Around the world in February

I received the coolest little email from Google - well, it is cool if you don't worry about things like Big Brother and the government knowing all your secrets - but it was an email that showed me everywhere I have been in the month. According to Google's program of constant oversight in all aspects of my life, I have traveled 48% around the world. I feel like that is a gross over-exaggeration but then again, I am no geography wiz. February was full of new places, though.
My parents took my family to Hawaii in February. My sister, Amy, passed away in February so we are trying to make new memories instead of that sadness. This was a great trip and I have a lot of pictures I guess I could share but I really want someone else to do that because it seems like it is a lot of work. I will say that this was my favorite place:

Every day I would walk to the beach hut, pay for some lounge chairs and show the well-tanned caddy, who must not own a shirt, where to put the thing. I would just walk over there and be like, "you know the drill. Oh, and throw in a paddle board so I can watch these fools try to get on it." Then I would sit and try to read. Every day. I didn't read much because I am a people watcher and I was constantly interrupted because everyone wanted me to play with them. I think they forget that I am not that fun to play with. I just look like I could be fun.

Anyway, after coming home from the tropical island it was time to prepare for our next military move. I am sad to leave my friends here. We have been in Ohio for 5 years (3 years in Columbus and 2 years in Dayton). However, I am not sorry to say goodbye to "my tomb" also known as my tiny base house. Seriously, I don't understand the "tiny house" craze. This box has stripped me of my ability to entertain, has stolen my husband and made him a miserable ogre as he completed his thesis, and then took all my neighbors away after the tornado came through. The sun doesn't live in Ohio either so add a vitamin D deficiency to the mix and you might understand my harsh review on this state of affairs. 

San Antonio, Texas seems to be where the Lord wants us next. He has obviously heard my cries and sent me somewhere equivalent to hell - in temperature and humidity, at least. The houses are a lot bigger too so I know that He is making sure to counter balance all my complaints about Ohio. So Texas - I went there by myself last weekend to find a house for us to move in. It is really tough to move your kids when the school year is almost over. Unlike when you move in the summer, you have to be ready to hit the ground running on getting them into school and transferred over. It has been on my mind quite a bit.

So I took a flight to this Lone Star State and tried to be very frugal - staying at a La Quinta Motel, getting a cheap rental car, and only eating twice a day. (Honestly, I really wasn't hungry). Anyway, when I reserved my motel room I requested a king sized bed. I figured that I didn't have my kids or Jeremy with me - this would be a great opportunity to live it up a little. 

As I got into my room, I noticed that the bed was low to the ground. Weird, I  thought. Then I went in the bathroom and saw that there was no tub - it had a walk in shower with a chair... and then there was a handicapped parking spot right out in front of my door.

Lightbulb - I am in a handicapped room. Oh man! I am not sure how to feel about this. It was late so I just went to bed and carried on with the trip.

I went to look at houses the next day and found one that I liked but there were still more to see so I went out again on Saturday and found the most amazing house. I was so excited about it. My realtor convinced me to look at other houses just in case I didn't get that one, so I looked at a few more but by then I couldn't keep them straight and I knew what I wanted. I prayed about it and felt like the Lord said that either house (the one I liked on Friday or the one I loved on Saturday) would be fine. So I decided to sit on it and go check out the wards (church units) to see which one I liked best. Either one was fine. They have so many youth. One ward had 60 and the other had 40. My current ward in Ohio has maybe 16. I think my kids might be able to find a friend here - maybe...

So I just kept thinking about it.

