Leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.......

Wow, I just slept 14 hours. I'd still be asleep if I didn't hear the hubster  dialing the phone down stairs, it makes a shrill beep. But since I'm awake I'll tell you a story. Yesterday was the worst travel experience of my life, I mean I'm generally optimistic, but it was seriously disastrous. The only way it could have been worse would be if the plane actually crashed, which we thought it was going to at any second. We left out of Denver, this flight and our connection home were both posted as "on time", so off we went., foolishly expecting everything to be in order. I popped three Dramamine, one more than my usual dose, but I wanted to sleep all the way... Boy was I in for a surprise. I woke up to the plane slamming around and first thought we must be on the ground in Philadelphia and man was it a rough landing. The captain's voice came on, but instead of saying "welcome to Philadelphia where the local time is 7am" he said, "ladies and gentlemen we are over Nebraska and have run into a major storm system I apologize for the turbulence, we are going to try a lower altitude and see if it gets any better." He then directed the flight crew to sit down and buckle up. We slammed around as we steeply dropped in altitude, but it didn't get better. At points we were lifted right off the seat, not far, we were buckled, but yikes. The pilot came back on repeating that he was going to drop in altitude to see if it would get better. As we continue to slam around everyone was silent. We all knew it was bad, and no one wanted to say a word. This whole time I had my head on Chris's shoulder holding his hand, occasionally glancing up to see if he was showing any signs of fear, but he just had his eyes closed, maybe he was praying, maybe he was trying to stay calm. The captain came back on with the same message each time he said it sounding less and less convinced. How much altitude can we lose here? We had been in a steady descent for quite a while, so steep I thought for sure those oxygen masks were going to come flying out of the ceiling. I was glad we were over Nebraska and not someplace with hills. For the first time Chris turned to me and seemed concerned. I told him the flight attendants hadn't gone through doing a headcount yet so it couldn't be that bad. I knew it was a full flight and they already knew how many people were on board, so they probably wouldn't have to, but I didn't tell him that. After what felt like eternity, the captain announced that we were only about 50 miles out from Philadelphia and directed the flight crew to ready the cabin for landing. When the plane came to a stop, instead of the usual, where everybody gets pushy and jumps up and stands in the aisle while waiting to get off the plane, everyone remained seated and in an extremely orderly fashion collected their belongings and exited the plane in total silence. As we walked from the gate I could hear people saying they've been praying the entire time and voicing their concerns to those around them. All I have to say is those were some damn good pilots and someone upstairs was looking out for us.  We finally found a departure screen with our flight on it, I figured from here on out it should be smooth sailing. Wrong again Jean. To our horror it said "CANCELLED". We were directed to a help desk, where we met three women who were straight out of a movie that relied heavily on the use of stereotypes to substitute for the writers lack of whit. Through my Dramamine haze I watched the people in line in front of us. "Child, you best not miss this next flight I should not even be doing this, you have to pay better attention, this is ridiculous.  If you miss this next flight I'm not going to help you again. Why you comin' to me with attitude?" She pointed to her own ears, and the girl she was addressing ripped her white ear buds out and threw them in her bag. What a way to address this woman? I half expected her to follow it up with three snaps and an "Mmmmm hm!" But I guess she drew the line somewhere. When it was our turn we were told that we are stuck in Philadelphia, there was no room on any of the other flights into Manchester. She asked us what our backup airport was, I said the closest one was Boston, only an hour drive from Manchester give or take. Chris asked if they would put us on the connector flight over to Manchester from Boston, which made me giggle because they're so close together. I leaned over and said they would probably put us on the bus since it's only like 14 feet. She laughed and told him to listen to me because I was a smart woman. She said, "we can get you to Boston and then we will sort it out from there." We got to our gate only to find out from the attendant that our tickets were merely standby, that it was a full flight, that we were the 4th in line with standby tickets and that there was no way of knowing where our luggage was. Feeling defeated we sat and waited for The inevitable announcement that we would not be making this flight. After a few minutes I decided, nope, that wasn't good enough. I went back to the gate counter, planning to beg, borrow and steal. There was a second attendant now so I timed it just right to talk to her instead, because in my sedated state the first attendant's accent was really hard for me to understand. I explained our situation to the new attendant and asked about our bags, she said they were probably already in Manchester, and that they would've been put on one