Tuesday, June 5, 2018

One for the Books

You can file this one under "I can't wait till you have children just like you!"

Leah and I moved in with my dad 6 months ago. Although he has a 4 bedroom house, his various hobbies and our personal preferences mean that Leah and I share a bedroom. Also Leah has anxiety since my husband died a few years ago so she’s more comfortable when I’m in close proximity.

Dad left Sunday for a trip to New Jersey. I took advantage of his absence to have a bedroom to myself. When Leah and I are in the same room, I swear she turns into a giant squid with limbs everywhere.  It's all feet in my face, elbows in my ribs, and fighting for space between her and the 2 or 3 cats who join us nightly.

Because we have a sprawling ranch, Dad's bedroom is on the far side of the house with several rooms in between. His cats are used to being kicked out at night, and my cats don't dare venture that far.  It's a real win-win for me when he's out of town.

Until last night... Or this morning... Whatever it was.  When at 2:30AM, I was awakened by a flashlight shining in my face and the command, "Ma'am, would you please come with me?"  Ya know, like the Golden State Killer used to do.

Apparently Leah woke up around 2AM and couldn’t find me--I had not, in fact, told her I'd be sleeping in PopPop's bed. She was too scared to go to the far end of the house and look around, and so she called 9-1-1. Unfortunately she couldn’t remember our new address so she told them she lives at “Mr. C’s house”. While here in our tiny town, that would be plenty, 9-1-1’s dispatch center is 35 miles away. My best guess is they traced the call back to the house. 

Leah and the operator had (by her accounts) one hell of a conversation... When she was unable to figure out our address, she located my wallet and gave the dispatcher all the information from my driver's license (which is still my Virginia license).  She went back to our room and emptied out her Minefaire jar (money she is earning and saving to buy Minecraft merch this summer) and created a plan to walk 4 miles up to town to find me, as she figured I might be at the local convenience store--thank you, unknown 911 operator, for talking her out of leaving the house!  And then, as she waited and chatted, she decided to get dressed in a lovely party dress, because (and I quote) "I figured I should look nice if the police were coming over."  She did refrain from discussing Minecraft with the operator, although she considered it strongly.

All of this, mind you, I totally slept through.

We live in a very small town—I’m talking 400 people tops. The most excitement is when some idiot gets drunk on a Friday night, you know? So they sent no fewer than THREE cops to investigate. A sheriffs deputy and two state troopers to investigate reports of a 9 year old with a missing mom. This really could have been pretty damned exciting if it hadn't ended so boringly.

And so at 2:30AM, the St. Lawrence County Sheriff's deputy arrived to figure out what sort of monster would leave her 9 year old unattended at that hour.  I did as I was told, and got up, and of course, I was wearing one of my shabbiest nightgowns--but as many people correctly stated, at least I hadn't chosen to sleep au naturale.  As I came into the family room, I found the two troopers standing in the adjacent living room examining the moving boxes I'd just unloaded into the house.  There were cats twining around everywhere, and Leah had a firm hold on 'her' cat, Fancy.  This led the deputy to remark, "You sure do have a lot of cats in here."  I pointed out we had four.  As one does when one is confronted with significant police presence in one's living room at that hour.

I still really couldn't understand what was going on--briefly I wondered if my dad and his re-enacting friends were really arms smugglers, or if I had done something illegal I was unaware of... I struggled to shake off the cobwebs while explaining to Leah that I was ok and had just gone to sleep in the other room, and I was fine and everything was fine.  One of the troopers commended her on keeping her wits about her and calling for help and told her she could do that any time she got scared (he REALLY did not need to do that--haha).  They took both our names and birthdates, wished us good night, and were off.

The next morning, Leah woke up and said, "On second thought, I probably should have conducted a more thorough search."  #facepalm

I'm looking forward to the articles in the paper. “The child’s mother was located sleeping in another room.”

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

I'm Really, REALLY Starting Over

Two weeks ago tonight, I arrived home after what can only be described as a hellish trip back to New York to really and truly start over.  I accepted the position of library director in the library I grew up in, packed as much as I thought I could into my car on Christmas Day, and drove into northern New York State in the midst of a blizzard, which I carefully skirted by driving into the mountains ironically, but which found me anyway.  I had lived in my Virginia house for 12 years, and the last three of those years have seen me build a life in which I found myself, rebuilt, made a lot of missteps, discovered new passions and interests, and made deep, deep connections with friends I hope I will know the rest of my life.  

When I came north for the job interview, a flying 48 hour trip in early December, Leah and I made a list of good and bad things about us moving up here.  The good things far outweighed the bad--free college tuition, much cheaper cost of living and a far better quality of life, the ability to make a commute that didn't take all day, a job that I knew I would love and be good at, friends and family here that I've known practically my entire life, Leah could take up skating, a quieter and smaller way of life, a small school where she would get the attention she needs...  This was in contrast to life in Virginia, where I left behind some of the best friends I ever had and a church  community I loved, as well as my mom and sister and family, but the stress of living on the I95 corridor was killing me.  I was sad to say goodbye to politics, as it had become my passion in the past year, but I figured I would be able to find some sort of political actions to join here in New York as well.

So, two weeks ago today we arrived and two weeks ago tomorrow, I started my new job.  I truly cannot remember ever working a job that I have looked forward to doing more than this one so far.  I go in early.  I'm disappointed when it's time to close up shop for the day and go home.  I'm surrounded by books, I talk books with readers, I have volunteers and coworkers and trustees who love the library and the books... I can make the books relevant and update the library and hopefully make it so that people want to be there.  That is my ultimate goal:  to make people absolutely salivating to get into the library.

I'm so enjoying small town life again.  People come in just because they know I'm back and they want to say hello.  They all say, "I'm not one to gossip" but then proceed to impart 'knowledge' of our fellow townspeople, who I should trust, who I should make it clear to that I'm in charge, who is still the biggest dope the town ever knew, who has shaped up considerably since middle school, who is sleeping with whom, who is divorced, who is getting married... I've heard it all and then some.  My former teachers are my favorite visitors--they bring me donations, they volunteer hours, they are looking for a house for me, they give me hugs and yell my name.  These people profoundly changed my life as I grew up and learned from them, and I hope they're proud of what I do in the coming months to this institution they know and love.

I have a 17 mile commute door to door.  It takes me about 15 minutes in good weather, which is to say that most days it takes me closer to 30 minutes to get there.  Along the way, I check book drops, I wave to my old school where Leah is now a third grader in my old 6th grade classroom, I marvel at the houses that look great and feel sad about the ones that are falling apart.  I dodge deer and snowmobiles.  We took a back road 'for the hell of it' the other day and came upon some kids from out of town who had flipped their truck into a ditch.  We gave them a lift back to their camp and felt good that we trusted them enough to let them in the car and they trusted us enough to ride.   I look at "For Sale" signs, and I remember what happened in a particular house with a particular friend or how we used to walk around the lake or where someone got married.  I take Leah to skating lessons in the same arena I had them, and remember spraining my ankle, performing in ice shows, 8th grade fun day, the roof collapsing when I was in 6th grade.  I've been to a funeral already, as one of my dearest high school friends, her father passed away right after I arrived.  I don't remember him at all, sadly, but the minute I walked in, the 25 years since I'd last seen her disappeared.  I'd have known her anywhere and it was so nice to hug her and talk to her for a bit.  I had a New Year's Eve party with another friend--we grew up together with our parents playing cards every New Year's and most weekends with us watching and scheming and preparing for our own turn.  Now we have kids and it's our turn to sit at the table and play cards and gossip and shoot the breeze.  It's so comfortable, the years have melted away.  Leah and I went to their house last weekend and ate chips and dip and played and had a blast.  It was great.

