are things complicated yet?

Happy Easter!

I've been thinking about Easter a lot for the past week, and about what it means to me and how I'm sort of...taking it in this year.  We're not super churchy, so I'm not saying I had a moment with God or anything, but for me it was more about taking time to examine some new beginnings we have going on here (jobs, home, a toddler language explosion) and rediscovering some faith in myself and my family.

This is just a long way of saying that we had a really lovely weekend. 

Today we had lunch at Benihana!  And it was awesome!  I highly recommend your local hibachi establishment if you have a toddler.  Claire was TRANSFIXED by the chef and the food and the steam and the...everything.  She's a huge fan of hibachi.

She is not a huge fan of Benihana hats though.

Me though?  I'm sort of amused by Benihana paper hats.

Claire hunted for Easter Eggs this afternoon.  They're the plastic kind, because hard boiled eggs make me want to gag.  Oh my goodness, there's nothing that makes me want to barf more than ruining a perfectly good Cobb Salad with a bunch of grody EGG. 

I had them on the breakfast table this morning and when she spotted them her eyes got really big and she said, "OOOOOOOO!"  Then she called them, "Ball!"

Yeah!  Sort of, honey.

Side Story: Last week they did an egg hunt at her school and each parent was asked to bring in a dozen plastic eggs with "fruit snacks or stickers" inside.  So, "fruit snacks" obviously means those gummi-type snacks in Disney character shapes with something like 2% fruit juice, right?  Not the best calories you can buy, but pretty harmless toddler food in moderation, yes?

Well.  I was the only parent that opted for stickers.  (OF COURSE.)  Claire came home that afternoon with about 12 eggs stuffed with:

• Starburst candies

• Jelly Belly jelly beans

• Haribo gummi bears

• Brach's gummis in the SHAPE of fruit - the kind with sugar all over the outside

• 1 package of legit fruit snacks

Now.  I'm not saying that any of these are BAD for a toddler.  They're treats.  Whatever.  Sometimes-foods.  But the directions said FRUIT SNACKS and 4 out of these 5 are definitely not fruit snacks!  They have fruit in the name or color but seriously?  Not fruit!  Not even 2% fruit-juice-Disney fake fruit!

I can't decide if the other parents phoned it in with a, "Whatever, this is what we have to stuff in these stupid eggs," or if they really thought these were semi-healthy because of their vaguely fruity properties given to them by a marketer.

I think they really do think these snacks are be healthy.  Because, you know, that's a Pineapple flavored gummi bear!  FRUIT!

What do you think?  Stupid people?  Or just careless people?  Either way, America's ideas about food are really messed up.

Anyway. I got a cute picture of us this weekend, which is so rare.

Then I blew some bubbles and Claire chased them.  I wish I liked anything just half as much as she likes bubbles.  It must be nice to be so flat out THRILLED by something so simple.  Being 18-months old must be the best age ever.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I am tired of playing by the rules and leading a responsible life, but still paying for what seems like everyone else's extreme greed, recklessness, laziness and stupidity.

I see people living in homes, driving cars and buying things they cannot afford and I am appalled that they are surprised and angry when their financial house falls apart. 

I am horrified that they expect me to indirectly bail them out with my hard-earned money when their decisions catch up to them. 

I am upset that I work hard but there are people who want to penalize me for making smart decisions that have led to personal success.

I am tired of people who can't or won't understand the consequences of their choices.

So. Very. Tired.

What we need here is some protocol

I'm a very particular person when it comes to playing hostess.  Just a few weeks ago a friend's husband said that I remind him of obsessively perfect hostess Bree on Desperate Housewives.

I took it as the best compliment I'd received in weeks.

It's true:  I love to throw a party.  I hoard obscure glassware designed for specific cocktails and have been known to serve cordials after a meal.  I'm the sort that buys endless varieties of table linens and  both irons and uses them frequently.  Place cards and seating charts are a particular weakness of mine - I think I've only had people over once without using them.  (Let's just say that it won't ever happen again.)

My hostessing compulsion is not without its flaws.  I insist on doing all of the cleaning myself since, in my mind, I'm the only one who can do it properly.  I make overly complicated meals that require days of prep and shopping.  I make spreadsheets.

My need to control the minutiae is great.

I'm the result of being raised in a military family with a mother from the South who liked to throw parties.  My ideas about what makes a good hostess and a good party are seen as largely archaic in my circle of friends. 