of the other flights. Just then the first guy we had talked to, looked over and recognized me from before and said "Saari?" I nodded and he handed me to boarding passes with official seat numbers and said we were on this flight. I was so excited, but what I didn't know then was that they were just getting us to Boston and calling it close enough when our car and luggage were in Manchester... And no way to get there. When we arrived in Boston we were told we'd have to pay out of pocket for ground transportation to Manchester. This is not what we were told by the woman we spoke to in Philadelphia, but she evidently didn't annotate our travel records to provide us with a travel voucher upon arrival. Instead we got to speak with both the supervisor and the manager, who told us that we had been booked for a flight into Manchester the following day, but that we had volunteered ourselves to go to Boston instead, and in doing so released the airline from their obligation to get us to Manchester. What!? They never said anything about that, there was no talk of a flight tomorrow, there was no agreement to release them from any obligation. The manager said there was nothing he could do so I asked to speak with his manager, he said he was The highest ranking person. "Oh really, your name is in fact American airlines?" He smiled and said in Boston it is. I locked him in a stare and when it was clear I had his undivided attention I tried logic, no use. Chris tried a tantrum and swearing, no use. I locked him back into a stare and said, "look at me, I am telling you the truth, there was never any talk of us actually having a chance at getting into Manchester, I was told to get on the plane, so I got on the plane. I was just doing what I was told. If I had done anything besides what I was told I probably would've been arrested or something stupid. My ticket says Manchester." I pointed and showed it to him very closely. "A service has been paid for that we have not received. This is dirty, dirty business. If you came to me and paid for a service and I did not give you that service, that is called theft and fraud, I would be arrested, lose my license, and no longer be able to work in my field. But when you do it all you have to say for yourself is, 'I'm sorry for the inconvenience.' That. is. dirty. business. Are you sure that's how you want to do this right now?" He then said "I'm sorry there's nothing I can do here my hands are tied, I believe you 100% because we've had these issues with Philadelphia before, but good luck." We went down to the ground transportation information booth. The woman said it was because we were young, it would be different if we had small children or we were old enough to fake a heart attack. This woman was hilarious, but I couldn't even smile. She gave us a few options, but we were going to have to rent a car, because believe it or not, that was the cheapest plan. We took a bus to Enterprise only to find out that we needed a credit card and not a debit card, once again we were screwed. I have a small credit card but it had just enough on it to barely decline the rental car. Mother furrerrrrAAH!!!! SO, I call the credit card company to pay it down so we could use it, but of course it doesn't automatically apply. This was my snapping point. Tears of rage just started to dump down my face, honestly I could have strangled someone and felt nothing. I call up the credit card company to beg them to push my payment through when, for the first time that day, I was met with friendly compliance! Gasp! Could this be true? A quick and pleasant 3 way call with the bank and all was as it needed to be. Union bank, Capitol One and Enterprise, all have excellent and chipper employees who saved the day! I got us from Boston to Manchester in one piece, which is nothing short of miraculous as the Dramamine still had yet to wear off. We went into the Manchester airport and, for a wonder, found our luggage, evidently just in the nick of time, because it was flagged to get sent to Boston! Off we went to long-term parking, which we triumphantly walked instead of taking the shuttle because it felt good. I almost cried when I finally saw my little car alive and well in their lot. It meant we were finally on the homestretch of this horrendous journey. We stopped to eat and were warmly greeted by a total stranger, just some guy who was there eating, not like a restaurant employee who was being paid to be nice, and it hit me... We were home! NICE people! I could have kissed this man! From that moment on the night was total bliss! We stopped at the Littleton co-op and found amazing deals and more nice people! Then a quick stop in to Walmart for a few other things. We went through the self check out, and as we walked by the attendant she looked us in the eye and smiled and said, "have a good night and a happy new year!" "you too!" I returned in shock. I turned to Chris as the automatic doors opened, "I think she actually meant that!" " I think she DID!" he replied. We got in the car, and headed home with only about 40 minutes left of our journey. Beyond exhausted, we pulled on to our little dirt road with only a half mile left until we were home, I couldn't help but smile as we bounced over the washboards. Our cats greeted us at the car with the fiery passion of a thousand suns and we were even happier to see them. I think I'll just stay home and be a hermit for a few weeks. Visiting Chris' folks in Colorado was truly wonderful, but next time we might just drive.

