SIX EXITS

The furry four-legged dictator.

2008-03-13T20:46:00.004-04:00

A common misconception amongst civilians (people who are not airline crew) is that flight attendants are an uneducated bunch. This (for the most part) is completely untrue. I've worked with former doctors, nurses, accountants, teachers, a school superintendent and even an ex-Secret Serviceman who helped guard the prez. We are a varied bunch with a common thread. A love for flying, travel, interacting with people and eating meals over the trash can.

I tend to learn a lot from my crew and this last trip was no exception. I worked with a great flight attendant who used to run an animal rescue. She has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars, taken in thousands of animals and trained hundreds of dogs and cats. I was in awe. Of course I whipped out pictures of my pups and began peppering her with questions. "Is it normal for my dog to pee on our chair? Why does Winnie always hold her back paw in her mouth? Should we be worried about Hosses aggression when we take him on walks and he freaks out when we see another dog?...." She listened to all my questions with the appropriate nod here and there. Then she turned to me and asked "Does Hoss sit on you? Does he put his butt up to you first? Does he lean on you? Push you? Pee every three seconds when you're on a walk? Bite Winnie when she's in his way?". "Um....ya? That isn't normal?" was the only reply I could muster. She smiled and said "Nope. Your dog is making a jack-ass out of you."

Apparently our dog, Hoss, is trying to take over the world. Starting with his two stupid owners. I think that if we would have thought about it harder we *might* have realized that he had filled out the application for the "alpha dog" role and signed it in blood a long time ago. Our blood. From the dog bites. I didn't mention that he bites? When he was a puppy he bit HARD and drew blood multiple times with those vampire-like puppy teeth. Nowadays he just occasionally keeps us on our toes by giving a polite little chomp on our rear. Poor Joel used to have to flatten himself on the fridge for fear of a chomping of his man parts. An old Hoss favorite. Were probably lucky that we haven't been trying to get knocked up, 'cause I'm sure that can't help fertility prospects.

So as of a few days ago were starting intense doggy boot-camp. The most important part is going to be the crate training . We will follow that up by cutting back on their food (they may or may not be getting a bit pudgy), new collars and individual walks. The biggest part of the training though won't be with the dogs, it will be with us...especially me. The dogs may be my babies, but they aren't actual babies. Apparently they are canines who have very specific needs. First, they need an alpha to show them who's in charge. Secondly, they need mental and physical exercise daily. Thirdly falls my favorite....praise (aka "I wuv you puuppies. You are so preshhhius to meeee baby doggle facessss....). Molly has also volunteered to help me train them when we both have the day off. For free! Holla!

So cross your fingers folks 'cause my rear is counting on it.... Ouch.

Part Three: Being nice..... The Response....

2008-03-07T10:28:00.009-05:00

First off I just have to say how much I loved, loved, loved all your comments. Even the anonymous ones. They sparked a lot of thought for me and reinforced my feelings. You, dear Internet, are awesome. Gold star. I didn't have a chance to respond to them so I thought I'd take a chance to do that now. Our first contestant is...... Cham!

Here is his comment:

Disclaimer: This is a general observation. This has nothing to do with Ashlee, but now that she brought the subject up.

There is nothing more disgusting than the words "I am a nice person." How do you know you are a nice person? Did some committee do an evaluation? Did they give you a favorable rating? Does opening doors for others while cheating on your taxes deem one "nice"?

Does saying what you think behind someone's back and not to their face make you nice? Does lying to your best friend about how fat she actually looks in those jeans make you nice or does cluing her in before she walks out in public give you the Better Homes nice seal of approval?

Women are obsessed with being seen as nice and good, just ask our new friend, Lauren Cleri, her level of goodness just cost her $200K. Personally, I'd rather have the money. It is impossible to judge niceness, much less your own niceness. If you want to meet the meanest person alive, just listed for those 5 little words, "I am a nice person."

Oh, and I dedicate the above post to that awful woman in the Canton Safeway who I called every name in the book yesterday, she deserved it. Her stumbling apology to me afterward rang hollow. And no, I am the only one on the planet who will admit to being not a nice person.

First off Cham, the old Ashlie would have told you to button up and quit spelling my name like a certain lip-syncing Simpson sister. The new Ashlie has decided not to mention anything. Mostly because your page states that you are a body-builder. While I'm pretty sure I could have taken down that 70 year old man, you, my friend may have been a greater challenge. So therefore I'm not going to even mention it (again). Capice?

Anywho, I thought that Cham brought up an excellent point. A lot of people (who are pretty much the devil incarnate) like to label themselves as "nice". I'm pretty sure that it boils down to the fact that people are 1) full of themselves 2) idiots & 3) completely oblivious. This is why I decided to quit using the word "nice" in my second post and switch it up to kind. For that I would like to say, "Thanks Cham!" this one is for you....

Okey doke. The second contestast of the day is....drum roll puleeze.... anonymous! Here is her/his comment.


Anonymous said...: It's all a choice now huh? Before it might have just been what you thought you had to do...now you do who you are. I think it's called maturing...but a 70 year old...yikes girly. I know your momma taught you better.

This comment was made after I wrote Part One of my manifesto. I really wanted to shout from the rooftops "Don't you judge me Anonymous!" in my best white trash drawl, but I didn't. Mostly because I knew how the story ended (with me NOT beating down a 70 year old). They didn't. So here is my response to Anon.

This is what my momma taught me. To stand up for myself. To let my heart and my faith be the guide in all situations. This doesn't always provide a peaceful ending. My mom is famous for telling the story of the time when I waited next to a car (with a friend) for over an hour to confront a woman on a bumper sticker she had that I most certainly didn't agree with. When the woman returned to her car I let her know why I thought she was wrong. I was in third grade. She was soooo proud that I had stood up for my beliefs. But? I'm pretty sure that she'd be less than thrilled with the way I handled myself in these situations. Not necessarily because I decided to stand up for myself, but in the way I chose to do it.

As far as the choice part? I think that its always a choice. You can choose to treat others with kindness or animosity.

Last but not least I'd like to button it up with a great comment from my girl, Um...Yum!.

I think I didn't find these incidences funny because I deal with people like that all the time, and it infuriates me. I absolutely hate rudeness. I don't see why that woman couldn't have opened the door, and what did she have to argue back with? "I'm too stupid to know how to open a door!" And the bacon? What was his problem bitching at a customer? I'm the first person to say the customer is never right, but if a customer says something is wrong, you don't argue with them like that. Gah! And I wish you had told that old man off. I don't understand why people think it's ok to talk to people like that and treat people that way.

I understand taking the high road and all that. I really wish I could do that, and I do actually most of the time but I actually don't feel good about it. I'd feel better if I could punch those assholes in the face. :oD I agree with the person who said that there is a fine line between being nice and being a pushover. I'm glad you stood up for yourself even if you believe you shouldn't have because it's obvious to me that people see you and think they can treat you like that, and sometimes they need to be told that they can't.

