Monday, June 30, 2008

Ask and you will receive

Today was a Monday- just like the start of every week. Brad left for Vegas again yesterday so last night and this afternoon I sat in quiet familarity, fretting about whether burglars were coming to get me or not. But no worries because today, each time I left the house, I locked the door going out to the garage (just in case those nasty burglars found a way to get through the metal door), and locked the front door good and tight. Ain't nobody gettin' in.

Late this afternoon after returning from work, I began to stew silently. Here I was, bored on a Monday, totally safe in my house and I had no material for a decent blog entry tonight. The day was relatively normal and the weekend was as well. Whatever would I find to write about? Desperate to get the creative juices flowing, I grabbed the keys to the van and headed to the liquor store. Wine always helps when you're in a creative funk. I purchased my $10.00 bottle of Pinot Noir (class alllll the way, people) and headed back home.

As I walked to the front door I fumbled on the key chain looking for the house key. Which was not there. Mentally I drop-kicked myself in the ass. Before Brad and I left for Vegas two weeks ago, I gave my key to our contractor so he could let himself in and finish out some of our maintenance work. I stupidly had yet to go retrieve my key from the front office. Bugger. But before I could throw myself into a fit, I remembered that we purchased our garage door key pad several months ago (remember what a huge disaster that was?) and I could easily gain entry through the garage door! Thank God.

As I punched in our super secret code into the key pad, I laughed to myself thinking, "Oh Kim, how silly of you to get worried. This is after all, exactly why we purchased the key pad. For situations just like this." I felt proud of myself as the metal door lifted, welcoming me home. I skipped across the garage to the door and turned the knob...which would have gladly opened had I not locked it from the inside last night worrying about burglars. Shit.

At this point I sat on the garage floor and considered drinking gasoline. It has alcohol in it, right? Then it struck me. Couldn't I just go to the builder's office down the road and get my key from him? Of course I could! Der. But the office was closed. Naturally.

In the end, my neighbor Jeremy sat outside with me while I waited for the one random locksmith who actually answered his phone at 5:32 on a Monday evening. On the phone he sounded either drunk or old. Or both. When he finally arrived at my driveway the number 82 immediately jumped into my head. It covered both his weight and his age in one swoop. Charlie the locksmith waddled into the garage where he asked inquisitively, "Did you lock yourself out?" No, Grandpa, I just really wanted some expensive company.

Charlie dug in his pocket and pulled out, I kid you not, a piece of thick paper. He stated, "Let's have a look-see at that lock." For 19 minutes he jiggled that ridiculous piece of paper between the door jamb and the lock trying to jimmy it credit card style. My neighbor watched in heavy amusement and said had he known this was the way to unlock doors he'd have just lent me his American Express. Ha ha.

Finally Charlie resorted to more advanced locksmith technology and popped open the lock. He called me "beautiful young lady" about nine times and wanted to know where my husband was at a time like this. I ignored him and paid him the $52.00 . Then I inquired if he was all right to get home. No lie, he looked like he'd fall over if I so much as breathed on him. But in all seriousness, Charlie was probably the nicest man I'd ever met in my life. He told me how Sprint had laid him off 7 years ago and it resulted in him going into business for himself. It wasn't a huge money maker, but it was his business and he believed in customer service. I could call him any time of night and he'd be happy to come by. Aw.

So, long story short, I got my blog story for the night. And a $62.00 bottle of wine that tastes an awful lot like a $10.00 bottle. From now on the door in my garage is staying unlocked. Or I guess we could just give the neighbor a key....

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Am I crazy...

or does my cousin Michelle resemble a very, very famous young lady by the name of Hannah Montana? Maybe Michelle can be her body double! Even if she only got 1% of Hannah's profits, she'd be a millionaire. I think I should get a cut of it...

Hannah Montana (a.k.a. "Miley Cyrus")

Michelle Arnold, my very beautiful cousin


My friends Amanda and Judy and I all got together Saturday night for some guacamole and girl talk. Instead of gossip though, we found ourselves discussing our new favorite SNL character, Penelope. She's played by Kristin Wiig, the new SNL up-and-comer who's making everyone crack up with her ridiculous portrayal of the quintessential "one upper". I can't post the video because it didn't give me the right code, but check out the link below to the video. Make sure you go the bathroom first!