"Occupational Hazards"

Every workplace has it's own safety issues. That being said, I work in a gorgeous spa on an airy open hilltop. The treatment rooms are superb and the atmosphere is exquisitely tranquil. My co-workers and management are extremely laid back. Of all the spas I've ever worked in, this is by far my favorite. The clientele is different here, to put it simply, they're polite. I have always had one real concern though, it hasn't ever happened in the 12 years I've been a massage therapist, but it is always been in the back of my mind... and today the 26th of August 2014, it actually happened. You see, we have these stools on casters, so you can roll them around as needed. I use them a lot so I can lower my center of gravity when working on muscles that are more tender, so I can still detail the area, but with significantly less intensity. Now let's imagine... chair with wheels + slippery yoga or harem pants + look mom, no hands. I dance this dangerous, yet virtually silent samba a number of times every hour while successfully keeping my hands on my client. I never miss a beat, I move the stool into position with my foot. To be clear my feet have flawless monkey-like dexterity. I stick the landing every time, but it is still a little cagey. Today I was working on another massage therapist who was visiting from Massachusetts. I was rocking her world when I discovered that her rotator cuffs needed some extra focus, so I perch on my chair and gently caress the right side into total submission. Maneuvering to the left side to repeat the procedure, I guided the chair into position. I went for my landing, when in painfully slow motion I found myself losing altitude. Betrayed by my outrageously beautiful, yet dangerously slippery harem pants, I slid helplessly to the floor with a loud thump followed directly by the deafening clatter of my chair bouncing off the wall. Jolted from her bliss educed coma, my client shot into a back bending clench position that can only be compared to a hot dog in a microwave, exclaiming "OH MY GOD SWEETIE, ARE YOU OKAY?!?!?!" I wasn't especially "okay" since I had, in fact, just taken a caster to the IT band, but the whole thing was so funny, I couldn't help but erupt into a hysterical fit of laughter. I pulled myself together and got back to work, choking back cackles while my client continued to laugh so uncontrollably that she thought she was going to pee herself. She said it was the highlight of her vacation and as it turns out she had been under a lot of stress and needed a good laugh. Well, mission flippin' accomplished. I like to show off my best tricks whenever I'm working on a fellow massage therapist. Sometimes it comes in handy to not take oneself too seriously.

Nice to meet you, how's sex going?

            I'm not sure why I need to say this, perhaps society in general has no sense of propriety, perhaps common sense is no longer common, or perhaps there exists a glitch that has caused a shortage in clever discussion topics, forcing small talk into directions that aren't useful, applicable or even appropriate. I'm sure you've experienced it firsthand (and if you haven't, then you are very likely an avid perpetrator sitting in the darkness of your own ignorance)    

            There are many dilemmas that stem directly from this phenomenon. One being the uselessness of an interaction with a person who's understanding of you as an individual reaches no further than pointing out what they see, or rather what they think they see. For example, I am over weight. The super special part is the bulk of it rides around as, "belly fat," and happens to pitch just right, making me look like I might be slightly pregnant. It really depends on the shirt I'm wearing. I'm torn between finding it funny, or finding it insulting. I have had dozens of people congratulate me at random, pull me aside to tell me how I'm positively glowing, wish me the best of luck with my family, or the one that is most concerning are the ones that ask me "Oh wow! When are you due?" I'm talking cashiers, strangers on the street, salesmen, etc. P.s. If you're a salesman and you ask me this, you just lost a sale.... and you're and a-hole.