Because it was the military there was oodles of delightful protocol to be followed and even casual events could turn formal in a second.  (Oh, how I adore protocol.) My mother never once extended an invitation without receiving a snappy response, often in writing.

Me on the other hand?  Out here in the civilian world, responding to an invitation is largely seen as optional.  And honestly, I don't really get that.   It is supremely annoying and incredibly rude for reasons that I would like to think are obvious, but must not be since people seem to have such a hard time with it. 

Are they waiting for a better offer?  Are they being rude on purpose?  Would they like to ensure that there aren't enough cocktails to go around?  WHAT IS IT? 

WHY CAN'T YOU TELL ME IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE THERE?!?!

I'm currently planning a baby shower for about 30 people and am having a difficult time with about a third of the guest list responding.  What's doubly frustrating is that even when people try and respond, they still do it wrong.

A woman called yesterday and said she was "calling to RSVP for the party."  But she declined to say what her response was.  Attending? Not attending?  I had to call her back and ask her to be more specific.

Most people don't actually know that R.S.V.P. means "please respond" in French.  It's often incorrectly tossed around as a modern phrase that means "Yes, I am coming."

To combat that mentality, the language on the invitation cleverly avoided the phrase and stated: "the favor of a response is requested before May 10."  You would think that would be clear.  It's clear, right? 

Uh, no.

Today someone responded to the shower invitation, but asked if she could bring her 6 and 9 year-old daughters.  To an afternoon baby shower for ladies with cocktails, chatting, petit fours and gifts.  She said she thought "they would think it is neat."

I think she didn't want to hire a baby sitter.  I told her that she was welcome to bring them if she thought they would be entertained with chatting and cocktails with the adults for several hours - we have no games planned and no children's activities.  Perhaps she'll take the hint.   

I hosted a party a few years ago wherein a woman declined the invitation to the honoree - not me, the hostess!  The one who sent the invitation!  The one whose phone number she was CLEARLY directed to call!  In doing so, she felt that her regret wasn't "official" but was enough to satisfy the requirement. 

She showed up to a seated luncheon and didn't have anywhere to sit.  Really, could she not have called me?  Is the telephone so difficult to master?

Part of me wanted to rub her face in it and make her uncomfortable - to teach her a lesson of sorts -  and part of me just wanted to make sure she had a good time and not make a scene (there I go again - being a good hostess and making sure everyone has fun).

I opted to pull out a plate and cram her at the table full of people I didn't like as passive-aggressive punishment.

It was only a matter of time before this product was invented

While I was at Wal*Mart the other day I discovered an, um, interesting new product.

It's a bottle of Dawn with some scented beads in the bottom of the bottle that act as an air freshener in the kitchen.  It comes in three scents:  Water Lily/Jasmine, Lemon/Tangerine and Apple/Pear.

As the official description states:  "The new Dawn Simple Pleasures features an air freshener built right into the base of the bottle to continuously freshen your kitchen for weeks."

Hmmm.

Why would you need an air freshener in the kitchen next to the sink?  Why not just use the soap to clean whatever it is that's smelly?  It's a crazy idea, but I think it just might work.

I'm assuming that the target for this is bachelors?  I can almost hear the mental thought process: 

Nah, I don't have to clean those dishes until next week man.  They're kind of stinky but that Dawn Simple Pleasures will cover it up. 

 

Conversation with an idiot

Today we went to eat lunch and I ordered nachos.  It's the sort of place where you walk through the line and point and say what/how much of each item you want.

Now, keeping in mind that I ordered NACHOS, the bedraggled high school boy proceeded to ask me if I wanted black beans (yes), pico de gallo (yes), steak or chicken (steak), bell pepper (yes), garlic (no), etc etc etc.  We went through everything one by one.

It is worthy to note that he was making these nachos is a totally un-nacho fashion.  He went to great pains to take each sequential item and place it on top of the others, in the middle of the pile of chips, and then press down with the spoon so he was making a sort of mountain of toppings that covered 4 chips and not all of the chips.  Fully 80% of the chips had nothing on them.

Call me a brat, but when I order nachos I like to have a little bit of something on every chip.  This is the point of nachos!  If I wanted a pile of things on top of a fried tortilla I would have ordered a tostada.

After he makes the nachos all wrong and I decide I am never, ever ordering nachos from this place again he asked me if I wanted cheese.  Really.  He asked me that.