Wow girl, I agree, agree, agree with you. And just for the record I was moments from punching door lady in the face. Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to stop standing up for myself. I am and will always have a strong personality. Basically I'm just going to kick it back a few notches. I'm going to take it from complete bitchitude to kind assertion. For all of you dear people who thought I was demoting myself to driveway-like status getting run over multiple times a day, you DO NOT need to worry. If my momma taught me anything it was that we need to stand up for what we believe is right! If I had to do it all over again I would have still confronted each of those people, but just gone about it in a different fashion.

If someone attacks you, you are automatically going to go on the defensive. No resolutions are reached, just a record high setting for your blood pressure. My new goal is to react with firm kindness. Let people know that I am not a punching bag whilst showing them that I am a person who is reasonable and kind. That seems fair doesn't it?

Anyway, I love you peeps. Even (and especially) my friend anonymous. Have a kind AND assertive day.

Part Two: Being nice.....

2008-03-05T07:40:00.006-05:00

So here I was with my new set of shiny cahones (can I even say that on the Internet?) ready to STAND the heck up for myself. When Joel and I were seated at a crappy table in Chili's I asked the waitress if we could move. Score one for Ashlie! When I knew the interest rate on my credit card should be lower I called good 'ol Bank of America and asked, nay, demanded that this LOYAL customer be receiving a better rate. Ask and you shall receive. What started out innocently enough snowballed into something greater. With fangs and possible demonic possession. This culminated into the events which happened last week. They shall now on be referred to as The Days of Reckoning.

Day number one: The Refi Meltdown.
Last Wednesday was a cold, windy day in Baltimore. It also happened to be the day Joel and I needed to sign loan documents for our home refinance. We drove to the massive office building where our title company was located and ran for the door. I, as usual, was not dressed in "weather appropriate attire" and was freezing. I hopped up the stairs and gripped the handle. It was locked. I was surprised to see a middle aged woman standing behind the door. I smiled and motioned. She smirked and shrugged. Five minutes later after Joel and I had ran around the ENTIRE building looking for another door (which there was none) we arrived back to see a business man standing next to the woman. He opened to door for us. As I stepped in the walkway I started berating her for not opening the door. She shot back. It got ugly. Joel, once again, stared at me like I had three heads. I was FURIOUS. She had pissed off the wrong cold, hungry camper.

Day Two: The Computer Collision.

Friday I had an overnight in Florida. My main goal for those 18 hours was to blog and tan. Both of which had been sorely overlooked this winter. After arriving in the business center to find the computers occupied I left to run. I returned an hour later to find the SAME man glued to his myspace/facebook/eharmony page. He refused to get off the computer. Verbal sparring ensued. He suggested that I call the police if I wanted him removed. I barely had the common sense to leave before I suggested what I thought he should do with himself....

Day Three: The Bacon Incident.

Another day in Florida. My crew member and I met for breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I, being vegetarian, ordered a veggie omelet. Half way throughI tasted something familiar. What the heck? I spit a red colored fleshy blob into my hand (mmmmnnn) and realized that I was chewing on bacon. I peeled apart my omelet and sat the dime size chunks on the side of my plate. The waitress came by and I explained the situation. Two seconds later the cook stomped over to our table told me that it WAS NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE BACON. I explained to him, that yes, infact it was bacon as I had CHEWED. This went back and forth until I told Mr. Cook to get thee heck over to my table and look at the blobs. My crewmate later told me that she had never expected that reaction from me because I was so sweet on the airplane.

Day 4: Old-Man Toothpaste Aisle Smackdown/Is God Testing Me?

Home again. Joel and I decided to make a quick run to Target for a few (who are we kidding?) items. I ended up in the toothpaste aisle while Joel returned a shirt. I picked up two boxes of tooth whitening gel to compare and in the process I knocked one on the flooe. I kicked it out of way to avoid anyone tripping and to pick it up. Did I pick it up at that instant? No. I was still guessing which product would make my teeth glow in the dark. Thats when a little old man bent over and picked up the box. Before I could reply with a hearty thanks, he turned and glared at me and said "What? You can't bend over or something?!?!" which was followed by an even worse glare and a loud sigh/spit. As he walked away I immediately went to follow him. There was NO WAY this mean old man was getting the last word. What happened next will hopefully change me for the better. My husband. My dear sweet husband walked over. He could tell that I was fuming and asked what was wrong. I told him about the injustice of it all and my plot to humiliate the old man. Feign pregnancy? Back injury? Something.... Joel stopped and looked at me shaking his head. He looked me straight in the eye and said "Let. It. Go." Let it go? But I was embarrassed. It wasn't fair. Grudgingly I told Joel that I wasn't going to hunt him down.

Somewhere between the shoes and dvds something changed. The anger that had been coursing through my veins was melting and the frown softened. I began to smile. I begin to feel good about myself like I had done the right thing and been the bigger person. That was two days ago and since then its really been all I can think about. The person I was becoming was not the person I want to be. What happened to the girl who used to wear her W.W.J.D. bracelet and actually try to "turn the other cheek"? It seems that as my empathy for animals and the environment has grown the compassion and kindness for people has waned. I'm always polite on the plane, its my job, but corner me when I'm not working and BAM. You can see what happens. And? I don't like it. I can't blame it on people being idiots, not eating for six hours or lack of sleep. Factors like this will always come into play. I can't choose how people are going to act, I can only choose my actions. And? I want to choose to be kind, generous, caring and empathetic. I think if I keep heading down the same path I've been on the only person I'm going to hurt will be me.

So? Wish me the best of luck, 'cause I'm sure this isn't the easy road I'm taking....

Being nice is overated. Or is it?

2008-03-02T22:12:00.008-05:00

So I consider myself a nice person, right? I open doors for people, smile at strangers and coo at babies quite frequently. In flight attendant training my nickname was "smiley" and I was the class clown in high school (aka, always getting in trouble for doing something stupid). Last year if someone was to ask me to describe myself in five words, one of them would have been nice or kind or some other adjective to describe the only slightly tarnished halo sitting pristine upon my golden locks (did I mention that I was also a smite sarcastic? No? Okay.). Anywho, the last couple of years I noticed a change. It started out gradual enough with a little outburst here or there and has snowballed into something much greater. At first I took pride on growing some cahones (finally) and sticking the heck up for myself, but now its morphed into something that tastes a little bit like shame.

I can pinpoint the first time it happened. Joel and I were shopping at Safeway in Los Angeles. We got up to the counter and the clerk started acting very snotty. Typically I would have just gone about my business and maybe of complained to Joel about it once we got back in the car. This time was different. I didn't yell at the man, but I was OVER THE TOP sarcastic and snotty. I remember Joel turning sharply and looking at me like I was an alien. It really was an uncharacteristic move for me. As I stomped out of the store groceries in hand I felt a slight sense of guilt which I quickly squashed as hunger and went on with my day. Over the next year situations like this popped up now and again I started feeling bit vindicated in my reactions, like I was stomping out all my "weakness". Let people run all over Ashlie? Ha! Friggity hahahaha double eye-roll plus a scathing remark haha. I was never going to be that girl who cried when someone flipped her the bird in the car again. I was tough.

...to be continued.... *stay tuned for the grand finale when Ashlie beats down a 70 year old man in the toothpaste aisle at Target!*

Chicken chowda. Providence style.