Friday, June 27, 2008

All shot up and ready to go

For those of you that were as concerned for Brad's health as I was last night, you can relax. As the nail injury swelled and the pain increased, Brad finally gave in to getting a tetanus shot. He had it this morning and now I can rest much easier as he continues work on the basement. At least from now on if he acquires any other injuries, I can at least know lockjaw won't be an added complication. If he loses a limb...well, that's a whole other issue that no shot is going to take care of.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Each night Hubs works diligently on finishing out our basement. He measures wood. He cuts wood. He nails wood. Sometimes he has to remove pieces of wood adorned with nails.

From his feet.

As he hammered away this evening, he chose the preferred footwear of retarded contractors everywhere; flip flops. This resulted in him, surprise surprise, stepping on a nail.

Washing his foot in the bathtub.

Here's a shot of the wound.. I told him we should go to the doctor for a tetanus shot. But no. He assured me his cleaning of it would be sufficient.
(Because he went to medical school and all.)
The biggest problem is, we have no peroxide in the house. No worries, he found a completely acceptable substitute.

Claire's Ear Care Antiseptic. For third graders with infected ear holes. I had no idea this was the preferred way to clean nasty flesh wounds safely.

The offending nail that did the damage. But the best part is yet to come...

Here's Hubs 5 minutes after cleaning the hole in his foot. Still in his flip flops. Thankfully we have lots of Claire's top shelf antiseptic still left over, should things go awry again.

I love lists

Things I Will Never Understand:
  • Daylight Savings time
  • Crocs
  • Clogs (as in the wooden shoes, not drainage issues. But come to think of it, those too)
  • Geometry (a triangle is a triangle because it has three sides. So shut up about it)
  • Braille on drive-up ATM's
  • Those ridiculously tiny marshmallows in instant cocoa
  • People who own Hummers
  • Why my handwriting always looks way less cool than everyone else's
  • Anyone would name their child Peter (or Dick or Harry for that matter)
  • Mondays
  • Feather dusters
  • Electricity
  • Carburetors, gaskets, throttles, spark plugs and chassis. Whatever.
  • Pennies
  • Waitress wage's of $2.15 an hour
  • Permanent lip stick (as in tattoed. I'm all for eyebrows, but your lips? Really?)
  • Letter jackets worn even one second after high school graduation
  • Strip Clubs
  • Mullets
  • Rat tails past 1986
  • Implants
  • Donny and Marie Osmond
  • K-Mart
  • Why I can always remember the words to a song when it's playing, but not all by myself

Shoes...glorious shoes!

It's Thursday and I love shoes. So Thursday shall now be shoe day on the blog. When I remember to do it.

Below are a pair of shoes I've had my eye on ever since I saw S.J.P look H.O.T in them on "Sex and the City". They're the Dior Extreme shoes and they speak for themselves. Mostly they say "buy me." Alas, I can't afford them. Ever. Looks like it's "Sex and the Loads of Pity" for me.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The socks explained

I've only had about a dozen people ask me about one of the photos that was included in my wedding slide show. Photo is below. The story after the jump...

So why is my husband rocking these socks? Did he magically become a die hard KU fan overnight? No. Perhaps he lost a bet? Negative.

As everyone knows by now, Brad is spending every other week in Las Vegas for work. Every other Saturday, he packs his suitcase with great care and caution. He checks and double checks his luggage to make sure he has forgotten nothing. But one fateful Sunday night, he arrived in Vegas to discover he was missing something very important. Underpants.

Don't get me wrong, my husband is a very clean man, but Vegas is awful steamy and we certainly don't want...chafing. So, off Brad went to the local Las Vegas Gap where, joy of all joys, boxers were on sale. But are boxers ever really enough?

