Color Me Happy

I love my siblings.  I really do.   I know that sounds hokey but I don’t care.  I can’t get enough of being around them.  Recently we all went on vacation together and it was one of the best weeks of my life.

It’s not just the love we share and the bond of blood ties.  It’s the laughter.  You see, we think we are all incredibly witty and highly entertaining.  Fortunately for us it’s true.  And every time together almost immediately the one-liner of the weekend or the trip develops.  On our vacation the witty remark that we all used through the week was from a movie, and we each found ways to work it into the conversation at just the right time.  Every time someone said “Here’s an idea…” we broke out into hysterical laughter.   Our timing with humor is pretty much amazing.

Shawn is the one with a heart as big and generous as Texas, so thoughtful and considerate he could have been a girl.  But he’s definitely not.  A firefighter, with his Z71 truck and Harley he’s as manly as they come.  And  funny.  Incredibly  funny.  Definitely  funny.  Here’s an idea…

Marie is the styling one of the bunch, earrings and shoes to match every outfit.  She’s always been cute as a button, with eyelashes from here to Dallas and perfectly placed dimples.  Her smile lights up the room, and her Marie-isms – both verbal and gestures – are legendary.  And if she needs you to trade seats with her on an airplane, she Will ask.  Here’s an idea … please move to Seat D!

Tracy is the glamorous, talented, cosmopolitan one.  With her lovely sleek hairstyle, trendy wardrobe and gift for dance at first glance you think she doesn’t belong with us.  But she does, she definitely does.  She is the quietest one of us but when she says something it’s classic.  And when she gets ill, it’s a doozy.

I’m the bossy old broad, although I’ve quit trying to tell my siblings what to do, they just don’t mind me like they did when we were little.  I’m the least coordinated of the group, but don’t tell me I can’t ride a Segway because I can and I did.  All over St. John’s Antigua, with my siblings, who I really enjoy.

At the Coconuts in St. Croix, hanging out in the beautiful water with $2 Dos Equis, Nancy and Tommy treating us like royalty because they know Shawn and he sent them a new Texas flag.  Which is flying outside their establishment right now.  With Rufus in St. Maartens, cruising about town and watching planes fly in for a landing, right over your head.  Learning to Segway in St. John’s, over rough terrain around an ancient fort and on the beach right up to the water.  Dodging Jellyfish and stray children in the water there.  Visiting Tracy in the ship’s hospital before doing a little souvenir shopping in beautiful St. Lucia.  Submarine diving in Barbados.  Pool time on our day at sea.  Music trivia (we are pretty bad).  Music trivia with Amy and Leonard (we almost won).  Sports trivia (we suck).  Karaoke (I chickened out).  Fine dining (best lobster ever).  Towel folding demonstrations.  Casino for half an hour (I won $32).  Breakfast – with grits - overlooking the ports of call.  Drink of the day.  Getting gussied up for a formal picture.  We clean up well.

Color me Happy from that Trip.  Thank you siblings for being you, and for wanting to be with me.  Here’s an idea … Let’s do it again next year!

Journey through December - Jed Clampitt at The Houstonian

I surveyed the bed of the truck one last time.  It was loaded full, like I’ve never seen it, not even weeks earlier when the 3 futon beds, refrigerator and tile for the new shower were taken to the Ranch to complete the remodel.  This was the last trip, the one where we’d actually get to go and have all of our kids and theirs with us for Christmas.  Neither of us had taken off two full weeks of vacation from work in 11 years.  Excited doesn’t begin to describe how I felt.

We furnished the Ranch in early Craigslist.  I thought back to all the time I’d spent searching ads, talking to sellers and dragging my husband all over Travis, Hays and Williamson counties to find the perfect deals:  futons with nice wooden frames and mattresses that had hardly been used; small wooden side tables for the bedrooms; Texas star light fixture for the hall bath; Western themed futon cover, bedding and bedside lamps.  It had all come together so well and now, finally, I would get to enjoy it all at the Rockin R.

The small furniture items were carefully wedged among the large plastic Ziploc bags filled with new washed towels and bed linens, pushed up against coolers, tools, fishing gear, duffel bags of ammo and whatever odds and ends I couldn’t fit in the back of the cab – which was equally stuffed to the gills. 

We had packed clothes / toiletries for two weeks plus Christmas gifts for both sides of the family.  It was December in Texas, so I had to pack clothes and shoes and jackets for 20◦ to 80◦ weather for all special events.  Our whirlwind trip through east and north Texas included plans ranging from a dress Christmas party to a professional football game to a week of play and work at the Ranch to the rodeo to Christmas Eve service and several family gatherings in between before we’d be home again. 