I've read two books in the past week, I've played games with my dad and Leah pretty regularly, attended a new UU church and already started talking to people, gotten in touch with a couple of progressive women's groups, and gone all over the North Country for shopping.  Dad and I rearranged furniture, we bought Leah a dresser, we are tripping over four cats and watching with scientific amusement as Dodo and Jazzy fight for alpha status (I SERIOUSLY do not know how cat hoarders do it--four cats is a lot of cats)...  The cats have me trained for their breakfast.  I've gotten stuck in the snow twice and required a push to get out (once in our own driveway!)...  I read the turmoil on Facebook of the things I left in the middle of, things that two weeks ago seemed life threateningly important, and now I just take a deep breath and go about my business.  Even the hateful things said about me in response to a recent article in the paper didn't get me down in the slightest.  I seem to know who I am and I seem to be at peace with that.

In short, I'm settled.  I have the specter of my house in Virginia hanging over me and moving my things, but I truly can't even remember what I have down there that I want to move up here.  We've traded in a 2400 square foot house for a 120 foot bedroom that Leah and I share (our choice, Leah could have had her own room but chose not to), and honestly we are happy.  Leah comes home with stories about going sledding at recess, about the joys of having a locker, about how all the kids change into three different pairs of shoes each day, because you need lunch shoes, "swear to God, Mom!"  We argue about her wearing a coat and boots and gloves and a hat, and I roll my eyes and remember arguing with my parents about those very same things--"Only losers wear coats, and besides, it's not THAT cold out there."  We moved here in the midst of a brutal cold spell--it was -33 with the windchill on Saturday and Sunday.

I drive Leah to school and back right now because I don't feel like waiting at the bus stop in the cold and snow.  We sing along to whatever's on XM and we climb the hill, and we talk about our days and who had more fun.  I watched her yesterday morning as she hopped out of the car.  The only part of her that was visible under all her cold weather gear was her eyes.  I watched her run to the set of doors that were unlocked, pull them open confidently, and run inside, in stark contrast to the first days when she was all "We have to go to school when there's this much snow on the ground!?  But it's cold outside!!" and "This school is so big! I'll get lost.  I don't know anyone!".  And I thought to myself, "Wow, it's amazing that humans are so adaptable." 

Thank goodness we are, friends.  Thank goodness we are.

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Mothers

Here's to mothers whose children aren't 'colored'...

Who don't have to worry about a traffic stop or a walk down the street ending the life of the person they love most...
Who don't have to explain slavery, lynching, and brutality in ways that hit a little too close to home...

Here's to mothers whose children aren't transgender...

Who don't have to fight for their child to urinate without shame or segregation...
Whose children can proudly wear a military uniform, and never have their service questioned...

Here's to mothers whose children aren't gay...

Who don't have to worry about their child being called 'faggot,' or 'sissy,' or 'dyke'...
Who don't worry about beatings or nightclub bombings...

Here's to mothers whose children are citizens...

Who don't have to worry about their child being exploited for cheap labor...
Who don't have to worry about their child being sent 'back' to a country they don't know where they could be killed for any reason, or no reason at all...

Here's to mothers whose children aren't female...

Who don't have to worry about their health care choices and options being taken away by men who will never know what it's like to be pregnant or need a cancer screening or have a period...
Who don't have to worry that the clothing they wear will brand them a 'slut who was asking for it'...

Here's to mothers whose children aren't critically ill...

Who don't have to worry about how they'll pay for lifesaving medical equipment...
Who never worry if the government will take away protections that allow their child to have health insurance they need at a cost they can afford to keep them alive...

Here's to mothers whose children aren't poor...

Who don't worry about the shame of an unpaid lunch bill...
Who don't worry about where they'll sleep tonight...

Here's to mothers whose children are Christian...

Who don't have to explain why "Little Timmy called me a 'terrorist'" or "threatened me with an oven"...
Who don't have to explain why their friend told them they are going to hell for what they believe, or don't believe...

Here's to mothers of privilege...

Who sleep well, not knowing, caring, or understanding how the system is rigged in their favor...

The rest of us keep watch over our sleeping babes and hope they will survive each day with their beautiful, innocent humanity and fragile, powerful bodies in tact. 

Here's to us.  And here's to our beautiful, perfectly imperfect children.

Dedicated to Leah, Alice, Lauren Faith, and all children in the world who suffer...

Friday, April 28, 2017

A Gala Evening!


I used to work as an itinerant rehabilitation teacher for the blind in a previous life.  During my tenure in the state of Virginia, at various times I covered Fauquier, Loudoun, Culpeper, Orange, Spotsylvania, Stafford, and Prince William Counties, and I drove as far as Charlottesville on a bad day.  When I was working, I occasionally did ride-alongs with co-workers, fellow professionals in various branches of the field, to see them work with clients and learn new skills.  On one of these occasions, I was sitting in the car having lunch with a co-worker and the topic turned to what we did to pass the time we spent driving.  I lamented the lack of good radio stations when she suggested I listen to NPR.  In my mind, I had never considered NPR, instead listening to audio books or the local news station that repeated itself every 10 minutes and drove me crazy.  As I considered NPR, I thought about Marketplace, and stodgy, uninteresting radio I associated with old people, but I agreed it was a good alternative and I'd give it a try.  I put on WAMU 88.5 and was hooked immediately.  I absolutely loved listening to the Diane Rehm Show and Kojo Nnamdi, which were such a breath of fresh air (pun intended) from the screaming O'Reilly's and Schlessingers of other stations I had long since discounted.  Unfortunately the station didn't come in throughout much of my territory, but I loved listening to it where I could.  On the weekends, I'd listen to Prairie Home Companion and we started going to Wolf Trap each year to see Garrison Keillor put on his life show, taking my dad as a Father's Day treat, picnicking on the lawn, and having a ball.  Christmas Eve isn't Christmas Eve without the Big Broadcast's transmission of Grand Central Station, and Sundays are better for the Big Broadcast.

One day I was listening and an announcement came on and said that they needed phone room volunteers for the upcoming membership campaign.  I knew from co-workers that we were allowed to get time off work once per month to do volunteer work, so I approached my boss and asked to be allowed my time off to go work in the phone bank.  Permission was granted, and I made my first trip to the WAMU studios.  I knew no one, and I was destined to spend 4 hours answering telephones, truly hell on Earth for an introvert of my persuasion.  I walked into a room buzzing with energy and excitement, nervously took a seat at an empty table that quickly filled up with other people, and had my first volunteer orientation with Anthony Washington, the volunteer coordinator.  Diane Rehm was on the air, and in no time the phones were ringing off the hook, and we were taking calls left and right.  Somewhere in the middle of the day, they served us lunch, and within the first hour, the room fell totally silent.  I turned to my right and there was a vision of a woman, a beautiful puff of white hair, chic in a black sweater and jeans, and there I was, face to face with Diane Rehm.  I was literally awestruck, as were most of the people in the room.  She stopped by each volunteer individually, shook our hands, and thanked us for helping out.  It was heart stopping and incredible.  Later I met Kojo, although when he entered the room, everyone was trying to bend his ear with story ideas and such.  I was hooked on volunteering.