For those of you that know Brad, he loves to shop. His shopping style reflects the famed children's book "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie." Except for Brad the title would read, "If You Buy a Boy Some Undies...He's Going to Want Socks, Too." And so, as Brad stood in that air-conditioned plethora of underpants, he notice some interesting footwear nearby. ARGYLE SOCKS! No person should ever be deprived of argyle socks. They are the new black! They are the new "it" personal clothing item. And so he bought lots of them.

Fast forward to last Friday afternoon as Brad and I packed for my brother's wedding. I quietly folded my clothing, debating whether to bring four or five pairs of shoes when suddenly a gasp erupted from Brad's lips. He had no clean black socks for the wedding. Whatever would we do? I swear to God those argyle socks practically danced into his suitcase like little sweat shop sewn demons. Problem solved.

And that my friends, is how crazy socks ended up on my husband as he ushered my brother's wedding.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

A sad day for comedy

Everyone knows this already, but I am so bummed about George Carlin's death that I had to post my favorite sketch by him ever. Enjoy this brilliant comedian. I'm sure he's cracking God up right now!

Monday, June 23, 2008

Here Comes the Bride...

This weekend was my brother's wedding. It was a beautiful event- with only a few hints of drama. For one, the maid of honor was not allowed to attend the wedding. Does this sound familiar? I played my cello at the beginning of the ceremony which was a little nerve racking, but I got through it. In the end, the weather was gorgeous, and bride and groom were happy and danced the night away without a care in the world. It was great to see my little brother get married and I'm very proud of him. We're so happy to have Erin as a part of our family! Enjoy the pictures.

Click to play BJ's Wedding

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Friday, June 20, 2008

...and we're back!

Not gonna lie...I am dragging today. The two hour time difference between Vegas and Kansas City really hits you when you've been gone for 5 days. It may be 10.28 right now, but my body says, "It's just after 8 and you're still on vacation! GO BACK TO BED!"
Unfortunately there will be no time for recovery this weekend. In about 4 hours Brad and I will be heading to Manhattan for my brother's wedding rehearsal. I play my cello in the wedding tomorrow so I really only have tonight and tomorrow morning to practice. Yikes. Hopefully I won't embarrass myself tomorrow but we'll see. I'm too tired to be clever today, so that will have to wait until after the wedding...below are a few more pics from Vegas. I am definitely looking forward to getting my camera out this weekend and take a few pictures that aren't so fuzzy!!!
Brad outside our hotel chillin'.

This was at the same baker as the chocolate fountain I took pics of earlier. It's a French chef who is pretty much amazing in the Bellagio. People, this is a CAKE. How awesome is that? I think I'll start taking cake decorating classes.

Me and my hubby on the strip.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

107 degrees and counting...

We're still here in Vegas, and it is hot hot hot! The temp has climbed to 108 so far, and it just keeps getting hotter. Yesterday, Amy and I hung at the pool while our gentlemen worked away. After only 2 hours, I resemble a blushing tomato.

Tonight is date night! I'm going forward to dinner with my husband for the first time on our own since we've been here. I'm sure Amy and Michael would love a little time away from us more than us from them.

No super-crazy stories to share, which I find to be a good thing. Tanning, eating, sleeping, walking. Those are the main adjectives to describe our time here! I finally did get to gamble a little yesterday (all alone) but nothing came from it except one free beer from the waitress. So basically, a $40 beer.

Below are pictures from Brad's job-site and from yesterday out and about sight-seeing. Sorry the quality isn't fantastic- phone cameras can only do so much...

Outside Bellagio right before the fountains started

Just one small piece of the job-site that Brad walks to every day

Future site of one of the pools

Fun facts about the cholocate fountain pictured below

Chocolate fountain in the Bellagio. Beautiful and yummy!

A restaurant Brad had to take a picture of...wonder why?

Monday, June 16, 2008

Daddy's Day

I forgot to do this for Mother's Day (what a rotten daughter I am) but at least I got to see Mom the week of her special day. Yesterday I didn't see my Dad at all due to flying at 35,000 feet...

To my Dad for Father's Day. You are my hero and my moral compass. I can always count on you to give me advice (wanted or not) and to give me a book to read (good or not). I love you always and wish I could have been there on Sunday to give you a hug and a "Young Frankenstein" elbow rub. Hope your day was fantastic and beautiful. I love you!