2008-02-22T23:24:00.006-05:00

As most of my east coast lovin' pals know today was an icy, snowy mess resulting in 50 car pileups and endless flight delays. I, fortunately, was not in a car. Instead I was stuck in the Providence airport biding my time until our massively delayed flight arrived. Since breakfast had come and gone about 5 hours earlier my stomach told me it was time to forage. Food choices were meager at best, basically consisting of two options..... Mexican or T.G.I. Fridays, neither of which are very veggie friendly. Anyway, I finally spotted something edible in the form of clam chowder (yes, I eat bivalves). I asked the cashier if the chowder was beef based and/or made with bacon. She replied no, that it was actually made with chicken. Come again? I glanced over at the flight attendant I was working with and we exchanged puzzled looks. "Chicken? Clam chowder with chicken??" I asked. She looked at me and said "Well it sure don't have any bacon and the things floatin' in there taste like chicken." Then she chomped down on her gum and shot me a look that said I will cut you if you dare disagree.

I walked away laughing at the sheer stupidity of the whole situation. And then my stomach punched my liver and told me to shut up and find some food already. Which I was unable to do because apparently everything has chicken in it. Who knew?

Open mouth, insert foot. Repeat.

2008-02-21T07:29:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I say really stupid things. Sometimes I may just be plain (gasp!) stupid. Its like my brain takes a leave of absence without letting anyone know. Hello brain? Get it together, like yesterday, please....

On Sunday I was flying from Orlando with three thousand families and forty hundred screaming children. One of the families happened to be little. A family of little people. Four wee children and two wee parents. All very nice. The youngest was a year old and cute as a button, with curly red hair and a lop sided grin that revealed two teeth. She giggled and cooed the entire flight and was the only child that kept me from reaching in a plucking out my ovaries right in the back galley. After we landed I went back and asked if they needed any help with their multiple car seats and bags. They reassured me they were fine. So, as I usually do with cute infants, I bent down and patted the baby on the head. Then I opened my mouth and in an adoring tone stated that she was "the cutest little munchkin I've ever seen!". GAH!!!! What was I thinking! I mean, I call all kids munckins as a term of endearment but I CANNOT believe I said that. I'm not even sure if the parents heard me, but I KNOW the people behind them did by the look of horror on their faces.

That is one of the stupidest things I've done in a long time. Okay, maybe not a LONG time, but close to it. Here are a few other "you're an idiot!" moments I'd like to forget....

The time I ran over a business mans foot with my drink cart and yelled (why did I yell?) "Sorry dude!!". Who says that? He glared.
When I very sweetly asked the lady in row six "Ma'am, what would you like to drink tonight?" only to realize that the ma'am was a man. A very ugly man.
Back in my sorority days I walked into a room to find a couple of my sisters talking to a pre-pubescent teenage boy who I assumed was one of their siblings since it was family week. After repeated fawnings of "You are so cute!" and asking the girls who's brother it was I got the hint. Or should I say the wide-eyed stare of disbelief. I, being obliviously stupid, trotted out of the room and asked my friend who's brother that was. She gave me a weird look and told me that there were no boys in that room. Only a lesbian. Oy!

After reading this you are probably going to assume that I have the IQ of Jessica Simpson without the pretty hair. I don't, I promise! I'm usually pretty smart and savvy, but sometimes I guess I'm just plain stupid. Aren't we all though?

Feel free to lighten my load and share your horrifying moments with me. I beg of you.

Its official! My first REAL medical emergency....

2008-02-13T11:05:00.004-05:00

After a chat with my beautiful SIL (sister-in-law whom birthed the most amazing niece in the world) I was reminded that I need to blog more. And? Quit with the cliff hangers already! Oy! So, I thought that I would (FINALLY) fill you in on the heart attack story. Which at this point will be very anti-climactic, but thats okay with me. Because, I, Ashlie, am finishing something I started. Now I just need to tackle that plaid jumper I began sewing back in '93.....

We were in our initial descent when a flight attendant call light dinged in my section. I went over to find a woman grasping her chest and telling me that she couldn't breathe. I immediately went and called the other flight attendants and the captain to let them know the situation. When I went back to her seat the woman was ashen and sweating profusely. The lady next to her said that she was a doctor, started taking her pulse and told me to go grab some aspirin. Now, here's the deal. Both women were foreign and I was having a huge problem understanding them. The lady with the medical problem was Armenian and the doctor was from India. Communication was not at its finest. Anyway, I ran back to her seat with water and aspirin (properly banging myself on every shoe, armrest and elbow down the aisle. I must have looked like a human pinball machine....). When I reached her row, I knew that the situation had gone from poor to worse. The doctor looked up at me and said "I can't find her pulse!" and the woman had turned a shade of grey I've never seen on the living. At that point I noticed that her eyes were rolled in the back of her head and her lips were blue. Now, I don't swear unless there's a hammer and a thumb involved but at this point my first thoughts were something along the line of "shitty, shit, shit, shit..." and other proper four letter words. I grabbed the woman by her shoulders and started shaking her and yelling "Ma'am are you okay? Ma'am are YOU OKAY?". No response. I looked at the doctor for help. She looked at me. I shook and yelled again. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity the lady came to. This lasted for about a good 20 seconds before she lost consciousness again. And came to. And lost consciousness. It seemed like I was on the verge of CPR every 30 seconds. I kept on repeating the CPR compression/breath ratio in my head like it was Brad Pitts phone number. At that point I glanced outside and realized that we were moments from landing, where an artillery of paramedics would be meeting the plane. The woman was conscious and looked like she was doing better and the doctor assured me that she would hit the call button if the situation changed. So I ping-ponged my was up to my jumpseat and buckled myself in. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins almost like a living thing. My mind was clear, my body was focused and my heart was racing.

As soon as we landed the medics came and got her off the plane. I gave her a hug and helped her with her items. It was quite the ordeal. I've seen many people faint (two days ago, I caught a fainter) and lots of anxiety attacks, but this was NOTHING like those. Those feel like a mere blip on the emergency radar while this felt like a four alarm fire. Whether or not it was a heart attack it scared the crap out of me. But? I handled it, and since I plan on flying until I wither up and die in the aft galley, I know that this situation will more than likely strike again. And when it does I will be ready. You can bet your life on that....

*Parts of this ordeal have been ommited due to privacy and time (no-one wants to read a twelve page manifesto on the different shades of blue one persons lips can turn....). Rules were followed to a "T" and a proper IR was submitted ASAP. So there.*

Ewwww, followed by Argh.

2008-02-08T22:28:00.001-05:00

Hey folks! I'm writing to you from Providence, wine glass in hand, white chocholate chip cookie in belly. Today was an easy two legger with the last flight only booked to 84 people. The problem was that at least 83 of them smelled like various forms of decay. The front of the plane reeked of b.o., not just any b.o. but a super-duper pungent version which (this may be the wine talking) had undertones of uncleaned body parts with just a hint of tuna and a rotton fruit topnote. It was delightful. I almost threw up. Soooo, I moved to the back of the plane to try my luck there. About two minutes in the scent of flatulence wafted through the recycled air. Mmmmm. Farts. It was bad enough to wake up a passenger in the back row and prompt him to ring his flight attendant call button just to ask if we (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD) had some air freshner. We did. A minute later it smelled like a raspberry fart. Mmmm....