Saturday night back at the La Quinta, I am lounging in my low-rider king sized bed when suddenly a party strikes up in the room next to me. It is one of those adjoining rooms where we have a door that we can both open. Now I love a good party, but this one was more like a drunken bachelor rave with music, banging on the walls, a guy screaming as if he was being tortured (later yelling, "OMG that was the worst wedgie I've ever had." with some expletives added in there.) Since that didn't seem to be slowing down as the night progressed I decided to request a room change. I knew I couldn't sleep like that. I walked to the front desk and requested a new room, which they were happy to give me until they realized that they didn't have any more handicapped rooms available. I assured them that I was able to take any room as long as it was away from that craziness. She handed me the keys to my new room and I grabbed my stuff to transfer it over. As I walked into the room, I was disappointed to find 2 full size beds at full height. They also had removed the fridge and microwave from the room. The shower was a normal tub with just one shower head (am I in America or have I somehow transferred to a 3rd world country). And there were no extra power outlets next to the bed. As I looked around I came to realize that I was at a disadvantage in being an able-bodied person. Where is my big bed? I don't have anywhere to put my leftover food, and am I really going to have to step over the tub rail to get in the shower? Dang that wedgie guy. I want my room back.

Finally, it was late Sunday night. I was thinking through my options and decided to move forward with applying for the house I loved. I filled out the application which requested everything - including my life history as well as a picture of our cat. Not sure if the urine sample comes later...

First thing Monday morning I called the rental company with my chipper, "Hey, I just applied for this house I love and..." which was met with, "Lady, we had 6 people submit rental applications for this house over the weekend. It is first come, first served."

I wanted to cry. What had I done? I think I was the first one to see it on Saturday and then I just sat on it. I was so sad. I had to call Jeremy and tell him that I didn't apply soon enough so we didn't get it.

I really felt like the Lord told me that I could have either one and that it would be okay. I was so bummed. Our next step was to apply for the Friday house that I liked. I submitted the application for that and then had to begin my travels home. This gave me ample time to think about my foolishness. As if air travel wasn't bad enough.

As I was waiting to leave San Antonio I got an email from the house I loved. They said that they were reviewing my application. I didn't understand because I had to be at least the 6th person to apply. It wasn't even 12 hours ago that I had finished. I responded to her asking for clarification;

her emailed response said the magic words - "we take the first *complete* application."

Huh. I guess the other people forgot to send a picture of their cat.

So this is my new address starting in April: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/12114-Carson-Cv-San-Antonio-TX-78253/83980310_zpid/

I had a layover in Atlanta and found myself walking around in the basement, as usual. I noticed a guy who looked confused and - being the happy helper I am - asked what was wrong. He looked frazzled and said, "How do I get out of here?" Without even a pause, I told him, "Just go up." He was so grateful - called me sweetie, and walked away. But as I walked away, I realized that I wasn't where I thought I was. He needed to go upstairs but not until one more terminal north. I immediately turned around to try to find him but I couldn't. He could still be wandering around the basement of the Atlanta airport. This still haunts me.

As my husband points out, this story is so typical me - wanting to help others but usually being wrong. Consider yourself warned.

Whew! That was a roller coaster of a weekend.

I was anxious to get back to Ohio, though. We only have a month left and I have a lot of great friends here and a whole month of fun plans. One of those things is a daily routine of going to the gym with my friend, Claire. She is amazing and has been teaching me all her gym moves. She can do at least double the weight of everything I do, but it used to be that she could do 3 times more than me, so I am improving. I want you to know that I can bench press 45 pounds. This might sound extraordinary if you haven't frequented the gym in a while, but I will tell you it is only the bar without any weights. I am pretty happy about it, though.

I can also do bicep curls with 15 pound weights. For those of you who work out, this might cause some raised eyebrows - it is impressive I know, but please hold your applause. My most humbling move, though, is this thing we do where you put a bar across your hips and raise your hips up as high as you can. Until recently, I would have to have her place the bar on my hips and then come get it off me because I couldn't lift it myself. These are proud moments for me but I am trying something new and getting stronger each day. 

So that was my February. I'm pretty happy it is over, though. What is going on in your life?

"Choose to be Found" talk

This is our tree - Tiny Tim. He is as wide as our 3 windows. Normally I would be annoyed about something like this because we are already limited on space, but Tiny Tim makes me chuckle when I see him. It was one of those things where you don't know what you are getting into until it is too late. 

Here is a talk that I gave yesterday for our Christmas services. Don't worry, it was only about 6 minutes long. :) Merry Christmas!