To my husband for Father's Day. I love watching you with the girls and being their hero. Someday they'll probably have a blog to honor you on. You're the perfect Dad; slow to anger and quick to forgive. The way a Daddy should be. Us girls don't know what we'd do without you. You're the glue that holds us all together. Happy Father's Day, babe. MWUAH!

Rollin' the Dice

Well, not so much rolling the dice as much as watching other people roll the dice. The Antisdel Abstract is coming to you from hot and steamy Las Vegas this week! Unfortunately for me on this beautiful trip, only 25% of our party has any interest in playing games. I'll let you guess which person that is. I'll give you a hint. It's not Brad, Amy or Michael. Duh.

We arrived yesterday afternoon with no problems or issues. The temperature was 106 when we landed. Stepping off the plane made me picture us walking into a gigantic casserole dish being placed in an oven. But it's a dry heat.

Yesterday was the one time the boys would have any opportunity to hang at the pool (all the pools close at 7.00 here, what is that about?) so we quickly checked into our hotel - much to Brad's chagrin we did not get the gigantic suite he had last time - and headed down to the pool. I was THRILLED when I found it nearly deserted. One year ago for our honeymoon, it was a good day if we could find a piece of cement in which to lay out and tan. At the MGM Signature, we had our choice of any chair in the cabana. We purchased a few overpriced cocktails and settled in the cool salt water pool. About 35 minutes in I had a headache so huge I could barely move. Brad was quick to remind me that the sun here is different than Kansas City and I was likely suffering from a mix of dehydration and sun exposure. We headed inside and changed for dinner.

Dinner was a 3 mile walk to the other end of the strip at a restaurant called Maggiano's. Very tasty but a bit pricey- surprise surprise. We strolled leisurely to our dinner, stopping at casino's and reminiscing about our honeymoon. We even saw a real lion habitat! I felt bad for Mr. Lion though. Lots of people were taking flash pictures at him. Can you imagine having flashes in your face all day long? No thank you; unless I'm a model and getting paid four grand an hour. Pretty sure the lion's getting paid zilch.

So that was day one...I've got pictures below taken from my phone. My camera is too huge to carry all over Vegas so the phone pictures are going to have to do.

This last weekend Brad, the girls and I ventured to Brad's Dad's house for a quick hello and Happy Father's Day, then we drove to Creston, IA where Brad's aunt and uncle on Janette's side were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary! Fifty years. Now that's an accomplishment worth a week long trip somewhere spectacular! I didn't take any pictures for some reason, but I'm supposed to be receiving some and I'll post them then. Congratulations Dick and JoAnn! Here's to another 50!
Amy and I are on our own to do whatever we please today here in Vegas while the boys work hard and earn a paycheck. I'm thinking we'll be heading down to the pool any minute! I'll try to snap some pictures again tonight and post tomorrow.
Chandelier in our lobby. After a few beers, it looked picture worthy.

My husband and his beer.

Watch out Vegas, the Antisdel's are here!!

Friday, June 13, 2008

One Step at a Time...

Let me spare you the suspense, absolutely no drama occured today. Brad assured me everything would go just fine with "the meeting", and he was dead on. What was I expecting? A food fight perhaps? Hair pulling? Let's get real, this is Kansas and I am Kim Antisdel. That stuff only happens to Sarah Jessica Parker on "Sex and the City". Oh well, you have to have a goal, right?

I think my biggest fear about this lunch meeting was wondering which personality would come out of me at the moment of truth. Would I be "Cold Shoulder Snotty Kim" that Brad sometimes meets when he makes fun of me? Would I be "Over Zealous Nice Kim" that I tend to turn into when I'm uncomfortable? Luckily, it turned out I was just myself since that's the least annoying of both choices.

I arrived after my friend and her guest had been seated. A little intimidated, I approached their booth and felt immediate relief when T stood up and gave me a hug, saying it was great to see me finally. After sitting down across from the pair I had the bizarre feeling of being at a job interview. I actually wondered if my hair looked okay. For a minute, I was afraid there would be a hugely awkward silence in which we all toiled over what the hell to say next. Thankfully T had plenty of questions lined up. She asked about work, married life, the new house etc. etc. I asked the same questions. This was easier than I thought.

