Baja Tuesday's...A Journey Through Hilarity

**Chapter 2 The Phoenix Shenanigans**

Before I even begin I must pause and give our pilot credit for an unusually speedy trip to Phoenix. We landed in quite a bit less than two hours from our departure in Portland, taxied up to the gate, our pulses hammering, determined to make that flight to Cabo. US airways has two flights to Cabo each day, and judging by the middle aged men in palm tree printed shirts and women in straw hats who have joined us on our delayed flight to Phoenix, it was a safe assumption that other Portlanders are on their way south as well...other Portlanders with real tickets. We hope to make the first flight, but our chances are slim.
I have sat staring out the window for a little over an hour. I am angry and worried and cursing myself for flying standby, even though the discount seemed worth it. My stomach hurts and I regret the many cups of in-flight coffee I have consumed. Ryan is relaxed, but he is always relaxed. Dave is socializing and looks perky. Am I the only one who realizes the pressure we're under here? Apparently so. My right eye is twitching and I wonder if anyone notices.
I am thinking very powerful, positive thoughts about sand and palm tree's in an effort to will us to Mexico as our shining 747 approaches the wide-spread arms of the city, a city I have never seen, and the far reaching desert sands and mighty palms come into view. I make a mental note to be more specific when I think things into being. Fate has a funny sense of irony.
As would be expected, the airport is packed with individuals who have been displaced by the cancellation in Portland, lines are forming at every counter, people are grumpy and rumpled. The sun is rising beyond the windows and I have to say, we did take a minute to stop and look at this purgatorial city where we were being held. We also stopped to ask directions, amazing with two men with us, and then started running.
Let it be said, the airport in Phoenix is enormous. Dauntingly enormous. And, as Murphy would have it, the gate for the Cabo flight was located at precisely the OTHER end of this dauntingly enormous complex. We ran. Ryan took off sprinting while I carried both sets of luggage. He would get our names on the list, which was the most important thing on earth to any of us at that moment. I have made the capital error of wearing very high heeled, uncomfortable (though stylish) boots and am now waddling, twitching and muttering like a crazy crippled person with four bags through the airport. I have taken great pains to look nice for this trip, but cute or not, crazy is crazy, and people are staring.
I make it to the gate and Ryan is waiting- he has not been the first on the list. There are many others ahead of us and our prospects do not look good. Here are all those golden-agers in their palm tree shirts and straw hats. They've paid someone to ferry them to the gate in a golf cart. I thought I caught the mixed scent of Old Spice and Jean Nate' wiz by me in the corridor. I hate them now for their unrumpled selves.
We wait again and soon the shirts and hats board the plane. The door closes and the customer service agent shoots us a slightly apologetic glance before walking back to the counter to tell us to try again later. More waiting, but this time with lunch and beer. At the counter again several hours later we watch another crowd of shirts and hats board our plane for Mexico. We hate them collectively now, it's not just me. Like it or not, we are in Phoenix for the night.
This is NOT what I had in mind. I look at my watch and consider that if all had went as planned, I would be sipping a tropical beverage and lying by the pool at our resort at that moment. The disappointment is staggering.
Dave and Eileen were calm, they are along for the ride, they say. Ok then. I am doing self-talk at this point, which differs from talking to yourself only in that you do not have to do it out loud. Also, I felt that adding 'talking to oneself' to waddling, twitching and muttering could just put my traveling companions over the top themselves and so refrained for their sake.
Dave uses the public phone and, as is typical of Dave, scores a deal with someone from the shuttle service of the Radisson. There is no room for us in the Inn, he says, but for $5 he can take us to a much less expensive motel behind the Radisson (a stable perhaps?) and with a quick phone call, he can also pick us up in the morning and bring us back to the airport. Well, ok. That sounds good. And this is where the story takes a turn for the more pleasant.
We are picked up in an air conditioned shuttle and make friendly and funny small talk with our driver for the five minutes it takes to get to the cheap motel. My twitching finally stops. It is not ramshackle or falling down and it is definitely cheap. There's also a Waffle House a block away. What more could one want?