With Cathleen
I told my sister about my experiences, and we agreed to start volunteering on Sunday nights instead of during the day shifts.  She couldn't get off work and it didn't really matter to me, so we decided we'd switch to volunteering during the Big Broadcast.  The crowd who volunteered on those Sunday nights was decidedly different.  It was a little bit older, a little bit more fun, more like family.  The callers were different too.  Many times, I'd answer for a parent calling in for their child who wanted to donate allowance money, or people who remembered listening to these programs with their parents, or people who knew the host, Ed Walker, from years on the Old Time Radio scene.  The staff was amazing--Lucy the phone room manager, the two Jacks who took the forms and gave us pop OTR quizzes, Cathleen who stepped into a phone room manager role and gave out Tootsie Rolls for fun quizzes she came up with, and of course, our beloved Anthony who kept things going.  Just walking into the place, I'd literally feel the outside world fall away.  I occasionally had friends who wanted to come and volunteer too, which made it a real party--we'd meet for a quick meal beforehand (although WAMU always fed us!) and then all go up to the phone room and party.  It didn't matter what I had planned in February and October when the pledge drives were on, I made room in my schedule for my Sunday trips.

Me and Jack French, one of "The Jacks"
Judy and I began competing to see who could rack up the most pledges during our time there, tallying up the calls we took, and of course, she usually ran away with it when she'd get someone with deep pockets who gave $1000 while I was taking in multiple $25 pledges.  (I did win exactly one time, but I don't know how).  There was minor sabotage involved--sometimes I'd unplug her phone cord from the back of the phone, occasionally she'd take my phone off the hook.  It was fun and funny and exciting.  She took a call from a soldier in Afghanistan one time who was streaming the programming from his computer.  He kept getting cut off and spoke to three different volunteers before we got his pledge filled out, and he wound up back with Judy, and they had an awesome conversation.  Some of the fun was listening to the stream the next morning to hear Ed Walker thank the donors on line and listen for the names of the people I'd taken calls from.

I remember the first night we volunteered, we had a goal the first hour of $10,000.  Within the first half hour, that was shattered.  So they decided to see if we could hit $15,000.  No problem, the audience responded.  $20K?  Did it!  The mood on the room was electric and ecstatic.  One little show on Sunday nights was raking in the cash.  There was another night we broke $30K if I'm not mistaken.

With one of my many Legibility Awards
There was also the Legibility Award, given to the volunteer with the best handwriting during each hour of the campaign.  I won that award no fewer than 8 times, and at least twice I was told "I'd have given it to you, but we ran out of time to award it a third time."  You got to have your picture taken with a bust of Mark Twain, was it?  And the bust sat at your table while you plugged away for an hour.  You also got great prizes--I still tote around my WAMU resuable shopping bag, and we got loads of OTR CD's.  One memorable night, one of the Jacks picked up the statue and headed our way.  I was so pleased, but then they handed the award to my sister!!!!!!!!!  My sister has handwriting that makes doctors envious, so we couldn't believe it.  We were laughing and crying and it was the best handwriting prize ever...

With another volunteer, Sarah, who stole my legibility prize! :D


The Man, The Myth, The Legend: Ed Walker
There was also meeting both Ed Walker and Rob Bamberger.  Ed Walker was a legend in the realm of Old Time Radio.  He was blind and we would often get to NPR early and wait till we saw Ed coming down the sidewalk with his cane before we'd go in.  To Judy, he was a god, and she was tongue tied around him.  One night, we followed him in too closely and she refused to get in an elevator with him.  She was too scared to ride up. LOL  One night, we got in the elevator, and he happened to get in after and we rode up in total silence because she couldn't think of a thing to say.  I'm sure he knew we were in there.  One night, she was totally fan-girling over him, and Rob Bamberger, host of Hot Jazz Saturday Night who helped Ed with the broadcasts, overheard her.  He told her he was taking her back to meet Ed.  She about wet her pants, but during a break in the action, he came out to the phone room, took her firmly by the arm, and propelled her into the studio.  I have no idea what happened in there, but she came back mute and with tears in her eyes.

Another evening, we were helping clean up after everyone left, and when it was me, Judy, and a friend who came, we were offered a quick studio tour.  We saw the various rooms where the shows were produced and someone pointed and said, "That's Diane Rehm's chair.  you wanna try it out?"  So I sat in it.  It was an amazing moment....

Eventually WAMU moved off the American Campus into a new studio and we still had a great time.  The phone room was larger and modern looking, although we were still tethered to dinosaur phones with actual cords and push buttons, filling out paper forms.  There were shelves and shelves of books that authors sent, hoping to get an interview on the air, and we would scour them every trip and take home armloads of books--most of which I never managed to read.  A fellow volunteer, John, would ask us what we were into and then suggest stacks of books, which we felt obliged to take and then eventually sneak back onto the shelves later.

And then, tragedy upon tragedy upon tragedy.  Ed Walker died.  It was devastating.  I remember the first trip back to volunteer after his death, the mood in the room was somber, all of us were hugging and weepy and Rob made a lovely speech about honoring Ed's legacy.  Not a dry eye in the house. Donors responded in kind and we made a LOT of money for the station that night.



Next, one of the Jack's died.  I had had a particularly entertaining experience with him at one point.  I asked him about if he knew who I could talk to about getting backstage to meet Sarah Koenig at Wolf Trap to hear her talk about Serial, as I had been told he was the man to talk to.  He let me know in no uncertain terms that he was completely disgusted by Serial and all "that woman" had done to that kid, and he had no idea why anyone would tell me to talk to him, because he was a Game of Thrones man through and through. And he proceeded to give me a 30 minute overview of George RR Martin and GoT and informed me that I better get on the stick and start watching it (to date, I have not).

Finally, last year, they ended the phone bank program.  The FCC made new regulations about taking pledges over the phone, and thus legally, they were not allowed to do pledge drives the old fashioned way anymore.  This was absolutely devastating.  For my sister and I, it meant the end of Sister Date Nights--especially once we both had kids, it was impossible to find a night to go out, have fun, get a free meal, and help a community we both felt very passionate about.  It cut us off from our friends, who we only knew by first name, but who had become a second family of sorts.  We were offered other opportunities for volunteering, but nothing thus far has really been worth the 55 mile drive to DC, certainly not cold calling donors to 'thank' them for donating.

Sisters
But just a few weeks ago, I got an email from Anthony telling me that I would be honored for my 10+ years of service to WAMU at a gala event.  I was allowed to bring one guest, but I emailed the woman in charge with my RSVP and asked if an open space came up, would it be ok to bring both my daughters?  She immediately responded that it was fine with her and I could bring them both.  So last night, we all got dolled up and drove to NPR HQ in Washington DC and attended the Volunteer Recognition party.  When we arrived, there was Cathleen!  There was Anthony!  There was Charlie!  There was John!  My name was scrolling around on a ticker tape thing thanking me for my service.  Everyone looked so fancy and dressed up.  It was beautiful and exciting and moving.

My name with my fave award


Judy pointed to one gentleman and said "It's Joshua Johnson!!!!  It's Joshua Johnson!!"  The host of 1A, the program which took over Diane Rehm's slot when she retired was standing mere feet away from us, holding court.  I consulted with Cathleen and we laughed about Judy's tongue tie around Ed and conspired to go and get Judy to meet Joshua.  Now I'll be honest and confess I haven't listened to 1A, but my sister has emailed me to tell me to listen to his program about gerrymandering, so I knew I had something to talk with him about.  Not really knowing who he was made all the difference to me, as I didn't feel particularly nervous talking to him.  Cathleen and I enlisted the help of Lauren, one of the staff, and we dragged Judy over to where Joshua was standing. She took a sip of wine for courage and off we went! 