When the subject turned to my brother's up-coming wedding, I felt a twinge of panic. After all, it was my wedding that was the catalyst for this whole disaster to begin with. But there were no angry words, no shouting and no accusations. Brad had been right. T didn't come to talk about the past. In fact, it was swiftly avoided three or four times. I shouldn't have been surprised, there was no way talk about last July was going to happen as long as C was sitting there. These two are in a brand new relationship, where indications of past emotional baggage are kept eerily locked away, along with bodily function discussions and inner-family drama. I really can't blame T for keeping the past quiet at our lunch. Just imagine if someone spilled all of my awful stories right before I had gotten married or something. Oh wait....

All right, so if it isn't obvious, I still have issues with T. What can I say, I'm human and flawed. Which leads to an interesting question: if saying I'm human excuses me from forever forgiving T, shouldn't being human excuse T for the awful things she did? I think the answer has to be yes.

So the overall consensus is this: I saw the real T again. The girl I played house with and endured countless 8th grade cheerleader car washes. I saw the T that needs me to forgive her. She's not an idiot, she knows what she did was wrong and hurtful. But who made me judge and jury? In her own way, she's probably suffered enough with her own guilt. And I know from experience the worst punishments are those we bring on ourselves.

Try as I might though, I have given up on the forgive and forget nonsense. There's no way I will ever forget, nor do I want to. Life is all about memories, both good and bad. If you forget every bad experience life dumps on you, you're just left with a bunch of Tuesdays all strung together. Knowing what T did is simply a bad memory that I (and she) can hopefully learn from. We can only move forward from here. But I'm proceeding with extreme caution. See? I'm learning...

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Second Chances

Generally I leave this blog's contents to fun family events, quippy anecdotes and the occasional really, really long story about trips to Chicago. For the most part, extremely personal issues are kept to myself. However, today I find myself blogging about something that happened over a year ago, and wondering if time can really heal.

Almost exactly one year ago I had a terrible falling out with one of my best friends. I had known her over 22 years and was terribly hurt by a few of her actions that occurred right before my wedding. Obviously, anyone who was at Brad's and my nuptials noticed the girl side was one person shorter than the boy side. This was was a result of me asking the best friend not to participate in my wedding. It was the hardest thing I have ever done and took a very large emotional toll on me. Looking back, I know I did the right thing for myself and for the circumstances, but now I find myself in familiar territory that always confuses me. Is forgiving and forgetting an option?

Over the 27 years of my life, I've been a forgiver, maybe too forgiving. I might even go so far as to say I allow myself to be walked on occasionally. However, my forgiveness occasionally comes at a price. I am famous for burying the proverbial hatchet and leaving the handle sticking waaaay out. Just ask my husband. He'll give you a thesis on my special way of "forgiving but remembering for later". It's no secret, sometimes I forgive but place the misgiving in the ol' filing system of my brain to retrieve later when it benefits me.

This best friend that hurt me over 300 days ago lives out of town. Like on the coast. Truthfully I think that has been a good thing. The space between us (both literally and figuratively) has helped me to reflect on the things that happened. So a month or so ago when I received an e-mail from her, I was open to reading it. I wasn't thrilled or impressed at the rather open-ended apology via e-mail, but at least it was something. The lines of communication were squeaked open and tomorrow she will be in town. I have agreed to meet her for lunch. With her new boyfriend. I must be completely honest; I am scared to death.

I didn't picture our reconciliation happening without Brad by my side as a buffer and new best friend, but he won't be able to attend. In all honesty, I'm not sure he's thrilled at the idea of me going alone or at all. Without going into gory details, the betrayal that occurred last year involved him as well, and therefore hurt him, too. I believe he deserves an apology. I may just have to accept what I have. Me, her and the new guy. All alone.

