Anecdotes, Antidotes, and Anodes

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm....

Dear United, Delta, Southwest, American, et al

Memo to:  Airline Decision Makers

From:  Swampwitch, a frequent flyer

RE: Just Think About This

Date:  Today

Suggestions:

#1 parents with children who have legs long enough to kick the back of the seat in front of them should be seated in front of said children

#2 flight attendants should be issued bullhorns to politely encourage passengers to get the hell out of the aisle so the rest of us who are teetering on the step ladder outside the plane, freezing our eeshkeeshishes off, can at least get inside  (Where I live, we don't have that fancy jetway that protects passengers from the elements while boarding)

#3 flight attendants should be issued cattle prods (tazers) for passengers who don't listen to what's being politely announced over the bull horn  see #2

#4 passengers who have resonant voices, whose entire conversations can be heard plane-wide should be seated together in a sound-proof area away from the rest of us, possibly seated in front of the children along with their parents mentioned in #1

#5  arm rest rules should be posted allowing those of us who usually get the middle seat to have a place to put our arms  (Explanation:  The window-seat guy has an arm rest of his own. The aisle-seat guy has an arm-rest of his own. At least let me have part of either arm rest for a portion of my elbows.)

#6 seating procedure: How hard is this to figure out people?  I don't understand the Zone 1, Zone 2, Zone 3...Zone 47 thing at all. It is wholly commendable the airlines have tried to alleviate problems with boarding, but THIS ZONE THING DOES NOT WORK !  Granted, let the first class elite load first, along with the parents and their kicking kids, and those with the booming voices.  No problem. But, try this:

"All passengers who have a window seat whose seat number is above 30, load you arse...above 20 can now board... above 10, you know the drill..."

"All passengers who are unlucky enough to have a middle seat, go now, in any order, so that you can possibly claim an arm rest."

"All passengers who have an aisle seat, load now and good luck finding an empty over-head bin."

Does this make sense to anyone?  How many times have you had a window seat and guy in the middle and the aisle seat have to get up to let you in? Well, I don't get a window seat very often, but I've seen the chaos this produces. 

Oh, and while you're at it, put your carry-on above your own seat !

#7  passengers who sling duffel bags the size of Rhode Island over their shoulders and go whap-whap-whapping down the aisle knocking those of us seated in the aisle (yes, I get an aisle seat occasionally) unconscious should be notified to drag their duffel bags behind them - I am not fond of seeing NIKE -Just Go For It - emblazoned on my forehead when I look in the mirror.

#8 first rule for the person sitting behind me: when returning your tray table to its original and locked position, it is not necessary to slam it so hard that it becomes embedded between my shoulder blades, sufficiently knocking the air our of my lungs in the process, OK?

#9 second rule for the person sitting behind me: when you stand up to go to the restroom or whatever it is you are getting up for, it is 'ok' to grab the seat in front of you (my seat) but please do not grab a handful of my hair as you crank yourself up and out of your seat - it hurts.

second part of #9: OR once you have grabbed the back of my seat along with my hair to lift yourself up to a standing position, do not pull it so far back that when you finally let go of it, I am catapulted up and over the passengers' heads seated in front of me - they don't like me sitting in their laps.

#10  for smokers who have just puffed down that last cancer stick (it's my blog and I can call them that if I want to) seat them with the kicking kids, their parents, and booming voice passengers because I don't enjoy feeling like I'm flying in a chimney -  either that or dip them in a vat of Febreez before boarding

"WHY," you ask are these rules necessary ?

Because I am sufficiently disheveled and mildy temperamental after flying.

See... and if you read yesterday's post, I was beginning to resemble this at the coffee place.

In fact, I look like this a lot:

Project S.N.O.T. ?

Update:

You might want to hold your breathe while reading here. Don't want you catching my cold. Ah-Choo ! At at all costs, don't scratch and sniff your cornpooter screen ! While still under the influence of two shots for my migraine, yes, M.I.G.R.A.I.N.E., I decided to present a Report Outline on Project S.N.O.T.