            People, people, people.... I don't care if a woman looks like she's 16 months pregnant with octuplets and her belly button is poking out 6 inches...You just don't ask certain things. She may not be pregnant. She may be and perhaps would rather buy what she came for without issuing a progress report to a total stranger. She might be struggling with her ever changing image and feeling like she's the size of a truck and perhaps just hoping to get through her errands without some jerk reminding her. She may be a victim of sexual assault or one night stand.

            The other end of this issue are your classic super nosy casual acquaintances. I'm sure you've seen this, they love to creep out newlyweds. They're the ones who want to know when you'll be getting pregnant, how many you want, when you're ovulating and what you're waiting for. If you happen to not be physically capable of reproduction, they want to know if you're doing it wrong, if you're climaxing, if you've tried different positions, if, where, when and how you were tested, if it's his fault or yours, are you undergoing therapy to resolve the issue, maybe you're not having enough sex, try losing some weight- you'll feel better at least, have you tried IVF? They'll rattle off a bunch of his and hers remedies based on old wives tales to maximize fertility. For the most part, these are the people who rarely talk to you, but then plow into a hot and heavy discussion on the inner workings of your reproductive systems. Just when your eyes glaze over, they start digging into adoption, fostering or checking the lost and found at bus stops and bars. Ultimately it ends the same way, "Well don't lose heart." Umm... thanks.

            My husband and I got married in July 2011 and as of yet we have no children. People expect me to be at the height of desperation and panic. Its been nearly 3 years of people repeatedly adding to the previously mentioned exasperating annoyances and, well, we've pretty well had it.

            The decision to procreate is a private and personal one, to be made within the home of each family. I'm not sure why so many people feel the need to weigh in on it, but I get pounced on about it on a steady basis and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. I refuse to recognize this notion that so many people relish, that one's life is not fulfilled without kids. Let's slow down here and call a spade, a spade. I'd like to know who you think you are that you can say my life is any less fulfilling. I don't share your romanticized notions. Sure parenthood is a wonderful opportunity, frankly I think there needs to be an approval process, if you know what I mean. Would I love to be a mother? Of course. You can bet I'd be an amazing one. BUT I don't feel like I'm lacking anything or that my life is less fulfilling, after all, what good does that do? I don't have to look far to look on the bright side. Ladies and Gentlemen, I get to sleep and wake up when I want. There's no mystery bodily fluid anywhere in my daily routine. Everyone in my house is potty trained, can drive, vote, cook, clean and make it through the cereal aisle without a meltdown. We have time to contribute to society and can easily live within our means. I am an aunt of three, Godmother of one, and there are a number of children who call me Auntie Jean, "ANTJEEEN!!!", Aunt Jeannie, and Big Momma. I get to be the fun one or the hired gun, they love to see me coming, they miss me when I'm gone, they know I always have a present special for them and they can help themselves to the gum in my purse and pictures on my phone. I have energy to play, I love Disney movies and can sing along with every song (so will Uncle Chris). I have a black belt in hide and seek. I know so many random facts that you'd think you were spending the afternoon with Bill Nye. If they want to stop and watch a bug, I have all the time in the world for that. School fundraiser? I've got $100 that ain't doing nothin'. Need a t-ball coach? Uncle Chris. If we're horsing around and something breaks, I'll take the fall.

            To all the mommies in my life, you have a lot to be proud of and grateful for. Save your pity though, because my life rocks!! To all the weirdo's and biddies, quit fussing over my lady junk and get a hobby. To the strangers who feel the need to ask way too many questions for their own good, I am pregnant... with a can of whoop@$$ and my water just broke, fool!