The Kosior-Szabos and Joshua Johnson
He really could not have been nicer.  He shook hands with all of us and I introduced him to my girls.  He remarked on how tall Astrid was and got down to Leah's level to talk with her a bit.  Judy wasn't saying much, so I said, "I was so grateful that you were able to do a show on gerrymandering!"  He said it had been a topic in high demand and we talked about various anti-gerrymandering efforts around the country, including the ones I'd been involved in with OneVirginia2021, which I mentioned to him.  Then I asked him about stepping into Diane's showtime and he said he felt great, she had been very supportive, but because it was a very different show, he hadn't felt any pressure (indeed, the show is performing amazingly well!), and we took a picture and then it was over.  We had to move into the studio for the awards ceremony.

Reunited!
The ceremony itself was great--the station manager talked about WAMU's growth, Anthony talked about the volunteer program's growth, and Joshua and his producer Rupert talked about creating a new show.  Then all the volunteers were presented with a 10 year pin one by one, while Anthony talked about little memories of each volunteer, and then the Volunteers of the Year got their awards.  Then it was back out for certificates, dessert, and winding up the evening, which we did by grabbing pictures with Cathleen and Anthony.

It was such a special evening.  I was so proud to introduce both my daughters to my WAMU people.  Everyone said to Astrid that she was so tall!!  Everyone loved Leah's cute dress.  Hilariously, someone asked Astrid, "Oh you must be an old time radio fan too!" and she politely affirmed that she was.  So immediately they asked her, "What's your favorite show?"  I knew this was going nowhere good fast, so I stepped in with "She just LOVES Gunsmoke!  It really fits in with her American history class!" and saved the day.  It was funny and fun and we all had a good chat about Gunsmoke and Matt Dillon (who I always kind of picture as Matt Damon).

With Anthony Washington, everyone's favorite volunteer coordinator
My certificate and pin



It was so fun to get dressed up with Leah and Astrid and Judy and Lucas and do something fancy and relive so many memories.  It was an absolutely magical evening.  I hope I can still find a niche at WAMU to go and volunteer my time on occasion.  I do love it, and the people, so very much.  I am honored to give my time there and thrilled that I've done so for 10 years.  I truly had no idea it was that long!  Thank you, Anthony and WAMU, for giving Judy and I something so fun and worthwhile to bond over and enjoy together for ten years.

Me and my beauties



Thursday, December 29, 2016

2016 Top Ten

2016 has been a rough year.  On the grand scale, we lost Carrie Fisher and gained Donald Trump.  There's been all kinds of mayhem leading to Brexit, Black Lives Matter having to be a thing, insults slung around left and right, all kinds of craziness.  Closer to home, I've known people who have lost spouses and children and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends, people they love, and some of them have been people I've loved very much too.  I have a friend in prison for the first time, and a friend who lost a toe and a friend who nearly died of a most unexpected heart attack.  I was laid off from a job I loved with coworkers I really respected and cared about doing work that actually mattered.  I got another job working for another agency with other people I really liked and cared about, only to be laid off just before Christmas.  I've had dear friends I really loved and respected decide they didn't want to be part of my life anymore, and that hurt so, so much.  At the start of the year, I was one of two people chosen to be guardians to two little girls who lost their mother, who was a dear friend of mine, and the other family was chosen to raise them, which broke my heart.

So yeah, it's been a rough one.

But it has also been a really beautiful year.  And I got lazy this year and didn't write out a Christmas newsletter, so maybe you didn't know all these things going on. 

So in deference to David Letterman's famous Top 10 lists, I decided to sit down and think about what I am most grateful for happening this year.  Because I've had it pretty good in many ways.  So here are The Top Ten Reasons Susan Is Grateful to Have Been Alive in 2016.  In no particular order...

10.  Celebrity Fun

This year, I got to do three amazing meet and greets with celebrities.  The joy I felt afterwards from meeting these people was foolish.  I grinned for days and days and days.  The first two both happened in June and they both happened in Philadelphia, which is kind of fun, and in each case, I had a great sidekick by my side.

First, I went to my first convention this year, that being Wizard Con in Philadelphia.  I sweet talked my college BFF Joe into coming out for the event after hearing David Duchovny and cast members of the X Files would be there, and so we had great plans and were able to follow through. I couldn't help but rib him a bit after he made plans and signed us up to meet not only David Duchovy, but also William B. Davis who plays uber-villain Cancer Man (of whom Joe is terrified, but who is really a sweet man), and Mitch Pileggi who plays Skinner, the FBI director.  We had such an amazing time!  Our smiles in the pictures really say it all.



Mini Scully still lives proudly in my kitchen in the original packaging, as directed by Joe, so nothing happens to her, and Joe and I still are talking about our adventure and when The X Files will be back and what we thought of the 6 episode arc that came on this year (also a high point!).  It was an amazing day.  Not to mention I got a picture with a Storm Trooper, we got to see Billy Boyd in person, played some games, and ate the most incredible steamed buns at a ramen restaurant--I am seriously still dreaming about them.

A couple of weeks later, I took my sister to see Barenaked Ladies for her birthday present.  I got us VIP passes so we could go backstage and she could finally meet Kevin Hearn, her favorite member of the band.  We saw them the week before when they came to Wolf Trap, and then drove up to Philly for a day.  It was  a great day anyway, as we discovered Philly's Polish neighborhood and ate some amazing Polish food and wandered shops and streets filled with people who looked a lot like us.  Then we went to the concert and backstage and had an awesome experience talking with the band.  In the end, I was able to tell Ed Robertson what the band and their music had come to mean to me, and got not one, but two hugs from him, which was pretty darned incredible.The band isn't doing meet-and-greets this year, but we'll probably still take in a show or three because there really isn't anyone better, as far as I'm concerned.  I've lost track of how many times I've seen them in concert, but I don't have much intention of quitting. :)


For a couple of years now, my friend Andy and I have been wanting to go see Philip Phillips in concert.  The timing was never right on his other tours, but this year, we discovered he was going to Wolf Trap, so we decided to go check it out.  There were a couple of opening acts, most notably one called Great Big World, who I had never heard of before.  But I really, really liked their music (in fact, they were better than Philip Phillips in my humble opinion when all was said and done) and we were having a great time when the guys from the band announced they'd be doing a meet-and-greet up at the merchandise station after they were done performing.  I asked Andy did he want to go, and told him we'd be telling my grandchildren about this, so up we went.  It was a total mob scene, but Andy said he would put our fate into my able hands as a seasoned meet-and-greeter, so I waded into the crowd of teens and tweens waiting for a chance to meet their idols and we had to wait less than an hour to meet Ian and Chad.  They were so kind and friendly and it was really a lot of fun to meet them, especially not knowing who they were.  Haha.  I even told them I had never heard of them, which they thought was awesome (#stupidstuffyousaytocelebswhenyourenervous)

It was an unexpected bonus and such a treat. My cousin's reaction on Facebook the next day was priceless...  Ha!  And in doing some research about them, it turned out I had heard of at least one of their songs, which was pretty cool, and they are Grammy winners, which is cool too.  Rubbing elbows with the big names!

