First, I feel I need to tell you that I am wearing a sweater dress belted with a wide black belt today.
It’s a little out of my comfort zone and I’m not entirely sure I’m pulling off the whole look.
I need a long silver necklace and silver hoop earrings. And maybe a funky hair accessory. None of which I own.
But I love the dress (shout out to Aunt Marilyn – thanks much!) and the color is perfect. Just not sure I’m edgy enough for a three buckle four inch wide black belt.
Who am I kidding? I’m not edgy at all.
Oh well.
So we started off our Vegas trip by sneaking away from Pumpkin. Nana took her to the bathroom so she could play in the mirror, which she loves. We quickly left. All the baby information out there says not to sneak off. We did it anyway.
We are born risk takers.
But it worked and although she got a little fussy, she settled down soon enough.
Christmas miracle #1.
While in the car on the way to the airport, Chris and I realized we’d both totally forgotten to check-in for our flight. Its scary flying Southwest without checking in 23 hours and 59 minutes in advance. We walked into the airport and I swear, it was the longest line I have ever seen for a flight. Excellent. We’ll be boarding group C for sure.
And then we got A’s.
Christmas miracle #2.
I spotted Granola Guy lurking around the gate before boarding. You know the guy. Long hair. Vintage tee. Flip flops. Fraying jeans. And a guitar as his carry on.
I have a theory about Granola Guys (and gals). There are two types: Thrift Store Hard Core Granola and Neiman Marcus Bought the Look Granola. The first one may or may not support eating meat, the use of a reliable vehicle, or deodorant. The second likely bought his vintage tee at Saks, had his sun kissed highlights professionally applied and loves most the fact that his parents hate his look.
Since the flight was four plus hours long, I was a little concerned that I would end up sitting next to Thrift Store Hard Core Granola Guy who in fact does not believe in personal grooming. Low and behold, who should sit down next to me but Granola Guy. Although judging from the pleasant cologne and his reading selection of a crime novel, I’d say he falls somewhere closer to Neiman Marcus Bought the Look Granola Guy.
Christmas miracle #3.
As the Steward-man made his rounds asking for drink orders, Granola Guy awkwardly asks with a forced chuckle if there’s a special freebie drink if it’s your 21st birthday.
Ah.
There’s not, in case you were wondering, so he gives Steward-man his drink ticket and gets a rum and coke. Awesome. My first thought was how drunk is freshly 21 Granola Dude gonna get here?
So I decided it was time to put an end to his fun…I mean potential drunkenness.
Out of my bag, I pull Making Babies.
Oh yeah I did.
It’s a gigantic book written by a RE and an Eastern Medicine expert. They run down the whole gamut of what it takes to make a baby. And trust me. There’s a whole lot to it. The book has lovely diagrams of our entire baby making organ systems, some BTT charts, and big bold section headings like “Lubricants”.
(Sorry, if this makes you uncomfortable then you should consider yourself lucky and realize you are in fact fertile. Us infertile folks are not uncomfortable.)
I caught Granola Guy checking out the book a couple of times and then literally felt him physically shift to the furthest side of the seat. And I can report the rum and cokes stopped with two.
Christmas miracle #4.
About halfway through the trip, Chris started to look a little green. He’d been fidgeting in his seat for a while but I was having too much fun reading about Eastern medicine and how it could help us have baby #2 to really notice.
Until he leans over and says, if we don’t find an air sickness bag soon, I’m going to need your ziplock bag of almonds.
I’m on it.
About 42 seconds later, he was sick.
If you want to attract attention on a flight, bring a screaming baby on board or get sick at your seat.
Both are excellent options.
Out of nowhere, air sickness bags were being passed to us. Like manna from heaven. But my husband is a pro. He filled up one bag and did so very neatly.
I rang for Steward-man and he came over looking more than just a little frustrated that I had interrupted his otherwise totally carefree flight. He brought us some wet paper towels and a garbage bag.
Thankfully, there was only the one time Chris got sick and then he felt much better.
Christmas miracle #5.
After we landed, we got in touch with the Pack’s who had made dinner reservations for us at an Italian restaurant in our hotel. That had gluten-free options. Considering I had eaten my entire arsenal of gluten-free food on the flight, I was most appreciative.
As we were all looking over the menu, Fanny noted that she wanted the spaghetti. Awesome. I was getting the chicken. Chris a salad. Not a clue what Mr. Pack got which means it wasn’t story worthy.
When the waiter took our order, Fanny changed her mind and ordered the rigatoni instead. None of us thought one thing of it. Actually, I’d totally forgotten the previous spaghetti reference since we were now thoroughly engrossed in some fascinating OKC gossip.
About half-way through her meal, Fanny says, Not a clue what I’m eating here but it’s awesome.
We all looked at each other and then at her and told her it was rigatoni, what she’d ordered. But apparently, she thought she’d ordered spaghetti.
Only after we got home and I read that same story on her blog did I realize the confusion was due to her anti-anxiety medicine (not a fan of travel she is). She offered a warning that one should not order food while medicated.
The fact that none of the other three of us could tell she was loopy was amazing. Way to be with the meds, Fanny!
Christmas miracle #6.
More stories to come. And pictures too. Once I have time to steal from Facebook.