I.   Sunday
     A. drippy nose and I mean running like a faucet
     B. some sneezing and scratchy throat
     C. abcessed tooth: still abcessed, but on antibiotics
     D. hair is still short
     E. zit is still throbbing

II.  Monday
     A. nose still dripping and signs of clogging appear
     B. lost count of sneezes and throat is on fire
     C.abcessed tooth still abcessed, still choking down antibiotics
     D. hair is still short and oily
     E. zit is not as red or as sore

III. Tuesday
     A.  who stuffed all the cotton up my nose?  head feels like an anvil
     B.  not only still sneezing, coughing has now entered the scene
     C.  gagging on antibiotics for abcessed tooth
     D.  hair is still short and oilier
     E.  zit beginning to resemble a large scab

IV. Wednesday
     A. is there such a thing as a headectomy?
         a. enter sinus infection (the antibiotics didn't keep it away)
     B. head explodes with each sneeze and cough
     C. abcessed tooth, still in my mouth
     D. hair is still short and about to slide off my head*
         d. *have been taking soaking bubble baths... not showers
     E. zit least of my worries
     F. M.I.G.R.A.I.N.E. (Imitrex didn't work)
     G. nausea heaving up my toe-nails

V.  Thursday
     A. need a sling for my head and a roto-rooter for my nose
     B. sneezing and hacking at the same time
     C. appointment for root canal:  11:15 a.m. no more abcessed tooth !
     D. showered/shampooed: oil change on the hair that still too short
     E. who cares about the zit?
     F. sitting in doc's office waiting for knock-out shot and phenegran shot
     G. kept down crackers for first time in 36 hours after the shots

The migraine subsided in about twenty minutes after the Imitrex shot and the Phenegran helped with the nausea. I went ahead and had the root canal done because I didn't want to prolong that procedure into next week. I was in La-La Land anyway. A good place to be while having a root canal.

Thanks to all of you for your visits and kind words. It was rather late before I could focus on the computer screen. While you are reading this, I am probably sleeping. It may be a while before I fly your way.

In the meantime, can anyone come up with an acronym for the S.N.O.T. outline?

And, ever noticed that most words beginning with "SN" have a sort of negative connotation?
Care to list some in sentences?

LaLa Land...

Aren't you glad you came to visit today for this loverly post?

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

...she just didn't tell me there would be seven or fourteen of them in a row !

My oldest daughter and her fiance's wedding is sixteen days and eight hours from right now. Give or take an hour or two. It may have become apparent for those of you who have been reading here for awhile that I am an anal/retentive/obsessive/compulsive list maker. In other words, my clothes for each event have been laid out for days in little stacks with the shoes and jewelry that go with each outfit.

My days at the athletic club have been filled with yoga, pilates, cardio-sculpt, and weight lifting just to tone up keep my tummy from hanging over my waist bands. I was doing great because I could zip the zippers to the top and almost button the buttons.

I found this gal who did a great hair cut. I've used her for several months. Gave her a picture of the hair cut I liked and just like "shear-magic" she re-created it on my head. My very own head. A great look for the wedding.

The new products for my face have been working great. Skin was clearer than it had been in a long time.

Overnight, about a week ago, things went to hell-in-a-hand-basket. We're talking in eight hours this happened. All during the same night. I woke up with a scratchy throat. Very subtle, but nonetheless, I recognized the symptoms of a full-fledged cold coming on. My left incisor had some little flutterings in it that caught my attention. A place on the side of my nose felt sore and tender. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a slight redness in that general area. And, my hair seemed to have grown three inches and totally out of shape during the time my head was on my pillow. How does that happen? One day your hair is perfect and the next day you need a hair cut yesterday.

By noon, I have sneezed twenty-three times, and my nose is manufacturing snot by the buckets. So much, that I took strips of paper towels and stuffed them in both nostrils. Once they became saturated, and expanded they fit rather nicely. The little flutterings in that tooth had progressed into lightning bolts that proceeded from the tooth, up my nose, past that sore spot that had now doubled in size, between my eyes, and out the top of my head. The second inspection of my nose revealed not just a red spot, but a very swollen, b-b sized red spot that was now throbbing. I know it was throbbing. I could SEE it throbbing. At this point, I'm not sure if it's my tooth or the zit that was growing out the side of my nose causing the disturbance. My hair seemed to have grown another inch.

We're leaving on a five-day road trip in forty-eight hours, so I call my dentist and my hair dresser to take care of these problems before heading out. Notice, I've not mentioned going to the athletic club since the first paragraph.  I can feel the elastic in my warm-ups stretching, so I know the ring-around-my stomach has ballooned somewhat.