9.  Friends

I am truly blessed (and this comes from a largely secular person) with the friends in my life.  They bless me with their presence and with their beauty and goodness and trust and reliability every single day.  I have friends who bring me soup and ginger ale when I'm sick, I have friends who drop me a text for no particular reason that always seems to come when I'm having a down moment, I have friends who listen to me when I need it, I have friends who are up for adventure, I have friends who are far away and who are right across town and they are all here for me all the time.  Last year, I identified several people who were more acquaintances than friends who I wanted to move into the "good friends" category, if that makes sense, and I spent time systematically working my way through my own mental processes to become friends with those people.  I'm so pleased that they responded in friendship and I've added them to my inner circle.  There are people with whom I agree on nothing politically, but we came through the election cycle with our relationships in tact.  I'm in a local game group, have made new friends at the UU, it's amazing how people come into my life from various quarters, but I'll take them! :) I feel unworthy of people's friendships and affection so often, even though people tell me all the time how glad they are for my friendship and my presence in their lives, and it's almost foolish how grateful I am and full my life feels because of all these different people in my life. Thank you.

One of my friend highlights of 2016:  Mike and Lesley came to visit and I got to meet their new children <3

Friends got together for a little birthday party for me in August.  What a wonderful surprise!


8.  The Holiday Season

The holiday season is always a mixed bag for me.  It magnifies my single-ness and what I've lost, and of course there is the stress of the season financially, activity-wise, making sure everything is just right.  When I lost my job in August, my Christmas Club was cashed out and returned to me, but I wound up using it to pay for Leah's vision therapy, so I was nervous about giving the girls a good Christmas.  Happily, I was re-employed in a month's time and was able to provide the girls with a good Christmas morning with lots of presents under the tree.  But more importantly, we had a really great holiday season in general.  It was full of concerts and Christmas lights, and cookies and friends and music and movies and quiet moments and light peeping and joy.  To be sure, I had my Sarah MacLachlan evening where I laid in the basement with Wintersong on repeat, crying my eyes out, but instead of a week of that, it was one night, and I was back at it.  We were given wonderful gifts from friends and family near and far, enjoyed parties, and the new Wii has been on non-stop since it was unpacked.  We have no fewer than 3 New Year's parties we've been invited to, all happily on different days, up from a total of ZERO the past few years, and I just feel so lucky and happy this December, a new and different feeling from holidays past.  Healing?  Maybe I have.  Or maybe I'm just looking at things differently.  Either way, I'll take it.

7.  Family

My family made it through another year.  We've had our ups and downs, but everyone is in good health and we are all hanging in there.  My parents are getting older, my sister is getting crazier, all the kids are getting bigger, my in-laws are still hanging in, but we're surviving and thriving.  Some highlights have been Mike's sister Paula coming to Fredericksburg for a visit, the aforementioned trip to Philly with my sister, hilarious Skype conversations in which my dad is fighting the twin forces of an uncooperative camera and his crazy cats, all of us being together for Thanksgiving, and my mom and Craig rescuing me from certain roadside doom when I had a flat tire.  Not to mention taking my nephew William to DinosaurLand (where he developed an instant fascination with, of all things, King Kong), my niece to the Roller Derby where she learned a valuable life lesson about falling down and getting back up, and my nephew Winston harrassing me at every turn over the bounce house.

6.  Two Weeks in Europe

We had the incredible opportunity this year to spend two weeks in Belgium with Ine and her family.  I think most everyone knows, but out of the blue two years ago, we were asked to host Ine as an AFS student who needed a home and we jumped at the chance after some shrewd negotiating with a local private school since our public school refuses to admit exchange students.  After a year at home, we were invited to come to Belgium and Ine's parents Hilde and Johan gave us the most fabulous vacation ever to thank us for our generosity and hospitality towards Ine.  I honestly have never been a party to anything like it. I think we saw almost all of Belgium, amazing artwork, great food, all kinds of geography from mountains to oceans, cities, the countryside, we stood in three countries at once, went to see Cirque du Soleil for the first time, carriage rides, boat rides, train rides, car rides, you name it, we did it.  I was also happy to be able to take Leah on two day trips, one to London and one to Paris, per our own choice.  Leah wanted to go to Paris in the worst way and stay in a fancy hotel, so we spent a day on top of the Eiffel Tower, viewing the Barbie Exhibit at the Musee des Arts Decoratif, eating at little cafes, taking naps, and using my rusty French to get around the city as best we could.  In London, I finished up the few things I had wanted to do by walking across Tower Bridge, climbing up into St. Paul's Cathedral, showing Leah where the real queen lives, and getting absolutely dumped on by English rain.  It was so wonderful to see and do so much, but mostly to be reunited with Ine and get to know her amazing parents.  I'll never forget it as long as I live.

Posing for pictures while Leah acts as photographer--me with Hilde, Johan, and Ine, our Belgian relations, at the beach

Just before crossing Tower Bridge--a highlight of my summer

Paris, Toujours

5.  Children

I've been so lucky that so many people this year have given me their children to love and to trust.  As I mentioned earlier this year, I was in a position to take in two children, but that fell apart.  I started classes afterwards to adopt a waiting child from foster care, but the agency changed trainings and stopped returning my messages, so I assumed I wasn't a good candidate (I got an email two weeks ago asking if I was still interested, which I am not at present), so my heart was broken by two failed attempts at enlarging our family.  But then I started appreciating the people all around me and their children who give me hugs and trust and love, and I realized I have so much in my life that it's ok that my dreams of a larger family never worked out.  From my 'nephew' Michael who runs screaming to me every time he sees me to The Bup who casually strolls into my house every week and lets me know exactly what activities we'll be doing that particular visit to my nieces and nephews to my beautiful AFS kids (more on that later) including Dipthi and Claudia to the children who stayed with us from Matsiko to Leah's friends who have gone on adventures with us, I've been entrusted with children of all shapes and shades and sizes and colors, and I feel so lucky to be a part of their lives.  I look forward to watching them all grow and take on the world--I know they're going to.

4.  The UU

Almost four years ago now, I discovered the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Fredericskburg.  I was looking for a place to go and get away from my life for a little while, but I have discovered a vibrant and exciting community of people I truly love and respect.  I gush about them a lot, and I gush about life at the fellowship a lot, and I'm not sorry.  My association there has been life-changing, literally.  I love serving as a worship associate, singing with the choir, I've been a speaker twice this year--once as the main speaker and once in regards to what being a member means to me, I've served on the RE committee, I started a women's book club this year, I've taken classes and learned so much, participated in potlucks and contests, and this year, I have offered and given items into the service auction, which has led to two amazing events at our house--an afternoon tea for a marvelous group of women and a Halloween murder mystery party for a super group of talented people who got to stretch their acting chops and have some fun.  Coming up we have two more events and then I'm done for the year, but it has been so much fun planning and organizing and celebrating.  People are warm and welcoming me into their homes and lives for parties and fun things and we have also gotten to do some volunteer work and had some folks come to the house for needed repairs.  All in all, it's been incredible.  I hope to continue on there for some time to come.

3.  Personal growth and development

When I turned 40 in 2015, a friend told me the blessing of turning 40 is that you no longer have to care about the little crap that plagues you when you're younger.  It's true. I've started turning down invitations to things I don't want to go to, I've stopped talking to toxic people in my life without worrying (too much) about hurting their feelings, I've stopped doing stuff that doesn't make my happy, and I've quit worrying about things I really can't do anything about.  I've also made a serious effort at being less judgmental, more grateful, happier, and accepting, not only of other people, but of myself.  I've learned so much as a gastric sleeve patient about body acceptance, I got a lot out of counseling from healing the wounds of the past, I've been spending less time on line, I've developed new interests, worked hard to be accepted and admired professionally, and worked on boosting my self confidence.  Some of this has come from having a 16 year old life coach move into the house (more on this later), but some has just come from age and wisdom and experience and perspective I simply didn't have before.  I like who I am now in ways I never could have before this moment in my life.  I'll take it, 2016.  Thanks!