ISN'T THAT WHAT NACHOS ARE?  CHIPS PLUS CHEESE???

Gah!  I hate people.

3 hours? Pah! 3 hours is nothing!

I was delayed for 4.5 hours last week.  FOUR AND ONE HALF HOURS!  Even better, I was at the airport for more than 6 hours because I got there early - so I wouldn't be rushed.

(Rushed?!  Ha ha ha!!! Oh my, that is really too funny.)

It wouldn't have been so bad if I could have gotten a pedicure or a massage or had cocktails in Terminal D where all the cool bars are.  No, I could not do any of those things because I was shackled to the gate and the surly gate agent with the microphone would say something like this every twenty minutes:

"This flight has been delayed once again and will depart 25 minutes from now.  Please remain in the gate area as we will begin boarding as soon as the aircraft arrives."

Except that she would say it in more broken English like a sweaty ninth grader who was clearly terrified of public speaking.  (Why are they letting her do the talking anyway?)  Then the aircraft would (of course) not arrive and they'd delay it another 20 minutes.  LIARS! 

I sat on the dirty airport carpet and try to entertain myself with email until my battery died.  Once that happened I sort of zoned out into a zen-like state wherein I tried to imagine that I was in an ashram and if I could just control my rage I would achieve inner peace.

(It did not work.)

(At all.)

The most irritating part was that the flight was delayed so many times rather than just one big 4 hour  delay.  I couldn't get a sandwich or go to the bathroom without fearing that they'd change the gate on me (which happened 5 times) and I'd miss the latest update completely. 

In a wildly optimistic gesture, once the plane arrived we boarded only to be told that we have no pilot.

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The reason it took me more than a week to post this is that, honestly, why the hell do I need to post another "my trip sucked" story?  You know it sucks.  I talk about it all the time and you live it and see it and well...it's obvious.  This is not new news.  But - I'm still telling you.

Hell, even Congress knows it sucks and everyone knows that they are total morons.  (Honestly, Nancy Pelosi?  What on earth were they thinking?)

You know what, I am just going to re-name this blog.

I am going to call it "Flying sucks, I will just walk."

I am at the airport today.  There are thunderstorms.  My flight is only about an hour and a half delayed but the people who are also here at the gate are delayed going on 3+ hours.  THREE HOURS! 

They're only going to Atlanta.  If they had all started driving east this morning instead of coming to the airport at 8 am, they could be halfway across Louisiana by now.  And gambling at gas stations and drinking cocktails in the car and eating boudin instead of Au Bon Pain sandwiches.

The question that is begging to be asked is, at what point today do I just screw the whole trip and go home?  How late am I willing to get to my destination before I just scrap the trip?

No surprise here but all of the gate agents are surly mongrels today.  I asked if our plane was here and she practically spat at me, "I DON'T KNOW.  I AM NOT BOARDING THAT FLIGHT RIGHT NOW.  CAN'T YOU SEE THAT THIS ATLANTA FLIGHT HAS TO GO FIRST?  AT-LAN-TA!"

Whoa lady.  If you hate your job so much please do us all a favor and find a new one.  Plus, the Atlanta flight has nothing to do with MY flight.  You're not even making any sense.

I'm also wondering if getting on the plane is a huge mistake at this point.  Will we end up sitting in line to take off for another hour? Two hours?  Three hours?

I'm ready to go home.  And I haven't even gone anywhere yet. 

Another story about a crappy flight! Oh boy!

I should really have an entirely separate blog for all of my travel horror stories.  At the rate they're happening I could post almost twice a week with some ridiculous event or another.  But then you'd all be so horrified and turned off to traveling that you'd just stay home and watch Netflix all the time.  Perhaps in the interest of not turning the lot of you into agoraphobics I should keep my stories to myself?  Nah.

I would love to watch Netflix lazily on my sofa all week(Stranger than Fiction is on its way) but instead I am heading to a country that can't master the concept of CLEAN WATER tomorrow morning.  They can make tequila like champs but not purify water for their own public consumption.  This is clearly a country with mixed up priorities (and rampant corruption, horrific poverty and a lot of taxi cab crime as well).  Can you tell I am excited to visit our southern neighbor-country?

ANYWAY. 

I am sure there will be oodles of Mexico stories later this week.  If anyone has Mexico advice for me, now is the time to bring it on.  I am packing tonight and appreciate any tips.  ANY.

