows ahead of you are beginning to disembark.   Good rule, Jay.  Very good rule.



ADDITION: November 7, 2010:

Official phone-pic of 'monkeying it up' from row 30 of my most recent AirTran flight.  Please note, the plane has just landed and the doors aren't open, yet folks in row 27 think they've got a fightin' shot of mowing down the rest of the plane.  Sheesh.

Thank you.  This public service announcement has been brought to you by a fellow passenger.

Off to DC again ...

A week of road-time awaits me.  Sunday - Saturday in DC.  Plenty of conference activities.  Plenty of cool opportunities. 

A chance to see friends old and new.

An opportunity to check out a couple of schools for the Ph.D. program.

Will see PM while I'm there.  As he says "it's gonna get weird" and as I say "shenanigans." 

Updates later.  I arrive there at 2 p.m. tomorrow.

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a sidebar -- the potential love interest just keeps getting more interesting.  :) 

After our "deep dark" discussion of the other night, I really did feel a burden lift from me.  You've gotta understand, dear Readers, that I, like many, have dated the Hit Parade of Jackasses over the years.  Lots of Judgemental Fucks, with plenty of opinions on 'how things should be' or 'expectations' from me.  I am who I am and after getting kicked in the ass about a million times over mistakes I've made (as if Judgemental Fucks never made any -- but I digress), I've been more than hesitant to lay my soul bare.  His abject acceptance of my mistakes was and is a wonderous, splendid thing. 

As if he weren't attractive to me to begin with -- he adds compassion and acceptance. 

 "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."


--Alfred Lord Tennyson

The darkest reaches of your soul -- bared to another

I'm not perfect.

There.  I said it.

Not that I've ever claimed to be perfect but somehow, someway, we all get put on a pedestal by someone at some time.  I'm just your average mid-30s divorced chick with some stuff in my past I'd rather not examine too closely anymore -- let alone share it with someone.

It's not that I haven't thought about those things.  Been in therapy for them, in fact.  I just don't want to relive the sickening moments where I let myself down.  Having someone else judge me is one thing, judging myself -- oh yeah, that voice just doesn't know when to STFU.

I've forgiven myself for the mistakes I've made and have shut the door on them, with renewed hope and ferverent interest that I never, ever repeat those moments again. 

So there is a potential love interest out there (yes, dear Readers, I've been holding out on you and no he isn't a matter for public discussion at the moment), and I wanted to come clean with my mistakes, so as to "start fresh" as it were.  We talked last night and I told him the story.

His response: "That's in the past, stop beating yourself up about it. We all make mistakes." 

Wow. 

I felt accepted as I am, mistakes and all.  I can't possibly describe to you the relief I felt -- it was as if that 'blanket of worry and doubt' had been lifted and replaced by pure, unadulterated sunshine and hope.

I feel light today -- and have a smile on my face that just won't come off. 

Updates ...

Update to my post from 10/19 -- no email this year.  First time in five years.  I hope that he has found happiness.  A friend (thanks PM) sent me this on that day and I thought I'd share it.

"I read your blog this morning and want to respond with borrowed words from John O ‘Donohue (I think we are related thru some clan inbreeding):

Try as best you can, not to let

The wire brush of doubt

Scrape from your heart

All sense of yourself

And your hesitant light.



If you remain generous,

Time will come good;

And you will find your feet

Again on fresh pastures of promise,

Where the air will be kind

And blushed with beginning.


You better be trying your weird on. DC in less than 2 weeks!"

Yeah, PM, you made my day with that -- thanks friend.  You rock.  See ya in DC next week.  I've done my part to prepare the city for our arrival :) Dubliner -- Be Warned!
 
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The food at Farmer's Market was as good as I'd remembered.  Their coconut cream pie rocks ... ate half yesterday and finished the rest for breakfast.  Yeah, breakfast ... coconut is a fruit, right?  cream is milk?  crust is bread?  see where I'm going with this ...
 
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Working on a project for work (grant database) and essays for grad school.  Add in a stats mid-term and you've got a pretty good handle on why I need to behave myself this week.  *sigh*
 
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Yesterday was a rough work day -- had to lock myself in my office to avoid displaying 'career limiting behaviors' -- probably a good move on my part. 6 months.  6. Freaking. Months.
 

Food has taken a backseat for awhile

Fort Myers isn't what I'd call a foodie paradise.  It is a tourist town (really) and, as such, the city's restaurants are mostly chains.  Sure, I've found some locally-owned places (and I patronize them). 

One of them is dear to my heart:  The Farmer's Market.

http://www.farmersmarketrestaurant.com/

Locally owned, it showcases the best of Southern home cooking.  You might think growing up in NW Indiana I wouldn't have been exposed to Southern cooking, but trust, my dad's mom was one to use a pressure cooker, bacon and slow-roasted on a plethora of dishes at the dinner table (she grew up in southern Indiana).  In Indy, I'd satisfy the craving with a run to Country Kitchen, located at 19th & College.  I *loved* the Country Kitchen, even if I was (really) the only white girl in there.  Oh man, just thinking about their meatloaf makes me happy.

