Back away from the pregnant woman

We are officially in Sin City! Of course, we have the normal airport business to take care of, mainly, I have to pee. We get on the tram, surrounded by a million other crazy people, willing to brave the oppressive heat for a little fun. I am crammed into the tram, laying all my stuff on a man with an expensive watch, holding the largest cup Starbucks offers. I know all of this because it was right in my eye. If the tram would have lurched violently, I would have had my face washed by his iced coffee.

Our luggage appears and we are off to find a way to our hotel. We are staying at the Monte Carlo, home of Lance Burton. He is a magician but looks like a wax dummy, really, he wears more makeup than most women. We get out, get to our room and, darn it, it is so hot! I lower the AC to a much more desirable temp, at this point, a meat locker wouldn't have been cool enough for me. The room, while tastefully decorated and comfy, never felt cool to me. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't feel any air on my skin. Of course, I had 20 pillows in bed with me, besides Bobby, so I'm sure all of that was hampering my temperature issues.

This was also a handicap accessible room. We had a gigantic bathroom. Of note, is that apparently a handicapped person needs to have a bathtub that sits several feet off the floor. I had to use all of the rails because getting in and out was nearly impossible. Getting out of the shower, wet, of course, at a high altitude on a polished, tile floor, makes for an interesting time. If you have some kind of physical issue, I don't recommend going to Vegas anyway. Not to be mean, but it is too crowded. Just being pg, I was jostled by many in elevators and buses. No fun!

The village called, they want their idiots back

We returned from Las Vegas yesterday. I have so many stories and so little time. I will get started with the plane trip. We left Wichita after lunch. People around us were milling about, chatting on the phone, chatting with each other, you know, what you would normally do while you wait. Then, there are the "others." I would consider them to be social misfits, guys from the farm, that perhaps like to indulge in fantasy of the farm animal kind. There were 4 of them, all wearing t-shirts that said the most asinine of things. For instance, one shirt read, "What happens in Clay Center, stays in Clay Center." Nice choice. Maybe it should have read, "Hey, I'm a dumbass that has never been out of Kansas." Or, "Kick me because I am gambling on heads or tails off a quarter before we get on the plane." Maybe that second one is too long, but, unfortunately, true. The guys all sat on the floor, there were chairs, so I'm not sure of the reasoning behind this. One pulled out a quarter and for the next hour or so, they played heads or tails, all while throwing big bills out. Couldn't wait the 3 hours til we got to Vegas. Ok, so we get on the plane. We sit next to 2 of them, the others, sit in front of us. Not one of them removes their odd, wavy shaped Oakley's. One guy drops quite a bit of cash on drinks, which are $6 a piece. Everything costs on an airplane now.

We are nearing Vegas and are starting to see landmarks, mainly Hoover Dam. I mention this to my sweet husband and immediately the guy's head snaps around and he begs me to point it out to him. Then, he demands to know if I know where the speedway is. Um, no, sorry, it isn't really my cup of tea. Instead, I tell him that Chanel is at the Bellagio and that I can't wait to go to Sephora. He gives me a blank stare. No, I really didn't say that, but I wanted to.

Finally, we land. They all announce how lucky they are that they only have carry on luggage, so they were off for more beer and some gambling. Thank God that was the last of them.

Blow my dice, or, whatever

Darling husband and I are on our way to Vegas today. It is supposed to be 108 degrees! Did you hear me, 108 degrees?!? Of course, Kansas is supposed to be rainy and 20 degrees cooler than normal. Hmmm... Maybe I would like to stay home this weekend instead. No, this is the last chance that hubby and I will be able to get away, just the 2 of us. With a baby coming, it is unlikely we will hopping on a plane anytime soon. That is ok, there are trade-offs in life and I am willing to make them.

I am expecting to eat like a queen and walk a bunch more than I probably should. I love to eat and in Vegas, our choices are endless. We are eating at a seafood buffet tonight. They ship in 30,000 lbs. of crab legs for this buffet. How can that not be enjoyed? I fully expect hubby to take 15,000 lbs, leaving the rest for me!

