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24

Apr
2013

No Comments

In Musings

By Lindsey

I’ve been called a lot of things…..

On 24, Apr 2013 | No Comments | In Musings | By Lindsey

Can’t sleep right now.
My hours are a little messed up.
I’m doing my normal morning anchoring and showing up at 10 pm, too.
As I tried to knock myself to sleep with a little ipad time,
(even though I’ve read that the light from ipads can keep you up)
I looked through some of my blog information.
I clicked on the common searches people use through google to find me.
See, it’s usually not that they are actually looking for me, but instead for bands I write about, the nazi astronaut I wrote about the other month or often just my news station. Then they happen upon me.

Though, what I just saw had me squealing with – up too late on a work night – laughter.
Read for yourself and enjoy.
That’s right. I’ve always considered myself a witchy woman.

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15

Apr
2013

No Comments

In Musings

By Lindsey

So sad

On 15, Apr 2013 | No Comments | In Musings | By Lindsey

I ended up staying at work late. I had a hard time finishing my story. The explosions at the Boston marathon are so deeply upsetting. Makes so little sense. I had to come home and, despite my desire to just get in bed, walk in my yard and calm down. I watered and dead headed. Looked at a new sweet weed that is so little and purple. I have real flowers that are blooming, too, and my pansies are still holding strong. Bridget has missed me while I was away on my cruise. She keeps rubbing against me.

Finishing my two full marathons meant so much to me. I can’t imagine qualifying for Boston and then it ended in terror. God bless those innocent people.

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06

Apr
2013

No Comments

In Travel

By Lindsey

Self Described Pale Girl Does Caribbean

On 06, Apr 2013 | No Comments | In Travel | By Lindsey

{ blogging on iPhone leads to funny mistakes and pictures posted twice. Fixing it is hard without messing up the whole post. Please forgive }

::

I think I thought if I imported the pictures and put my thoughts about the trip in a blog it would feel distant.

Less than a week ago I went with my best girl friend’s family to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic.

It was a last minute invite. Of course, I don’t turn down adventure, regardless of inflated airfare. Hey, they can get away with it. I’d pay a pretty hefty sum to return.

I’d never been tropical. As far south as I’d been was key West. When my high school peers were planning Cancun trips I was scheming my way to Europe. I’d always said – look – a beach is a beach. Heck, I grew up on a beach. ( I hope you aren’t cracking MS coast jokes right now )

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Cue skipping record sounds….
A beach is not a beach.
I’m glad I didn’t join the other 17 year olds for a mindless booze fest because walking into our open air house, through the back pool/hot tub and onto the rocky cliff overlooking the Caribbean Sea was a dose of shock, euphoria, and kid-like fascination that grown ups fight hard to get.

For the first time in 10 years I ran into the water and swam. Real swimming where I put my head under water, then floated on my back to the point that sound is blocked and you imagine you are a sea creature. Standing up I saw straight through to my pink toenail polish.

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That connection to true beauty and treat of nature honestly made me emotional. Then I heard Rihanna and some hypnotic club music playing in the distance and remembered I wanted another mojito.

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Back inside you still felt the breeze and heard the wind swaying the palms. The house was essentially two structures. The bedrooms, which were each secured, also had generous balconies and showers that looked over the sea. Often in resort housing or lets say, house hunters international, you see a budget friendly choice of cream tile across the property, cheesy furniture and exposed grout. Not our house. Every detail was planned and selected with care. Hardwoods throughout. Warm smelling cedar shelves in the closets and no Miami Vice borrowed decorations. It was done in such a glamorous yet rustic way that I walked around snapping shots of every corner, serving piece and roof thatching. Throw in some cocktails and I thought I was a photog with Anthony Bordain. It drives Camille, BF, crazy, but I can’t help it. If that’s one of my biggest character flaws I’ll make it.

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The common area was like nothing I’ve seen before, but exactly what a beach house should be – the outside in. It rains, you smell it. You forget your book inside, you run from the pool without opening a door.