So, the Farmer's Market.

I had heard about it when I moved here but a co-worker of mine (a FM native) had told me it was "in a bad part of town and don't go there alone."  Trust me when I say that I've been in bad parts of towns before (driving home from downtown to my little house in Irvington with the sound of gunshots as background noise sticks in my head), and This Isn't A Bad Part Of Town.  I mean, I guess for Fort Myers standards (perfection), it is, but truly it looks like what it is: a run-down part of town that doesn't get the beautification $$ because it isn't on the way to the beaches or other tourist haunts. 

I'm going there today with some friends.  I've not eaten breakfast and it is likely that after this food-fest, I'm not gonna want dinner.  I know for a fact that I will order coconut cream pie (to go) as my dessert.  As for lunch options, I've already scanned the menu (there are daily specials) and I may have made a decision but I'm not sure yet. 

In any case, I can't wait.  :)

Upcoming events/life as I know it.

Next week I'm in DC all week, learning grant stuff for my college.  I'm excited to go, excited to be in DC (of course) and I'll even manage to squeeze in a little campus visit time while I'm at it. 

I need to finish my essays for grad school.  I'm dragging my feet.

I need to schedule my trip to WA/OR to visit U of WA and PSU.  I'm thinking January and that is looking good right now.

I'm tired ... up too late texting back and forth with a friend. 

6 months left here ... wow.

Some things are best left as they are

This week I had another houseguest.  Yep, I bet you are wondering if I am running a B&B.  The answer is, no, not yet, and no planned houseguests until after the New Year at this point. That is a good thing since I'm needing some "me" time and have to work to get this house in order to move to >>> God Only Knows Where.

My houseguest this week was Jason.  You might remember Jason, as he was featured in my blog from about September '08 - July '09, as we were dating.  I ended our relationship after I moved here (and he had no intention of doing so) and I wasn't moving back anytime soon, if ever.  I do, however, tend to maintain friendships with guys I've dated, granted they do not display psycho tendencies.  He doesn't, so we've remained friends.

When he came to visit me last year over 4th of July weekend, his flight was cancelled on one leg of the trip.  AirTran was apologetic to the tune of one free round-trip ticket, hence his need to use it and hence his return here. 

He and I were talking in June about this ticket and how it was to expire in early July if he did not book something and he asked if he could come down for a few days in October.  As we have been friends all this time, I said yes and the tickets were booked.  He came down this past Wed and left yesterday.

He was the person I have dated the longest since my divorce.  We have a lot in common but there are definite differences too -- just enough to keep things interesting.  He's a great guy and I hope he finds happiness with someone lovely, but that someone lovely won't be me.

It isn't that he is annoying.  It isn't that he gets on my nerves.  It isn't that he's a jerk.  It isn't that he behaves like he was raised by wolves.  No, it is none of that. He isn't, he doesn't, he isn't and he wasn't. 

It is something else.  That indescribable spark that says there is something THERE and that I ought to figure out what that means EXACTLY.  He had my interest and I cared for him deeply but that indescribable spark -- looking back, I can see it wasn't there.

We had a great time this week -- did some driving range time, ate good food, took an airboat ride through the Everglades -- a whole hell of a lot packed into essentially 3 days.  He is and remains a great guy.  Just some things are best left as they are.

Some days are harder than others ...

Today's a hard day for me.  8 years ago today I married the Hex.  I thought I was getting married forever, thought we'd have kids, thought we'd grow old together.  For a plethora of reasons (and of at least half that are my fault), it wasn't to be. 

Each year since we've divorced (5 years this year), I get an email from him, telling me he misses me.  Each year that I've read it, I've gone home and gone to bed immediately -- wallowing in my own grief of what wasn't-meant-to-be. 

In case you don't know -- there is no such thing as a "no-fault" divorce.  Hours of wrestling with torn emotions, rivers of tears and a million "if only I had ..." all play a part in the mourning of a marriage gone south.  I can tell you that after my parents' divorce, I swore I'd never get married.  Then when I got married I swore I'd never get divorced.  Now I just don't swear anything at all --

I talked to my sister today and she told me she was thinking of me, that she knew it was a hard day.  She's right, it is a hard day.  Every year it gets easier, but I don't know when it will just be another mid-October day, without me thinking of all the promises held on that cool October morning.

It is days like today that I wonder if I'll ever get married again. I'd like to ... but ... and there is always a "but."

but ... I don't want to get hurt like I did again (that's not possible to prevent)
but ... I may never find him (or maybe I will)
but ... I'm happy (yes, I am ... but I want someone to enjoy my life with)
but ... I've dated so many jerks (no argument there ... but I've dated good guys too)
but ... what?  what is holding me back?