With Wondering Awe was the song I was asked to talk about.

When was the last time that you found yourself wondering?

When was the last time you stood in awe?

These are the things that stuck out to me in this song:

I picture standing outside, looking up at the plethora of stars.

I see a beautiful painting;

I witness a kind gesture;

I look at my huge Christmas tree, appropriately named “Tiny Tim”.

I feel warm water coming from my faucets;

I witness lights come on with the flick of a switch;

I hear a child perfectly play the piano piece that they have been practicing;

I see a stranger let me go in front of them in a busy traffic scene;

I see a loving mother holding a crying baby.

Are these not all things to sit in wonder at when we live in a world where we can let the natural man of blaring horns, angry rhetoric, lies, deceit, theft, and cruelty rule the day?

So, what do you wonder at? When do you stand in awe?

I hope that you will stand in quiet places and ponder on the blessings in your life, that you might be filled with wonder and awe. 

I recently read a story from an author named David Butler. He said, “When my oldest boys were little, I took them to an amusement park because I’m such a rocking dad. During lunch, while we were all standing in line for a million-dollar hamburger, I looked down to where my son Jack had been standing right next to me. He wasn’t there.

I was sort of bugged to lose my spot in line, but I figured he had wandered back to the rest of our crew who were saving a table, so I left the line to check at the table only to find them Jack-less. No sign of him. I started to worry a little. I stayed cool for about six seconds as we started to spread out around the restaurant but worry quickly escalated to panic.

Looking back, I don’t think it was that long, but in that moment, each second felt like an hour. I was flustered and afraid out of my mind.”

He continues, “Finally, I spotted him through a window! He had left the restaurant and was about 50 yards away in a gift shop having a little toddler conversation with a stuffed robot car. I cannot tell you the explosion of emotion I had. Gratitude he was found. Anger that he had wandered off. Stupidity for losing him. And a little bit of relief when I remembered that Mary and Joseph lost Jesus once. For three days. I didn’t feel as bad. The whole range of emotions surged through my veins, and my eyes watered with tears of every kind.”

Have you had something similar happen to you before? Have you lost something that couldn’t be located? Or maybe you were the one who was lost. What relief and gratitude you feel when whatever was missing is found?

Sometimes in life, you might consider yourself lost, just as the author’s child was. He says, “We are all seconds away from getting lost and are prone to falling, failing, and forgetting. It’s kind of what we do best. This is probably one of the reasons why the scriptures compare us to sheep more than 300 times.”

Sheep are prone to wander, are directionless, defenseless, an easy target for predators and will follow just about anything. The Savior talks about “His sheep” because we are a perfect parallel between actual sheep and our natural man mentality. How many times do we hear Christ speak of lost sheep? In fact, the first parable in the New Testament was of the lost sheep. So if you know that you are prone to be a lost sheep, what can you do about it? How can you be a better sheep, a better follower of your Savior? 

The Christmas season is a time when we focus on being a little more like Christ. We lovingly give to others and try really hard to be kind. But what if we tried to be like Christ all year round? What if for the next year you… chose to be found?

Could you honor our Savior this Christmas season and the new decade we are about to begin by choosing to be found? 

Choose to be found reading your scriptures. 

Choose to be found being kinder to your spouse. 

Choose to be found playing with your children or saying meaningful prayers. 

Choose to be found forgiving those who have wronged you. 

Choose to be found setting goals. 

Choose to be found singing uplifting songs, dancing, serving friends, writing letters, smiling,                     using your talents, reading, laughing, eating chocolate… 

And choose to be found standing in awe and wonder.

The entire purpose of Christ’s mission on Earth was for all of us “sheep” to find joy, love, peace, forgiveness, and wisdom. 

He came so that we could learn to love and be loved. 

He came so that we can live with God again in a perfect body. 

He came so that we can be with those we love so much. 

He came because of His Father’s perfect plan and to be perfectly obedient. 

Can we choose to give something back to our “Good Shepherd” in return? 

