Hard to believe we’ve been back from our Congressional meetings in DC for a couple of weeks and I have yet to post the highlights.  My last post mentioned our upcoming trip to speak to members of Congress about new regulations that would affect the motorcoach and tourism industries.  So…I will sum up the highlights and observations:

with US Senator John Boozman

 1.) Most humbling moment? We’re nothing special.  On every corner of Capitol Hill — groups of people from different businesses were all awaiting their own turns to speak out on being regulated to death.  One has to wonder how many times the same complaints are heard time and time again.

2.) Most Public Moment?  Our visit not only made Politico, but the front page of Bus and Motorcoach News. A very sympathetic tone taken by one reporter indicated he has heard it all before.

3.) Most Frustrating Moment? While the National Debt spirals out of control, I couldn’t help but notice the open grassy area at the National Mall under construction. Did you know we– the taxpayers– are spending millions replacing existing soil in DC  with  “environmentally friendly” dirt?  Mother Nature is also apparently having a hard time meeting new federal regulations. You would think– being 15 trillion in debt–that a multi-million dollar dirt purchase could wait. 

4.)  Most Embarassing Moment? Little did I know that inside the Senate Chamber–and under every seat–is a black bag full of gas masks and other terrorism-incident emergency supplies. I found this out when I mistakenly thought my husband left behind his bag–so I grabbed a black bag under his seat as we were exiting the Chamber. That’s when one leglislative aide told me I was walking off with the terrorism emergency kit. Oops! 

5.) Most Optimistic Moment? It’s not all doom and gloom. There are some (mostly newly) elected representatives from all across the country who do understand. And we were generally pleased with the reception of our meetings inside Congressional offices from Arkansas. 

 6.) Best  moment? It was–by  far–watching the 3D IMAX movie “Hubble” shown inside the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. Wow–what a ride! Watching this in 3D feels like you are floating in space through distant galaxies and exploring the mysteries of our celestial surroundings. It makes you realize how big “space” really is–it is vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big!  Come to think of it–reminds me of our federal government.

They looked harmless enough.

Two senior citizens from Florida befriended me and my friend Cindy (Mom on a Wire) on the cruise we took last week to celebrate Cindy’s 40th birthday. The sweet elderly couple had been married 44 years, and traveled 184 days of the year. Yes, they kept a journal to count.

So when they offered to give us a ride to our St. Pete Beach resort, we agreed it would be better than a taxi. After all, they were just so cute…and seemed excited to give us a tour along the way.

8am we walked off the ship.  One by one–we watched as more than two-thousand of our fellow passengers left the port. Some were picked up by friends and family.  Others drove off in their own cars.  But Cindy and I waited, and waited, and waited for Tom and Bernice’s friend to arrive with their car.  And as the last passengers drove off –their friend finally pulled up.

I whispered to Cindy, “The odds were 2 in 2500 that we would be the very last two passengers to leave this port!”  She laughed. Remarkably we were in great spirits and not even a tad peeved about the unexpected delay.

10:30am We loaded our bags. The backseat passenger door was open as Bernice leaned over the seat with her feet firmly planted on the curb, and fidgeted with her bag. And as she was still in that position–Tom hit the gas pedal! Bernice was halfway out of the car –hanging on for dear life!

Cindy and I screamed, “WAIT!!!!! Bernice is hanging out of the car!!!!!”   Tom then slammed on his brakes in a panic. Thankfully, Bernice did not go flying. Trying to maintain our composure and continued appreciation for the ride, we chuckled as Bernice piled into the backseat with us. This time she was inside the car when Tom drove off.

Excited about our one day on the beach–we began to tell them about plans…only to be interrupted by POLICE SIRENS .  Tom immediately pulls over. Now what?  Tom pulls out his license and registration. Turns out, he ran a stop sign.  But the officer instead writes him a ticket for not having proof of insurance.

11am -we were again on our way.  Nevermind, this time it was the WRONG way.  Tom inadvertantly got turned around and ended up on a wrong tollway. We drove 15 miles before we could find an exit to turn around. Finally–after a 30 mile roundtrip wrong turn–we were back to the cruise port.  Thankfully, the couple easily recognized the correct highway and we were back in business!

Yippee! Off to the beach we go. Or at least we hoped. We chatted with them this time without interuption.  We told them about our children, and they told us about their dogs, which reminded them that they needed to go pick up their dogs and take them out to go potty before they dropped us off at our beach resort.

12pm we let their dogs out to go potty. While we waited on the dogs to do their business, we spot an orange tree in the front yard of the house. Perfect! Now we’ve had the ultimate Florida experience! We get out of the car to snap a photo. After all, we really needed to stretch our legs!!

12:30pm We arrive at the beach resort! Nearly 5 hours had gone by since we first walked off the cruise ship, nevermind our beach hotel was only 30 miles from that cruise ship! We hugged our new friends and waved goodbye. Cindy and I looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh about our long day.  Is this why we teach our kids not to accept rides from strangers?!

