Saturday Morning

I open my eyes and the sun is up.  It has been up for some time it appears.  I wonder what time it is.  There's no clock in my room; so I look at the kitchen clock.  7:30 a.m.  (satisfied smile)  I'm on Indiana time.

I'm anxious to sit down and write to you because I feel rested and alert now.  My last post was written in an exhausted haze.  I wanted to make it funny ala Dave Barry, but you'll have to be satisfied with it just the way it is for now.

I remember last year when I came down and wanted to keep a trip diary.  I was so busy that it was difficult to write from day to day.  I ended up trying to summarize what was going on with my Mom's breast cancer treatment at least.  Finally I gave up the whole project because I was so far behind.

This trip has a totally different tone.  I feel relaxed.  When I woke up the first morning, I knew where I was.

The price of all the sleep I missed preparing for this trip is worth it.  I was so tired by the time I got to my parent's house that I went to bed at two in the afternoon.  I had an event scheduled with my family for Thursday evening, but I decided to keep sleeping.  In total I slept for 14 hours and woke up Friday on Indiana time.  I wasn't sure my internal clock was really reset to Eastern time until I woke up this morning.  Perhaps a small thing, but having my internal clock in synch with my family makes for a much more enjoyable visit.

Basketball

Friday evening I am invited to a basketball game.  My cousin is playing; his sister is a cheerleader.  Their grandfather asks me to bring along my camera(s).  Josh is nominated for winter king and Jennifer is nominated for winter queen.

By 6 p.m. I am ready to crash into bed again, but I manage to change and get into the Ranger for the trip to town.  My Dad had only been waiting out on the hill for me for five minutes when I realize he is ready to go.

We arrive near the end of the junior varsity game and watch them win.  The opening ceremonies for the varsity game are quite impressive with a full court flag team and honor guard presentation to the songs, America the Beautiful and My Country Tis of Thee.  Then the choir sings the national anthem a capella. During the last two lines of the anthem, a shiver runs through my body.  Impressive.

My family takes up several rows of bleachers.  Jr. buys me a program so I can keep score.  My adrenaline erases any feelings of sleep deprivation.  I end up with a pencil stuck in my hair, two cameras around my neck, and the score sheet in my hand as I jump up and down during the game.

I don't have any trouble picking Josh out of the crowd of players.  He looks just like his Dad and grandfather. He's one of the stars of the team, along with his friend, Todd.  The two of them have been playing basketball together since the 4th grade.  When Scottsburg's defense collapses on Josh, then the team passes the ball to Todd.  Both of them score in double digits.

Josh and Jennifer are not chosen as Winter King and Queen, but they look genuinely happy for those who are.

Oh, and I almost forgot. They won the game.

Safe and Sound

We arrived at the airport shortly after 3 p.m.  The placed looked empty.  Four or five people were in line for the next Alaska Airlines flight.  The travelers had these large aluminum cases.  Well, whaddya know.  I'm traveling to Anchorage with the Nanooks rifle team.

I won the search lottery and had the privilege of having my luggage examined.  I was under the mistaken impression that all bags were being searched, but evidently this would be impossible with the current manpower and technology.  The woman doing the search asked me, "Do you have anything that is battery operated in your luggage."

"Just my toothbrush," I answered.

"Do you know where it is?" she asked again.

"Yes," and I dug it out for her.  As I grabbed the handle, I triggered the on button and it started vibrating furiously.  It must have went off again sometime during the trip, because when I unpacked, the battery had been removed and was lying alongside it.

She checked the toothbrush for explosive residue with this circular piece of paper that she inserts into a machine.  Then she checked the base that plugs into the wall.  "Anything else that uses a battery."

"No," and then I wondered that if a person did have something they were planning to use for an evil cause would they admit to having it stashed in their suitcase? 

When it was time to go upstairs and go through the security line, I had to take everything that was loose on me and put it in this big plastic tub.  My carry-on bag went through the scanner, and then they looked through it, every container and cosmetic bag.

Then I won the body search lottery when I got to gate.  You go behind this screen where you take off your shoes and overcoat.  Then they scan your whole body.  I was surprised that the hairpins holding my french twist didn't cause a ding of the wand.  While my arms are outstreched, another security women went through my carry-on bag for the second time.  She emptied out each pouch and bag again.  She flipped through my books and opened my camera cases.  No item was left undisturbed.  When she was finished, I had this pile of stuff that looked like it had no chance of fitting back in that small bag.  But I managed.  I have a reputation for fitting five pounds of stuff into a four-pound container.