Brothers and sisters, I pray that throughout the coming year we will honor and worship this loving Savior sent only for the purpose of saving us, his wandering children. I pray that we will choose to be found.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

http://www.ldsliving.com/David-Butler-on-How-We-Have-More-in-Common-with-Wandering-Sheep-than-We-Realize/s/92082

Notes from the area conference

There was a broadcast on 10.20.19 from Boston, Massachusetts directed toward all people in the North America Northeast region. Elder Christofferson and Elder Ballard were the main speakers.
These are very brief notes from the regional conference:

Our Savior didn't focused on how hard and painful the atonement was. He focused on joy to get him through it. We, too, should focus on joy in our own lives and not how hard things might feel.

We need to pray daily for opportunities to invite others to learn - invite to church, invite to eat, invite to attend an event, invite to anything. Make friends. Be friends. The local leadership brother spoke about how his daughter moved to a new state and the first thing that happened was a neighbor brought over freshly baked cookies and asked her if she had a church to go to. They thought this man surely must be the ward mission leader. He actually was from another church. We need to be comfortable asking people to join us in the things that we are doing, just as this man and others in his daughters new community are.

Daily prayer keeps us centered on Heavenly Father. We need get away from out "Type-A" personalities of thinking that we need to do a certain number of chapters each day. We should set an amount of time for scriptures and allow for time to ponder in order to receive answers and promptings.
He recommended reading "Deep and Lasting Conversion" by Elder Cook Cook's talk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ffO-5yh7YQ

and
"Try, Try, Try" by Elder Eyring   Eyring's talk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_aSsN2vru1A

As well as a lesser known article by Clay Christensen, who is a professor at Harvard. Each year on the last day of class, he would give a lecture on how to incorporate what you learn into who you become. Elder Christofferson explained that Clay Christensen spent an hour each night meditating and pondering on the purpose of his life, rather than spending that hour studying [insert some heavy college subject here]. This proved to be more beneficial to him than anything else he could have done with his time and then he gives the lecture on what he learned. It became so popular that Harvard Business Review published it. I found the book, "How will you Measure your Life?" by Clay Christensen and a Ted Talk:  Christensen's talk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvos4nORf_Y&t=8s
His book is also available on Audible.

Don't forget to thank your God for all the things he has given you. We need more thankfulness and to verbally acknowledge those specific things.

And lastly, President Ballard spoke about the time he has spent in the New England area looking at all the sites that our founding fathers lived, worked, and died. He talked about the battles that were fought, the prayers that were said, and the miracles that proceeded because of the faith of these brave men who suffered greatly in trying to free us from the British. He spoke of one battle on Christmas (probably the Battle of Trenton) where God provided miracles via a drastic change in the weather (river turned to ice, allowing troops to cross; clear skies turned to fog and snow, allowing troops to go unseen by their enemies) all provided by the Hand of God. These men had fasted and prayed for help. We, too, need to fast and pray for our country. We have forgotten how much was sacrificed, and what God has done to allow us these freedoms. We need to pray for this country. We need to pray for our leaders, our people, our protection. We need a movement via social media and we need to invite everyone, everywhere to participate.

He also spoke of one of the men on the Mayflower who had fallen off and almost drown but through God's miracles, he survived. He and his wife had 10 children and a great posterity including many significant people in positions to change history (presidents, leaders, etc.).

God's hand is in our life and we need to stop chalking it up to "coincidence" and acknowledge that a loving God in heaven is protecting and guiding us. Look for His hand in your life. It is there.

Please share anything else you learned from this broadcast or any facts I got wrong. :)

Fundraisers are a scam

The hardest thing I did yesterday was get this Spring Rolls package open. Seriously. It was ridiculously hard to do. After that, I tried to fry the spring rolls so they would look like the golden brown things on the package. This was a fail. But you know what? I fed it to my family anyway. (Along with all the ice cream they wanted to make up for this offense to my cooking street cred.)