2.  Astrid

yes, I'm wearing lipstick, just one of many changes
I spent a fair amount of time licking my wounds after our last AFS student didn't work out.  I felt sad that we hadn't connected, sad that she hadn't enjoyed being part of our family, sad that we hadn't enjoyed having her be a part of our family.  I thought I wouldn't host again, and I thought AFS wouldn't let me host again, but as a volunteer with AFS, I was able to read incoming applications and think about them and consider hosting.  I hadn't much given consideration to any of them beyond "it would be nice to have this particular kid in Virginia" until I ran across an application by a glamorous looking 15 year old from Denmark.  I read her application, I looked at her pictures, I read what her parents had to say, and it was like a bolt from the blue, smacking me in the head saying "THIS ONE, YOU IDIOT."  I knew immediately she was the one, so I put her on hold and nervously approached our area team leader and requested to host Astrid.  It has honestly been one of the best decisions of my entire life.  Astrid is the most amazing kid, and she has jumped into life in the US and in our family with both feet.  My blog about her is more or less a rundown of our monthly activities, but there is so much more to her and to our lives with her that I can't even begin to contain in written form.  Astrid has blown in like a tornado.  She has upended my thinking about my life and what I deserve and what I can have as a future, she has challenged Leah who I see a HUGE difference in in terms of her willingness to be assertive and stand up for herself, she has made us laugh and cry, and vice versa.  I feel old around her sometimes (I hate almost all of the music she listens to, something I swore would never happen to me when I got older.  I also don't understand half of what she's saying due to the slang the kids use today, but I just pretend), and I feel so much younger around her at other times.  She is sassy and sweet and hilarious and thought-provoking and just an amazing kid.  I'm sorry, Peter and Therese, you can't have her back.  She's here to stay. <3

1.  Leah

I know you all know I love my daughter.  All of us who are parents know we can't possibly express the depth of emotion that love takes.  There is literally no putting into words the feelings I have for this kid.  Even on our worst days when I'm sure we want to strangle each other, the love I have for her is without measure or expression.  She is literally my life and my sunshine and my reason for living.  She makes me so proud.  This year has been a really great year for her in so many ways.  Unlike our previous international travel experience when she was but 4 years old, this year she really proved her ability to travel and travel well.  We discovered in May, after years of being told that she is delayed in school and struggling, that in fact, she has an eye condition that makes reading very, very difficult for her from a physical perspective, not a mental perspective.  This fall, she started vision therapy, thanks in part to generous help from my parents, and she is doing really well.  She has a big, beautiful heart as demonstrated by her work in the soup kitchen at St. George's, and her willingness to help out cooking and playing with other children at the Respite House at Micah Ministries.  She is open to having other people in our lives, as demonstrated by her constant desire to host "host students" like Astrid and Ruth and Handful.  She is bossy and loves having younger children around that she can run ragged and who love her attentions and energy, as witnessed by the adoration heaped upon her by Michael and The Bup.  She has her own sense of style--more than one person has come up to me to tell me how they love watching her make up choices, her fashion choices from week to week at the UU and beyond.  She has quite a crew on the bus to school now, and has started making friends in her class--for the first two years at elementary school, she's only had one friend.  I love her little friend Carlie, but am also glad she is branching out a bit.  She is sweet and sassy and everything I could ask of her to be and more.  I'm so lucky to be her mom, and I love her more than anything.

I could add a couple of other items here, but all in all, this is a most satisfying list.  I'm not one on making resolutions--easily made and easily broken--but I have some goals for the coming year that I feel confident I'll be able to continue on an upwards trajectory.  Thank you for being part of our lives in 2016, and I hope you'll still be in 2017!  Love to you all, and good health and bounty for the year ahead.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The Worst Travel Day Ever!

Yesterday, July 18, 2016, I experienced the worst travel day of my entire life.  It was so epically bad, I have to blog about it.  I know you're all waiting for a blog or ten about our incredible time in Belgium and Western Europe, and that is coming.  I promise.  But I seriously need therapy.  The thing is, I travel A LOT.  And I'm good at it.  I usually have bad luck in terms of flight delays, but never to the level of trouble I had yesterday.  I can say with some authority that I will definitely be thinking twice before traveling on IcelandAir ever again.  But I'm ahead of myself.

So for two weeks, we went to Western Europe, primarily Belgium, to visit our former exchange student, Ine, and her family, and get to know them and their country and culture.  It was an absolutely incredible trip, we saw and did so much.  I don't know how her family crammed all that into a mere two weeks.  It was literally the trip of a lifetime.  Yesterday was departure day.

Now, you may have heard that Europe has been under threat of terrorist attack, and in fact Belgium was attacked in March and France was attacked while we were there.  Tensions are high, which is understandable, and while we hear in the US that there is a flood of Muslim immigrants and refugees coming into Europe, until you are there, you don't really understand how big the situation is.  We saw many, many more Muslims in Europe than I have probably ever seen in my life.  And with extremists attacking, the situation is a bit "delicate".

Ok, so Monday morning, Ine and her mom drop us off at the Brussels Airport, which is back to normal, looks great, you'd never know anything happened there.  To even get into the airport, you have to go through a large tent and in the tent, the soldiers tell you go either to the left or to the right.  If you get sent to the left, you're scot-free, you go right into the airport.  If you get sent to the right, you and your bags go through metal detectors and screening.  As if you're not going to have to do that once you're inside.  But they're taking no chances because the bombing of the Brussels airport took place near the international ticketing, where there are no security measures.  Guess which line Leah and I got sent through?  You guessed it.  The right.  Not only do you have to hoist your suitcase into the X-ray machines (and we had 2 suitcases, each of which weighed 50 pounds), but if you have backpacks with any sort of electronic anything, you have to unpack it.  So my carefully packed backpack had to be completely ripped apart to get the electronics out.

That really set me off.  Because you don't have time to repack everything neatly, so we had to just cram everything back in the bags and proceed.

Once inside, you have to locate where your particular airline has its window.  There are 10 zones in Brussels, and each of those 10 zones has 12 windows.  That's 120 potential ticket windows from which you have to find your particular airline.  That doesn't count the windows along the back wall of the departures area.  We checked a sign and it said IcelandAir was in Zone 9.  We go, and as far as you can see, the area is literally PACKED with primarily Muslim people (or so I'm guessing based on their dress), and all the airlines are Turkish Air, Saudi Air, all Middle Eastern airlines.

And one thing I have learned in the course of my travels in South America and Europe, as well as from hosting students from Asia is that concepts of personal space and good manners vary widely from country and culture to country and culture.  For instance, when Leah and I were riding on the Metro in Paris recently, we were nearing our stop, so we moved to stand in front of the door.  I asked her, "Are you ready? This is our stop" and she said yes.  A young Caucasian man who had been riding next to us and speaking English with a friend (I say this so that you know he spoke English) stepped in front of us into the maybe 6 inches between us and the door, stepped on my foot, and without an "excuse me" or a backwards glance made sure he was the first one out the door.  We were banged into mercilessly while we were in Europe and it finally got to a point where Leah stomped on one person's foot and I refused to correct her--a grown man on the Tube in London literally shoved her out of the way so he could have the one seat on the train before she got to it, men and women constantly banged into us, walked in front of us and stopped, stood way too close to us for comfort in situations where it was most definitely not required (ie NOT on a crowded train but in a museum), it was exhausting.

