Willing the phone to ring

This is me when the phone rings! "WOAH!"

When we were younger (or from age 14 until I met my husband) some of us girls would will the phone to ring. We would just stare at it, loathe it for not ringing, and jump like a frightened kitten when it would finally ring!

But then we meet our Prince Charming and exhale a wonderful sigh of relief that we will never have to stare at our phones praying it would ring. That guy gave us a ring! No need to worry.

Right?

Wrong!

I realized during this past week that there is actually a grown-up equivalent to this. It happens when you decide to sell your house. We feel judged like our younger selves when someone doesn't want our house. And I promise you, the anxiety I feel is pretty close to that of my teenage self, except now I have to hold it together. Nobody will empathize with a grown woman who is breaking down because her house didn't sell it's first week on the market. Nope, nobody wants to hear that b*ll$hit!

But alas, here I am....with my phone next to me 24/7 willing my Realtor to call/text with some good news. And here I wait...

Wait, did you want to know WHY we are selling our house? Oh man, I will have to write that story next! Chronological order is for the birds!

I figured out the women of Paris

And it isn't that they don't get fat!

I like to observe people and how they live. I find people fascinating! Why do they do whatever it is they are doing. What ARE they doing?
Recently, I was in Paris with hubby. Traveling with a husband you normally spend only half of your time with can be interesting. We haven't spent this much time together since our honeymoon. And, a beach/chill honeymoon is very different than a hurried and less romantic trip to Amsterdam and Paris - but that's another story. Back to people of Paris.

Paris is full of fabulous people. Even the garbage men are attractive in a way only a Parisian garbage man can be. The women and their looks, shoes and overall air is remarkable. Then there are the men. Handsome and pretty metro-sexual in suits or jeans- and make both options look fabulous! Even the children make us Americans feel less fabulous. The clothing ads show children with their pouts. The toddler in his stroller with his fabulous hat and scarf being walked by his equally impressive parents.

Everyone is slightly fabulous, this is obvious. But after a while I could help notice differences beyond their obvious fabulousness and my lack thereof.


Parisian women and American women in my opinion have differences in three main areas:

• Makeup
• Jewelry
• Expressions

The makeup - I couldn't help but notice how beautiful all these French women looked (and very similar to how beautiful the women in Amsterdam were too). Yes, they may claim to wear less makeup, but it is really HOW they wear it that makes the difference. They do not wear eye makeup the way we do; if they wear it at all, and I don't mean some of the women, I mean all of them from high school aged to adults. Mascara...yes. Eyeliner...sometimes. Eyeshadow...almost never unless they all wear a secret nude shade that makes them all look marvelous. No, I'm pretty sure my eye makeup gave me away, unless my other faults did so first.

The jewelry - They wear it, just not like us. Not many gaudy necklaces or blingy watches. Don't get me wrong, I love my sparkly Michael Kors watch and the necklaces that seem to say "Hello" without screaming it; but even that was much more than the Parisian women. Then there were the wedding rings. You know how "bigger is better" for rocks in the US? Well, not at all the case in France. IF a woman wore a ring, it was just one and more often than not it was a single gold band. No comparing sparkles with friends, no "Oh let me see that rock!" after an engagement. Just simple and still beautiful rings on the fabulous married women of Paris.

Then the expressions - the one thing I could never change about myself. They aren't very expressive. Sure they can do that Paris-pout but what about laughter, excitement or disgust and not the Parisian's disgust with American tourists we all imagine, but the lip-curling, eye-rolling, head-turning disgust we Americans do not even try to hide? I see none of it! I watch and listen and wait -  on trains, at restaurants and elsewhere I see and hear none of it! I laughed out loud (LOLed if you will)  at a cafe and felt immediately embarrassed! With Americans, we laugh, we giggle and yes, we even roll our eyes with not much worry that it is inappropriate. I have a very tough time not showing my feelings on my face - even when I am actively trying (just ask my former boss who had multiple sit-down meetings with me about my involuntary facial expressions and her disgust with them...I HAVE TRIED!).

Ah well, I guess my Midwest-Cowgirl hybrid of America has no interest in turning French although I do like the makeup style. But I liked that first and most in the Amsterdam pancake restaurant when the beautiful women were so friendly and beautiful. But my subtle bling and facial expressions are going no where!

How the other half fly

Actually, it is probably more like the other 10 percent. I say 10 percent because there are like 200 seats in coach and about 20 in business or first class. So yes...10 percent sounds right for a lot of reasons; but I digress.

I have flown first class before; going from AZ to OH or NY. Don't get me wrong, it's nice, but nothing so outrageous that I would actually consider pay for a first class fare...ever!

Then we went to Europe first class. From Seattle to Amsterdam, we sat in Business Class on Delta. First off, Delta won my heart on a recent trip to OH when the gate agents were so kind it made my long day much better, followed by the flight attendant asking if I was old enough to sit in the exit row! Delta rocks in my book!

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We walk in the cabin and are greeted with mimosas, which is always a quick way to my heart. Then hubby - who had been dreaming of a first class international flight since we went to the airlines - showed me how to recline my seat so I was lying comfortably flat. Oh Happy Day! 