I recently started a job that I am not in love with. It is a parody of "The Office" every day - if "The Office" was filmed at an African American college. Naturally, I stand out a bit there, among other oddities that I have found.
My boss is kind of eccentric. She is a combination of Michael Scott and Stanley from Accounting. Ironically, we are the accounting department and are pretty much hated by the rest of the college, but I have come to conclude that everyone hates the gatekeepers of the money. It just comes with the job. I work on travel expenses and I get to explain why employees can't expense a $70 meal, that we aren't going to pay for your wife and child to travel with you for your business trip, or that the policy says that you have to get a compact rental car for you and your football coaches even if you are all 6' 5" tall and travelling together... Maybe it is a little obvious why we are hated...

Anyway, each day is a new adventure including the fact that: the HVAC is out, there are huge windows with indications that they once held blinds, and the water cooler hasn't been filled since 1996. Don't get me started on the fridge. Anyway, I have toyed with quitting but it really isn't that bad. My biggest complaint is that for the first month no one talked to me. This was the first time that I realized that my chosen profession - accounting - employs a bundle of introverts! I was a wilting flower with each passing day. I would hope to get fired but wasn't willing to just quit. It was a terrible conundrum. I wasn't sure if I was just having a hard time because going back to work at a real job after years of volunteering is just hard. Or maybe it was the people I work with. Or maybe it was because no one has dusted in 20 years. I don't know, but recently things have started changing. I got assigned to a specific type of account. I started having people ask me if I wanted supplies (this is a big deal in an office). I had a brand new comfy chair show up - which caused some hostility with the other employees. Then I got a new computer. Then I was asked if I would like to move into my own private office. This has been awkward because I am the newest employee and no one else is getting these favors. I turned the office down because: it doesn't have a window, I would be isolated, and no one would be forced to talk to me when they walk by. It is a strange problem to have but I can't handle people not talking to me. I eavesdrop on every conversation so that I can feel a part of it. Seriously. I am an extreme extrovert and probably have some disorder but it seems to be working at this place.

So I just keep showing up like it's the most important thing I do each day. "You're going to pay the college back for that nightcap, Professor."

This leads me to the next complaint in my life - I am fundamentally opposed to fundraisers as I feel that they are a scam. They scam you into paying triple the cost of some mediocre cookie dough. They entice children to hassle all their friend's parents, grandparents, and neighbors that they never talk to, and then you run the risk of all those people sending their kids to you when they have a fundraiser. The cost of sending your child out to do a fundraiser could reach bankruptcy levels when the favor is returned in kind. It is a scam.

My child brought home a fundraiser. 

My kids tend to lack ambition, particularly this one, but for some reason one of the prizes has got this child on a mission to sell 20 items. 20 ITEMS! I don't even have 20 friends here who we can ask. We talked long and hard about this because despite all my bells and whistles going off, I have to let this kid explore something that they are finally interested in. However, I told said child that they will have to do the work for it. The prize is that you get to leave school and go to lunch with a group of other kids who scammed 20 people out of their money. I told said child that I will just buy a lunch at that restaurant - to no avail. I had to let this one play out.

The kid wants to sell them at church. Hard no. Then wants me to sell them at work. Um, no. For one thing, I don't want to start that at the office; for another thing, I don't want to be stuck working until the fundraiser items come in, if I should choose that I have had enough with Michael Scott and the crew. So now we are hitting up all the friends. I apologize in advance for those who are stuck in the scam. Said child has tried to be respectful in the way that they have asked, and is learning some good life lessons, but I couldn't have been more surprised that a Ponzi scheme would motivate this kid. Being a parent stinks sometimes. Being an employee also stinks.

So here we are, counting down our last 6 months in Ohio. Our plan is to move to San Antonio at the beginning of April but until then, we will all be struggling to survive, but hopefully not eating failed attempts at cooking spring rolls. Happy Fall!

City Slickers and Crazy People

We decided to go camping this weekend, as it is Labor day weekend and is a very American thing to do. So naturally, we planned it on Friday, the day the weekend began. I got home from work and we loaded up the car to head to the hills of Ohio. (There are no mountains here.) 

