It Would Have Been Perfect...Had it Been Different

During a recent driving trip, I was mentally reviewing a conversation  in which I had earnestly said something to the effect of:  "It would have been perfect, had it been different."  I became so tickled  I started giggling at the absurdity of the statement--until I realized it would make a great title for a song or a blog entry, etc. I can't remember too much of it, because I was driving and had no way of safely recording my thoughts, but the next line was, "It's an action-docu-comedrama, with a little Mr. Ree."  I of course giggled even more, because of the misdirection that "Mr. Ree" lent to the "mystery" genre.  I was practically blinded by the tears streaming down my face  as I giggled even harder at the realization that an even better "Miss" direction would be to turn "Mr" Ree into "Miss Taree." (Yes, I'm easily amused.)

Unfortunately, about that time my phone beeped at me, bringing me back to the sad realization that the car charger was not functioning.  I had let my cell phone become dangerously red earlier whist talking with my Sister. There was no way I wanted to drive from NOLA to central Texas without the safety net of a phone. While formulating re-charge plans (e.g. jiggling the cord, and if charging connection remained unsuccessful,  making a pit-stop to plug in my laptop and use it to recharge the phone),  I realized the sky had suddenly become ominously dark, due to the increasingly hard downpour. Even more disturbing  was the realization that the lightening was much closer than when I first boarded the bridge. In a flash of insight quicker and more brilliant than the lightening strikes before me, I realized I was now stuck in slow moving traffic, in the middle of a long, low-built, steel and concrete bridge, over an escape-eliminating  body of water. Not exactly the safest place to be.

Literally within seconds of realizing  the precariousness of my situation (and wondering at my "wisdom" in placing myself in harms way), as I--and the rest of the traffic--crawled along at 10 mph, the lightening struck the little white truck in the left hand lane one car in front of my position (less than 50 feet away--we were at least appropriately spaced).  Orange sparks flew from the truck as I let loose with a scaredy-cat-blood-curtling-scream worthy of any teenage-slasher-movie-star (think Jamie Lee Curtis). All thoughts of songs and blogs flew out of my mind and I concentrated in earnest on safe driving.

The white truck passed in front of me and safely pulled over onto the narrow shoulder. As I passed, I noticed a shaken, but physically unharmed guy with a bewildered look on his face. Evidently, I was not the only one taken by surprise at the fierce intensity and quick approach of the storm. I did not see him whip out a cell phone (and he appeared to be of a generation that might not be in bondage to technology). Unfortunately,  Bandit and I were by ourselves, and the SUV was packed to the gills, so I was not in a position to stop and render aide (at least not in the form of a ride to dry-non-steel land), so I did the next best thing:  I noted his location, and once safely off the bridge I called the Louisiana State Patrol and asked them to check on him.  Lucky for him, I read and remember the cell phone emergency numbers posted at the state lines.  Unlucky for me, I no longer remember any more of the lyrics or the even the jazz tune of the song I was mentally composing.

Israel Trip--Day One

For several weeks, maybe even a month or more, I planned my travel wardrobe. I would not let the packing sneak up on me this time. I would pack a complete change of clothes, and the essentials (money/credit card, medications, hair combo-flat/curling iron, make-up, a couple of pieces of jewelry, camera, memory cards, extra batteries, camcorder, laptop, and all the assorted wires/adaptors and converters needed to stay connected to friends and family and record my experience, a can of black-eyed peas and box of plastic spoons--hey, we were going to a Kosher country that did not serve them and we needed our good luck/good fortune for the New Year, a small paperback and book light, gum for popping ear-pressure, a rain poncho for heavy rain and a tiny umbrella for light drizzles, my pony tail holder and one pink curler to put my hair up when I was sleeping--it's a twofer: it gives curl and keeps my hair from tangling--and my sleep mask) in my carry on and purse. I even planned the outfit I would pack--this would be the black pants and black top I would wear with the sequined scarf on New Years Eve. Very Festive.

I would wear slip on leather shoes for ease at security check-ins, my heaviest coat/sweater to conserve space inside my luggage, carry a shawl that could serve as my sleeping blankie on the plane (domestic flights don't provide them and often international flights want them back before the end of the flight). I would be my pleasant, smilling self but I would not attempt to engage Israeli security guards in banter. They don't usually banter.

In my checked luggage I would pack four additional outfits--all interchangeable with each other--all socks, under ware, a second pair of shoes, old washcloths (one for each day of the trip) that could be thrown away--(many international hotels do not provide face towels/wash cloths and do not understand when you ask for them--they bring more hand towels. I keep wash cloths until they are threadbare, so I had plenty to spare), my swimsuit, aqua socks, and a small towel for the dead sea, house slippers, all my liquids, my Bible (essential, but too big for my carry on), notebook, an extra carry on bag for purchases, several scarves to change up outfits as I re-wore them, and some Fabreeze to freshen up shoes/clothes if they could not be washed between wearings.

In each bag I would place a copy of my passport in case mine was lost. Each bag would also be labeled inside and out with my name, mailing (not street--safety first) address, my cell phone number, and a stateside contact persons (usually Mama) cell phone number. This trip I would pack light, yet be prepared for all contingencies. I would be the consummate traveler. I even studied 4 Plinnsler lessons of Hebrew (The CIA uses their tapes) and could say some very important and helpful phrases. I would be ready. "So it was planned. So it would be." (Slight variation on a quote from "The King and I.")

I worked Christmas Eve then drove to Tyler to spend Christmas with the Borums. They sort of adopted me many years ago when Pat and I sang with Chisholm Trail (a local Barber Shop Chorus). When I am unable to go home to Florida to visit family at Christmas I spend it with them. I would leave the pet friendly hotel NLT 3am, drive my "baby" to his groomer who was to babysit him for the duration of the trip, unload my bags at the Church, park my car a block away, walk back to the Church and board the bus that was taking us to DFW. "So it was planned. So it would be."

So what was I doing still packing at midnight? What about all my planning? What about "So it was planned. So it would be."?! Evidently, the king did not get my memo--my esentilas didn't fit in my carry-on luggage, so I was having to re-think my packing. I finally finished packing at 2am. I loaded the car by 2:30am. I took a 30 minute nap and got up at 3am (the time I was supposed to be leaving). I showered, dressed in my traveling clothes and checked out. By 8:30am I had arrived in Harker Heights to drop off Bandit (I had his stuff prepacked--travel pillow, blankie--I took my nap on it to give him my scent--his food, travel dishes for food and water, treats, 2-3 toys that he sometimes plays with, a small suitcase of clothes/bandannas--he's hairless, it's winter, he needs them--his leash and collar, and a typed sheet of information: Vet info, commands he knows but frequently refuses to obey, daily routine, contact information for me in Israel and someone stateside in case of emergency, etc.). Saying goodbye was about as painless and unprotracted as you would expect from an eccentric, middle-aged, single woman who dotes on her Hairless Chinese Crested as if it were her first-born.

"I made it to the Church on time!" Okay, so again it's a paraphrase of a sixties song. But I made it!!!! :~) I pulled into the parking lot as the bus was pulling in. I off-loaded my luggage, parked my car a block or so away at a house, walked back and made it in time for the "before" photo. I slept all the way to Dallas. And I slept on every leg of the journey--awaking only for meals, transfers, and bathroom visits. Remember I told you I sleep with my hair up in a high ponytail with a curler? I even remembered to take the curler out for transfers and trips to the bathroom. So far, so good...