Then the on-demand TV in my seat welcomed me to the aircraft. After the four-course of not-too-bad food, good drinks, and putting on my slippers, eye covers and ear plugs, I was ready to get our 30th Birthday Europe Trip underway!

We had the same deal on the way home, plus the AMAZING, UNREAL views when we flew over Greenland! Breathtaking!

So no, I don't think I can ever fly coach on a long flight again. A nine hour flight is bad enough, but if you are a nervous flyer who cannot sleep unless you are lying down, the 10 percent experience is pretty amazing. Delta, you may have ruined me for all other airlines!

Annnnd I'm BACK!

The last month or so has been a blur. I met my good friend in Portland, OR for a fun girls weekend. That was followed by the long-planned 30th birthday trip to Europe with hubby. I can't believe it is halfway through October. It sounds so old, but serious, where did the time go?

Portland was pretty fantastic. I had some long days that week so I was able to sneak out of work early on Friday and take a flight to the rainy city. Only problem was, the flights looked terrible! I've learned to chill (the f#$^) out when flying standby, but even hubby was stressing from whatever airport he was stuck in due to bad weather. It was my first time doing the ZED fare (paying a fee much less than a ticket to fly standby on another approved airline) but I was a fan! It was a direct, albeit very bumpy, two hour flight.

It is amazing how much I still freak out when I fly. My logical side wants to point and laugh, but the second the bumps start to get a little bit bigger, I go white-knuckle.

Anyway, there I am in rainy, friendly Portland! I found our amazing hotel (great location and I would seriously hire their interior designer if I had money) and one of my best friends who I hadn't seen since my wedding! After downing a bottle of champagne (I claim 2/3 of it) and talking so much we had to force ourselves to stop so we could actually have dinner before the restaurants closed.

After our long and amazing dinner at Andina (seriously amazing Tapas restaurant in the hip Pearl district) we both decided that if forced, we could happily move to Portland, OR.

Day two brought a few more fun things, and one not so fun. A slight, but lasting, champagne headache. Cruse you, Champagne! Our brunch at Mothers Bistro was equally awesome as our dinner the night before, but had one additional piece of awesome - our waiter. I was sure he was taking the (seriously, not joking) outrageously good press coffee intravenously he had so much energy and was just "on it" with everything. He didn't miss a beat; he was funny, cool, charming, energetic, knew everything, honest, etc. So when we ask, he tells us he is into this energy "thing" and I say "thing" like this because I can't remember or articulate what exactly it was, but I remember it triggered something in my brain. I realized what makes Portland so unique.

Now I only spent 1.5 days in Portland, but I am pretty sure I nailed one specific thing about Portland locals. They are are serious about their passions. It doesn't matter if it is press coffee (ya, that definitely got that right), natural energy, candles, furniture, beer, food, interior design, mass transit, or happily dealing with downpours, they know what it is that they care about (and it may not be mainstream) and they go all-in every time.

This is probably why Portland is so endearing. The food scene is nationally known, and rightfully so. But don't let it fool you. The rest of Portland is just as alert and focused as their chefs. They are working hard and making whatever it is they care about shine like a diamond.

On our last and fittingly perfect evening, we dined at Blue Hour, a highly-recommended spot from my NYC foodie brother. It did not disappoint. The food, atmosphere and staff were so warm, surprising and delightful that I wish I could go back without a flight.

Go to Portland; discover its wonderful people, and find out what this one-of-a-kind city can mean to you.

I will leave you with this lasting comment from a Saturday morning lady about my age...
As my friend and I were leaving brunch, my champagne headache still hanging on, two ladies were walking behind us when one said, "I didn't drink enough last night!," to which I leaned over to my friend and said "...said no one ever," followed by the girl catching our attention and saying the exact same thing to us and laughing...then we all four laughed about it. The two hungover ones (me and chatty Kathy behind us) and our two alert friends who wish we would snap out of it!

12 Years and a World Away

September 11, 2013 isn't a particularly special other than being the 12 year anniversary of 9/11/01 when the Twin Towers fell, the Pentagon was hit, and a commercial airliner was brought down in a Pennsylvania field by some courageous passengers, and our country felt exposed, violated, seriously wounded and more patriotic than ever before.

I was a college freshman at Kent State University in northeast Ohio on this day 12 years ago. I sat through my second week of freshman English with about 15 other freshman - all of us oblivious to what was happening a few states away. We all walked from that class on to what was next - for me it was a break so I stopped by my dorm room. My roommate was like a statue; shocked and on the phone with her parents she pointed towards the TV which was playing the only thing on any channel, the smoking tower of the World Trade Center that had been hit. At this time the thought was it was a freak airplane accident. As we watched, we learned along with the rest of the world, that it was no freak accident when a second plane slammed into the other tower. The rest literally is history, but those crystal-clear memories are etched into all of our minds.