Moving on to a less smelly subject. I was mentally compiling a list today of the top ways to annoy a flight attendant and I thought that I'd share. It may (and will) be added onto later.

Top Ten Ways to Piss off your Flight Attendant!

Poke them when you need something. Aim for the ribs. They really like that.
Leave your bag/handle/strap/foot in the aisle so they trip. Try to do it when they are balancing something precariously. Like? A couple glasses of red wine.
Fall asleep when they take drink orders. Wake up when they're passing them out. Act very, very offended that they didn't wake you up to take your order for 6 ounces of Coke.
Decide that your Starbucks coffee cup NEEDS to be thrown away RIGHT now or else gravity will stop and the earth will fall of its axis. Extra points if its during the saftey briefing.
When handed snack look at offending package like flight attendant may be offering free MALARIA and not peanuts and crackers.
Take at least 30 seconds to decide that peanuts are malaria free and then and ONLY THEN accept tenatively. Add glare for effect.
Forget to wash your body parts for say, a year. Or two.
Leave door open after eating ungodly amounts of bean burritos at the airport and unloading them in plane lav. Make sure flight attendant is eating his/her lunch within a 3 foot distance.
Take out all rage for delays/death/weight gain/balding/mother-in-laws on flight attendants. Its their fault right? Duh.
Point and stare at flight attendant. Then talk in foreign language. Point again for added drama.

Hahahaha. Laughing. People really aren't this rude right? Hahahahaha. Each and every one of these things happened to me today. In a span of 5 hours of flying.

If I didn't love my job.....

p.s. Spell check isn't working. And I've had a glass of wine. Yipes! I'm afrreid to reed itt tommoraw. I hav bad spelin aniway. Boo.

This about sums it up.

2008-02-04T15:50:00.000-05:00

Who: All of America.
When: The last 20 seconds of the Super Bowl.
Why: Ummmmm.... hello?

Your welcome.

I had a dream....

2008-02-03T23:45:00.000-05:00

Today I was sick. I slept and slept and then (you guessed it) ate ice cream. What? You thought I was going to say that I slept some more? Okay, I did. During the Super Bowl to be exact. I fell asleep half way through the second quarter and woke up with 4 minutes left on the clock, which was precisely enough time to see Mr. Manning throw a steller pass to Plaxico in the end zone. Go Giants! We heart you!

Sidenote: Who the heck names there kid Plaxico? I can only guess that there was heavy drug usage involved.

*UPDATE. Sidenote numero dos: Apparently Plaxico was not involved in the "last pass". It was Tyree. I can only blame heavy drug use and the blinding desire to mock the name Plaxico for this confusion. Cold meds. Bah.*

Anyway, I have decided that I may have prophetic abilities because during the game I dreamt that Eli made a winning pass and the Giants won by a small margin. I won't go into the part where I may or may not have caught the ball and made out with the QB. Don't judge me, I was all hopped up on cold meds.

The moral of the story is: Never hide your natural talents! I will now be offering my athletic prophetic services (it even has a ring!) for baseball season. Win bets and look cool in front of your friends with my help!

Disclaimer: Services are $50 per game, extra for overtime. Must provide with proper napping facilities and cold medication. Results not guaranteed.

Insomnia, Baltimore style...

2008-01-29T03:03:00.000-05:00

We will return you to your regularly scheduled heart attack post later....

But right now I must tell you the reason why I'm wide awake at 3am. About half and hour ago Joel and I were awakened to a sound much like a garbage can being drug down our street. Our dead end street I might add. We popped out of bed and looked out our window. No garbage cans around, just one of our neighbors driving his truck. Joel mentioned that it looked like his truck was making those God awful noises. Huh. Not that interesting. So we went back to bed.

Five minutes later we jumped up again, this time we were greeted with about six police cars equipped with spotlights parked at various odd angles. Joel, being unaffected, or at least knowing that we would get the 12 hour run down from our neighbor who will chat your ear off went back to bed. I, on the other hand, stealthfully opened the window and layed on the radiator cover to get a better view. It was pretty obvious. I think a cop might of even waved at me once. Come to find out from a series of strung out cuss-words and angry neighbors, the guy three houses down from us (with the truck) managed to hit about ALL of our neighbors cars while careening down the road (drunk? high? texting while applying lip balm? who knows....). One of our neighbors truck had been hit so hard it ended up in the other neighbors lawn. Fortunately our one and ONLY vehicle was tucked safely in our driveway.

Our dogsitter, another neighbor who lives right next to truck man, swears that this guy is a drug dealer. She says he paid CASH for the house and only uses it once or twice a week and when he does come home he usually brings some random young girl. Odd, eh? I'm sure this is just AWESOME for our property value. I mean who wouldn't want to live on the street with a dealer who may or may not be running into your car on occasion?

So the cops are interrogating my dd (drug dealing) neighbor, while my other chatty neighbors are walking up and down the street with a flash light shaking their heads at the damage. It ended with the dd neighbor screaming, and I quote, "I've got RRRRRIGHTS mother fuckas! I've got a master degree in BUSINESS and I'm going to bring it! I'm going to give it to you right now fuckas!" as he was being loaded into the back of the police car. What was he planning on doing? Hitting the cops with his diploma? Explaining economics 201 until they wept and let him go?

Geez. You gotta love Baltimore.

Phew. Lets all take a deep breath.

2008-01-24T13:58:00.000-05:00

Well folks, I have been totally MIA lately huh? I'm going to need a strong alibi to prove my absence. Lets start with the things I've learned in the past ten days.

100 year old homes have very tiny bathrooms (and usually only one).
Paint WILL get on every surface of your body. Even on your stomach when you are wearing a tucked in shirt that has no paint on it. Riddle me that my pretties!
My husband is oh-so handy! He can ~~cook~~ clean and make pretty things with loud power tools.
Mice will take over the world one day. Starting with our home..... more on this later....
Two dollars and hour is not enough to put me in charge of a medical emergency.

On with the pictures! As you know, we totally remodeled our bathroom last week. New fixtures, paint, towels, curtains etc,. Gone is the lemon-lime look of 1957. Here are the results! Now if I could only find the before pictures. Ugh!

I'm going to antique the vanity soon(ish). We are also replacing the toilet seat cover (I know, you are sooooo thrilled) and changing the faucet to the ever-popular "oiled bronze" finish we went with. Oh lala! On a surprise note we found hardwood under the vinyl flooring. It looks like its in pretty good condition as well. We'll see if we are brave enough to pull the whole thing up.

Well I was working on the bathroom, my brave and very talented husband was constructing two built-in bookcases for our living room. Lone and behold they are almost done! Here is the (close) to finished product. We still have to caulk and put one more layer of paint, hence the blue tape, but I think overall it looks verrrrryyyy nice! I am so impressed that I am now willing to buy Joel the woodworking tools of his dreams so he can build me all the furniture I want! Weeee!