We settle in, which means we dump our bags on the floor, and I half-heartedly wipe the raccoon-like mascara from under my eyes. The driver has agreed to pick us up in the morning for our pre-dawn flight. I have started to breathe again and am thinking about waffles.
Sadly, I cannot recommend the Waffle House by the Phoenix airport to any of you. It was a diner. With a very sticky floor. The food was food. That's it. However, at the end of that particular day, it was all we could ask for. Something was said during this 'meal' that cracked us all up- I cannot remember now what it was- but fatigue had set in and we were all a little looney. Needless to say, the mood lifted and of course, when you're completely exhausted, slightly nauseated and in a new city- what does one think to do? Why, pinochle of course!
We stumble back to our motel and crash in Dave and Eileen's room with a deck of cards and several cans of pop from the mini bar between us. And then it happens. Ryan sits on the edge of the bed just right and we discover, much to our fatigued entertainment, that this particular bed makes a delightful farting noise when you squish the mattress at the end. That was it. We were goners. Eileen and I were literally rolling with laughter which, of course, brought on the full comedic routine from the guys.
Ryan leans in on the bed and, "Brrrrrrppppppttttttt!" Oh, too funny. Root Beer is threatening to explode out of my nose. Dave gets in on the joke and leaps up onto the bed to do his version of a polka, "Brrrppttttyyy, brrrrpppty, burrrrrrrrpttty." There is nothing like an old guy doing a polka on a motel room bed in the middle of the night to set things right again, I'll tell ya.
Standing, dancing, jumping on the magic mattress at midnight produced in us a display of juvenile delinquency the likes of which no one has ever seen. And you have to admit, a farting bed is pretty funny.
Eventually, however, we did tire of our new sport and fell into our own non-farting bed down the hall for a quick 'nap' before our 6 am flight. Dave called our driver early the next morning only to find out the shuttle was full. If we walked around to the Radisson entrance, he would arrange something, he said. We walked and then we waited. In the end, we were taken to the Phoenix airport, for $5, by a beautiful, private towncar from the Radisson. God bless Dave and his ability to make friends with random strangers.
The airport was abandoned at that time of morning, save for a few, like us, who signed up for the red-eye, raw deal flights. We were desperate and again hopeful as we approached the US Airways counter to be met by a frazzled looking employee. She had had car trouble and had been late for work. We sympathized and told her our own story of lateness. She sympathized and we were suddenly friends (thanks Dave). She went out of her way to make sure we were set up for our return flight as well, something Portland had failed to do, and we bought her a latte. The importance of being especially nice to given individuals is not lost on me. Also, bribing people with coffee is not a bad idea either.
We watch the sun rise in the Phoenix airport, sip our Starbucks and wait. I make a trip to the restroom and have asked Ryan to find an ATM while I am gone. Better to get our cash out before we leave the country, is my thought. We return. We wait. This is standby. Uncertainty and adventure and acid reflux. I pop a Tums and they begin to board the plane. They signal to us. We are on, thank the Maker.I am breathing. I am not twitching and I am only talking to myself when it becomes absolutely necessary. Signs of progress.
The sun has risen over the red hills of Arizona and our plane is pushing away from earth. Dave is socializing again, telling our story, laughing. I can see his cowboy hat several seats behind me bobbing up and down with conversation. Eileen is relaxed and happy, but I feel no need to share in her medicated bliss this time. Ryan is somewhere. We have not been seated together. He would not want to be seated with me now anyway, I am all business, there is no small talk left. I order coffee and listen to two women behind me order the first of many rounds of Bloody Mary's.
They are wasted by the time we reach Cabo San Lucas Airport and are standing on their seats and falling forward onto mine. I am ready to crawl through the tiny airplane window to get away from them, but this desire is quelled by the fact that we are actually here. I can put up with anything now.
We step carefully down the long flight of steps to the tarmac. I secretly hope the two Cavorting Idiots who sat behind me fall to their demise, but I try to make my face neutral, and also I remember the last time I tried to will something to happen and it backfired, so I let the thoughts go. The Cavorting Idiots would probably fall on me. We make our way to the terminal where there are friendly people in uniforms to greet us. "Bienvenidos to Mexico!" They say with pleasure. I raise one eyebrow, forever the skeptic.
Welcome, indeed.
Finally.