On our late drive to Lake Alma (yes, Alma actually lived there. It's in the Book of Mormon) we stopped at a tiny town's tiny shop that advertises donuts and is open 24 hours. Who doesn't need a donut at 4:00 am, 2:15pm or 8:30 at night? Guess what? They were out of donuts. Ok... we'll take 4 ice cream cones, please.

So we travel on and arrive to a very crowded Lake Alma where every camp site is taken except for the tiny camp spot that we reserved online. It is a good thing we only have one tent because it was tight. All our large RV neighbors watched as us city slickers arrive and set up our primitive tents that we have had for 20 years. I am sure that they were impressed as I set up the tents sporting my spanx, work clothes, and later, my yoga pants. Guys, we did not fit in. These people are there to live...for at least 4 days. I was hoping to get through one night.

We had some tasty hot dogs and "mountain pies" which are pizza pockets cooked in small cast iron cookers. (you can click the link and see what I am talking about).

Anyway, despite the wet ground, the night went pretty well. I have found a new friend to take camping with me - Advil PM. It resolves all the weird night sounds, neighbors who are loud or snoring, children who want you - everything. We are BFF's.

The next morning, I have an altercation with my teenager. She keeps playing on her phone, which we have discouraged since we are there to enjoy "the wild" so I end up taking the phone away. A few seconds after it was in my hands, I am abruptly hit by an object from said teenager. I look down at the water bottle that has just caressed my arm. 

Now, we are in full view of all the outdoor enthusiasts who have come to enjoy nature from their enclosed and furnished vehicles, so I am trying not to make a scene, but this child does. not. care. She has confronted me in a manner that should not be ignored. But I don't care for crazy people so I am trying to walk away from her, but to no avail. I finally have to stop and calmly tell her to get out of my face. 

She, of course, refuses. 

At this point, my normally levelheaded and nurturing manner is screaming for justice to be served. I cannot refrain from calmly explaining that my foot is about to accost her person if she doesn't remove herself from my area. I rationally explain that I am counting to 3 - the magic amount of time that all children should be allowed to evaluate their options -  and then I am going to forcibly remove her from my path. 

When she does not move, I swing wide so as not to really hit her, but to send a strong signal that I am tired of this game. To this, she finally gives up and begins to walk away while exclaiming, "That's child abuse!"

That's... child... abuse? Are you freaking kidding me? No, child, that is parent abuse. I am incredulous and I turn to see that Jeremy, who has decided not to engage in this tango, is laughing at the irony of the whole thing. We are both aware that you have to laugh at crazy people or you might end up like them, but this made me mad. However, due to all the sets of eyes on our little rendezvous with crazy, I had to turn the other cheek and walk away.  

This might be a sign that we don't belong in the great outdoors, or that we just don't belong with a teenager. So we packed up our car full of "necessities" and we city slickers headed back to town where we can beat our children privately in the comfort of our own home.

The "cost" of travel

Many people dream of travel and of beaches, and oceans and of far off locations where you are in awe of God's beautiful earth. Who doesn't want to see all that the world has to offer? But in order to get to those magical destinations, you have to travel. Traveling can be fun, exciting, and adventurous, but it can also be stressful. Whether you are on an extensive road trip, sailing the ocean, or taking a train - things can get a little crazy, as I will describe to you in detail...

Yesterday, my cousins and I had to end our magical vacation in Cancun. It was time to go home and face our different challenges in life. We began this by getting into our private driver's black SUV to take us to the airport. It was glorious and air conditioned and comfy. We arrived at the Cancun airport still on the high of all that an all-inclusive resort has to offer - where every thirst, hunger, and desire are promptly attended to. Our driver parked the car, got the door and our bags for us and with smiles on our faces and a gleam in our eye, we said 'goodbye'.

We turn around and enter the sliding glass doors and... WHABAM! We are in Mexico. Real Mexico. Not the "fake" Mexico where we just spent our days sleeping, eating, swimming, repeating. There are people everywhere, babies crying, and chaos. We head upstairs to the security checkpoint because we have no bags to check. More long lines. We get in one and watch a lady complain that her plane is about to board and her security line hasn't moved in the last hour. Thankfully, we got there 3 hours early.