Next topic. My work. Oh joy. I haven't been chronically my journey lately, but in all reality there hasn't been alot to say. Do you really want to know that the salads are delicious in Philly or that they changed the lotion scent in San Diego? No? Well good then. We are on the same page. On the other hand I've been working quite a bit recently. It seems like I go through these phases where I barely work in the summer (could be the fact that I'm married to a teacher) and then I freak out about mid winter and think WHY ARE WE SO BROKE?!?! Oh right, its because I've only worked 90 trips the last 4 months. Then I decide to work 140 and by the time I've reached 110 I want to curl up and die. * Here's a little flight attendant translation. 1 trip = 45 minutes * They key is to work smarter, not harder. We have the opportunity to pick up trips for time and a half 4 days a month so I'm trying to utilize that more. Lots of times I just get caught up in the dollar signs, this month I picked up $400+ in cash from other flight attendants. Where did the money go you ask? In the toilet. Or at least around the toilet in the form of pretty, pretty things.

Anyway. I have quite the story to tell you but I must get going. I'm flying to Oklahoma tonight. We stay right next to a bookstore so 5 of my 17 hour layover will be spent drinking Starbucks reading the latest and greatest. I do promise to write again tomorrow though. I have quite the story to tell (obviously since I've repeated this twice. gah.). A passenger had a heart-attack on my flight this week. I was flying in the "A" position (head honcho flight attendant) so I was in charge. I'm not sure if in charge is the right word but its all I got for now..... I'll fill you in when my head stops reeling.

Loves to all!

I am smitten & my blood (death) test results....

2008-01-14T12:23:00.000-05:00

Last night as I was hugging the porcelain god in my bathroom I developed a girl crush. Let me back up a bit. We are remodeling our one and only bathroom and I was trying to paint behind the toilet with little success. Anyway, I was listening to this amazing podcast called Vegetarian Food for thought. After 5 or so hours of different topics I had developed a girl crush on Collen Patrick-Goudreau the founder of the Compassionate Cooks website and the voice (of reason, I might add) on the podcast. This podcast has opened my eyes to many misconceptions about the meat industry while providing awesome insight (and recipes!)to the practical aspects of the vegetarian lifestyle. Here's a couple things I learned yesterday....

Beans are the best things ever. They have an amazing amount of protein in them and fiber (unlike animal products). They may be the perfect food. She also gave some great recipes for home-made hummus Quesadilla's. Yummers!
"Milk makes your body strong!" is something we've been hearing for years. Calcium is the reason half of us drink milk. Um, here's the thing, the calcium in the milk comes from the cows eating grass. Calcium= grass/leafy green products. The sad part is that the cows nowadays are fed corn diets so the only calcium in the milk is through supplements! Here's the DUH moment. We could totally just buy the same supplements or just eat some leafy greens and get MORE calcium than a glass of milk without the extra fat and cholesterol. Its funny that the dairy industry never mentions that.....
Lots of you hate veal right? Or at least the idea. Here's the crappy part, you don't have to actually buy veal to support it. Dairy cows only produce milk when pregnant so the farmers keeps them pregnant year round (NO JOKE). The male calves born are shipped off when they are days old to become veal. Sad right? I never knew that by drinking milk I was supporting this hideous process.... p.s. If you don't know what veal is please click here.
You can reverse and/or eliminate heart disease (and lots of cancers!) just by eliminating meat from your diet. If you eliminate all animal products you will probably still be driving a car at the age of 100.

Anyway, now that I've hit month 6 of being a vegetarian I can't stop singing its praises! Here are a couple things I learned to love.....

My blood test came back GREAT! She said my cholesterol was amazing and that I'm healthy as a horse. YEAH!
I was 137 lb (fully clothed ya'll) on the Doc's scale last spring and this time I only weigh 129!!! A week after Christmas! Hows about them apples?
I have begun to love to cook. Before I was perplexed/grossed out by raw meat and would spend all my time trying to roast/poach etc,. whereas now I'm coming up with some really fun and creative things and learning to think outside the box. Joel also seems to be enjoying it.
I never get that nasty food coma feeling anymore (unless I gorge on chips & salsa from Chili's. With a presidents margarita on the side.) and I, um, how do I put this lightly? I'm very, very regular. With the porcelain god and all. TMI, I know.

I could go on but I really need to take a shower 'cause I smell and I have smatters of green and white paint covering my body. Its not pretty. I'm flying to SMF (Sacramento) tonight and don't get in until 2am! Gah. I'll show you some before/after pics of the once lemon and lime bathroom. Who does lemon and lime?

Till then,

Your very regular paint smattered flight attendant friend.

Last chapter of the B.F.F.S.

2008-01-10T07:35:00.000-05:00

Alright guys, I'm putting this one to bed. Since I have no idea when/where this "issue" will resolve itself, I'm going to quit writing about it for now. I'm sure that I'll be let in on this shocking and exciting tidbit sooner or later, and then I'll pass it on. One day you'll be reading about my new hair color and my flight to Denver and the next BAM I'll hit you with the news that I was born with a third kidney. Until then, my dear internet friends, I will no longer be detailing my every B.F.F.S. move. Hope you understand, but the worry machine and I must move on to other issues. Like? Getting my blood drawn yesterday.

Have I ever told you that I'm the great fainting wonder and the last time I had my blood drawn (4 years ago) I passed out laying down on the table? It was a feat of nature I'm told. Anywho, this time I didn't pass out but I did manage to totally freak out Mrs. Blood Drawing Nurse and her two looky-loo trainees. I pulled a few acts from the Exorcist and almost managed to knock the vial(s!) of blood off the table with all my writhing. I'm pretty sure I was worse that a 3 year old. At least you can pin a 3 year old down and she probably won't have a panic attack. I, on the other hand, was a complete mess. I could feel myself slipping into shock/panic mode about 30 seconds in. I tried to meditate and get control of myself but looky-loo nurse #1 kept on telling me to open my eyes and look at the ceiling. After the second reprimand I promptly swiveled my head around three times and in my *best* possessed voice I growled "I AM MEDITATING." I may have puked green slime after that, I can't be sure. I perked up about 5 minutes later when they handed me some OJ and donuts. I was one Sesame Street band aid away from the complete toddler package. Gah. At least I've got another four years to contemplate next time. Until then? Blood, I'm asking you politely to stay in my body where you belong. Thank you. That is all.

Okay. I'm back.

2008-01-08T10:56:00.000-05:00

Thanks for being patient with me everyone. I've been in recovery/survival mode the past couple weeks and am just bouncing back now. As much fun as the holidays can be they totally wore me out. Basically I felt like a one legged man in a butt kickin contest. To top it off I had to go and burn myself yesterday. Remember when your mom used to tell you about five bajillion times "Don't touch the stove! Its HOT! It will BURRRRRN you!" Apparently I forget. So there I am standing in my kitchen taking my new creation (Apple Polenta Pie) out of the oven when I decide that, yes, I would like to dip my pointer finger in the melted 500 degree brown sugar. As I watch my finger plunge toward the oven I have one last thought that, um, maybe this is not the best idea. To late though, burning sugar has covered the whole end of my finger. I immediately popped the wounded appendage in my mouth and tried to suck the devil sugar off. The sugar was not coming off not matter how hard I sucked. WTF is going on? I look down to see that alas, the sugar is gone and I have also managed to rip off some of my already blistered skin. It was totally gross. Anyway, fast forward to today and I'm still soaking the sucker on ice. Do you know how hard it is not being able to use your pointer finger? Wowsa. I've had to develop this whole other method of typing which involves only using two of the fingers on my left hand. I wouldn't recommend it.

