More About Yesterday

So, as I was saying before we had to pack up and head home, I didn't get much sleep Friday night. I did see lots of Law & Order though.

Thankfully, the wedding wasn't until 2pm, so we could move slow and take our time getting ready.

The weather was not too friendly though. Saturday was pretty nasty all up and down the east coast. Not to be deterred, BD and I made our way through the wintry mix to a local diner and indulged in lots of wonderful breakfast-ness.

Oh! That reminds me. Before all the hotel drama on Friday, we did get the chance to try a pretty nice Japanese restaurant. For dessert, we indulged in an order of Oreo Cheesecake Spring Rolls. If that kind of thing sounds good to you? It was just as you imagine. Yum!

We arrived to the wedding just fine and the ceremony was quite nice. My friend looked amazing and so very happy. I almost teared up a little.

The reception was a total party and our table was the party within a party. I've never seen anyone get kicked out of a wedding for having too much fun, but if that were ever to happen, I think it would have occurred at Table 11.

And then the music started. The bride is Liberian so we all enjoyed participating in the lively traditions. I was jealous that I'm not Liberian, too!

Table 11 represented well on the dance floor. Out of the 10 of us that sat there, 8 of us were responsible for shutting the place down. Really. At the end, it was the DJ packing up his equipment, the bartenders cleaning up, the coordinator wrapping up final details...and us.

So, yeah. A well-utilized night out. We made 8pm feel like 2am.

Bonus: I'm a huge fan of The Amazing Race and one of the former contestants is a friend/co-worker of the bride. She not only sat at our table, but her date to the shindig was none other than her partner from the race! How cool was that? Uh, very. They were part of the Elite 8, too. They could hang. Loved it.

This morning, I woke up early and BD went downstairs and grabbed us some to-go breakfast that we enjoyed in bed before making our move to come back home. It was a long ride back, but the weather had totally cleared up, so it was smooth.

Playette was glad to see us, but moments after we got home, she was already asking for "Pillow." Poor girl. She's not going to be happy until both families are living in a split level or a commune or something.

I'm glad that she had such a good time though. Being a transient family, it's nice to meet people that you can trust with your kid when you really need help in a pinch. We're so very grateful.

Yesterday

So. Well. Yesterday.

I was planning to just come and post something so that I wouldn't feel bad for missing a day, but that didn't happen. It completely slipped my mind before things got crazy and then after? I passed out from exhaustion.

BD and I got some alone time this weekend thanks to a great friend who offered to keep Playette for us. That friend is her bestie's ("Pillow") mom, so little miss was all too thrilled to get some extended time with them. To date, they've gone pottery painting, fine dining (CFA, woot!), attended the Ds group's Halloween party for kids (she won the costume contest!), watched movies, hung out with more friends, and, I'm guessing, tormented the crap out of his mom. Bless her heart. And her sanity.

Meanwhile, over here, we checked into a nice hotel and eventually realized why we scored such an elaborate suite for such a non-elaborate price. Turns out they were in the process of re-surfacing the floors of the parking garage.

Ok, fine. No biggie, right?

Except that by doing so, they filled the place with toxic (?), potent fumes. I guess they tried to keep us from being bothered by putting us in a very high room, far away from the elevator (which was bringing the smell to every floor), but no.

I don't do so well with weird smells and things that trigger my respiratory issues, as you may recall.

So, first, we asked for something, ANYTHING, that could possibly help. Candles? Air freshener? Plug-ins?

Someone came in a sprayed some crap, but then it smelled like flowery toxic crap. I tried to focus on the flowery and went to sleep.

Four hours later (at 2am), I was up again. The smell had tapped me on my shoulder and said, "Geeettt ooouuttt."

My mama didn't raise no fool, so after asking the front desk (at 3am - see? I really did try to tough it out) for an alternative, I called another hotel to check availability. I figured that while moving would suck, at least we didn't have to be up early.

We didn't hear back from our front desk guy for a while, so we started to pack up.

Some time later, we still hadn't heard from him, so we left.

When we got downstairs (soooo much worse down there), he said that he had just tried to call us. His solution? Send us elsewhere at their expense.

Wow. I thought customer service was dead?

Apparently, it still kinda is because he said that everything took so long because he called his manager for approval and she said she'd call him back after she got off the phone with her mom. And she never did.

Ooooook.

He's probably going to get fired for helping us. Ugh.

So we moved. We had a view of the HVAC system instead of the city skyline, the tiniest bathroom ever, only one tv, and no living room. I mean, really. How would we make it? @@

But I could breathe. So, yay!

What I couldn't do was go back to sleep, so I indulged in four episodes of L&O while BD snored away.

Consider this Part I of our tale. I'll share the rest later today after we get some things done.

That completely crazy, totally "these kinds of things always happen to me" kind of story...

Yeesh. I need to type this out, huh?

Leave it to me to dangle a story and not get around to wrapping it up for over a week.

Picture it: Our house, late July, 2009.

I'm feeling pretty good about things. BD has been gone for several days and Playette is still in one piece.