So my friends, my question is this: is true forgiveness possible when your friendship, trust and loyalty have all been severed at the same time? Can the wall be rebuilt without parts of it crumbling again? Should it be? Should 22 years of a friendship, albeit a seriously flawed one, be allowed to try again? Is it possible for me to truly forgive this person and leave it at that forever with no hatchets to pick up later. More importantly, this person has promised me she is different now. Can people really change? I'm hoping the answer to the last question is yes, otherwise my beautiful husband got way more than he bargained for when he married me.

I'll let you all know how the lunch goes tomorrow...

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Adventures in airlines....

I'm back, alive and well from the monstrosity of a trade show that is NeoCon. This is a long story so fasten your seat belts. And no, the long story is not about NeoCon. It's about getting there....

My flight was scheduled to leave at 11.50 on Sunday morning for Chicago. Brad dropped me off, ever the dutiful husband, giving me extra kisses good-bye and wishing me well at the trade show. With a heavy heart I checked my bag, passed through the terminal security and plopped down to read a book as I waited for the boarding call. It's very easy for me to get lost in a book (especially a story about 30-something shopaholics), so I wasn't really listening to anything going on around me. When I finally re-surfaced to consciousness, I noticed we were ten minutes until our take-off and people were running around asking "What's the number? What was that number to call?" Completely clueless as to what was going on, I looked up at the agent's desk and saw our flight had been cancelled. Luckily a nice gentlemen noticed me sitting in my seat like a lost Kindergartner. Next thing I knew he was giving me an 800 number to call in order to reschedule my flight. He even patted me on the back and looked at me sadly as if to say, "It's okay that you don't know how to listen to important announcements."

I immediately dialed the 800 number, still confused as to the circumstances of the flight cancellation. I picked up on snippets of conversations about "weather in Chicago" and "severe storms are wreaking havoc". As I listened to the bad elevator music on the American Airlines hotline, I began thinking about the consequences for my cancelled flight. I was supposed to attend a dinner with my company that evening and learn all about the new products we would be showing on Monday and Tuesday. I was going to miss this vital information. In addition, I would have to find the dinner location all by myself instead of going along with everyone else. I would be all alone in Chicago! Flashes of "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" started firing through my head. I pictured myself dragging my suitcase through the rain, getting mugged and beaten and never arriving at my hotel. No one would ever know what became of me. Perhaps I would even inspire an Oprah show about the dangers of women traveling alone. By the time the American Airlines agent picked up my call, I was so worked up I could barely explain to her the situation. After several minutes, she rescheduled me for a 5.45 flight, putting me in Chicago at 7.15 that evening. Night. Darkness. Big city. Small city girl. Bad with directions. Not good.

I phoned Brad who immediately came to pick me up from the airport since I had 4 hours to kill. We went to a leisurely lunch and then back to the house, where I took an hour nap to calm myself. Apparently the gossip about bad weather had been accurate, Chicago had been rocked with storms Sunday morning and flights were being cancelled across the board. My cancellation was nothing special. At 4.00 Brad re-dropped me at the gate, giving me fewer good-bye kisses this time. Deja vu all over again. I re-checked my luggage, re-ran through security, and re-sat down in the exact same spot, waiting for take off. This time around I didn't even get my book out. I was going to be on top of announcements this time around.

At 5.05 we were delayed until 5.30. At 5.30 we were delayed until 6.15. At 6.15 we were informed that a severe storm was headed into Kansas City and therefore we had exactly 20 minutes to get in the air or it would be a no-go. I have never seen flight agents herd people onto a plane that fast in my life. There was no time to be checking boarding passes. If you were on the wrong flight, too damn bad. I boarded quickly and found my seat to be the last row, middle seat. Is there a worse spot on the plane? I think not.

The engines fired, the flight attendants sped through there safety lectures and we were headed to the runway. I felt the engine rev, and braced myself for take off. Suddenly the engines slowed, then stopped completely. The *DING* of a captain's announcement rang overhead and we were told we missed take off by three minutes. I glared at the children that sat in front of me. If they hadn't gone to the bathroom....