I’m a pretty good packer and I’ve packed for some long trips that required all kinds of attire.  But never have I had to combine all that luggage with ranch remodel furniture.   I laid out all our outfits for the entire time, and decided to pack in multiple duffle bags according to event, figuring that way some of our stuff could stay in the truck as we made our way from A to B and all stops in between.  There were 6 or 7 different bags plus our pillows plus my CPAP plus my laptop bag with accessories plus my car snack bag plus my purse plus my sewing project for something to do on the road plus special hanging clothes.  Fortunately the dog and all the rifles and handguns had been sent with Craig and family that morning – we could NOT fit one more thing in that vehicle.

One last tour of the upstairs and down to make sure lights were off, doors were locked and the oven wasn’t on and we loaded ourselves into the truck.  All Paul had to do was open his door and get in; but I had to arrange myself, my purse, laptop bag, snacks and sewing project around and on me to get it all to fit.  Paul started the truck and we pulled out of the driveway, looking every bit like Jed Clampitt and Elly Mae (I’m no granny, that would be my sister Marie).

Fortunately, the Rockin R does NOT look like this the Clampitts shed before they moved to Beverly Hills. But unfortunately, we looked pretty much like Jed and Elly Mae.  I say unfortunately, because our first stop was Houston – as in The Houstonian hotel, which is where we’d be spending the night after attending our fancy schmancy Christmas party for work.  We passed through the hotel entrance and immediately I felt my cheeks burn red.  I couldn’t help it.  As we drove through the lush manicured grounds and approached the front with black-tie valets awaiting our every parking pleasure, I had a feeling they’d never seen a truck piled high inside and out like ours. 

  

One of the valets opened my passenger door and paused, not sure where to start or what to say.  In his finest Jed style, Paul stepped out of the truck and said, “Howdy gentlemen, we are going to need your help with our truck.  As you can see, we are loaded up to head for the ranch tomorrow, and I want you to watch over all our belongings in the truck bed.”  My valet took the cue and said, “Certainly sir.  Ma’am, may I help you out?” while the one on Paul’s side said, “Absolutely.  I’ll bring a luggage cart around.”

Then I remembered we were the customer and I had no reason to be embarrassed.  I was feeling better until they opened the back seat doors and had to perform triage juggling to keep the groceries, table accessories and cowboy hats from falling out as they dug underneath to find the one bag I’d packed for this event and my CPAP bag.  Our hanging clothes added some dignity to our extremely casual luggage and we followed it in to the checkout counter.

Later, as we exited the hotel dressed in our finery to meet our driver for the short trip to the party, those same valets opened doors and escorted us out front looking as if they’d never seen us before.  Which I guess they hadn’t – as we say in my family, we clean up real nice when we need to.

The party lasted late and was a grand success, and I enjoyed feeling totally non-hillbilly in my sparkly top and soft slacks.  We slept well in the luxurious room and rose early the next morning to splurge on elegant room service while we got ready and packed, planning to be on the road by 8.  Watching the sun rise out our 2^nd floor window and dining on fresh juice with an omelet to die for, I let myself relax for 20 minutes before switching to high gear.  We had a 4 hour drive and another major change of clothes ahead of us before the next event – a Sunday afternoon Dallas Cowboy game in a suite with ALL of our children and most of our grandchildren in attendance.  But in the meantime we were back to Jed and Elly Mae, and it was time to get moving.

We were checked out, re-loaded and pulling out of the hotel drive at 8:05.  Good, I thought, we are going to be fine on time.  It was then that I noticed the dark sky up ahead and saw the first very large raindrop on the windshield.  Jed was starting to look concerned and I glanced back at the stuff in the bed of the truck.  This was going to get interesting.

Our Spring Break Adventure

Actually, our “Spring Break” was to be a weekend trip out of state for a wedding.  The wedding for my “second daughter” - as dear a daughter to me as if she were my flesh and blood.  We would be leaving on the first Friday of the two weeks that encompass Spring Break so I knew we’d need to allow extra time at the airport. 

That Friday morning I was up at 4:30 a.m., feeling quite proud that the night before I’d packed everything except last minute toiletries and makeup.  I woke Paul up, and finished arranging my carry-on bag with reading materials and snacks (lots of snacks) while he showered.  We left the house a little later than I would have liked but I felt confident that we’d still have plenty of time.  The offsite parking lot was quick and efficient, and no sooner had we parked and unloaded bags than the shuttle arrived.  As we boarded the shuttle I began to get that excited “finally, I’m on vacation” feeling.