Until then, here's last week's story about how American Airlines inconvenienced 140 people to save some bucks had a weather delay.

************************************

We were delayed before we boarded the plane because (get ready for it) we were not going to have enough fuel to fly from Washington DC to DFW.  I know, really far huh?  We obviously have to stop for gas because we're taking a 12 gallon Piper Cub 5,480 gallon MD-80. 

Yes, they told us that 5,400 gallons of gas is not enough.

The way they phrased it made it seem as if the entire airport was out of gas.  As if it was the 1970's and it wasn't just the airport but maybe the whole country was out of gas!  A panic!  No gas! A crisis of national proportion!

But that wasn't it.  There was plenty of gas on-site.  They just couldn't put it on our airplane.  The explanation was truly profound: "Ladies and gentlemen, it is very hot today." 

It seems that when it's really hot, and on a short runway at DCA, the load tolerances are greatly diminished.  We either had to take everyone and stop in Nashville for more fuel or kick 40 people off the plane.  The plane only holds 139. 

As a newly-minted special status person I was all for kicking 40 people off the plane, knowing full well I wouldn't be one of them.  Alas, everyone else did not see things my way. 

We boarded the plane and the captain and flight attendants made several un-funny jokes.

"Welcome aboard American Airlines flight 456 with service to Dallas-Ft. Worth, now with a layover in exciting Nashville!!"

As we sat on the tarmac in the Country Music capital of the world and turned off the A/C (which is just cruel) to get that damned fuel, it struck me that our delay was probably categorized as "Weather" when really it was "Very Poor Planning.

If there is one weather phenomenon that an airline could be certain of, wouldn't it be that in August, in the northern hemisphere, it will be hot?  Perhaps even really, REALLY HOT?

Plus, the runway at DCA has always been short.  It's not like today we woke up and there were several hundred feet missing from it and it was suddenly an unforeseen problem.

Why didn't they plan for this?  Why didn't they book a more powerful aircraft?  Sell fewer seats?  Something?  Anything!

I don't understand why we put up with this.  Why Americans aren't more outraged.  Why companies are still paying top dollar to get people to places late and tired and cranky.

I don't understand why airlines aren't held to a higher standard to actually deliver what we pay for.  They are allowed so many tax exemptions in the interest of bettering this vital role that air travel plays in our economy and yet...it just sucks and they suck and they don't care.  They're counting their money with glee and wholly unconcerned about much besides the bottom line.

I wish I could say "I will just stop flying because I don't care to give my money to companies like that."

Unfortunately, that's just not our reality. 

Any further thoughts on what many in the industry have already dubbed "The Summer of Hell?"

Viva what???

I just saw a commercial that featured a group of men having a jam session.  Piano, guitar, etc.

They were singing "Viva Las Vegas" just like Elvis might have and they sounded nice.  Except...they changed the words.

They were singing "Viva Viagra." 

During the national news with Brian Williams.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.  On oh-so-many levels.

Long live Wal*Mart

7:55 pm

"Hi.  HELLO!  Deli person!  I need sliced lunch meat.  I need a pound of mesquite smoked turkey."

"Oh.  We close the deli at 8. Sorry."

Obviously NOT sorry.

There are 4 people behind the counter; they are clearly overstaffed for a closed department.  All are under 20-years-old and have visible tattoos or piercings.

"It's not even 8 yet.  And there are a lot of people back there."

"No.  We close at 8.  It's 8 now."

"IT'S ONLY JUST NOW 8!  I have children at home that need lunches tomorrow.  You can cut me this lunch meat."

So what if I don't have kids?  It's an effective strategy.

19-year-old shrugs, looks at 16-year-old and says vapidly, "Um, It's up to you if you want to or not."

Albertson's, I hate you so much.  SO MUCH. 

I am tired of interacting with surly teenagers that you hire because they are cheap but then you fail to train properly.  I am tired of your stupid-high prices. 

I am tired of waiting in line for 20 minutes because only 3 teenagers showed up to work today.   I'm tired of talking to a store manager about these problems who appears to be not care, be high and is 24-years-old.

Wal*Mart has its shortcomings.  A lot of them actually.  But I'm always treated nicely and I'm never price-gouged.

Does anyone else hate Albertson's?  I would like to believe that everyone in America does.  That way they'll go out of business more quickly.