What I never could have expected 12 years ago is where I am today. I do remember thinking what the horror must have been for those airplane passengers as they realized what was unfolding, or in the case of Flight 93, the courage of those passengers to protect the rest of us by making the ultimate sacrifice. How did their families feel when they got the call on-board and hung up the phone before storming the cockpit to take back control? I never thought of the crew. I never knew I would have to think of the crew.

But now half of my world is the crew and I freeze with the horror thinking of what EVERY commercial pilot and their loved ones felt on that day. They lost their loved ones, their colleagues, their passion for aviation. I can't let myself imagine it too much without coming undone.

Then I look around my desk at work and feel an enormous sense of pride for my colleagues. I work in PR for first responders. Paramedics, EMTs and firefighters are my colleagues and I have tremendous respect for them; not just on 9/11 each year. But I feel a sense of pride that they allow me to be part of their world. They sacrifice so the rest of us can be safe.

Today, I cherish my conversations with my pilot before and after his flights just a little more. Today, I can't say enough about what first responders give so the rest of us may sleep at night. Some of us are just lucky enough to sit on the sidelines near these people and closely orbit around their humble greatness.

I hardly doubt my generation will grow old without another "Where were you when..." moment . I hope we can reach old age without one. I hope our children can grow up in a world where they don't have one. I know for the most part all of that is out of my control, but what I can control is living today, tomorrow and the next and not taking for granted what so many others were robbed of, or what they gave so the rest of us may live. 

Respect your first responders, thank them for working 24 hours straight and not seeing their families for Christmas or birthday's, and for always answering the call. And fly with kindness because that crew is someone's whole world and you never know when they may become more than a hassle to your day.

A 25-minute flight

Last week hubby and I decided it was necessary to get a different vehicle; time to get rid of the Corolla and get something we can load our pups in and go camping, and a Corolla just won't do well off-roading. We found a great Subaru but it was in Flagstaff and we live in Phoenix. I am definitely more motivated by a great vehicle than a long drive. So, I assumed we would drive together to Flagstaff, get the car, and each would drive back to Phoenix. Long day, but worth it. I was wrong.

So we flew...from Phoenix to Flagstaff. I didn't even know there were flights from Phoenix to Flagstaff, let alone several flights every day. So at 6 a.m. we woke up, headed to the airport (through some serious rain) and hopped a flight to Flagstaff to look at a car. Who does that?!?!

After a very long, very bumpy, very rainy 25-minute flight, we arrived in cool and cloudy Flagstaff. Thank goodness we loved the car because I was not looking forward to flying back through those bumpy skies...at all! While hubby sleeps on bumpy flights, I cringe and grip to anything...not sure why I think grabbing something will help stop the bumps, but driving two hours in the rain sounded way better than the flight!

So the flight was totally worth it after 15 minutes with hubby driving his new-ish vehicle. He loved it and that made it all worth it. That, and the fact we made it back home in time to watch football!

Let's drive instead!

Five years ago, when hubby and I had just moved in together, we decided it would be a great idea to buy a tent...online...at 11 p.m....after drinking a little bit. Most of my best decisions happen with that type of lead-up. So for five years, our little tent waited, and waited and waited to go camping. This past weekend, it finally got its chance.

Seriously, how did it take us five years to go camping? I may never fully understand. So anyway, hubby gets home from his trip on Saturday afternoon and starts to pack up everything we will need for our one-night camping expedition. Who knew you needed SO MUCH stuff to camp for one night?

Sunday morning, at 5 a.m., hubby wakes up (picture a little boy on Christmas morning...he couldn't sleep the night before and woke up with so much dang energy I about smothered him with a pillow) and our dogs, our loaded car, and the two of us hit the road. We didn't get too far before I had to stop for a Pumpkin Spice Latte from Starbucks since they just became available, but after he realized how important it was for me to be properly caffeinated, we were happily back on the road.

The drive was about 2 1/2 hours from hot Phoenix up to beautiful and cool lakes outside of Payson. I can
honestly say the drive was amazing. Plus, being able to roll down your windows in Arizona is sooooo nice!

I'll admit it, I was a little nervous. Hubby can be a bit OCD and I can be a bit "ah - whatever" and I was a little worried I may not have taken it serious enough. But alas, we found a camping spot, pitched the tent (successfully on the first try) unpacked everything and found this amazing lake within 45 minutes of arriving!

He wanted to fish - and I humored the idea. He has now gone fishing twice and yet to catch a fish, but one day he will. I should probably explain here how much he adores our dog, Ruby. This dog is basically his soul mate and vice versa. He couldn't WAIT to throw Ruby's ball in the lake and let her swim around. She loved it! But, I kept telling him, little fishes don't so much like 50lb dogs jumping in the lake near them so they aren't going to be around. No big deal - he continued practicing his casting skills, Ruby swam to her hearts content and I sat next to our boxer who is afraid of swimming.

I have to say, bathroom situation aside, it was a pretty wonderful 24 hours! So much so, that we decided we have to go camping again in a few weeks to another beautiful corner of Arizona. Don't worry, after that there are a few fun trips planned that include airplanes, amazing cities and no swimming dogs!