We checked our bags curbside and walked quickly into the terminal.  I was ready to get at the end of the line where the security lanes were cordoned off.   I wasn’t ready for was the security officer to re-direct me from the cordoned lanes over to the true end of the line which snaked back almost to the door through which I had just entered the building.  Moving to where he directed, I surveyed the long, slow moving lines of people and began to cry.  At that moment I realized there was no way we would be able to get through this line in time to make our flight.  I was instantly angry at myself for not leaving earlier and full of despair at the prospect of missing this flight, the connecting flight, and ultimately my daughter’s wedding. 

My husband took one look at me and immediately he sprang into action.  He told me to stay put and he would scope out other available security lines.  I stood forlornly in place, trying not to look at the screens which displayed the Departures, clearly showing Flight #791 “On Time”.  I tried to hold back the tears.  I’m not typically given to discouragement and despair, but this seemed impossible and I had no one to blame but myself. 

Looking up I saw Paul walking toward me, gesturing me to come out of the line and join him.  I hesitated, unwilling to lose even this paltry place in line, but knowing he wanted to make this wedding as much as I did.  I re-shouldered my bag and walked at my quickest pace to join him.  We were walking so fast I couldn’t keep up but I began to have a glimmer of hope.  Paul led me to a different checkpoint where the line was indeed a bit shorter and actually moving.  Still, as we took up our new position at the tail end of this line the tears once again formed in my eyes.  There was simply no way we could make it through this crowd and board our plane on time.  

I thought of Lena and how she was counting on us to be there for her special day.  I thought of my “first” daughter and her husband, waiting to meet us at the airport and also wanting us to be there.  I tried to steel myself for missing the flights.  I thought about finding another airline that could get us there regardless of the airfare cost and how we could possibly make the connections work to get to the east coast in time.  I could NOT bear the thought of not making that plane.

Once again Paul flew into action.  Moved by my tears, he reassured me:  “Honey, just stay here, I’m going to go up ahead and see if I can get someone to let us move up in line.  Watch for me and if I motion to you, run to join me!”  “Thank you,” I answered, “ this IS our daughter’s wedding and I can’t bear to miss it!”

I chatted with the lady ahead of me who graciously offered to give us her place in line.  Unfortunately that wouldn’t buy us any time.  The tears just kept coming; I kept sniffing and dabbing.  Paul had told me to watch for his wave.  When I saw him waving me up I said goodbye to my short-term friend and thanked her for the offer.  I joined Paul at where would typically be the end of the cordoned lanes.  He introduced me to the couple who were kind enough to let us cut in line in front of them.  They showed genuine dismay when we told them what time our flight left. 

Now the race against the clock began in earnest.  As we slowly moved through the lanes, I was praying hard that we would make our flight.  I tried to keep calm, but the anxiety just mounted each time I glanced up to see the words “Boarding” flashing next to #791.  About halfway through the lanes it occurred to me that as a Christian, I was always to pray about things but I was also to praise God in every situation.  Even the seemingly hopeless ones – maybe especially those.  I was so stressed I could hardly recall my favorite praise songs, so I began softly singing the Doxology – “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow.”  At first it was just the discipline, but quickly I began to feel hope rise within me.  It was amazing.  Once I turned from desperate prayers to praising God even though I didn’t really feel the praise in my heart, I started to calm a little.   I moved into “Alleluia”, then “Agnus Dei”.  The line wasn’t moving any faster but I was feeling calmer by the moment.  As I glanced up to see “Final Boarding” next to #791, I started singing “Hear the Call”, humming the parts where I forgot the words but always finishing strong with “Salvation in Jesus’ name!”  I did see a few strange glances come my way as I would turn into the next lane, softly singing my little heart out.  I just smiled and let them think I was crazy.

Finally it was my turn to be called forward to present boarding pass and ID.  Paul had suggested that we take separate security lines when it came time to put our carryons through the conveyor and remove shoes, etc.  We decided that whoever made it through first would grab their things and run to the gate to let the attendant know the other was coming.  I watched as the young man in front of me carefully, slowly, arranged his backpack and laptop on the conveyor belt.  He seemed to want everything straight and perfect.  Then he removed his shoes, placed them neatly in the bin, and seemed to consider whether to remove his sweater.  It was his turn to go through the xray machine, and the TSA agent instructed him to remove his sweater.  Which he did … eventually.  I wanted to yank off his sweater and shove his things ahead on the conveyor but I held onto my calm.  It was the most excruciatingly slow passage of time I think I’ve ever experienced.