The storm had arrived in full force and we were just going to have to sit through it. In a plane. In our seats. And there were no drinks or snacks on the flight. Sorry for the inconvenience. 65 mph winds rocked the plane for over an hour. Babies cried. People whined. I contemplated trying to sleep and immediately gave it up. Finally at the one and a half hour mark, the engines started up and everyone cheered. *DING* "This is your captains speaking, it appears we are in a bad position on the runway. We're just going to move the plane up about 20 feet; not going anywhere yet. So sorry for the inconvenience." Did you know if 75 people collectively sigh in an airplane it sounds like a wind storm? Well now you do.

Fifteen minutes after the "movement" on the runway the captain came back on. He explained in his best indoor voice that this line of storms reached all the way to 35,000 feet. Lucky us, our airplane was only equipped to fly at 30,000 feet this evening. Apparently the piece of equipment that allows the plane to get any higher was malfunctioning. Thus, American Airlines flight 1412 was delayed until 6.30 am Monday morning, and we would now be headed back to the gate. They appreciated our patience.

At this point every person on the air craft was so frustrated and tired that were was no reaction to the announcement. We exited the plane like cows being led to slaughter. Our shoulders hunched low, an occasional tear was wiped from our eyes and we re-entered the Kansas City airport with heavy hearts. Waiting at baggage claim for a suitcase that never went anywhere was the weirdest feeling I've ever had.

By the time Brad picked me up (this was now 125 miles he'd driven in one day) I looked like a limp, wet noodle. I didn't even care that I was getting rained on. When we arrived home, I felt like I had traveled to Chile and back with no sleep. And I still had the airport at 5.30 the next morning to look forward to. What a trip this was stacking up to be.

Monday morning as I watched Brad drive away from dropping me off, I was tempted to run after the car screaming, "Don't leave me here!!!", but I knew I had to go. I re-re-checked my bag, re-re-went through the long line at security and re-re-took my seat. The people waiting with me all looked very, very familiar. Most of them were in the same clothes. No one spoke, no one laughed. We just waited. Amazingly enough, we boarded on time and even landed 3 minutes early. I found my bag with no issue at all, got a cab with ease, checked into the hotel and arrived at the Bolyu showroom at 11.35. Everyone was glad I made it and assured me that all the information I missed could be easily learned in five minutes. I am, back in KC. I made it to Chicago and back alive. For once in my life, all the mishaps encountered along the way were not my fault nor were they anyone elses. God sometimes decides to put us in situations we'd rather not be in, but something tells me there was a reason for my adventures this weekend. If I'd have left on Sunday as scheduled, I would have gone out with all the Bolyu sales people on Sunday night. From what I hear, things got pretty crazy that evening. I don't think I could have functioned properly after a night like that. Instead, I got to stay one more night in my own house, in my own bed - right next to the greatest airport chauffeur in the whole world.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Forget me not...

Tomorrow morning I head to NeoCon, the World's Trade Fair in Chi-town, Illinois. This is a once-a-year event that draws thousands of designers ancy see the latest and greatest in the design industry. I'll be there promoting Bolyu (my employer) and its new products, although I hate that I'll have to leave Brad for three days. The great news is where I'll be staying...those of you who watch Oprah will find this familiar - the all sweet Omni Hotel on the Magnificent Mile! (It's where Oprah puts up her guests when they come to Chicago for the show!)
I will return to Kansas City Tuedsay night and will probably have plenty of stories to share, so stay tuned. Below see pictures of where I'm headed! Toodle-oo!

The Merchandise Mart- it has its own zip code!

The Omni Hotel on the Magnificent Mile

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Up in smoke...

Generally the term "severe weather" doesn't conjure images of flames and black smoke. But last night, in downtown Kansas City, that's exactly what we saw. At around 7.30 pm, a lightning bolt hit a fuel tank at the Magellan Pipeline terminal in Kansas City, KS. The bolt immediately ignited the 1.2 million gallons of gasoline and created a fire ball spectacle reminiscent of 9/11. Strangely and thankfully enough, no one was hurt. The EPA has has stated that air quality should not fine and their tests do not indicate any air problems. The huge plume of smoke created visual issues for pilot trying to land at the airport and many planes had to be re-routed to land safely.