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The staff at the resort/our house prepared local meals with fresh produce and meat. Even the pig that the head cook ( I call him a chef ) told me….was just snoozing. The lobster sizzled on the grill and later left us eating in a trance with butter running down our arms and faces. The men on the staff every night walked the grounds and gathered bright flowers and foliage to decorate the dinner table. Hibiscus and bouganvilla mixed with the brightest flowers we couldn’t identify.

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I don’t ever want to forget these things. That’s what travel does. It gives us moments to remember when say, I don’t want to wake up at 2:30 am, getting up to make your own coffee feels laborious or the simple pace is replaced with worry for loved ones and our futures. I am thankful the Breland family treats me as one of their own, not just on this trip, but at Christmas and other times where my family is far away.

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– Full disclosure. Spring vacation 2013 is still happening. As I write, I’m on the train to meet mom in NOLA where tomorrow we will board the Norwegian Star for Mexico, Honduras and Belize. Yes, I know, cruises are selling about as much as hummers right now, but this is a result of me drinking two glasses too much wine and bidding on the cruise at a benefit back in Sept. So, here it goes- bring on fanny packs, overweight bikini wearers, overpriced excursions and cheesy souvenirs. Actually, though, the way I look at it, if cruises are out of my authenticity loving character then going on a cruise is actually authentic and adventurous for me. It’s all about spin, baby.

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04

Apr
2013

No Comments

In Travel

By Lindsey

U.S. Airways Attacking My Happiness

On 04, Apr 2013 | No Comments | In Travel | By Lindsey

 

I threw my bags down after the U.S. Airways gate rep told me I’d missed the flight. With my breathing more strained than when I finished both full marathons, I sat down for a good four minutes. The rep continued looking at me waiting for the expected rant. Breathing under control, but with sweat still running down my body, I finally stood and approached her. I’d used my four minutes to chill, really chill. The reason I’d missed my 7:49 pm flight back to Memphis started way before she’d entered my airport drama.

It started 4 hours earlier when my flight from beautiful, paradise-like, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic was an hour late taking off. Who knows why, I don’t.

From there it went about as you’d expect. There were no airline reps when we landed in Charlotte to help those with immediate connection flights make their way to the front of the meandering Ellis Island styled line to hand over my deceleration form to a customs employee.

As you already know I didn’t make my flight, but what I did do was a culmination of life lessons learned the hard way. You see, I had to anchor the news Monday morning requiring a 2:30 a.m. alarm. If I wanted to get enough sleep I was going to have to fight for it, in the calmest “I don’t want to get arrested in an airport” kind of way I could manage, in the middle of holding in a full rage, fit for a death metal soundtrack.

I stood in that unreasonable line for about ten minutes, all the while trying to have a reasonable conversation with the only airline rep I could find. It didn’t matter what I said, all she repeated to me was that, “Mam, I can’t create a line just for you.” Despite the fact that I was more than willing to invite other unfortunates like me into the special ” I’m about to miss my flight” line, she didn’t find it reasonable.

Then I saw my next move like a glistening oasis.

To the far left of the Ellis Island room hung a sign:

Special needs, dignitaries, and flight crew only – HERE

I did a very successful limbo performance under 15 ropes entertaining the other unfortunates, and got in my new line. Within seconds the flight crew was eying me. They didn’t agree that my U.S. Airways responsible anxiety constituted special needs but they did finally do the reasonable thing and walk me to the front of the 250 person line. With all their eyes burning through my still sun block lathered hair, I barked at the customs man that, “yes, I went to an exotic island alone.”

With that I was off on a mile long, doomed from the beginning, sprint to the gate, which would inevitably leave me getting only three hours of sleep Sunday night, despite my best planning.

During those four minutes of missed flight chilling, I repeated several new mantras. Including but not limited to:

– be happy now
– life isn’t fair
– make your own reality
– don’t worry over what you can’t control
– I hate U.S airways ( joking, but it felt good to write)

In the airport before I flew to the DR I bought “the happiness project.” I love self help books and want as much happy as I can get, plus I thought my typical read about Stalin could put a damper on the beachside vibe.

It’s a sweet little read that clearly came at the right time. Instead of yelling, crying and falling on the ground, like I wanted to….. I analyzed, acted and accepted.