I woke up on Monday morning and took her in to daycare. My plan was to have her there for a few hours so that I could finish packing and also make sure that the house was in decent shape for BD's return the next night. Admittedly, we have different standards, so there were a few things to pick up. Just a few.

The dishes were clean and put away. The laundry was dry. Some was folded. None was put away.

What kind of superhero do you take me for?!

Goal: Leave the house at 11, pick up Playette at 11:15, flight departs at 12:24.

I was on time and so proud of myself.

I should have known it was too good to last.

See, when I picked Playette up, she was in summer attire for here - long pants and one of those waffle-longjohn shirts. Apparently, in the few hours since I'd dropped her off, she had warranted a change of clothes. For one, this wouldn't work because, well, it wasn't cute and we were going to see family. Second, Phoenix was twice the temperature of home, so I didn't want the poor baby to pass out.

"Never mind," I thought, "there's plenty of time on our direct flight to get her changed and gussied up."

So, I put her in the car seat. *click click click*

What was that?

Hm, nothing.

I tossed the keys in the front seat.

Closed the door.

Walked around to the driver's side.

Lifted the handle.

And nothing happened.

I lifted the handle again. And again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

I ran around the truck and tried them all, including the trunk and the hood. (Why the hood? Who knows.)

Nothing.

Well, crap.

And then it hit me.

The *click click click* was the sound of me hitting the LOCK DOOR button as I struggled to get a wiggling Playette into her carseat.

*click click click*
*click click click*
*click click click*

I just kept hearing it.

But I kept cool. I mean, it's a daycare center. People must do this all the time, right?

Some of the time, then?

At least one other time?!

They'll get a chuckle out of it, but the problem will be resolved immediately.

Not so much.

They wanted to call 911.

Really?

I mean, I'm from a place where you just don't call 911. That's for blood and stuff. Not for Playette locked in a car when it's 60 degrees out.

But, apparently no one had a better solution so 911 it was.

Now I'm embarrassed.

I was assured that the town's emergency service would respond, not the military's.

WRONG.

The MPs came and immediately wanted to bust out the windows.

Really? Right away?

Well, they didn't have a slim jim, but they did have a window breaker that they were itching to use.

Hm. I would have brought a slim jim. Just saying.

Plus, when I gave them approval to wait on the window busting, they gave me the "threat of calling CPS look" and then sought supervisor approval. Then they asked me if I had a hanger. Or a spare key.

Finally, I ask if they wouldn't mind just busting out one of the smaller triangle-shaped windows. I then got the look again. And the supervisor got another call because this time I was putting my child in harms way due to the potential flyaway glass situation.

I just couldn't win with these guys.

Thankfully, it was at this point that the firetruck came. WHEE!

At least it was the middle of the day and most people weren't dropping their kids off or picking them up because, wow, that thing blocked the entrance and the exit to the parking lot.

Luckily, the blocking wouldn't be for long because *du-du-du-duuuhhhh* they had a slim jim.

A few minutes later, Playette was "saved." Because really? She was fine. She was laughing at all of the commotion.

I'm kicking myself that I didn't take pictures, but, you know, my camera and cell phone were locked in the car.

Anyway, so I thanked my heros and rushed to leave. I still had a flight to catch!

One of the ladies at the center offered to drive us to the airport so that I wouldn't have to waste time parking and hauling everything back to the terminal. BD could come and pick up the truck when he got back. I accepted her kind offer and was ready to go until the original first responders decided that they needed to interview me.

Really?

Name. No, full name. Social. Husband's name, rank, social. Kid's name. Date of birth. Address. Place of birth. Explanation of what happened. Again. Sigh.

I'm irritated, but, at this point, I still think we'll be ok. The airport is pretty close.

We pull up and race inside. We made it. I exhaled. The lady behind the counter leaves. Hm, maybe she needed something from the back. We wait. And then I noticed the sign.

Counter closes at 11:54 am.
Personnel will return after flight departure.

It's 11:55.

We missed the flight.

Are you kidding me?

Now what?

Crying sounded good. So I did that. I also asked if security would ask if anyone at the gate would be willing to come back and help us. (It's a small airport. The gate was right-><-there.)

No luck.

Back to crying.

Eventually, I was able to rebook on another airline, with an additional stop. But at least it would get me there in time for work the next morning. Ugh.

That two hour flight turned into a 7.5 hour ordeal.

We made it there and back safe and sound though, so there's that. I always get those weird Final Destination kinds of feelings whenever we switch flights.

Anyway.

Next up: Conference recap.

T21 Traveling Afghan

We just signed up to participate. Better late than never!

Instructions & Info Post

What interests me the most about this experiment is the journal. I'm looking forward to reading what other families have to say.

Do you know someone with T21 that lives in any of the "missing" states? If so, please share this info with them in case they'd be interested in participating.
I personally know of people that fit the criteria in Arizona and Delaware, so I hope you're reading this, y'all.

I can see yoooouuuu.

Ok, not really, but my monitor does have this killer reflection thing happening and I can see myself really well and - dang it! - I forgot to wear earrings again, so, well...anyway.

Stay tuned for pics of Playette with the afghan.