Trick or Treat!

Here’s hoping that all your treats are chocolate, and all your bats are big ones.

Designed and carved by (clockwise from top left:) Sam, Hannah, Abby, Me

MY FINAL AND ONLY BASEBALL CELEBRATION UPDATE: Love the Red Sox or hate ‘em, we could all take a lesson in “dancing like nobody’s watching” (even though a bazillion people were) from pitcher Jonathan Papelbon, described this morning on Sports Radio as “just the right combination of insane and intense.” Plus, ya gotta love the Dropkick Murphys cruising through the streets of Boston on a flatbed truck.

Crap, No Chance My Baggie’s Clearing Security Now

Random declaration of the day:

Sam: Mom, know what I wanna be when I grow up?

Me: Nope. What?

Sam: A Western Terrorist.

Me: Um. A what?

Sam: You know, one of those guys who ties females to railroad tracks.

Me: Of course.

I discovered this poor little elephant today, cruelly taped to a skateboard. But first, I ran him her over with my van.

Urgent Travel Update

Several weeks ago, I wrote about my obsessive quest to travel with carry-on luggage only, despite my certainty that I could not possibly fit all of my crap essentials into one measly, quart-sized, plastic bag with a resealable ziploc top. Many of you kindly offered helpful advice.

Well.

I did it.

I reduced, reevaluated, miniaturized, rearranged, checked in online and walked right to my gate. I am once again free from The Prison of Waiting In Line to Surrender My Belongings, The Purgatory of Baggage Claim, and The Weekend Hell of Lost Baggage.

Now, if I end up delayed and have to stay anywhere longer than three days, I will have to find a (paper; not plastic) bag to wear over my head while I scout out retail establishments for additional supplies, but I suppose I’ll cross that frizzy bridge when and if I come to it.

For now, I will confidently pass through security, knowing that my baggie o’ liquids and gels meets government standards, content in the knowledge that I will be the only one with the opportunity to lose my luggage.

Challenge: The reader who correctly identifies the largest number of items pictured above wins a supply of FAA-approved quart-sized baggies, in addition to personalized packing advice. From me. Since I’m an expert now.

Bonus tip for everyone: bring an extra baggie. Mine was so stuffed to the gills that it ripped when I tried to repack it for the return flight. Oops.

Since Uncle Doug Outed Me…

1) Yes it is my birthday. Thank you for the birthday wishes in the comments section of my most recent post.

2) No, I am not 29. I am 29 plus an eighth grader.

3) Hannah gets very excited about all birthdays, because, a) she is a loving and generous child; and, b) she is ever-optimistic that there might be leftover cake and presents that just maybe, possibly, could be for her.

Just like most days, I was folding laundry this morning when Hannah woke up.

I heard her little voice croak, “Mom?” The tone indicated that she was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yes, Hannah?” I smiled, anticipating enthusiastic birthday wishes and multiple bear hug-tackles from my 47-pound blonde.

She paused to yawn. I beamed, already feeling the unabashed affection about to come my way. Then, Hannah asked, with tremendous love and concern: “Did the Red Sox win?”

She did come in soon after that to present me with my first homemade, pop-up birthday card of the day. And I did get hugs and kisses, from all of my kids, but not until after they had properly “WOO HOO!!!”d and proclaimed relief and excitement regarding the Big Game 1 Victory.

I admire that level of commitment. And they will get cake.

Tomboy Goes 1800′s

Abby prides herself on her modern style of dress. She likes the tomboy look, and it looks good on her.

Here she is, posing with her little sister, complete with the usual look and attitude:

So imagine my shock when Abby loved the stage costume she had to wear for a very recent (last weekend) local production of Little Women. This was a very girly and old-fashioned dress, and when I first saw it I thought she’d hate it. She was also excited to wear makeup and a head band which *gasp* pulled her hair off of her face, and in the process of being excited, she somehow forgot that it was all so… girly.

I think I got through it all without squealing, but it was difficult.

C’mon, Gimme a Little Sugar

Did you ever have one of those evenings where you would gladly trade in your left kneecap for dessert, and you’re cranky because you know there’s nothing in the house, and you begin to drool as you remember those delicious frozen coconut bars that you bought last week, and even though you know they’re long gone, you find yourself walking to the freezer to check, just in case somehow one of them slipped back behind the peas and carrots and escaped everyone else’s finely-tuned, dessert-seeking eyes, and then you look even though you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will be met with disappointment and a treat-free fridge?

And then… while sighing in anticipation of your failed freezer investigation… you actually find one?

Sometimes it’s the little blessings that make me the happiest.

Survey for the Curly-Haired Girls

I have a question. I am genuinely curious here, in addition to being extremely determined to conquer this beast.

The beast, of course, is my failure to fit all the liquids and gels I’ll need for a weekend into one teeny, tiny resealable one-quart plastic baggie. Because I really want to get back to traveling with carry-on luggage only, dammit.

Ever since the FAA took the precaution of eliminating dangerous hair-care products and suspect mascaras from the main cabin in order to enhance my air travel safety, I have not even attempted to fly without checking my luggage. I had been a confirmed carry-on’er for many years, since:

1) I don’t particularly enjoy watching the luggage carousel go round and round while being elbowed by my fellow travelers, only to catapult myself forward at just the right moment, dashing any illusion of grace and risking injury just to get to the front and grab my bag before someone else does, and

2) my travels aren’t nearly as pleasant when my checked suitcase goes on its own separate vacation to, say, Guam. (Of course, this would be fine if I were in fact, traveling to Guam, but I don’t really get there much. Or, ever.)

Yes, I hear you rolling your eyes, thinking, “Why would anybody possibly need MORE than what can fit into a ziploc?” and, “Oh, she’s one of those high-maintenance chicks.”

Ahem.

Am not.

Oh, all right. When it comes to hair care products, I am. I admit it. High maintenance.

There, I said it.

But I know that all the other curly-haired girls out there know what I’m talking about. Left to fend for ourselves without benefit of the precise, individualized combination of shampoo/conditioner/defrizzer/styling creme/hairspray in which we have invested years of field research, and upon which we faithfully depend so as not to look like big poufy balls of frizz, thereby opening ourselves up to humilation and public snickering… well, we simply cannot be seen in public. Doesn’t matter whether it’s one night or two weeks; that stuff is essential.

If you are yourself a brave soul who has faced this issue and you’re willing to help me problem-solve, I’d like to hear your answer to this two-part question. I’m going to do this. I will not let the terrorists win.

1) Have you successfully consolidated and packed all of your stuff into a little, airport security-approved, resealable baggie, without eliminating things and planning to buy them once you get there?

2) How? For the love of reasonably groomed, naturally poufy locks, how?!?