Flushed Away

Ah, the joys of home ownership. Gone are the days of calling the landlord when something breaks. Renting was convenient in that aspect, but I still wouldn't trade our crooked little house for love nor money. Well, maybe for money, but it would have to be a LOT and I'm afraid she isn't currently appraised for what it would take to get me to pack up my chachkas and walk away from this little slice of paradise. Everything about this place takes hard work, but every once in a while she puts up her dukes, and it comes time to see what we're truly capable of. If there were ever people never to underestimate, it's Team Saari ECE (east coast edition). My husband is a strong man who can problem solve like a boss, his homespun fixes can verge on sheer genius. His amazing wife (see what I did there?) who's Green Mountain brand of stubborn, bull dog brand of tenacity and deep-seated blue-collar roots all converge, enabling her to get her hands dirty and, shall we say, "spur results," while maintaining a strong aversion of hiring help. It's been a long fight, but we can officially say we took a proud win. I'd like to thank our seasoned consultants for their vast knowledge and full support, who helped us to have the confidence to nail the victory- Bernard Shatney, the former owner of our little love nest, who was able to lend solid insight, and Glenn Goodrich my dad, who doesn't hesitate to lunge ahead armed with an iron will (and iron gag reflex), and do what it takes to help things happen.  I'd also like to take this opportunity to say neaner-neaner to the professionals with which we consulted in the infancy of this project,  who said it could not be done. Today we laughed in the face of opposition and then threw caution and dignity to the wind. We are now familiar with each inch of our homes plumbing system, and could not be more pleased to say that in all of her GLORIOUS SPLENDOR, she is restored to full battle mode. Ladies and Gents, after 2 months of waiting for the ground to thaw, followed by 12 hours of hardcore handiwork that included the invention of Chris' homemade plumber's tools (made from free materials, ultimately saving us over $500 in professional fees and he's never been more sexy) digging up pipe in the rain, 6 Billion rubber gloves, some cussing and grumbling, a considerable amount of crack exposure and head scratching, finally culminating in my running around in the yard yelling for joy as if we'd struck oil, we have completed the most daunting task we've faced on this scale to date.

Jean starts a blog and other signs that the end is near

     After reading the various blogs of  those near and dear to me, I feel inspired to share some of my own thoughts and life lessons. Upon reflection, I asked myself, ''What do people care to know of the ethereal  nuances found in the daily routine that makes up my typically austere existence?'' Then I thought, ''When did I learn such big words?'' Then it came to my attention that my life lessons have held a certain, je ne sais quoi. As for subtle variations from a day to day routine, they don't exist in my world, if they did, the trill of reading such things would be similar to deliberately dropping a brick on ones toe or giving a sadist a bar of soap in a sock and saying, ''go nuts....'' So, lucky for those who care to read, not only are my experiences soggy with irony and sarcasm, there's also a note of fabulous gaiety if you care to see it.
     Behind my typically cheerful exterior exists one teeny tiny genetic flaw, identified by a late relative (who shall remain nameless in order to hide his many faux pas.... and perhaps blatant disregard for various legal guidelines), a man with a clear and earned understanding of the frailty of the laws of physics.  Myth #1: "Lightning never strikes the same place twice." This is a flat out lie, the man was struck 7 times as an adult, twice in one night. His research lead the discovery and naming of this genetic flaw. Similar to, "Murphy's law," this distinct characteristic was referred to more commonly by C***e Carter as, "the Carter $#!t house luck." It's very real and highly contagious.
     I am Lady Luck, I'm not always good, but hey, it's not for lack of trying. I am only half Carter. Some days  I make my own rules and manage to somehow avoid immediate repercussions. Other days I'm just doing my thing and *BLAM!!!!* that Carter... um..... luck hits me on the chin and its lights out.  The question to be asked is, '' where am I, how many fingers am I holding up, am I still in one piece?'' but more importantly, ''what have we learned here?" Every story has a moral. (DISCLAIMER!!!! Not every story has all it's morals, some have down right questionable morals)