**Please stay tuned for next week's episode of Baja Tuesday's, Sand, Surf and a Sucker in a Cowboy Hat**

Baja Tuesday's...A journey through hilarity

Chapter 1- An exercise in futility...and patience...and coffee consumption.

It is still tiring to think about that first morning. We'd spent the night at the Sr. K's the night before in order to avoid the 80 mile drive to the airport the next morning at 1 am. However, I do not feel absolutely certain it was helpful to do this as it just gave the four of us the opportunity to sit up excitedly talking about the upcoming trip, which we did.
Selfless Brother Kyle was coming to pick us up at 2:30 in the morning to take us to the airport for our 5:20 am flight and I'm not ashamed to say that by the time he arrived, the excitement had faded and been replaced by sober disbelief at finding ourselves awake, dressed and required to think at that ungodly hour. You will never know how patient you are capable of being until you are running on 2 hours of sleep (or no sleep) and dealing with other human beings.
Aaannnyway, so we were off, or so we thought, and feeling pretty good about ourselves, too, until we walked into PDX, strutted confidently up to the US Airways counter and looked about. It was 3:15 am. There was no one there.
We proceeded to stand there like dorks for over an hour, shifting from one foot to another, sitting on our bags, cracking jokes, looking worried- when finally at 4:30 the lights behind the counter switch on and a few stragglers in uniforms come to the computers, read a fax or two, hustle about with concern on their faces...
"Well Good Morning!" says Dave to a tired looking employee behind the counter. The man does not smile.
"Which flight are you here for?" Asks the man as he takes Dave's ticket for inspection and then says those two little syllables no traveler likes to hear, especially the traveler who's been awakened at 2 am to catch their flight.
"Uh oh."
"Uh oh?" Asks Dave, and every ear in line behind him, mine, Ryan's, everyones- because of course by 4:30 the smart people had shown up and were also in line- pricks at the sound of the Travelers Doom- Uh oh.
"Yeah, this flight had a mechanical failure and was canceled. Did you check the flight schedule online this morning?"
"Uh...no."
"Yeah, well, it's been canceled. We're trying to reroute everyone."
At this point the entire body of waiting individuals disbands and simultaneously reaches for their cell phones, presumably to abuse some poor soul on the other end because they, in spite of their extra sleep, are also unhappy about this change in plans.
"So, what do we do? We're flying standby.." Editors note: Did I mention we were flying standby???- "..and we'll need to catch another flight to Phoenix."
"Standby- hmmm." Another ominous sound. At this point he calls in a manager to deal with our pitiful, non-paying-customer situation. "I'm guessing," says the manager upon her arrival, "that the 8 o'clock flight will be packed with all the people who aren't getting on this flight and you probably won't be able to get on that one either." She's furiously typing something on the computer while talking. "And...Let's see here...yep, that's the last flight to Phoenix for the day. You're welcome to try again tomorrow on the 5:20 am."
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow." Repeats the small, frizzy-headed object of our loathing.
We fall away from the counter and into a huddle, like four middle aged football players, shoulder to shoulder.
"Here's the plan." Says Dave. Thank God we took Dave as I was ready to get a latte and forget the whole thing. "We're waiting for the 8 o'clock flight. I bet all these suckers are going to flee like rats from a sinking ship *his actual words* and book flights with other airlines. I think if we wait it out, there'll be plenty of room for us on the 8 o'clock."