It’s a little out of my comfort zone and I’m not entirely sure I’m pulling off the whole look.
I need a long silver necklace and silver hoop earrings. And maybe a funky hair accessory. None of which I own.
But I love the dress (shout out to Aunt Marilyn – thanks much!) and the color is perfect. Just not sure I’m edgy enough for a three buckle four inch wide black belt.
Who am I kidding? I’m not edgy at all.
Oh well.
So we started off our Vegas trip by sneaking away from Pumpkin. Nana took her to the bathroom so she could play in the mirror, which she loves. We quickly left. All the baby information out there says not to sneak off. We did it anyway.
We are born risk takers.
But it worked and although she got a little fussy, she settled down soon enough.
Christmas miracle #1.
While in the car on the way to the airport, Chris and I realized we’d both totally forgotten to check-in for our flight. Its scary flying Southwest without checking in 23 hours and 59 minutes in advance. We walked into the airport and I swear, it was the longest line I have ever seen for a flight. Excellent. We’ll be boarding group C for sure.
And then we got A’s.
Christmas miracle #2.
I spotted Granola Guy lurking around the gate before boarding. You know the guy. Long hair. Vintage tee. Flip flops. Fraying jeans. And a guitar as his carry on.
I have a theory about Granola Guys (and gals). There are two types: Thrift Store Hard Core Granola and Neiman Marcus Bought the Look Granola. The first one may or may not support eating meat, the use of a reliable vehicle, or deodorant. The second likely bought his vintage tee at Saks, had his sun kissed highlights professionally applied and loves most the fact that his parents hate his look.
Since the flight was four plus hours long, I was a little concerned that I would end up sitting next to Thrift Store Hard Core Granola Guy who in fact does not believe in personal grooming. Low and behold, who should sit down next to me but Granola Guy. Although judging from the pleasant cologne and his reading selection of a crime novel, I’d say he falls somewhere closer to Neiman Marcus Bought the Look Granola Guy.
Christmas miracle #3.
As the Steward-man made his rounds asking for drink orders, Granola Guy awkwardly asks with a forced chuckle if there’s a special freebie drink if it’s your 21st birthday.
Ah.
There’s not, in case you were wondering, so he gives Steward-man his drink ticket and gets a rum and coke. Awesome. My first thought was how drunk is freshly 21 Granola Dude gonna get here?
So I decided it was time to put an end to his fun…I mean potential drunkenness.
Out of my bag, I pull Making Babies.
Oh yeah I did.
It’s a gigantic book written by a RE and an Eastern Medicine expert. They run down the whole gamut of what it takes to make a baby. And trust me. There’s a whole lot to it. The book has lovely diagrams of our entire baby making organ systems, some BTT charts, and big bold section headings like “Lubricants”.
(Sorry, if this makes you uncomfortable then you should consider yourself lucky and realize you are in fact fertile. Us infertile folks are not uncomfortable.)
I caught Granola Guy checking out the book a couple of times and then literally felt him physically shift to the furthest side of the seat. And I can report the rum and cokes stopped with two.
Christmas miracle #4.
About halfway through the trip, Chris started to look a little green. He’d been fidgeting in his seat for a while but I was having too much fun reading about Eastern medicine and how it could help us have baby #2 to really notice.
Until he leans over and says, if we don’t find an air sickness bag soon, I’m going to need your ziplock bag of almonds.
I’m on it.
About 42 seconds later, he was sick.
If you want to attract attention on a flight, bring a screaming baby on board or get sick at your seat.
Both are excellent options.
Out of nowhere, air sickness bags were being passed to us. Like manna from heaven. But my husband is a pro. He filled up one bag and did so very neatly.
I rang for Steward-man and he came over looking more than just a little frustrated that I had interrupted his otherwise totally carefree flight. He brought us some wet paper towels and a garbage bag.
Thankfully, there was only the one time Chris got sick and then he felt much better.
Christmas miracle #5.
After we landed, we got in touch with the Pack’s who had made dinner reservations for us at an Italian restaurant in our hotel. That had gluten-free options. Considering I had eaten my entire arsenal of gluten-free food on the flight, I was most appreciative.
As we were all looking over the menu, Fanny noted that she wanted the spaghetti. Awesome. I was getting the chicken. Chris a salad. Not a clue what Mr. Pack got which means it wasn’t story worthy.
When the waiter took our order, Fanny changed her mind and ordered the rigatoni instead. None of us thought one thing of it. Actually, I’d totally forgotten the previous spaghetti reference since we were now thoroughly engrossed in some fascinating OKC gossip.
About half-way through her meal, Fanny says, Not a clue what I’m eating here but it’s awesome.
We all looked at each other and then at her and told her it was rigatoni, what she’d ordered. But apparently, she thought she’d ordered spaghetti.
Only after we got home and I read that same story on her blog did I realize the confusion was due to her anti-anxiety medicine (not a fan of travel she is). She offered a warning that one should not order food while medicated.
The fact that none of the other three of us could tell she was loopy was amazing. Way to be with the meds, Fanny!
Christmas miracle #6.
More stories to come. And pictures too. Once I have time to steal from Facebook.
Yay for Christmas miracles!! xoxo
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