My turn in the machine went smoothly, and as I exited I noticed Paul had not yet made it through.  I grabbed my bag, slipped my fingers into my shoes and ran as fast as I could to the gate, hoping I wouldn’t slip in my socked feet and bust it on the slick polished tile.  Breathlessly I handed my boarding pass to the attendant and told him my husband was coming.  Then I turned around to wait.  It seemed to take forever but was probably only a couple of minutes when I saw Paul in the distance, just coming out of the security area.  He had his tennis shoes in his hand, belt hanging around his neck, and his carry on flying behind him as he looked for me.  I waved wildly.  He saw me and headed to our gate. 

I couldn’t stand it, as soon as I knew he was headed to the right gate I went on down the jet way.  At the entrance to the plane I turned to wait for him but didn’t see him.  Seconds passed.  Where was he?  Finally there he was, walking at a normal pace down the jet way.  How could anyone walk at a normal pace at this time??  When he reached me, we said a collective “we made it!” and walked onto the plane.    I found a middle seat close to the front, he found one toward the rear of the plane.  Thank God, we had made the flight.

Our connecting flight was going to be a tight fit.  The departing flight left at least 20 minutes late, and we only had 40 minutes originally between landing and taking off again, but we would be in the same terminal so I felt pretty certain we could make it.  Toward the end of our flight, Paul came up the aisle and asked for the address of the hotel we would be staying at.  I gave it to him, thinking he’d met some nice people on the plane and wanted to connect with them once we arrived.

However, he had another reason for asking.  I got off the plane before he did and waited for him to come off the jet way.  We found the restrooms, and once we reconnected in the terminal he said he had something to tell me.   “I lost my wallet.”   The words hung there in the air between us.  “Your wallet??  That had our only credit cards and all our travel cash!” I exclaimed, panic starting to rise.  “I don’t know how it could have happened,” he said.  “Fortunately I placed my driver’s license in my pocket, so at least I’ll be able to board the flights home.”

I let our situation sink in.  Good news:  Paul still had his driver’s license.  Bad news:  we had no credit cards or the hundreds in cash we’d brought for the trip.  Good news:  I had a debit card and a little over $20 in cash.  Bad news:  I wasn’t sure how much money the account accessed by the debit card had in it.  Good news:  we had enough for lunch.  Ok, one thing at a time.

The flight attendant had given Paul a number to call for TSA lost and found at the airport.  He called, and as soon as he gave his name Melanie, the lady on the other end, said, “We have your wallet.”  His exhaled a huge sigh of relief as he thanked her.  He asked about the credit cards, she said they were there.  He asked about the cash.  “How much did you have?” she asked.  “A little over $500,” he answered.  Melanie didn’t confirm or deny the cash, just said OK and told him to check in at the TSA lost and found when we returned.

Good news:  they had his wallet!  Other news:  we may be out $500 and we wouldn’t know until we returned home. 

We decided we had a few minutes to grab lunch and headed over to the closest counter, where we bought 1 slice of pizza, a plate of chicken and veggies, and a fountain drink for $18.10.  Good news:  I had some change!

We walked over check our gate for the connecting flight.  I couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t started boarding yet but no one was at the gate, so we took a few minutes to breathe and eat a few bites, marveling at the miracle of the found wallet.  All of sudden we heard the loud speaker come on:  “final boarding call for flight #1271”.  Holy cow – that was our flight!!!   I realized we had been so pre-occupied with concern over the wallet and the cash that I had totally lost track of time.  Fortunately we were standing at the proper departing gate, so we quickly packed up our lunch remains and ran over to the attendant.  Once again we were the sole people on the jet way.  Once again we would not be sitting together, but rather each in a middle seat in totally different parts of the plane.  Good news:  we made our connecting flight!!

It took a while for me to calm down.  I could not believe we had almost missed two flights due to my unprepared ness that was SO unlike me.  But everything was ok, we were going to make it to the wedding, and as that finally sank in I sat back in my seat and took out my lunch.

