Saturday, January 30, 2010

Ad astra bleeding Kansas

We celebrated a couple of special days while I was asleep at the wheel. Yesterday was Kansas Day. 149 years ago yesterday Kansas entered the union as a free state. But hey, it's not too late to celebrate. Run through a field of sunflowers, tip a cow, huddle in a basement, be flat, thresh wheat, vote Republican, conjecture the price of milo, outlaw evolution, be sincere, close your mind, kiss a Kansan.  Live baby!

And three days before that was Australia Day. Now how did I miss that? I even won a special Australia Day award. Thanks for that. Anyway, 222 years ago on January 26th someone on a convict ship docked in a bay of what is now called Australia and pretended to discover it. But hey, it's not too late to celebrate. Run through a field of red dirt, tip a koala, wrestle a crocodile, wear a flag, import some rabbits, toast your mate, mate, surf, drive on the other side of the road, drink too much, didgeridoo, talk wrong, kiss an Australian.  Live baby!

Guess where I am? Hint: not Kansas. No, not Australia either, dammit. I'm experiencing a little Rocky Mountain high (of the natural variety). I'm visiting my wonderful aunt Kathy in Denver.  When I was packing for this trip yesterday I was looking for a soft-sided bag that I would be able to shove in the overhead compartment, because nowadays if you have to check a bag it pretty much doubles the price of your ticket. I went snooping through Jim's closet looking for a duffel bag, because men excel at things like having duffel bags. I was sure he would have a nice neutral navy or black bag but after looking through everything this was all I could find:



When Jim picked me up he tossed the bag in the back of the car and as we were pulling out of the garage he said, “I'm surprised you picked that duffel bag. I have several, you know.” Really? I wonder where he keeps them. Let me tell you, I felt real butcherific toting that through Denver International. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And Jim. The next time we take a trip somewhere and you forget your razor, feel free to borrow mine.




They really need to do something to make air travel more palatable. And by more palatable, I'm not referring to Southwest flight attendants slapping their backsides and saying “Hi Ho Silver Away” into the intercom as the plane starts off down the runway. The nose of our plane had no more than lifted off the ground when the man in front of me fully reclined his seat and the woman next to me snapped down her tray table, lay her head down upon it and fell asleep. Essentially, I was trapped. Being a rule-follower, I had tucked my belongings, including my portable electronic device, underneath the seat in front of me, until we were fully airborne. But now I couldn't retrieve it. I couldn't bend down to the side because of tray-table-sleeper and couldn't bend forward because the man in front of me had his head comfortably nestled between my breasts. After about 15 minutes of serious toe work I managed to work my purse up my leg and into my left hand, only to discover that my mp3 player had somehow been activated in my purse and the battery had died. So I was left with nothing to do but stare out the window at the night and ponder where Jim hid his duffel bags.





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18 comments:

  1. Typical man, 'I have several you know' leaving unsaid the part where 'I just can't find them anymore.'

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  2. ...all of which you've planted in your closet while I'm away on my trip. See how you are!

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  3. Happy Kanstralia Day. Apparently we sent Foxes as well - Kim's seen evidence of them in Tasmania which is a bit of a worry.

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  4. I was surprised to see no mention of that great Aussie institution - the Barbie, I suppose it could come under "drink too much".

    AV

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  5. After reading I was moved by your fondness of Australia. Was going to send some photos I took on Oz day. Couldn't find a way to attach them here, don't have your mail address so lets just say... two men you might like to meet... a great barbie in progress... a nice girl wrapped in the flag. Oh, and a row of Port A Loos with Colonial soldiers marching by. Must post some to one of those social web sites one day..

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  6. Pssst... my email addy is in my profile. :-)

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  7. Pssst..right back! Thats why I didn't have your mail address, on the profile it opens Outlook. "I use Hotmail exclusively for my mailing" he said pocketing his bribe.:)

    To be honest I haven't figured outlook out ...as it were. Have photos will transmit.

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  8. "Typical Man", "Men Hmmph!" I have to say I'm picking up some bad vibes here and am going to have to stick up for Mr. Xmas! - I'm with you Brother!

    It's not our job to remember where things are ladies, if I wanted to make notes on where anything gets put in my house, write my own family's Birthday and Christmas cards, or make the salads to go with with the BBQ meat that I cook - why would I have got married?

    What would have been in it for me?

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  9. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  10. BTW Glen, Jim excels at writing greeting cards, much better than I. Sux at salads, unfortunately.

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  11. That is because us men think that a finely prepared Haute Cuisine salad can can be found lurking on top of a Big Mac

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  12. And on this occasion I would agree with Glen, although I'd go for the Whopper with bacon and cheese myself!

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  13. Barbara, I'm beginning to think you and Glen are in cahoots. Londoners...

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  14. Only when he can be bothered to type properly.

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  15. God I hate that kbxmas. I'm *always* having to delete her comments!

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  16. She ain't got nuthin on you!
    http://www.flickr.com/photos/statelibraryofnsw/4302119652/

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  17. LOL! I've started a trend. :-)

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