Because I have this on-going battle with my teeth, the receptionist at the dentist office recognizes my voice and asks, "What's wrong today, Kathy?"  Upon hearing the pain and panic in my voice, she books an appointment for me that afternoon. I call the salon and luckily my hair cut gal has had a cancellation and I can fit it in just before my dentist appointment.

I'll not go into the gory details, but my dentist shared the good news that my tooth is abcessed (my fourth to do me the honor). An appointment was made with my endodontist for the next day. My hair cut gal went ape-$hit crazy with the scissors. I do not like for my bangs to be cut above my very asymmetrical eyebrows. I was just thankful I left with my eyebrows.

That evening, I donned my baseball cap, plastered a band-aid saturated in something on my nose, drank some Day-Quil because I didn't have Ny-Quil (is there a difference?), took my prescribed antibiotics, and went to bed. Yes, I wore the cap to bed. What's your point?

Fast forward.

I swear my hair is shrinking. It seems to get shorter everyday. Either that or my eyebrows are moving down my face. My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton but weighs more than an anvil. How can cotton be so heaby. I tawk li dis. My consonant blends seemed to be lodged somewhere in my sinus cavities. No air can be expelled out my nose. And speaking of my nose, that zit has taken on a life of it's own. I may qualify for the Guiness Book of World Records if it gets much bigger.

That night at dinner, I casually mention my zit, which was, by the way on the side of my nose opposite to where theHansMan was sitting.

"Can you see the zit on my nose?"

"Yeah, is that the hump I notice?"

"What hump?"

"The one on the top of your nose."

"You mean it has spread to the TOP of my nose?"

"Well, there's a hump there."

"Point to it."

"Here."

"Hans, that hump has been there since I was twelve when I got hit by a baseball and no one believed me when I told them it was broken."

"Oh."

"Can you see my zit?"

"Not if you put you hand over your nose or if I shut my eyes."

"Shut up."

***************************************************

The appointment for my root canal is today. I've been taking antibiotics which is a good thing because maybe, just maybe my cold won't morph into a sinus infection. My head is throbbing. Not sure if it's the tooth, the zit, or the large amount of congestion boiling above my shoulders, or a combination. My hair is still short.

If things don't change before the August 25th wedding, I will be wearing a baseball cap, fake paraffin lips/teeth, a sling on my nose, and sweat pants complete with a draw-string.

******************************************************

And just as proof, here is a reminder of my on-going dilemma with my teeth.

Here's an x-ray. I think maybe it's upside down. The white areas are plates and those long, spindly things are root canals. I can cause a melt-down of those machines at airport security with just my head.

I had visions of looking like this, except longer bangs...(thank you Min.)

I don't think it's going to happen.

*******************************************************************

My personality/attitude transplant is scheduled for tomorrow.

Oh, and one last thing, "Does my butt look big?"

I Don't Try to Be a Troublemaker

I don't try to be a trouble-maker, it just comes naturally. I seem to have a knack for it.

Setting: Baltimore/Washington International Airport

Time: Too Early

Date: A couple of days ago

Characters: the HansMan, the Swampwitch, and the Disgruntled Clerk at the coffee place in the above-named airport on Concourse A across from The Hudson News located next to our gate

I am not a happy traveler at 5:00 in the morning. In fact, I'm not a happy anything at 5:00 in the morning. You can actually figure out exactly what I am by taking my name, Swampwitch, doing away with the first syllable, changing the letter -w- in witch to the letter -b-, and you've pretty much got it. Possibly, with a CAPITAL -B- !

Traveling with theHansMan is an experience in itself, especially when it involves a GPS, a rental car, specifically, a rental car that needs gasoline, an airport somewhere, too much luggage, specifically too much luggage that is over the 50-pound limit, specifically luggage that contains about 2 miles worth of cable. I kid you not:

You can see the spool in the picture above. It was F.U.L.L. And if you look closely, you can see the cable lying all the way down the hallway of the hotel. The picture below is 'furry' but at least you can see part of how much cable is there waiting to be packed in a suitcase.

I'll skip all the four-letter words, and move quickly on to Concourse A. Yes, we made it to check-in with about 2 minutes to spare, through security, and to our gate.  Why is it that no matter what the gate number is, be it A-1 or A-50, the gate on my boarding pass is always the one that's about two miles down the concourse? If someone could answer that for me, I'll be forever grateful.