After giggling about our experience the rest of the day, we knew we wouldn’t have changed a thing. It could have been frustrating. But we actually semi-enjoyed it.

Travel is an inexact science.  Yes, our itinerary was thrown off …but isn’t life all about taking detours? And it doesn’t matter where you end up –as long as you don’t lose your sense humor during the ride. Thanks, Cindy, for appreciating the journey and not just the destination. It’s kind of like turning 40, isn’t it?

True Story: Once upon a Valentine’s Day….a teacher assigned our class an essay to write about anything.

“It’s Free Genre, ” he told us.  Okay, whatever that meant. I was a teenager at the time.

Like a typical teenager…I put off the assignment.  At 10pm the night before the deadline,  I panicked…remembering the essay due the next day. I sprang out of bed and sat down at my typewriter. (Um, notice I didn’t say computer?)

Looking for inspiration, my eyes were drawn to every object sitting on the desk. Surely there’s something I can write about.  I then noticed a Valentine’s Day card propped open on the desk.  On the cover of the card was a beautiful, glittery, gigantic heart. Hmmm…the heart in my anatomy textbook is a gross, bloody, body organ, not a cutesy concoction from Hallmark, I thought. The drastic contrast became the inspiration. 

Apparently, I saved that school essay because I found it last week it in an old box. I reread it and since Valentine’s Day is upon us, decided to really embarass myself and post it here.  Go ahead and chuckle.  I did. I was one twisted teenager….

Here goes:

I am Heart. I am found in the human body but often defined differently. I am everything to my owner. Doctors say I am a hollow muscular organ that pumps blood from the veins to the arteries, thereby supplying the entire circulatory system. But that is just my technical job.  People regard me as the emotional center of my owner. I don’t know why. My neighbor uptown, Brain, thinks more emotionally than I do.

I am often drawn or painted by many people.  I am drawn more often on a day called Valentine. My friend, Eye, showed me a picture of myself. I don’t look anything like that.

My northern neighbor, Mouth, said someone once stole me away from my owner. I don’t understand. I’ve not been taken anywhere. Mouth said that someone my owner loved did it. Why would anyone steal me,  a heart, especially while in love with the person?

Speaking of love, I am a huge part of it. That is supposedly why I get stolen.  Once I am stolen, there is a chance I might get broken. This broken heart business confuses me. They say I’ve been broken before. But why haven’t I ever stopped beating?

My owner uses me more as a thinking tool than she uses Brain. This aggravates Brain. Many people tell my owner to “listen to your heart instead of your brain.”  But I don’t know how anyone could think that I’m smarter than Brain.

Sometimes our owner insists she knows a song by Heart. But I don’t know what she’s talking about…I’ve never sang before and Brain did all the memorizing.  Are they confusing a song with the rhythm of my beating?

Even though I get credit for some good things, I often get blamed for the bad. My next door neighbors Stomach and Esophagus were misbehaving by creating a burning sensation yesterday. They blamed it on Heartburn. I never burnt anything.

I am also often referred to as the most central part of something. I am usually put before the word “matter” when someone wants to find the source of something. They always say they are trying to get to the heart of the matter. This concept is most confusing to me because I don’t know where matter is myself.

There is one matter I do know: I determine death. I can stop beating anytime. I love my owner so I avoid doing that for as long as I possibly can. But after awhile, I might get tired and attack. I hope that never happens because it would be out of character for me to attack anything. I am not violent.  

Many believe my best friend is Soul. They are always referring to us as a team,  Heart and Soul. Actually, I’ve never met  Soul. I hear Soul is a person’s moral or vital principle that survives death. But I don’t know how anyone survives death. Even I can’t survive it.

I am proud to say that I am just about the most important part of human existence. Unfortunately, I cannot last forever.  I don’t know what happens after I die. Maybe that’s when I will finally meet Soul.  What a heartwarming thought.

 

My husband was never a cat person. Then he met me and my cat.  Don’t get me wrong..he pretty much loves all animals. But cats just weren’t at the top of the pecking order for him.

Even after 12 years of harmonious cohabitation with these little creatures … Cary will occassionally still pretend he’s not a big fan of felines–such as offering  slight resistance to adopting another cat or reminding all of us about his allergies or the cat hair that flies everywhere.  But deep down, my girls and I know when it comes to extreme cat adoration–he’s done an about-face, whiskers and all.

Case in point–this past weekend he came home from a shopping trip and spent a whopping $130 bucks on–you guessed it– Martini, our beloved cat.  I’m not talking food or cat litter here….I’m talking about a high-rise condo to allow her to watch the birds fly over the river. Really?  What’s next? A subscription to Cat Fancy?

Cary claims  the cat condo will keep our kitty off the furniture. But that apparently is not working.   And I don’t see my self-proclaimed dog person husband making a return to Petsmart anytime soon…even though I’d really, really prefer to get rid of the 4 story cat perch that doesn’t quite fit in with the kitchen decor.