The couple who sat next to me on the plane had to bring an X-ray with them.  I'm assuming it was to prove that the metal in his body was innocuous.  They were heading to Chicago, and I was entertained by their experience of being out of the country on September 10.  They were scheduled to return to work the next Monday and had quite an adventure figuring out how to get back home.

I tried to sleep on the flights, but the long one from Anchorage to Minneapolis was too full to lie down on the seat. So my head bobbed like one of those cupie dolls you see on auto dashboards as I dozed and woke up every few minutes.

The plane didn't crash.  Here I am to continue to drown you in words about my trip to the lower 48.

Midnight Musings

I hum a song that perseverates in my head as I piddle around here and there doing last minute packing.

Here it is after midnight.  I leave the house at 3 p.m.  I've had 5 hours of sleep since Sunday.  I'm so wired!

I'm not a bit scared about the flight.  I'm a pilot.  Do you suppose the airline would let me fly?.  LOL

Although the prospect of crashing has colored my thinking over the past few days, I'm not scared of crashing, or even of dying.  I figure it'd be terror that is over quickly (unlike being CatMod which was terror that dragged on and on... heh heh).

I keep thinking of all those people who boarded the planes that crashed on September 11  They had no idea what the day had in store  I feel worse for them than I do for myself if I were to find myself in such a position.

Then I think of what I'd wish I'd done before I died.  So I called my sister, my brother, and my Dad already this week to tell them I love them.  They tell me, "We are going to see you Thursday.  We can talk then."  None of us know anything for sure.

Maybe that's why I can't sleep.  So much to do.  So little time.

The words to the song in my head  "...leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again..."

... so what did he want?

He called to tell me, "Don't use the microwave.  I took it apart last night because it was sparking all over the place."

It's a good thing he told me.  I never would have noticed the microwave parts and screws rattling around on the turntable with my hot chocolate.  *wink*

Packing

Before Keith left to be at work at 7 a.m. this morning, we had a long talk.  Then I called my brother and Dad on the telephone because Keith wondered why Curt's line was disconnected.  After I talked with my Dad, I shared what he had told me with Keith.  I walked him to the truck in my bare feet so he could keep on talking to me.  He called me back twice to tell me one more thing.

While I was in the basement, I decided to haul up the suitcases to pack for the trip.  Oh, and anyone who knows me knows how much I love packing.  For trips of former years, the packing was almost enough to cancel the whole vacation.

So I crawled into the area under the stair landing where we keep the suitcases.  I turned on the light and rooted around in all the stuff that had been piled on top everything since the last trip.  I found a suitcase and a matching carry-on bag without too much trouble.  Then I kept looking until I found the small hand truck that I'm going to use to pull the carry-on behind me in the airports.  It will be filled with a ton of photo equipment and it's going to be heaveeeee.

After I was satisfied that I had everything I needed, I started up the stairs.  The two suitcases were a bit bulky, especially the larger of the two which has a handle and wheels.  Because the bigger one was empty, it didn't want to follow me up the stairs.  Every time I jerked it, it would hop up a couple of steps and try to beat me to the next one.  As I'm pulling and ricocheting from one wall to the other, the telephone rings.

Do I go back downstairs and get the phone in the garage, or do I try to dash up the stairs with Mutt and Jeff here that wanna race?  I decide to go for it, and I collide with the front door as I round the corner of the split entry to make the assault up the last seven stairs.  Meanwhile the phone is ringing off the hook.

I clamor to a stop with the hand truck and the tote bag clinging awkwardly to my leg and grab the phone.  "Hello," I pant, hoping the caller doesn't think she's reached an obscene number. 

"Hello," says the caller.  I can't believe it.  It's Keith.  While I'm trying to catch my breath, he's telling me, "I forgot to tell you...."

... and people wonder why I hate packing.

A Wedding

Looks like there's going to be a wedding in our family!  If you haven't heard already, my sister is getting married.  She said I could come if I wanted to.  I said, I'll come if you want me to.  After that exchange, I finally wriggled it out of her that she wants me there.  I think what cinched the deal is that I offered to babysit Christian and Amanda while she and Ray go on a honeymoon.

Now before you get the idea that I'm some sorta saint (NOT), my sister has high-speed Internet access.  Here I sit typing this letter with a 26400 bps connection. and I'm drooling all over the keyboard just thinking about it.  However, I don't know how much time I'll actually have to spend on the computer while I'm taking care of a six-year old and a four-year old.  My sister also babysits for other people's children, and I'm not sure if I've volunteered for that, too.