I'm no economist but I would venture to guess that gas in KC isn't going to see a decline anytime soon. Think of it this way, 1.2 million gallons of gas at $3.77 a gallon. Kansas City had a $452,400,000 fireworks display last night. Check out the link below to the pictures. Yowza.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Bragging Rights

After my post regarding Brad's hotel accommodations yesterday, the hub immediately utilized his i phone to send pictures of his beautiful hotel. Oh, and he left a comment yesterday listing all of his room's amenities. Naturally. Pictures in a sec...

As for tonight, Mom and Dad came visit me in my loneliness and took me to a wonderful dinner at The Yardhouse. After, Dad went back to my house to work while Mom and I took our fabulous selves to the new "Sex and the City" movie. I laughed, I cried and was genuinely shocked at the good time I had. Perhaps my expectations were low after a string of recent rotten movies (ahem- Indiana Jones 4) but I think SATC was just that good. I was far from disappointed. Fashion, haute couture and ridiculously styled hair and make-up for two hours? Now that's entertainment. Throw in a great story line and 4 characters that I've loved for 7 years and you've got a hit that's shaken, not stirred. The boys just don't get it- and I like it that way.

Brad's kitchenette- plenty of space for cooking mac 'n cheese.

The living area, complete with poker table.

The bedroom- where no call girls will ever set foot.

Bathroom. I told Brad to request a few more sinks.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Lap of Las Luxury

So Hubs is in Vegas, just like he is every two weeks without fail. I should set my menstral clock by his departure dates. One change though, this week he is not staying at his usual stomping grounds. He's moved from the Mucky Carlo to The MGM Signature- known for kick ass accomodations and gorgeous suite-style rooms. Rest assured my husband wasted no time calling me last night, shrieking into the phone, "Oh my GOD, there's a plasma TV in the BATHROOM! And I have robes to wear!"

(I fought the urge to remind him that he's never worn a robe in his life. Let him have his moment.)

All jealousy and extreme bitterness aside, I'm glad Hubs gets to stay somewhere so nice considering the hard work he's doing. When I travel to Vegas with him in two weeks, he better make darn sure that I'm screamin' "Viva Las Luxury" right along with him. And I will wear the robe. While jumping on the bed.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Are we having a World of Fun yet?

The weekends always seem to go too quickly, but when your husband is leaving for Vegas on Sunday, it blows through even faster. This weekend was in extra super-fast mode because I "worked" late Friday night (meaning I took a few of my best clients out to a good time in the KCP&L District) and therefore didn't start the family weekend until the next morning.

Saturday morning Brad, the girls and I all awoke bright and early only to discover something strange- we had no plans. After inhaling some smelling salts to get over the shock, we opted to spend the afternoon at a place every summer calls for -Worlds of Fun! Into the van we piled and headed for the park. The idea of lugging my camera around all day was not in the least appealing, so there are no pictures to accurately describe our day.
I just have one question: when did manners and good hygiene in public become optional? I'm not joking, I cannot get over the amount of - hmmm, how do I put this delicately - Caucasian Refuse - that I saw this weekend. One person after another sausaged into spandex and Lycra. And the women were worse! Needless to say, we focused on the rides as much as possible and prayed our children weren't taking any fashion notes. Makayla had her very first ride on The Detonator (her eyes were sealed shut the entire time) and Taylor put a curse on the people who require a 48" height for practically every ride. She was almost too short for the innocent raft ride "Fury of the Nile"! It was a little bit ridiculous. All in all it was a fun day but I admit, my tolerance for roundandroundandround rides is quickly diminishing.

Today was our recovery day. After breakfast, a movie and Hungry Hungry Hippos, we broke out one of Taylor's b-day presents; Ladder Golf. People, I feel an addiction forming. Who doesn't love tossing little golf balls at PVC pipe? Here we have a game that requires a) no skill and b) no sore muscles afterwards. Sign me up for league play!


Washing away "Worlds of Scum"!!!

So fresh and so clean clean!

Makayla rockin' Ladder golf.

Taylor's turn!

Taylor "willing" the balls to go where she wants!

The champion of the game!

Second place must wear the balls around her neck??? When did this tradition start?