As we finally approach the security scanners, we see that there are a lot of people who have gone through the security point and are coming back through the line to empty out their bags of all liquids. Every kind of liquid. Toothpaste, hair gel, shampoo, sunscreen, shaving cream, deodorant, everything - even if it less than 3 ounces. We see the exasperation on their face and quickly learn from their frustration that we need to be proactive and pull everything out of our bags. I watched as a young man in front of me begs the agent not to throw away his $50 hair gel. She tells him that he would have to go back into the chaos downstairs and check his bag if he wants to keep it. He resigns his fate to the tyrant and walks away - likely with a tear in his eye.

When the security agent gets our bucket, we are ready for her at the end of the aisle. She pulls every single item out and scrutinizes it with disdain. She rejects my cousin's toothpaste and then moves on to my bag where she takes away my nice hair conditioner, my contact solution, and then my expensive face wash. I want to scream, "No! Not the face wash!" and I remember the young man in front of me. We feel the same pain and I know that I have to walk away. Curse you, Mexican security agent.

After this gross injustice I go buy overly expensive water and souvenirs that I will likely throw away when we move next year, but I feel obligated because I left my family and I think that somewhere it is written that you must take chintzy junk back to the people you have abandoned to go on vacation. This takes me about an hour to find just the right kind of junk.
One of these items is what I believe to be caramel sauce. I try to ask a lady if that is what it is. She doesn't speak English and turns to find another lady. The second lady also must not speak English well but knows enough to pull out her phone and google translate the name on it. The result? "Goat's milk".

Hmmm. Well, okay. I will buy it anyway.

We board our plane and head back to amazing America.

Now we have done some international travel before, but I must have blocked this out of my memory. When you come back into America, you have to go through security again, just as if you were trying to get on a domestic flight. If you have liquids more than 3 oz, you need to check your bags, etc. 

So we get back into another security line where I gulp down another bottle of water because it cost me $4 at the overpriced Mexican airport. I throw my bags on the conveyor belt and go through the metal detector and wait. Both cousin's bags make it through with no issue but they pull my bag to the side for inspection. Seriously? Ugh! So I wait my turn for an inspection. I watch as the American security agent goes through people's bags and makes them also get rid of stuff. What the heck? The only place all of us passengers have been is an airport and you can only buy souvenirs there. He opens my bag and rifles through my underwear, essentially (because I have packed almost nothing) and finds the "goat's milk." He pulls it out and says, "If you want this, you will have to check the bag."

By this point, I am tired. I am slightly irrational and I just can't handle them taking any more things from me. I stand up to my full 5'1" height and say, "Then I will check my bag."
This is not what people normally say so he asks me to repeat myself.
"I. will. check. the. bag."

We can both see that this "goat's milk" cost me $8.00. Both he and I are contemplating how important this small bottle of brown goo is but I can't bring myself to let him throw it away. Whatever hassles, and security, and fight that will be required in order to keep the Cajeta, I will do it. I am its savior and I will not let them have it. I have lost too much today.

He looks at me suspiciously, closes down his line, and walks me and my bag back through the other side of security. People are looking at me like I have drugs in my suitcase. The other security guard tries to yell at me that I can't go back through but then sees that I am escorted by this gatekeeper and stops mid-sentence. He deposits me on the other side and says, "have a good day, ma'am."

Oh, I will have a good day. I walk right over to the desk agent and tell her that I need to check my bag. She asks what I have in it, because she can see that I am not the typical passenger. I pull out the plastic bottle. She looks at it and says, "How about this... I will put it into a box and send it through the checked baggage system. You can keep your bags and just pick this up at your final airport." She walks over to the boxing area, finds a goldfish box and says that I will see it in Dayton.

I get back in the lengthy security line and feel vindicated for my efforts. I pass with no issues and walk to my patiently waiting cousins - one of them has a flight to catch rather soon, despite my rebellious efforts to save the caramel. I am certain that they both thought I was nuts. I walk right up to them with the same luggage that I had before all this happened and they are looking at me like, "How the hell do you still have your bag?"