Tomorrow, we are renting a car and touring the Hoover Dam. It is interesting, and even though there is no buffet for miles, I'm sure we will do fine. Of course, I will have to pee endlessly and become massively dehydrated, this, no doubt, making the tour much more entertaining!


We will be doing alot of walking up and down the strip. I always enjoy people watching, and Vegas is pretty much filled with freaks! And, I'm just talking about the normal tourists. One year, I was there, there was a pack of young, Asian teens milling about outside of Caesars Palace. What I found most interesting was that one of the girls was wearing a wool sweater and tights! Hello? It was 90+ degrees. I certainly not knocking anyone Asian, just wow, she must have been hot!

I am not a big gambler. I will put a couple of quarters in a slot machine but other than that, I will probably avoid the tables. My gambling husband has been reading a book about craps. I say, "Good luck and don't loose any money." He actually asked me if I wanted to be his good luck charm, wear something daringly low cut, and blow his dice. Blow his dice, seriously. I opted out saying that I would much rather go shopping while he blew his own dice. Sephora, here I come!

Sephora will be very exciting! I discovered my favorite perfume there. I love, love, love Sephora. I could easily spend all of our gambling winnings there. Oh, wait... There aren't likely to be winnings. Oh, well, I will spend our real money there. Unlikely.

So, the countdown begins. Hubby will be home in 1 hour and we will speed over to my parents so we can leave Miss Mia. I will miss her! Maybe I will get her a little Vegas surprise. Do kids like poker chips???

Not funny, for now

I enjoy writing my blog. I use it as a release sometimes. I know that it isn't always funny. In fact, lately, it hasn't been. I'm sorry for this. Things happen. Maybe I will be funnier tomorrow.

If you like a funny blog, I highly recommend Jen Lancaster's, "Jennsylvania." She is a real hoot and has a bitch streak that I admire and would most certainly cultivate if I wasn't forced to be nice to so many people.

I do have a couple of habits, bad or good, that are similiar to Jen's. I love my Crocs, ugly or not. My entire family loves them. I figure that when my feet are swollen from being pregnant, I will turn to my Crocs, the Mammoth type specifically, to ease my uncomfortable feet. The Crocs people sent Jen a rather exciting bunch of shoes from their fancy line. I can't afford the new line, and while I would love something free, even a coupon, I doubt I am big on the Croc people's blog list!

I also love Chicago! Jen lives there in, what I would guess, is a stylish, loft type place. I am envious, to a point. Having kids there is something I can't imagine. When we were in Chicago, we walked everywhere or took the El. I can't fathom how I would get a toddler and infant onto bus without losing my mind. Walking isn't always great with little kids.

We enjoyed our trip to Chicago very much. We ate great food. Who doesn't like a steak from the Chicago Chop House??? I guess, vegetarians, but I can't imagine who else. My favorite stop was at the Coach store, where I got my Ali bag. I still keep the thank you note from the shopgirl we purchased it from. We also visited the aquarium and I found it to be top notch. I could sit and watch the beluga's all day. Hubby and I are hoping that we can go back and do some other fun things. But, with a baby on the way, we may be too old to walk around much without walkers.

Someday, my sense of humor will return. Until then, I will be celebrating my birthday this weekend, that should bring about some laughs. I'm 39, oh, what the hell, I'm really 29!

The Past-Revisited

I lived a different life, much different than the one I live now, back in the 80's. First, I was young and a hottie! Well, I was young, anyway. When I think back, it seems like it was a secret life, a life few of my friends know about and a life that, while etched in my memory, I don't always like to recall.