No one was going to help me. In life, if we sit back quietly, we not only miss our flights, but shoulder some of the blame. So what if I was “that woman”? If I hadn’t done what I did, chances are someone would have said, ” why didn’t you just tell someone you were going to miss your flight?” You know that’s how it works and then you say to yourself, “Next time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Now, my classifying this as a personal growth opportunity doesn’t mean I’m not going to harass the airline until they give me a free flight voucher and refund my nasty airport dinner, but I did giggle all the way home, much better than sulking with resentment.

I think that Punta Cana sun was good for me. Another note, thank goodness I never check my bags!

Tags | , ,

04

Apr
2013

No Comments

In Travel

By Lindsey

U.S. Airways Attacking My Happiness

On 04, Apr 2013 | No Comments | In Travel | By Lindsey

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I threw my bags down after the U.S. Airways gate rep told me I’d missed the flight. With my breathing more strained than when I finished both full marathons, I sat down for a good four minutes. The rep continued looking at me waiting for the expected rant. Breathing under control, but with sweat still running down my body, I finally stood and approached her. I’d used my four minutes to chill, really chill. The reason I’d missed my 7:49 pm flight back to Memphis started way before she’d entered my airport drama.

It started 4 hours earlier when my flight from beautiful, paradise-like, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic was an hour late taking off. Who knows why, I don’t.

From there it went about as you’d expect. There were no airline reps when we landed in Charlotte to help those with immediate connection flights make their way to the front of the meandering Ellis Island styled line to hand over my declaration form to a customs employee.

As you already know I didn’t make my flight, but what I did do was a culmination of life lessons learned the hard way. You see, I had to anchor the news Monday morning requiring a 2:30 a.m. alarm. If I wanted to get enough sleep I was going to have to fight for it, in the calmest “I don’t want to get arrested in an airport” kind of way I could manage, in the middle of holding in a full rage, fit for a death metal soundtrack.

I stood in that unreasonable line for about ten minutes, all the while trying to have a reasonable conversation with the only airline rep I could find. It didn’t matter what I said, all she repeated to me was that, “Mam, I can’t create a line just for you.” Despite the fact that I was more than willing to invite other unfortunates like me into the special ” I’m about to miss my flight” line, she didn’t find it reasonable.

Then I saw my next move like a glistening oasis.

To the far left of the Ellis Island room hung a sign:

Special needs, dignitaries, and flight crew only – HERE

I did a very successful limbo performance under 15 ropes entertaining the other unfortunates, and got in my new line. Within seconds the flight crew was eying me. They didn’t agree that my U.S. Airways responsible anxiety constituted special needs but they did finally do the reasonable thing and walk me to the front of the 250 person line. With all their eyes burning through my still sun block lathered hair, I barked at the customs man that, “yes, I went to an exotic island alone.”

With that I was off on a mile long, doomed from the beginning, sprint to the gate, which would inevitably leave me getting only three hours of sleep Sunday night, despite my best planning.

During those four minutes of missed flight chilling, I repeated several new mantras. Including but not limited to:

– be happy now
– life isn’t fair
– make your own reality
– don’t worry over what you can’t control
– I hate U.S airways ( joking, but it felt good to write)

In the airport before I flew to the DR I bought “the happiness project.” I love self help books and want as much happy as I can get, plus I thought my typical read about Stalin could put a damper on the beachside vibe.

It’s a sweet little read that clearly came at the right time. Instead of yelling, crying and falling on the ground, like I wanted to….. I analyzed, acted and accepted.

No one was going to help me. In life, if we sit back quietly, we not only miss our flights, but shoulder some of the blame. So what if I was “that woman”? If I hadn’t done what I did, chances are someone would have said, ” why didn’t you just tell someone you were going to miss your flight?” You know that’s how it works and then you say to yourself, “Next time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Now, my classifying this as a personal growth opportunity doesn’t mean I’m not going to harass the airline until they give me a free flight voucher and refund my nasty airport dinner, but I did giggle all the way home, much better than sulking with resentment.

I think that Punta Cana sun was good for me. Another note, thank goodness I never check my bags!

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