We landed at the airport close to the originally scheduled time.  Our wonderful son-in-law was to pick us up in the rent car, take us into the next city to check in our hotel and get ready for the wedding.  Now I was starting once again to feel like I was on vacation, only with limited resources.  We connected with Craig by cell phone, and before long he drove up to where we were standing in a nice big Crown Victoria or the Crown Vic as we liked to call it.  He was new to the area too but had driven from the airport to the hotel once (albeit at 12:30 a.m. after their own airplane and rental car adventures), so I felt confident we would be at the hotel in plenty of time.  As soon as we were on the highway Paul and I began telling him of our experience that day, reliving the anxiety, drama, and relief that we were finally here.  He told us of their rental car experience and I started to feel like these ‘adventures’ were running in the family!  

After a while I checked my watch and noted that we should be quite close to our destination.  Strangely, we weren’t even on the right highway – how odd.  About that time we each realized that in our talking as we left the airport we also left the correct highway and were now headed in completely the wrong direction.  It was 3 hours until the wedding, and he had to get back to deliver dresses, shoes, etc. to the bride and his wife, the matron of honor.  Good news:  we had a GPS system and 2 smart phones with GPS!

Even after we were re-directed back toward our hotel, Paul and I kept checking our respective phones to double check, make sure, and in general be helpful to Craig with our backseat GPS-ing.  We discussed our various findings, swapped phones to see whose had the more accurate route, and in general acted as though the timely arrival at our destination depending on us.  Craig was very patient with the whole process, but finally at one point said, “Guys, thanks for your help and you can keep checking your GPS but I really do know where we are.”

And he did.  He drove us straight to the hotel and while he unloaded our bags we checked in.  I asked for a room as close to his and Laura’s as possible, knowing that he would be the runner not just between hotel and wedding venue but between our rooms as well.  Inevitably Laura and I would need to share/borrow hairspray, flat iron, powder – and every time Craig was happy to be the go-between.

Paul and I went up to the room, unpacked and for the first time began to breathe in a relaxed manner.  He was anxious about being totally without any cash, so I generously offered him a short-term loan and went downstairs to the ATM.  Delivering the $400 to him in the room, I gently asked him to keep a close eye on it.  He promised he would and that as soon as we landed he’d repay me.  I touched up our wedding clothes with the iron and before long we were ready.  Craig was to be our driver in this too, and having made numerous trips between the two places already that day he was all over it on the short drive over.

The bride was gorgeous, the wedding a beautiful Christian ceremony, venue delightful, and the cake very tasty.  What a blessing to watch Lena say her vows, share in the wedding feast and see my girls looking so beautiful and happy.  The tension of the day had already faded, and what remained was the blessing and gratitude of being able to attend such a very special day.

The time to return home arrived all too quickly.   Once again Craig would be our taxi driver in the Crown Vic, this time accompanied by Laura, and we enjoyed a pleasant visit during our ride to the airport.  We arrived well ahead of departure time, and exchanged lingering hugs at curbside.  As we watched them drive away, we headed into the terminal.  Two and ½ hours until our flight left.  What a nice feeling, having to wait and kill time in the airport!

Our flight home was nonstop but as full as the others had been.  As we lined up to board I asked Paul about seating.  Sometimes we’ll take two aisle seats to we can both have leg room and I suggested we do that for this flight.  “Besides,” I said, “it might allow a couple to sit together who otherwise couldn’t.”  Little did I know how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

During boarding we moved toward the back of the plane and found aisle seats across from each other.  After two harried flights totally separated from my husband I wanted him within arm’s reach!  At the last minute, a nice young couple asked if the seats beside me were taken and I said no.  They smiled and asked to scoot in.  I learned later while getting acquainted with April and Andrew that they had hoped to sit together and had found the last two seats together next to me.  They too had been in Florida for a wedding, and we enjoyed our visit over the next two and ½ hours.

Our plane landed on time and we made a beeline for the nearest TSA agent  to get directions for Lost and Found.  He instructed us and a few minutes later we were standing outside a very non-descript door marked “T315”.   Paul knocked.  Shortly the door opened slightly and a very in-charge woman asked us to identify ourselves.  Paul explained why we were there and she opened the door a bit more.  As he moved into the doorway I followed, but she quickly stopped me with the curt words, “There is only room for one.”  So I took his carryon and shouldered it, and waited for several minutes while my husband was inside the secret room with Madame General.  The door opened and he walked out.  “Wow, that was neat – I could see the room with all the security monitors but she told me I had to move where they were out of sight as I wasn’t allowed to look.”  “What about the wallet??” I asked.  “Oh,” he replied, “it’s fine.  My credit cards were there, all other info intact, and the cash is there to the penny.  Nothing is missing.” 

We could not get over it - it was all there.   Praise God and pass the biscuits!  Oh, and pass the wallet – someone needs to repay me $400.  :)