So to know that we had to go through this massive crowd of people was daunting to say the least, but we HAD to find our ticketing window.  So Leah, me, two huge suitcases, and two backpacks put our heads down and started working our way through.  Our repeated cries of "Excuse me!"  "Excusez-moi!"  "Pardonne!" were totally ignored, and meanwhile we were getting banged into on all sides by Muslim men, women, and children who were packed into Zone 9, so we finally had to skip being polite and just get on in there and do battle.  Only to discover there was no IcelandAir counter in Zone 9.Which meant we had to battle our way back out.  It had been a mere 15 minutes and I was already totally exhausted.

So we found an electronic departures board, and that said that IcelandAir's window would be in Zone 3.  We walked down to Zone 3, and not only wasn't IcelandAir there, there wasn't a single solitary ticket window open in Zone 3.  We started walking up and down all the zones looking for help, but there wasn't an information desk, there were no airport employees to ask for help, nothing.We were on our own.  Finally we decided that we were just going to camp out in Zone 3 and wait for something to happen.  When we had arrived at Dulles 2 weeks prior, IcelandAir's window was closed until 4:45, so we figured it might just open later than when we were there.  Eventually we noticed other people milling around, and finally a young woman came out and flipped up an IcelandAir sign.

And then, as she was the only employee there from IA, proceeded to mess with the TensaBarriers for five minutes to create as intricate a maze as possible for us all to follow, after we had all jumped into the barriers once the window was opened.

Finally she was happy with the arrangement, and we started to move through the line.  Somehow we were in the first 30 families, but I think due to the fact that IA is a lowercost  carrier, there were a ton of backpackers and large families there, and of course, everyone is already exhausted from the effort of finding the window and even getting into the airport, so the pushing began.  I was really losing it.  And the fact that they had exactly one person working was really infuriating.

Fortunately the check in process for us was fairly smooth.  Once it was our turn, it took less than 5 minutes to drop off our bags and get our boarding passes.  Of course, by this point, Leah had to use the bathroom, so off we went to the toilet.

Now in Europe, most public toilets require a fee to enter.  In the airport, thankfully this was not the case.  But the stalls are about 2.5 feet wide and maybe 5 feet deep, and Leah is terrified of using the bathroom alone, so we were crammed into this tiny space with our backpacks.  She went to the bathroom and then it was my turn, and as I went, I discovered, to quote the IT crowd, that I had "fallen to the communists"...  Yes, Aunt Irma had chosen that moment to pay a visit, and I sat there on the toilet and moaned, "OH NO."  Because I had come prepared for this eventuality, but of course, all supplies required were now somewhere between my present location and Reykjavik, and I didn't want Leah to know what was going on, as she doesn't know all these facts of life yet.



I panicked.  Using "We haven't gotten Winston a present yet!" as my cover story, Leah and I shopped in every single store in the Brussels airport, and not a single one had feminine supplies with the exception of the duty free store which was selling a box of Tampax for 10 euros, which I resolutely was NOT going to pay.  There were no coin operated machines in any of the 6 toilets we went into, and I could not find a medical or first aid station to go in and beg supplies at.  I finally had to MacGuyver a solution, which was not only uncomfortable, but I was rather insecure about it, and Leah was going crazy with the sheer number of times I was going into a bathroom.

So we eventually got called for boarding, and onto the plane we went, only to discover we were seated across the aisle from each other, not in seats next to each other.  This really set Leah off completely.  I told her I would ask the people who were sitting with us if they would consider trading seats so we could sit together, but unfortunately, sitting next to her were a father and daughter, and sitting next to me were a pair of brothers, and no one wanted to trade.  So we were stuck.  We held hands across the aisle as much as possible, but for a child with serious separation anxiety, it was hard.

They brought her a meal (adults don't get any kind of food, not even snacks on board IA's international flights), and she ate her sandwich, raisins, and drank her juice and we watched movies (I can't say much for IA, but their inflight entertainment was excellent--I watched Eddie the Eagle on the way over, which I had wanted to see for forever and which I LOVED, and on this particular leg of the journey, I watched Spotlight which I didn't think I'd enjoy but very much did and then started the 11.22.63 series, which was awesome).  I made a quick bathroom stop and looked all through the bathroom for rogue supplies, but there were none, so I made do.  Things were going pretty well.

Then we got to Reykjavik and all holy hell broke loose.

I hadn't been real impressed when we got there on Monday July 4 because IA cuts its connections VERY close, and we initially had only 90 minutes to get to our connection, which thanks to a flight delay was cut to 30 minutes, and very nearly missed it.  IA doesn't pull up to a jetty or gangway attached to the airport's physical building--you have to climb down stairs, then get on a bus and get bused over to the terminal.  Then, because Iceland is a gateway to the EU, we had to go through customs to get into the International Departures area, and they had a guard posted at the one escalator you can go up and she only allowed 20 people at a time to go up the escalator.  Once up there, there were 4 lines to get through customs, and there were literally hundreds of people trying to make connections.  All around us, flights were being closed, and there was nothing we could do.  As we neared the front of the line, the flight to Brussels was announced as boarding, and almost immediately flipped to "Final Call".  We managed to get through customs, although the officer tried to give me some shit about traveling "without the father" ("I'm a widow" shut him down pretty quickly), and I told Leah "RUN!"  We got to the boarding area for our flight with about 30 seconds to spare, then we sat on the bus for 15 minutes with no idea what was going on--did we miss the plane?  Were they holding it for us?  Were other people coming?  Thankfully they were just waiting for any straggling passengers.

Ok, so back to 7/18.  We get to Reykjavik and I'm thinking "This will be a breeze, we have almost 2 hours and we don't have to go through customs this time!"  How wrong I was.  We had to go through customs again.  Why, I have no idea.  But we did.  It was the same rigamarole, but for some reason it went much more quickly and we were through customs in about 15 minutes.  And were immediately dumped into the Duty Free shop, which contained the one toilet in the terminal that I could find and that shop let out into the ONE restaurant in the terminal--a convenience store/bar type mock up where you could buy sandwiches and snacks.  Given that IA refuses to feed you, there were a LOT of hungry people and the line was stretching into the duty free area.  Why?  Because in its wisdom, IA decided to have literally 6 flights that were leaving within 20 minutes of each other all at one section of gates that was approximately 150 feet long and 50 feet wide.  It was total and complete chaos. The cashiers for the shop were set up the dump people into terminal area and each of the 6 flights were to major American cities like DC, Denver, Chicago, Minneapolis, etc.  Here's kind of a drawing I did.

The gate that has a star is the one we were assigned to.

Again, all these flights were scheduled at these 6 gates for within 15 minutes of each other.  They finally opened the doors for the gate next to ours (which was going to Denver) and some of those people went down a small hallway, where they got to stand around and wait.  Our doors opened, and there was no indication that any particular class should come forward, that people with children or disabilities should come forward, nothing, so people went totally NUTS pushing into that area because it was clear a riot was close to erupting in the little hallway inside the terminal.  We got up to the front, our tickets were scanned, and immediately I was told that our tickets "have a seating issue".  I was told "You chose comfort economy but you should be in economy, your seats have been changed."

Now, bear in mind, I chose the seats BEFORE I paid for the tickets, so any mistake in pricing would have been on the part of the computer, NOT on my part.  Also, on our trip between Reykjavik and Brussels two weeks prior, we were in the same seats, and it was not a problem whatsoever.  I was totally furious, but "there's nothing we can do, those seats have been sold to someone else."  NICE, right?