I explain to them that I met Mother Teresa on the other side of security and she is sending my "goat's milk" in its own private box to my airport. We hurry off to get some food and I say goodbye to them both and wait for my flight, which does not leave for another 4 hours.

I finally arrive at my airport after midnight and go to the checked bag area. Guess what is waiting for me. My goldfish box.

Theoretically traveling to far places sounds amazing and dreamy, and really, it is. But until I can teleport to these fabulous destinations, I will continue to pay a high cost for travel - my sanity.

A trip to Rome?

Our flight was supposed to leave Chicago at 5pm on Thursday March 14th. We boarded it around 715pm. On the way into Chicago, this particular plane was struck by lightning so they had extra checks to do on it, plus it was delayed getting in. I guess if I got stuck by lightning I might be delayed too.

While my 300+ passenger "friends" and I waited outside the gate many continued to drink...and drink...and drink. It is St. Patrick's day weekend, after all, and we are headed to Dublin first. Many of my passenger friends were quite hammered after food vouchers and 2-4 hours of uninterrupted drinking. By the time we boarded many could not walk a straight line down the jetway.

We all got seated. As we were about to pull back from the gate one young spring-break passenger decided to attempt a bathroom trip. He staggered up to the restroom, which we conveniently were sitting right next to, and struggled to get the door open. Once he pried it open enough to squeeze through,  he fell inside of it and it slammed closed. After crashing around inside for a moment he was met by an unexpected knock from an agitated flight attendant in green, who pleaded with him to go sit down. He claimed he couldn't hear her. "I'll be out in a minute. Can't I have a moment to pee?"

She actually said,  "No. Not really."
He banged around trying to get the door open and once he figured the door out, he was met by an angry flight crew.

The flight attendant said, "Sir, are you prepared to sit down? We need you to get to your seat and we will serve you no alcohol. Are you prepared to do that?"

Any rational human being would say yes immediately and find their seat. We, however,  were past rational.

"Why you all up in my business?" Was his reply.

The flight attendant repeated her statement.

"Why are you harassing me? I just had to pee."

The woman in green stood to her full 5'3" height and said,  "Sir, you struggled to open the door,  fell into the bathroom, and missed the toilet. Are you going to go back to your seat,  sit down and go to sleep and we will serve you no alcohol? Do you agree to that?"

This ennobled youth decried this injustice and decided to fight for his liberties.

To which he was met by an invitation to go to the front of the plane just as a child headed to the principal's office.

What happened next was a mystery, really.  Was he kicked off the plane? I'm honestly not sure.  He went to the front, made his way back to the rear of the plane and then...

They decided to cancel the flight... for everyone.
3 reasons were listed:
1. The plane was delayed because of the lightning strike.
2. Captain said, "there was a brief incident with an inebriated passenger." And
3. Because of these things we were not able to pull away from the gate in time and now we are over our flight crew's legally mandated hours for breaks.
"Stay in your seats, folks, we don't know what to do with all 300+ of you."

The rest if the evening was interesting. All 300 of my friends and I were led as cattle back to the front of the Chicago, Illinois airport to get our luggage and a hotel voucher.

We paid $80 for a 20 minute cab ride to the hotel - pretty sure that was a scam - but we shared a cab with a guy and he was going to pay $65 for just himself to go to the same hotel. Now that we jumped in, we all owed $40 each. Do the math on that one.

It would be wasteful to send back this plane back without all 300+ of us so after we all had a break from each other,  my 300+ friends and I are all hanging out together at Chicago O'Hare hoping to leave 22 hours later than we had scheduled. Same plane. Same seats. Same friends. Same flight crew.

The question on everyone's mind is: where is our drunken friend?

There is a possibility that he is still stuck in the front of the airport as they decided to manually re-do everyone's tickets and connections starting at 930am this morning with only 4 workers. Everyone who got past the 4 workers literally received cheers and clapping from the 300 others waiting in line.

What adventures await us today?