I married an Air Force Academy cadet. I have to admit that it wasn't the best plan I could have come up with. I was young, too young. And, dumb. Yet,that didn't stop me from moving from wonderful Colorado, to steaming hot Texas. I remember my apartment, new and crawling with scorpions. One day, I came home and found a gray, furry tarantula on my front door. After I got in the door, there was a scorpion on my couch. Nice. That is nothing compared to what I was considered, an Air Force wife. Not just any Air Force wife, but one whose husband was in Undergraduate Pilot Training(UPT). There were a barrage of parties, mixers, get togethers and what have you, that I had to attend. There was no choice in the matter, none. I went where I was summoned. Granted, I wasn't summoned by the commander, just his wife, and in some cases, it was just as bad. The Air Force looks at the "wife" as the posession of the husband. Those that know me, know that isn't the way I operate, but back then, I did. If we were to go to the O Club, we went. If we were supposed to go to a dinner, we went. We edged our lawn, parked our cars, mingled with friends, had sex, all by the book of the Air Force. Failure to do so... It just didn't happen, at least with myself and former spouse.

UPT is a program that lasts 1 year. It is grueling for the pilots. It is grueling for their wives. There are the 4am flight weeks, the 8pm flight weeks. There was the chamber, egress training and memorizing countless things about flying and the plane. Failed check rides and failed marriages occured frequently, too frequently. While the husband's are dutifully flying around, the wives are left on the ground, to commiserate with their forced friends about how they miss their families, miss their friends, miss their jobs, all to fulfill their husband's dreams. It is admirable but stressful enough for miscarriages and falling apart marriages. In esscence, you gave up everything and UPT is now your life, as well. You remember little acronyms for things, you sew patches on new flightsuits, you are able to recognize and name the entire inventory of Air Force planes. You and your spouse are owned by the Air Force and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.

But, there is light at the end of the tunnel! Graduation from UPT approaches and the Air Force has decided your husband is worthy of flying one of their multi-milion dollar planes. Maybe you will escape this hellhole called Del Rio, maybe not. We didn't, not for 4 years. I lived through 4 years of hot as hell conditions, very few places to get a decent meal and absolutely no shopping! And, tell me what did I do it for, a divorce. Apparently. My former spouse loved flying and was a great instructor, but his love for me couldn't/didn't have any priority for him. I, was in fact, his mistress, his first love, the Air Force and flying.

I don't regret those times, they have shaped me into the person that I am today, not that that is saying a bunch. I made friends that I think of today. Occasionally, I Google them, hoping to find that someone I knew, is having the life they dreamt of, something that they took away from that time in the 80's in Del Rio, Texas.

My last Google forway was today and what I found, hurt me. A guy that was an instructor pilot with us in Texas, was killed on 30 July at Nellis AFB, NV. He had been flying in an exercise and crashed, he died on site. He had been married to the same girl I met, way back in 1990. They had childen, they have a mom, but no dad. Reading the obituary, I saw that he was an accomplished pilot, with many missions, with many aircraft. Many, that at the time I knew him, he only dreamt about.

A Moment of Silence

A girl that I have been in school with since the 7th grade, died recently. I read her obituary in the paper, where I grew up. I was shocked to see her picture. She was 39, just like I will be next month. It sounded like she was ill and died, no bad car accident, like another girl in my class had. They both left young sons.

I remember this girl for a couple of reasons. She loved gymnastics and she had big thighs. Maybe not the best things to be remembered for. I always thought of her as mean. Not to me, we weren't friends, but I got the feeling she could probably whip up on someone bigger than her and they might live to regret messing with her. Probably not another great memory that I have of her.

I feel upset and sad upon reading of her death. I don't really know why. I don't believe that I am going to die anytime soon. You know, at least I hope not. I guess the thought of losing classmates is really hard. I lost my then best friend when she was 25. I still think of her today.

I am asking you, that if you read this, say a small prayer or have just a moment of silence for people that have passed away that you went to school with. We keep our loved ones in our memories but sometimes we forget others that have slipped away.