As part of my healing process this year, I'm not reading my personal e-mail today.  I don't want to wallow over what-wasn't-meant-to-be but think only about what joy and happiness awaits me ...

Alma Mater

I was back at my Alma Mater this weekend -- I'm on the Alumnae Association Executive Board and one of the twice-yearly meetings happened.

A couple of things -- and forgive me if I brain dump, but I was up until 2:30, then slept until 4:30 and have been up since.  Athena + No Sleep = Confused, Befuddled Woman

1. apparently the answer to all questions is "class agents."  It was interesting to note how a program that was started to engage alumnae has now morphed into a whole new deal. 

2. 2 days in board meetings (on two of the most beautiful Missouri days ever) made me crazy.  All I wanted was to go outside.

3. Seeing friends was an extra-special part of this weekend and I could just about weep over it right now.  Mind you, I'm tired and easily prone to fits of tears at this point, but really, thinking about the fact that I spent *one* year with these women and within a few short minutes, we were back again as close as ever astounds me.  What an incredible college -- and that is why I'm so proud to serve.

4. I bought the cookbooks -- my college was known for the food and a big reason for that was the 5 star chef in charge of the menu. 

5. I was both encouraged and discouraged by this weekend.  I'm not sure which I feel more, which concerns me.

More later as my thoughts gel and I have more than two hours of sleep.

On the road again ...

It's true.  I'm traveling again this week.

My life is just some kind of crazy.

Some things to think about ...that have been buzzing around my head, might as well buzz around yours:

*Life is short.  Eat well, drink well, love well.
*Be happy with what you have but always seek to make it better. 
*Sleep is never overrated.
*Laughing at yourself can provide endless hours of humor.
*Reading is one of my greatest pleasures. 

DC adventures ...

I was in and out of DC in what amounted to a little more than 27 hours.  You'd think that would not leave me much time for mischief and mayhem, but then you probably don't know me that well.  The people that do ... well, they know better.

In 27 hours I managed to:

*Ride the Metro to and from the airport
*Get a good workout in at the Omni Shoreham hotel (love this place)
*Attend two separate conference sessions
*Wander thru Dupont Circle
*Visit with a friend from Cottey and her husband
*Crash a National Board of Realtors function
*Eat some really great mediterranian food (hummus, tabouli, baklava)
*Grab a beer at the airport
*Eat a Potbelly sandwich (mmmm)
*Drink some Bombay Sapphire and tonic(s)
*Sleep
*Meet Lynda Bird Johnson (yeah, she is who you think she is -- and very nice)
*Enjoy the gorgeous fall weather

I'll be back there the first part of November for another conference.  I have seven days there then -- and I'll be visiting George Washington U and American U while I'm there to decide whether they are where I want to go -- or not.

Some days you are the windshield,

some days you are the bug.

How appropos.

I've been driving a fair bit lately and, well, it is love bug season here in Florida.  What does that mean, you ask?  My windshield looks like a teenager's face -- and so does my car.

So I take the car to a carwash here.  It has been recommended numerous times to me as the best around.  Hell, they *won* best-of awards.

My car is dirty.  Covered in a whole lot of dead love-bugs.   I pull up, pay my $20 (oh yeah, $20, which is why the following FRIED MY ASS), and let them do what they do.

Car wash*
interior vacuum
windows cleaned*
underbody clean
tire shine
hot wax
hand dried

I don't like paying $20 but that is the going rate here for a decent place with all of the above.  I take myself inside, pay the cashier and wait for my car to pull out. 

The car is dried, I tip the guys and off I go, across the street from the carwash to a furniture store.  When I get out of my car I discover two things:

1.  There are still splotches of dead bugs all over the front of my car
2.  There is still bird "do" on my passenger rear window.

Now I am STONE COLD pissed off.  I mean, dude, seriously.  First, $20 and second, it is hand dried meaning you would think someone, anyone, that does that notices that my car still has bugs on it and bird crap. 

I return to the car wash.

You'd think that in these times of economic crisis and a $20 car wash easily being a luxury item, I would hear apology.  I would hear "I'm sorry, let us run this through the car wash again for you, I'm sorry for your inconvenience."

Nope.  Nada. 

What did I hear?

"These bugs stains can etch the paint and it is likely we won't be able to get them off" and "Oh, yeah, I guess we could have gotten that off your window"

First, let's be real.  It's not that my car was any freaking cleaner when I first pulled up.  It had the same bugs on it.  Could I not hear that love bug "juice" is hard to get off a car when I pull up? 

Second, I don't want nonsense when it is clear you didn't do your job.  The bird shit?  I mean, really.

So, Bonita Bubbles, you've lost a customer.  I won't be back.  And I will tell everyone I know that you don't have one iota of customer service no matter how freaking expensive your carwash may be.