We look at our watches. Only three hours and fifteen minutes to go. Kyle has long since left and is probably back in Damascus sleeping by now.
So we waited. And waited. I emailed Robin, our valiant travel agent, with the report of the canceled flight. We ate scones, breakfast sandwiches and Starbucks and shamelessly eavesdropped on other travelers phone calls to better determine their plans. We hurried up to the flight attendants when they arrived and got our names on the standby list (there's a list, you know). We again waited and watched the crowd of other waiters grow.
It couldn't possibly have been more last minute. The attendants began boarding the plane and I'm telling you, it was a huge crowd of people with real tickets. We, however, did not have real tickets. We had slips of paper that basically said, "Hey, if you have a spare seat anywhere, including in the john, we'd consider it a favor if you'd let these poor suckers on your plane. I know it's an inconvenience, and you certainly don't have to do it. But, if you wanted to, had the chance, felt even the teensiest bit inclined, we'd sure appreciate it..." That's how the fine print read anyway.
By some miracle, just as the last real customer boarded, the attendant looks over at Dave and yells, "We've got 4 seats! Hurry up!!" And with our hearts and the last remnants of stale egg sandwiches stuck in our throats, we scooped up our bags and ran for it, beggars of the skies. If this plane was on time to Phoenix, we would have exactly 62 minutes to make it to the next gate upon arrival, get our names on the blasted list and hopefully board the flight to Cabo. This could still work.
We hustle onto the plane, stuff our bags into any available compartment we could find and happily plop down into these four, random seats. The plane sits. The lights go on. The lights go off. On again, bell dings- hope. Then off. Oh for the love of God.
At long last we begin to taxi out. Things may work out yet. We sit. We taxi back. Seriously this is getting ridiculous, people.
"Ladies and gentleman..." Not a good sign.
"We're experiencing some technical difficulties. There is a warning light on in the cockpit and our captain would like to have maintenance check it out before departure. We'd appreciate your patience at this time and we'll try to be in the air as soon as possible. Thank you."
*Ohforpetessake*
Several minutes go by. We are looking at our watches, all except Eileen who has self medicated for the flight we will perhaps not be taking. She is looking relaxed and happy and I'm wondering if she has enough to share.
Lights on. Lights off. On again. This time they stay on and the bell dings.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are set for take off. Please fasten your seat belts and place your trays in an upright position."
By the time we are really in the air I calculate that we will have exactly 21 minutes between landing and the departure of our flight to Cabo, also standby. I have my doubts. How fast can Eileen run, anyway? We'll all find out soon enough. I lay my head back and begin to calculate the speed I will have to run in order to make the next flight. The variables are frustrating. What is the distance to the gate? How far apart are my steps when running? How many people will be in the terminal upon our arrival and thus slow my speed? Will I, or will I not, be physically dragging two 60 year olds through the Phoenix airport, because that could slow progress by approximately 43%? Too many variables. We are in flight. It is Monday.