Enough about me. How was your holiday my fine Internet friends? Heres a pic gleaned from the chaos of ours..... Toodles!

Welcome 2008! Please be nice. No hitting allowed.

2008-01-01T00:49:00.000-05:00

What a year, what a year. Although I'm no closer to finding out the B.F.F.S. (big fat family secret), I'm a lot closer to realizing that I, Ashlie, may be inching towards adulthood. Okay, more like staring down the barrel of a gun with "thirty" written all over it still feeling like the slightly pudgy seventh grader with an asymmetrical haircut before my piano recital. Those pictures have been burned. I could make some lofty resolutions like every year past (eat right, exercise regularly blah, blah, blah....),but instead I'm going to just reflect on 2007.

Celebrated year two in Baltimore without getting shot, mugged or stabbed. Quite the accomplishment by any standard.
Added what I am now referring to as a second "child" to our family. She is the sweetest fur ball in four counties. Friends and family with actual two legged children can now proceed with the "just you wait until you have a real baby" comments.
Enjoyed a second year and a hefty raise working for blessedly profiting airline. Will be reaping the rewards of profit sharing any day now.... Have yet to suffer any major injuries flying except a bruised tailbone and equally bruised ego.
Joel and I bravely exited the big door marked "honeymoon phase" (Phase #1) of our marriage. We then proceeded to kick and scream to be let back in with no success. Spent lazy, wonderful hours working on Phase #2 in the West Indies. Coconut ice cream and turquoise waters seemed to help smooth the transition.
Decided that I could have won the Nobel prize while running a marathon and reciting Shakespeare in fluent French with all the hours I put into worrying about things that I can never do a gosh darn thing about. Ever. Resolution #1-50: Stop worrying you moron. That is all. Now repeat 49 more times.

Joel and I had our own private celebration this New Years Eve which was a pretty, um, great way to end 2007 and start 2008. This year may not be better, but it will be different. Good different? We'll see. For now I'll just cross my fingers, say my prayers and keep on a truckin'.....

Argh. Hurmph. Rahr.

2007-12-28T21:04:00.000-05:00

And other incoherent words. I've been waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And dying a slow death all the while. I don't know Jack. Or crap. I was told by the powers that be that the timings "just not right". I'm not sure when I'm going to find out. Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? I guess I'm going to have to deactivate the worry machine for now. Its been making this funny grinding noise with all the overtime its been putting in.

On a brighter note. I just got back from Joel's parents home up by the Canadian border. I think we may have even passed a sign that says "Welcome to the Boonies!" at one point. Anyway, been having much fun which has consisted of snowshoeing, cross country skiing, eating loads of junk food and making everyone sit though the movie Waitress for the third time. The fire has been blazing inside while the snow has accumulated up to 3 ft seemingly overnight. The view from their home is amazing, white peaked mountains with lacy looking trees draped into a wide expanse of snow covered valley. I could stare for hours. While I'm not watching Waitress that is....

We leave on Sunday. I'll update you when I get back home and make sure my dogs haven't eaten through any walls or decided to take up gourmet cooking.

Till then,

Sleepless in Spokane.

Bad news bears.

2007-12-22T11:11:00.000-05:00

My countdown timer is all screwed up now. The flights were to full to go home today, so Joel and I won't be heading there until tomorrow. That means we must wait a whole 'nother day to find out about the BFFS. Tres suckage.

Will I be meeting an older brother? Sister? Someone who's famous? Someone who's out on probation? Will I have nieces and nephews? OR.....

Will my mom have received a big inheritance? Will she generously bestow $10,000 to each of her children where I will then proceed to buy a second car and a third pair of Citizens for Humanity jeans?

Hmmmm...... Its like a "Christmas surprise", huh dad? An "ancient history" Christmas surprise.....

If they could read my lips.... plus UPDATE on BFFS!

2007-12-19T09:12:00.000-05:00

Instead of sending out elaborate Christmas cards this year, we're mailing a short letter with a picture montage of the year's highlights. Included in that video was this short little clip we took with our camera last night. The Christmas video will only be playing music so we just said a bunch of crap. Like? I hate you. Rotten cheese. Wishing cancer upon you this year! It was quite enjoyable. So? I've uploaded it for all to see. *Notice the death grip I have on Hoss Dog with my thighs. He was not going anywhere for at least 29 seconds....*

p.s. Cancer is bad. Joel does not want you to get cancer. He just wants you to up your fiber intake to at least 25 grams a day! Gooooooo broccoli!

Here's the B.F.F.S. (Big Fat Family Secret) update!

I spoke to my mom on the phone yesterday and mentioned that I dreamt about her getting a $109,090.95 inheritance (it was a weird dream that involved cereal, fire and cats). She thought it was funny and laughed (boooo). But? When I mentioned that I'm looking forward to dreaming about another one of my "secret theories" which was the new older sibling she got flustered and asked me if I was talking about Kaitlen visiting (my younger sister). When I told that I thought I had an older sibling she changed the subject. Hmm.... Suspicious? I think so.
Only 3 days left until I find out.

What's a flight attendant to do?

2007-12-14T16:53:00.000-05:00

I just got this letter in my email and had to share...

Hi Ashlie,

First, I love your sense of humor in your blog. Second, I noticed the doggie in the picture. I am moving to be based out of JFK after a four week training in Cincinnati. Probably going to do the crash pad thing. How realistic is it that I keep my dog? Darwin, the scruffy mutt that he is, has been all I have had post-Katrina and although I feel good placing him with the friends I have asked, I would rather he be with me. But I may be gone up to five days in a row I have been told. Not sure. Ugh, I am crying again about him. No wait, sorry. Those were tears of joy about getting out of this flooded city!