Cockroaches of the Sea:How the Lawrence Men Will Do Anything for Dinner

I believe it is my nephew, Aaron, that coined the phrase, "Cockroaches of the Sea," for those strange, yet tasty, things we call crab. With the Puget Sound literally in their backyard, my sister in law and brother in law, drop the crab pots and hope that no one steals their haul. It starts out easy enough, you load the crab pot with some type of bait that the crab will flock to eat, and then they are caught in the trap. In most cases, the crab really seem to go for turkey legs, raw. Very odd... You put the pots in the boat and set out to put them somewhere where you can see them bobbing and then you wait. A crab pot, for those of you that don't know, and I didn't til I went to Seattle, is not a pot at all. I assumed, incorrectly, that it was a cylindrical object possibly made of clay?!? In actuality, it is a metal, mesh looking cage with a hole for the crab to get in. I think that it has a nice little area for the bait, but I may well be wrong. Ok, so you are in the boat, you go out a little ways and throw them in and wait. A lot of people throw their pots out. A lot of people will pull up at your pot, dump the crab in their boat and then take off. This is not a good thing as witnessed on our last trip. Let's just say that someone was rowing nearby the pots and from way high up, apparently looked like they were trying to get our haul. There was yelling and mention of reporting boats to the proper authorities. I'm not really sure what authorities respond to a crab heist but my guess is they respond with guns drawn and the order to, "Drop those crab or I will shoot!" Anyway, one would think that dropping the pots one morning and checking them in a few hours, a couple of different times of day would be speedy and sufficient. Well, you haven't met the Lawrence's.

The mention of boats and crab makes the male Lawrence's salivate with the anticipation of a feast. At Thanksgiving last year, they donned several layers of winter gear, took the boat out of winter storage and dropped the pots, like it was a warm summer day. There were lots of wet clothes and cold men. We had crab, one of which I actually sacrificed for the sake of dining enjoyment. I might make mention of this later, but maybe not, as it is not for the faint of heart. Anyway, our summer trip started out much like our Thanksgiving trip. Since I have no boat knowledge, I am going to give my opinion of what happened, although the use of technical boating jargon will be avoided. My brother in law pulled the truck near the boat trailer. I guess you have to attach the boat to the hitch with a winch that requires cranking. The crank broke, leaving my husband and 18year old nephew having to manually put the boat on the hitch. I don't think that boats are light, but I may be wrong. Turns out the battery was dead so then the motor wouldn't start once they got the boat in the water. A new battery was attached and the boys were off to drop off the pots. It was a go for crab!

Ok, well, not exactly. At one point, the tide was coming in and there were whitecaps. Turns out that tying the boat to the bouy wasn't going to be that easy. Then, there was this little matter of getting everyone into the dinghy. That is a rowboat, come to find out. Four big guys in a little boat, is quite an interesting feat. I'm not sure they actually did this, though. Apparently, they decided swimming back to the shore in 48 degree water made more sense. Shrinkage be damned! Fearing for the fate of the "Lawrence's Deadliest Catch" crew, I don't truly know all of the gory details surrounding this last foray and I don't think that I want to know. They all returned safely, with very low body temperatures. After some showers, hot chocolate with a dash of Bailey's, they seemed somewhat recovered.

Soon, it was time to haul the catch up the 7000 stairs from the beach to the house. There aren't really 7000 stairs, but there are a bunch. The crab get lined up, whacked and thrown in the boiling water. They are screaming and flipping the crab bird at us through the entire process. I am making this part up, of course, they can't flip the bird. Ok, ok, no one call PETA on me. For the record, I didn't hear any screaming.

Actually eating the "cockroach of the sea" isn't an easy task. There are many tools involved. I saw nutcrackers, small little crab forks, and sometimes kitchen shears. My nephew, just uses his teeth! Removing all of the meat can be time consuming and messy. It is worth it, though. There is nothing better than dipping freshly caught crab in hot butter. A new Coach bag is pretty close, though. Anyway, at Thanksgiving, my nephew cracked me a fine pile of crab and I didn't even have to slip him $20. Thanks, Michael!

All in all the crabbing went well. There were the usual scrapes, attacks from rabid barnacles and a lost oar, but no one was seriously injured. No trip to Seattle would be complete without a crabbing adventure. Maybe with practice, they will get better, but what is an adventure without a little blood, sweat and tears?