**please stay tuned for next weeks episode of Baja Tuesday's, The Phoenix Shenanigans.**

Cancun Bound

Well, it looks like it's actually happening! We've been talking about taking another trip this year and heading down to the Yucatan peninsula somewhere for a few days just to refresh, relax and kick back. Our trip to Cabo was so amazing last year that we couldn't wait to go again. And so, in a moment of madness, I went ahead and booked it! We hadn't even decided for sure yet, and as everyone does, we certainly have other things that our money could be spent on- but we're only young once, and, well- we just wanted to. It must be part of this whole Growing-Up-And-Realizing-We're-The-Master-Of-Our-Fate' thing we're going through. Frankly, I like it.
We leave in September, after the kids have started school- (my wonderful mother has offered to watch them for us while we're away)- and we'll be gone for a whole week, doing nothing, drinking pina coladas, lying in the sun, snorkeling, etc. I absolutely CANNOT wait.
I seriously think I blocked out the part of last years vacation in which we boarded the plane to come home because I can't remember it at all...I do remember walking into the rain covered terminal at PDX when we arrived home though, and Ryan LITERALLY talking me through the airport..."Honey, keep walking. What are you stopping for?"
"I don't want to go home. I'm going to get back on the plane."
"You can't get back on the plane. And even if you did, you'd still be in Portland."
"They might take me back."
"No they wouldn't"
"How do you know?! I hate you."
"You're right. You should try to get back on the plane. You never know. They might take you back."
This remark was followed by other rude comments from me and I will refrain from posting them as they do not paint me in an altogether flattering light. Needless to say, I underwent some 'post-vacation blue's' which literally took me weeks to come out of. If one considers that I have been a mother since I was 18 years old and had never left home before that- and then was swamped to my red-rimmed eyeballs with baby after baby and diaper after diaper for 7 years...then one has a much easier time understanding why it was difficult for me to leave a tropical vacation where frothy beverages and white sand beaches were readily available.
At any rate- it is my humble opinion that couples need to play together as often as possible, and so we're doing just that in a little fishing village called Puerto Juarez just north of Cancun in a short 11 weeks. Woo-hoo!!
As a fun way to prep you all for the Cancun trip- because you know I'll be blogging from there- I'm going to begin posting short anecdotes from our Cabo trip last fall. This should be amazingly interesting for all of us, as you'll all get a much more descriptive idea of our journey south of the border with mom and dad K.

I notice my creative and amazingly inventive sister-in-law,JK, regularly posts Menu Plan Monday's, something I'll never be able to do as it would look a lot like a McDonalds Drive through Menu- however, I'll do something a little more up my alley and post 'Baja Tuesday's- a journey through hilarity'. This is going to be so good.... I'm laughing already.

Annual Father's Day Camping Trip

Ok, well, first- In our defense- this picture was taken on day 3 of the trip when we'd been sandblasted on the beach by wind, pummeled by children, had had no sleep in 2 nights due to COLD temps and coughing children, etc. etc. That pretty much sums up the trip to Newport for this years annual Father's Day retreat. It was AWESOME! As you can see, the weather was incredible and even after all that we were still smiling- sort of.
I absolutely LOVE this annual trip as it's always more fun to go with such great friends:) The weekend was full of s'mores, sand, surf and was, in spite of the NSF (No Sleep Factor), pretty relaxing to leave the schedule at home for the weekend and just concentrate on playing...and eating:)

The moms enjoyed the beach time (minus the howling wind) as we were able to sit in the sun while the dads and kids played and tried to control the kites in the gale force gusts. As all good Newport tourists should, we visited the aquarium and were pretty shocked/grossed out by a few of their newest residents in the OddWater Exhibit. Chelsea and I agreed that Spider Crabs from Japan were not our deal at all... the kids and guys however, totally loved it. These were SMALL specimens, by the way.



Day 3 took us up the coast a few miles to the Yaquina Head Lighthouse and Tidepools. The weather was still amazing and made for some great pictures. Too bad you can't photograph WIND as it would give you a much more accurate idea of conditions . We've decided that 2008 will be the year we really break in all that camping gear we've been acquiring and have decided to take Oregon Adventure Weekends all summer long. If you all have any suggestions on great places see here in Oregon, let me know!