So we get on the stupid bus, get bused to the stupid plane, but of course at this stage, they are running 30 minutes late because of the sheer quantities of people they have, the mass confusion, and the lack of buses,  We find our new seats, and I tell Leah that if no one sits next to us, we will spread out.  Well, immediately, a burly Englishman comes and sits next to me (I was in the middle seat, Leah is in the window seat) and proceeds to manspread across his seat and half of mine.  He literally has his arm over top of mine.  And the instant, THE INSTANT, the plane takes off, the woman in front of me fully reclines her seat, which is now one hand's width away from my nose.  And that was how much room I had for the entire flight.

The crew comes around and they have food for sale. I decide I have some Euros in my pocket that I'm not going to use, I will buy myself some dinner.  I order the curry chicken, hand the lady my $13 Euros and she says they will not accept cash, only credit cards.  My bank charges a foreign transaction fee every time I use it outside the US, so I ask why they can't accept cash and she says they just can't.  I was not willing to pay an extra fee on top of the fee for the food, so I hand her the food back and that was that.

Now, the chap next to me orders two bottles of red wine, a hoagie, and a can of chips.  And he settles in, and Leah has her free meal, and suddenly Leah decides she has to go to the bathroom.  I apologize profusely to Manspread, and he picks up his glass of wine to move, and the stewardess backs into him and dumps his red wine all over his white shirt and jeans.  And he is F***ing FURIOUS.  And so the stewardess is trying to address this, and I'm like "PEOPLE!  WE ARE GOING TO HAVE AN ADDITIONAL MESS ON OUR HANDS HERE UNLESS YOU LET ME OUT"...  And between being hungry, hormonal issues, lack of supplies available, jet lag, getting pushed around by strangers, and having ZERO room on this flight, I am starting to completely and totally lose it.

So they finally get out of the way, and I can tell that I'm going to need to make some adjustments, and Leah is absolutely terrified of the airplane bathrooms in ways she has never been afraid of regular toilets, and it was all coming to a head, when we arrive at the one bathroom that is accessible and discover a 7 year old boy has locked himself in, and is having a blast in there and has no real desire to leave.  So me, Leah, and Manspread are in the aisle, he wants to clean up, she wants to pee but is scared, and I'm afraid of free-bleeding everywhere, and we can't get into the bathroom because of a 7 year old Icelandic terror.  FUN TIMES.

Eventually, we get in, Leah goes, I wait for Manspread to go and clean up, but of course, getting red wine out of a white shirt is going to take more than a well-intentioned can of tonic water, so he comes out of the bathroom wet and absolutely fuming, I go in and discover some "issues" that I do my best to resolve, and we go back to our seats.  I wedge myself into my half seat, Manspread does his thing, and I go back to watching TV.  Then Manspread calls the head stewardess, who apologizes profusely and gives him a claim form to be reimbursed for his shirt, and he lights into her about how he agreed to swap seats so some damned married couple could sit together and he hates small children and he hates the small seats and now his clothes are ruined, and I'm listening to this and just thinking "I'm in hell.  I'm trapped in hell and I cannot move."  And that's when the turbulence starts.  And if you're a nervous flyer like me, you don't handle turbulence well.  So I do the one thing I can do:  I turn on "Police Academy" and hide my tears behind some laughter.

A couple of hours later, Leah needs to use the bathroom again, but Manspread is already up, so it's no big deal.  As we come back, we discover that the second round of complimentary beverage service has come to our area, and the stewardesses are giving everyone a second drink.  They move the cart on our behalf, and then walk off, and did not serve me a second drink!!!  The people in the same row but across the aisle from us got drinks, everyone around us got drinks, but they didn't even ask if I wanted anything!  Good job I'd brought a drink with me!

We arrive in Dulles about 30 minutes late, gather up our stuff (Manspread has left a complete trail of destruction in and around his seat, so I just say "Screw it" to leaving a box of cheez-its and a chip bag under the seat--I was miffed about not getting my drink and just exhausted and off we go to face US Customs.  I know there is a citizen line and a non-citizen line, so I'm thinking "This will be a snap!"  No.  In its infinite wisdom, the US government has decided to further complicate the customs process.  Used to be you'd get in the customs line with your form filled out already, hand it to the officer, answer a few basic questions, and out you go.  Now, you have to go get what's called a 'passport receipt'.  Now, Leah had fallen asleep the last 2 hours of the flight, and was BARELY clinging to consciousness.  For this passport receipt process, you have to scan your passport, answer all the questions that you have to answer on the customs form, and then pose for a picture on the computer, which then prints out said picture and you have to hand that paper to the customs official.  Trying to hold up a half-comatose 7 year old for a picture when the computer can't find her because she is too short and get her to open her eyes for the picture, that is NOT fun.  We get our receipts and then I'm thinking, "Well, maybe this means we don't have to deal with customs because we've answered all the questions."  Oh no, you still have to go talk to the customs officer, who checks your receipt against your passport, and you still have to answer all the same questions you've already answered on the customs form and on the computer for the receipt.  So, in case you're keeping track, that's 3 times we've answered these questions in some way, shape or form.

We get done with that, and we go to baggage claim.  I get a text from my sister that they are in the cell phone waiting area.  earlier in the day, I had sent her an SOS about bringing needed supplies to the airport, so I tell her to park and come in, we should be through the arrival doors literally any minute.  We find our suitcases, I get a baggage cart, pile everything on top, and Leah collapses in a heap.  I move towards the doors to get out, only to discover that there's another layer of customs security.  so I dig back through my bag to pull out all the paperwork, and stand in line for TWENTY MINUTES trying to get to the door, to discover that at the exit, they have two customs officers whose sole job it is to collect the customs receipts from you and make sure that they match your passport.  And because everyone thinks they are done when they leave customs, everyone has put their passports away, and now everyone has to dig them back out, including a group of 30 Chinese exchange students whose passports had been collected by a chaperone who was now frantically trying to dole them back out before the students arrived at the front of the line.  The students, who didn't understand the American way of taking alternating turns (each of the two officers had two lines to process), were trying to just jump through and cut the lines, and the officers were constantly sending them back to the 'starting' line position to await their turn, but they had no idea what was going on.

I had really hoped my sister would be there waiting when we came through the arrival doors, but she was trying to find a place to park and I hadn't texted her in time to get inside, and she also had my niece and nephew with her, so we came out and no one was there to greet us, which made me kind of sad, but eventually we found them and it was all I could do not to just burst into tears.  The kids were screaming "Cioci! Cioci! Did you bring us presents!?" I had the foresight to know they'd be there and want their presents early, so I had put them in my backpack, and gave Dot her little golden Eiffel Tower ("Oh, Cioci!  I just LOVE it!  I have always wanted my own Eiffel Tower!") and William his build your own airplane kit (he was struck dumb), I grabbed my sister's backpack and ran for the bathroom, and then paid the parking and we got the hell out of there.  My sister had in mind that she would mess with Waze to see what was the fastest way home, but it wasn't cooperating and I said, "Take the stupid toll road, just get me the hell out of here." so she did.  We made it home in about an hour, which was amazing, and although she offered to stop and get me something to eat, I decided I was far more exhausted than I was hungry, so I told her to just bring me home.  We got Leah into bed and that was the end of it.  I fell into bed almost immediately and was asleep in minutes, curled up with my kitties who had apparently missed me.

This was by far the worst travel experience I've ever had in my life.  I don't' think it's one of those things I will ever even laugh about down the road.  It was almost traumatizing.  I just tell myself "Hey, I'm home!" and that's going to have to be that.  I hope future trips will be far less stressful...  It's good to be home.