So next time my hubby pretends he doesn’t want Martini sleeping close to his face, or playing hockey with his chapstick, I’ll remind him of this gigantic eyesore now standing tall in our kitchen.  Yes Cary… the cat is now out of the bag…..

It started out as a harmless New Year’s Day trip to a local mall. As we exited a department store and went into the mall area, a nearby vending maching caught the attention of my daughters. “Mama…can we pleeeeeaaase get some candy!?” they asked politely.

Nine out of ten times I say no. But I agreed and put a couple quarters in the machine. Then… nothing.

“Are you going to get your money back, mama?” Presley asked.

“No, there’s something wrong with the machine and it’s just not worth complaining about. Things happen and I’m not going to track someone down in this busy, crazy mall because it’s not their fault either,” I told her.

I was impressed they were more concerned about losing my money, than losing their M and M’s.  Since they handled the disappointment so well,  I offered to take them to the cookie counter instead. Down the escalater we went, where the lower level food court was loud and crowded. We spotted the cookie counter and hurried over where my girls were eager and excited.

A nice older lady took our order and was about to ring us up when two young female customers–including one who was pregnant–returned to the cookie counter cash register for a confrontation unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.

One of the women complained that her straw would not reach the bottom half of the slushy. When the cookie lady explained  they didn’t have longer straws, the woman asked for her slushy to be refilled to an amount she felt entitled to.  When the cookie lady refused, the women asked for their money back. The cookie lady declined the refund and gave the women a phone number to file a complaint.

“You F&@#!**  B^*%!!!!!  I am ENTITLED to my money back!!!”  The irate customers began shouting expletive after expletive. The days of shielding my girls from R-rated language are over, I thought. 

The foul-mouthed women continued to shout and finally walked away without refunds. But as they walked off they hurled their slushie cups toward the cookie lady’s head– narrowly missing my girls.

That was the last straw for the cookie lady. Pardon the pun.  She retailiated by throwing a vase at them, which ultimately reignited the firestorm as objects everywhere began to fly, including my new belt purchase that had been sitting on the cookie counter. I shielded my girls as I led them quickly out of harms way.

Empty-handed again, we sat at a nearby table to discuss what we had just witnesssed. “It’s okay, mama. We’re sorry.”  They obviously felt some sort of guilt about the vending machine, and now the cookie incident gone awry. Or maybe because my new belt purchase had turned into a weapon. (Happy to report that I went back to retrieve my purchase and the belt was undamaged)  Needless to say, they didn’t ask me for anything else. 

They handled the situation with such dignity and maturity, I ended up back at the cookie counter .  In my quest to satisfy their sweet tooth…the third time was the charm. They finally got their treats. Not because they were entitled…but because they earned it.

  Happy Anniversary to my mother-in-law Margaret and father-in-law Norman, who celebrated 50 years of marriage this year! We threw them a party in their hometown of Centerville, Tennessee, in the exact same place they tied the knot 50 years ago!  Among the guests: their two children with their spouses, 4 grandchildren, and dozens of family members and friends, including three folks who attended the marriage ceremony 50 years ago.

 Below is a cardboard cut-out made from a wedding photo from 1961….you two haven’t changed a bit!!

Dedicated to all you parents who tirelessly wait in those long lines to see Santa at your local mall:

What I am about to share only took me nine and a half years to learn. And although it’s too late to use this tip in 2011, write it down and store it with your snowglobes for retrieval in 2012.

Now think back to where you were on Cyber Monday. You know the day. It’s the Monday following Thanksgiving and the biggest shopping day (and weekend) of the year. A day dedicated to shopping online AT HOME for super cyber deals.  And as I discovered, it’s a day where everyone is soooooo pooped out from weekend chaos…they have absolutely no desire to venture out to any mall. 

 Bingo!  It’s the PERFECT day to grab your kids and take the obligatory photo with Mall Santa!

Perhaps it was my disdain of crowds that led me to procrastinate our Santa mall trip until that Monday. Maybe it was my own exhaustion from the aforementioned weekend. Whatever the case….I “put off” taking my girls to see Santa for about a week, which ultimately led me to pinky-promise to do it on that Monday.

Best decision EVER! No waiting, no line, and no stress! In fact, my kids enjoyed extra time with Santa:

BROOKE:  Santa, what is your favorite movie?

SANTA: The Santa Clause

BROOKE: Do your elves fly?

SANTA: No, not unless they have a turbo engine behind them.

BROOKE:  What happens if  you get too old and die?  (Her comfort level with Santa obviously going up)

SANTA: There will always be a Santa Claus taking care of  good little boys and girls! And I think you are one of my favorite little girls this year!

What a memory!

Now…if only I could eliminate the $40 price tag for two poorly-produced 5 x 7′s with red-eye…..