Thoughts on simplicity...or clearing our plates

For those of you out there who, like me, are prideful, arrogant and full of themselves, you will totally get what I'm about to say- for those of you who are genuinely humble, you'll still think you're somewhat prideful due to all that humility and you'll probably get it, too.
I have actually and literally HEAPED my proverbial plate full of things I don't actually LIKE doing just because they make me feel good about myself or deepen the sense of inflated ego, which is such a nice feeling... and so lately, I've been clearing my plate, taking one ministry/relationship/activity at a time and asking myself, "Do I love this? Do I need this? Does it bring me gladness?" and I am appalled and saddened by the realization that very little in my life brings me honest joy or gladness.
And this obviously does not include my children or my marriage- the children because of course they don't bring a whole lot of gladness, they're WORK with a capital W. And they're a challenge and they're frustrating and more often than not I have no idea what trick will magically turn them into self-sustaining, independent, well adjusted, fabulously wealthy investment bankers (which is secretly what we all want our children to become). They do make me laugh occasionally, but I don't think that counts....They offer a sense of continuity, they make noise, which I like, and they are wonderful people whom I enjoy spending time with- but they do not make me go, "Gee, this really is LIVING- I feel utterly fulfilled in my life and will never need one blessed thing for myself again, including being able to go to the bathroom without someone tattling through the door, because these small people replica's are literally IT for me."
My marriage however, does bring some very honest gladness for at least 50% of the time, which is better than the current national average for divorce, so I figure I'm doing fine on that front. Plus, I think that even after 8 years married and 9 years together, I'm actually still in love with him, which is nothing to sneeze at. So let's leave those two area's, marriage and family, out of this.
Everything else, however, is and has been, under serious scrutiny. I'm looking at relationships differently, jobs differently, volunteer work differently and I think the bottom line is that I'm finally realizing that my time is extremely valuable. First because this thing called time is actually my LIFE being lived out and I don't want to waste one second of it doing something I don't believe in or can't endorse 100%.
I'm not immortal. I won't live forever. And I don't want old age to creep up on me and surprise me when I'm 70 when there's no time left to go back and change the way I lived or do things I always wanted to do but didn't have the courage. I think, and I don't want to offend anyone when I say this- but I'm going to say it anyway, that Fundamental Christians often do themselves and injustice by perpetually watching the skies for Jesus' return and secretly, and sometimes not so secretly, planning renovations on their mansion in heaven. Very often in doing so, they rob themselves of the joy of living this life now. We take verses such as 'you are in the world, but not of the world' and other favorites which imply, often through our personal interpretation alone, that we should not value our lives so much as to shrink from death, mutilate them to mean that we should not value our lives at all, and then use them as an excuse to avoid living altogether.
Well, here's my thought on that subject, not that you asked for it- We should absolutely be embracing life for every tender, fragile breath that comes into our bodies, for every moment with our loved ones, for every cup of coffee with friends, for every challenge with our children and every broken heart because at least we have that breath, that moment, that friend, that child, that heart to break. I am reminded of Esther and those famous words from Mordecai, "But who knows that you did not become Queen for such a time as this?"
I only know that for me, to live perpetually in the oft feeble hope of a postmortem paradise and cease to claim the life that I'm living now- simply no longer works. Because who knows that I was not born for such a time as this, that I am not a friend for such people as are friends to me, that I am not a mother to such children as are mine. I am no longer able to be co dependent on God to improve my life or make up for all my failures and shortcomings in an eternal heaven where all is well and all the kinks have been worked out.
That's a lovely thought- but I don't want to sit around waiting for life to end so it can begin (maybe) again and totally miss the boat- not to mention the point- on the life He's given me.
So I'm taking a breath, re-evaluating everything, and living a life that brings me joy and gladness and enough hope to take me through what sorrows come to all of us in some way or other- because there just isn't enough time left to waste one moment.

ps- as I have received nothing but complaints on the 'No Cooking' rule I am revising it to read thusly: Melissa is no longer cooking, unless she wants to.

FAMILY

Isn't that the way everyone carries a kid?
No? Hm. I don't know what to say about that- except that we all had a pretty good time in spite of Summer's inverted point of view. Ryan's parent's came up this past weekend to visit and we took a trip over to Horse thief Lake for a few hours. The weather was decent (which means it didn't rain on us) and the kids were so grateful to get out of the house!
I broke my new cooking rule and BBQ'd ribs and made a cobbler- but it was a really easy meal, so I don't think it counts. And also it was MY rule and I can break it if I want to.


Dave and Eileen were resplendent as always and the whole thing was reminiscent of Cabo and our fun times together. Our question remains; when in the world are they going to retire and move away from Portland's RAIN??