--
Tyson

Does anyone really pay attention to the verbage below signatures any more? I sure don't!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Tyson,
First off, congratulations on your new career! You are going to loooove being a flight attendant. And? Based out of JFK? How marvelous! There will be a million and one things to do instead of moping around your crashpad. I'm crossing my fingers that you find great roommates because the crashpad situation can be a *wee* bit rough sometimes. When I first started, I was based out of Los Angeles and lived in a twee apartment with 10 other ladies (and I use that word lightly). In two bedrooms. And one bath. If I had to imagine what hell looks like I would picture that apartment filled with these crazy, pms-ing, flight attendants. It was a miserable two months that ended in screaming matches and a list of 157 "rules" to abide by taped to the door. #66: You will only spend 10 minutes in the bathroom per day. Tops. Oh, the stories I could tell. And probably will someday, but right now this is about you. Moving on.
Okay. About Darwin. My heart breaks for you right now, because my dogs are my babies and I can't imagine what you're going through. But I have to be honest, and I'm sure you know where I'm headed. It is really difficult owning a pooch while flying, especially as a single flight attendant or someone who commutes. But I don't want to rule it out for you, 'cause I have seen it done. First, you need to have an excellent dog caretaker who can babysit Darwin at a moments notice. Since you will be on reserve for months/years starting out your life will be up in the air. It will be really hard for a while working with your schedule, lack of pay and juggling dog sitters but if that's what you want then I say you should do it! Life will settle down after a while and you and Darwin will be back to your old selves before you know it. Option #2 is that you find that "special" someone who's not in the airline industry pronto and have them move in. Make the third date the "Here's a key, please move in and watch my dog" date. If that doesn't freak 'em out then your home free!
Best 'O Luck,
Ashlie
p.s. Is p.s.'ing out of style? Gah. No one told me........

Update!!! A secret meeting about the B.F.F.S.

2007-12-12T12:12:00.000-05:00

For those of you acronym challenged, B.F.F.S. stands for Big Fat Family Secret. Alright. Moving on.

*Picture this......
We are all huddled in a circle right now. Somewhere dark and empty. Maybe a college library in the calculus section at 10pm the day after finals. Yes. That sounds right. You are leaning in intently to listen to the latest news on my crisis. You can hear a pin drop in anticipation. Except for Lisa who keeps sneezing. Fortunately the other Lisa is there to prod her in her bony marathoner ribs. Hmmm... who do we have in attendance? My two favorite Lisa's, Kat, Nilsa, Miriam, Michelle, Tina, Larissa, Virginia, Valley Girl (which is appropriate 'cause the library is named after the Senator), Bets and many, many more. We are all settled in when I break the latest new to you....*

I Talked to my dad a couple days ago and I was able to *squeeze* some more information out of him. This is what I got.

1. He said that it was my moms thing and it was up to her to tell me when and where she pleased.
2. He also said to think of it like a "Christmas surprise".

From that I've deduced that, although 24% of you voted on my dad having a daughter named Mary Jane this is not the case. The other 24% who thinks its inheritance, or the 21% who think my mom had a "secret baby" are still in the running. So is the 3% who thinks my parents sold my soul to the devil. Now THAT would be a Christmas surprise.....

Till we meet again,

Happy guessing....

Q & A with your fave flight attendant!

2007-12-10T15:32:00.000-05:00

There's been enough doom and gloom for one week wouldn't you agree? That's why I decided to break out my trusty Q & A standby. We flight attendants are mysterious creatures and I'm here to demystify our dying breed... Literally. You notice how old some of us are getting? Geez people retire already and give me your seniority!!!

Hey Ashlie -

Thanks for reminding me it's Friday. It's been one of those LOOOOONG weeks. So ready for the weekend, cuz ... I'm going on vacation. Hooray! Maybe I'll wave to ya in the friendly skies!

Alright, more importantly, questions about your profession. My oh my. I used to travel with work, so I've seen some truly ugly stuff. I can only imagine what you witness, so here it goes...

1) Have you ever broken up a fight on-board between uncooperative fliers?
Not yet. Though we did have to call a customer service supervisor the other day because a little old lady threatened to punch the customer in front of her. She was a feisty one. I hope I'm still punching people when I'm 90! Not that I punch people now. Unless you work at Joannes Fabric in Towson. Then I may punch you because you are rude.
2) When there are empty seats in First Class, what can a super sweet gal do to move forward once the doors shut? If the flight is full and you're flying in a 300+ capacity plane you may be SOL. Your chances increase when flying on a smaller plane such as a 737. First, bring chocolate for the crew. This is key. Next, start chatting with them and perhaps let it slip that you're getting married soon, or pregnant or something as sweet as the chocolate you are bringing. If first class is empty(ish) they may move you up. Remember. The key is subtlety, sweetness and chocolate.

3) Other than sexual innuendos (obvious and otherwise), what are some of the worst comments people have made to you? A couple months ago some guy yelled "waitress!!!!" at me 7 rows away. He wasn't kidding. I'm pretty sure I've been called worse though. It kinda comes with the territory.

4) Disclose some anonymous dirt that fellow workers have shared with you during flights! Ohhh. This is a good one. And dangerous. We flight attendants call this "full jumpseat disclosure". Its the uncanny phenomenon of spilling your guts to a complete stranger. Here's a couple good ones.
~ And I'm quoting... "At least MY son didn't date a black girl. I don't know where you're from but we don't do that down South".... *this is me with my Yankee mouth hanging open*....
~ "Last night I got sooo wasted. I think I may have messed around with one of the pilots but I can't remember. It all started with skinny dipping in the pool. I'm sooo bad." *Me thinking: You're 50?!?! You're married?!?! Really?!?!*
5) Have you ever been working when a serious medical emergency takes place? Do tell! Nope. AND phew! I'm glad. The worst problems I've had was air-sickness and fainting. A couple weeks ago the plane we were waiting to take over was late because it had to divert to another airport. A man had a heart attack inflight and the crew performed CPR and used the AED. I'm not sure if he made it.... I'm glad nothing of that magnitude has happened yet, but let me tell you that if it does I'll be prepared.

6) Have you ever met anyone famous (or semi-famous) on your flights? Yes! Some are nice and some will be getting coal in their stockings this year. Here are a few: Paris and Nicky Hilton (not nice), Queen Latifah (not nice), Tom Skerrit (nice), CJ from Real World (eh? nice?), Peter Coyote (nice), Eddie Van Halen (nice), the producer of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman (nice. asked me out. said he could help me "make it" in LA. ya right), Elisha Dushku (not nice. cut in front of me at Starbucks later. booooo).

Alright, I could inundate you with a million more, but I'll leave it at six questions for Six Exits! :-)

Have a great weekend!

Nilsa

If you have any more questions for please email sixexits@hotmail.com. Toodles!!!

My Big Fat Family Secret.

2007-12-09T16:48:00.000-05:00

Thanks for your kind words everyone. I would like to say that the "issue" is nothing huge, but I'm pretty sure I'd be wrong. My parents have NEVER waited to tell me something in person, unless it was a big deal. Therefore, this my friends, is a huge freaking deal. So I'm going to do what I do best. Dwell. Worry. Make a list of What-If's. And wash my face frequently so I don't break out from all the stress. Geez.

Some of you recommended calling my parents again, but alas, that would be fruitless. They are SET. If I couldn't sway my Dad, then all hope is lost. At least I still have my rampant imagination. Therefore I thought we could play a little game together called "Guess the Family Secret!" I'll start:

The *hopeful* situation is that one of my parents has a family member they didn't know about who left them loads of money. I am doubtful of this.
Everyone tells me that I look like Nicole Kidman. 90% of these people are not legally blind. Maybe, just maybe, we are actually related. Aunt? Very much older sister? Cousin twice removed two continents away? Hmmm....
My Dad just found out he has another child. A minor snafu of a one night stand during the "hazy" months missing my mother.
My mom moved to San Fransisco to go to "college" for 9 months. Or? Contemplate becoming a nun after delivering a child at the in the wine-soaked hills of Northern California...
In a fit of financial desperation "donations" were made to certain "banks" which resulted in said other sibling.
My parents sold my soul to the devil and on my 28th birthday I will have to start capturing escaped souls for him. This was Joel's input.

That's all I've got. Now it's your turn to play! Heres some helpful information:

1. Must be something "shocking" AND "exciting" according to my Dad. An odd mix.
2. It may or may NOT affect my life directly. Ummm... Okay.
3. It was before my parents were married.
4. It relates to my parents but may or may NOT be about them. Again, verrrry helpful.
5. I have four sibling and all are younger.
6. My parents got married at 20 and started dating at 16.
7. They may or may NOT have broken up when my mom was living in San Fransisco.
8. I was born 8 years after they were married.
9. My mom is an only child.
10. Just kidding. My mom just found out that she has multiple half-brothers. Lets just say that my Grandpa's been married a fewtimes.....
11. My dad had two brothers. One passed away the year I was born, the other lives in Chicago.
12. My parents are straight-laced, God-fearing Republicans who've done an excellent job raising five children.
13. What parents? They have now disowned me for this un-approved spillage of secrets to the great world wide web.

Here you go folks! Have at it.

Fa (aaaaahhhhh) mily.

2007-12-07T22:44:00.000-05:00

I love my family. Love them. All four siblings, two parents and one grandmother. But? Sometimes I feel like they might be trying to kill me. Not a quick shot, but a slow process that involves mental torture which is akin to Chinese water torture but worse. With this torture you can still be attacked 2000+ miles away through the phone. Tricky, eh? I'm pretty sure world domination is just a few rings away at this point. If only the military could harness the power of my mother. My. Mother.
This afternoon we were chatting on the phone as I was driving to pick Joel up from work. Nothing was out of the ordinary until I drove up to the school and told my mom I had to go. That's when the bomb dropped which first ruined my afternoon and now has left me in a complete state of perplexion. I am freaking out a bit.
________________
Mind Torture Test #1

Mom (using serious voice): "Now I don't want you to worry...."
Ashlie: (Automatically starts the worry machine up and running. Worry, worry, worry. Yup, it's working jusssst fine.)
Mom: "When you come home for Christmas Dad and I want to talk to you about something before we bring it up to the family."
Ashlie: "Ummm... what would it be about?"
Mom: "Its not about you or Joel or anything, its really about past stuff. Ancient history."
Ashlie (using seriously worried voice) : "Okay? Mom you're being cryptic, could you please just tell me."
Mom: "No. I don't want to do it over the phone. We want to do it in person. Anyway, talk to you later!" click.

Ashlie: Looks at phone, looks at husband, looks at phone, looks at husband. Mouth hanging open. Wide. Worry machine hitting mach-1. Tells husband. Asks for advice. Eventually closes mouth. Husband says to call back MIL (mother in law, to him) and tell her that you will NOT make it 2 more weeks with this hanging over your head. Decide to call back mom.

Mind Torture Test #2

Ashlie: "Hi mom. Um, you know that "thing" we were discussing? Could you possibly give me some more details?"
Mom: "No."
Ashlie: *makes mean face into phone* "Ya sure? 'Cause I'm kinda freaking out right now."
Mom: "Sorry honey." click.

Ashlie: Looks at phone, looks at husband, looks at phone, looks at husband. Mouth hanging open. Wide. Worry machine hitting mach-3. Tells husband. Asks for advice. Eventually closes mouth. Husband says to call back FIL (father in law, to him) and get the no nonsense Dad scoop. Agree and pick up phone.

Mind Torture Test #3

Dad: "Hey honey, how are you doing?"
Ashlie: "Um, not so good Dad...." *explain mind torture #1 & #2 to dad*
Dad: grunt. humprh. "Well. I can't explain it over the phone. Just know that its not about our marriage."
Ashlie: crosses the parents are getting divorced after 37 years of marriage off the list. "Oooohkay. That makes me feel no better. But thanks."
Dad: "All I can tell you is that it was a long time ago before we were married. It wont affect you. Well. It may affect you. Just don't worry. It will probably be shocking and exciting."
Ashlie: "Fine. I'll wait. But I can't guarantee I won't have aged 10 years in worry by the time I see you for Christmas." click.

___________

How weird, cryptic and creepy is that? I am totally freaking out and imaging about a gazillion scenarios. My family is very open, and I thought that I knew about ALL the skeletons in our closet. Gah! I am so frustrated. Shocking and exciting? What is that supposed to mean? Did we inherit millions from a long lost relative? Are we related to Brad Pitt? Do I have a sibling I don't know about? Is this the second marriage for one of my parents? Are they even married? Am I the new Queen of England? Its going to be a loooong two weeks........

I better start making my crown.

I'm in the people business.

2007-12-06T07:28:00.000-05:00

Somewhere around Thanksgiving people tend to lose their "cheer" and start behaving badly. Fingers fly while driving, voodoo dolls are taken out of the closet and flight attendants become verbal punching bags. Even the most cheerful, laid back person may buckle under pressure. Last week I did. Instead of sighing and shaking my head I reacted. A well dressed couple had left a gigantic mess on their seat and floor after deplaning. We're talking ground cheerios, the New York Times, empty bottles and one delectable smeared burrito kinda mess. And since we were only on a short stop I would have to clean it. I confronted them, nicely of course, but I told them in not so many words how rude it was. I walked around the next hour just shaking my head in amazement at the audacity of some people until something happened that would change my view for a long, long time.....

His name was Noah. He boarded the plane and practically bounced down the aisle. When I said hello he looked up at me and gave me a wide, shaky grin from ear to ear. From the bottom of his sneakers all the way up to his Harry Potter glasses he radiated happiness and warmth. After his mom led him to a row in the back I continued greeting the passengers and in general forgot about him until the flight attendant working with me leaned over while pouring drinks and said "The little boy in my section is a Make A Wish Child, isn't that sad?" My heart sank. I knew that it was Noah.

I finished my service quickly and began making a "crown" out of peanuts and putting together a care package which consisted of some playing cards, wings and a couple other small tokens. After taking a few deep breaths I went over to his row. Noah looked up at me with his big, shy eyes and slowly took my gifts. His mom smiled softly and thanked me. Then we started talking.

Noah is seven years old and was flying to go see Santa Claus for what will more than likely be his last Christmas. Along with his winning smile he has a rare disease that doesn't even have a name but will take his life. But he's not scared. He's a happy, bright little boy who loves Santa, his family and his cat. He also wants to go skydiving. His mom has found a jumper who will take a terminally ill child in Hawaii. That's his last wish. He's only seven and he has a last wish. Why should we be so lucky to even get the chance to complain about trivial problems when this little boy won't get to see his 8th birthday?

Sometimes humanity shines brightest under inhumane conditions and as I walked away from his row I realized that my attitude was all wrong. Please remember Noah as you go about your day. Pray for the doctors to diagnose this illness and find a cure in the small amount of time he has left. I'm praying that my attitude and heart will change to be a little bit more like this amazing boy who loves life and lives each day to its fullest....