Moving on. I'm not too upset about the long walk because I have these little air bubbles rumbling around in my stomach. Probably from the apple I ate at 10:00 the night before. Note to self: Don't eat apples at bedtime.  The walk will do me some good and maybe I can 'get rid' of the air bubbles.

We pass the latte place that has a line of people about a mile long waiting for their caffeine. Since we don't have our official boarding passes yet, I opt to take care of necessary business first and not stop to order a latte. If time permits, I'll come back to the end of Concourse A and order it then, heaven knows I need the caffeine and the walk will do me good.  I think I've mentioned that. TheHansMan will be thankful for his time away from me.

Once we have those very important documents in hand, we walk over to the Coffee Place next to the gate I mentioned in the setting, NOT, the latte place with the mile-long queue of people all the way back down at the end of the concourse. TheHansMan opts for the regular, plain coffee and takes up residence at a table there. I spotted breakfast burritos as he is ordering his regular, plain coffee and decided after my hike to the latte place, I would come back and order one of them.

About 15 minutes later, with latte in hand, I find theHansMan still at his table reading his newspaper and drinking his regular, plain coffee. Planning to join him, I notice that the table has a layer of an unidentifiable sticky substance on it.  I place my latte on the clean table next to him, grab a $5-dollar bill intending to order my breakfast burrito, a couple of napkins with which to clean the table, approach the young girl behind the counter who is on the phone obviously on a personal call and who does not want to be bothered by me, and I wait until she finishes her conversation. (This is what we called in my former profession, a run-on sentence.)

She walks over, leans on a sink, and says, "Get your coffee off that table."

I think, "Is she talking to me?"

I say, "Huh?"

She repeats, "Get your coffee off that table."

I think, "She IS talking to me."

I say, "I'm with him."

She says, "Then put your coffee on HIS table."

Not taking the time to explain that HIS table is dirty, I ask if she'll get the napkins wet for me.

I think,  "A simple request, indeed."

She says, "There's a water fountain down the concourse."

I think, "You're leaning on a water spicket. If you get any closer you will be impaled by it. And I know there's a water fountain down the concourse, I saw it on my hike to buy my latte."

I say, "Huh?"

She repeats, "There's a water fountain down the concourse."

As I pass theHansMan on the way to the water fountain down the concourse, he mutters, "You didn't buy your coffee from her."

I mutter back, "But I planned to buy a breakfast burrito, from her."

He mutters back, "She doesn't care, besides, she doesn't like you, you're a troublemaker."

I think, "But I don't try to be a troublemaker."

I find the water fountain down the concourse, return, and proceed to clean the table.

Little Miss Personality is on the phone again.

I set my latte on the appropriate, now clean table, and start to approach her again to order a breakfast burrito.

From 'over the counter and through the shop,' she yells, "I've called my manager."

I think, "Is she talking to me? ... by now, I assume she is."

I yell back, "Huh?"

By this time, we have attracted several others who have become quite interested in our little conversation.  Her yelling at me.  Me in my intelligent mode saying, "Huh?"  And no one even dares to come close to her, or me ,for that matter.

She yells, "I've called my manager."

I think, "Why, so she can arrest me?"  "Bring it on."

In my hesitation and bewilderment, she says, "I've called my manager so you can complain to her."

I say, "About what?"

I think, "Maybe I can tell her you are frigging nuts but she probably already knows that."

She yells something I didn't quite understand, so I asked her to repeat it.

She does. Insert four-letter words here. Any four-letter words will do.

Now, having taught school for a quarter of a century and being fairly adept at diffusing situations, I decided not to use those tactics. I also learned tactics of how to add fuel to the fire in this same profession by observing my students on the playground and some teachers.

TheHansMans cast a wary look my way, knowing all-too-well what possibly might ensue.  He began to gather up his newspaper and carry-on and regular, plain coffee and whatever else he could manage to escape with.

As Little Miss Personality and I approach each other at the counter, I was smiling and she was snarling. I actually think she may have been foaming at the mouth just a little.

I say, "I didn't understand you."

As she begins to go into another rage and repeat herself, I turn away, and wish her a good day.

I think, "Tomorrow you might try the other side of the bed."

Looking back over my shoulder, I could see her face begin to disintegrate.  I guess this 'conversation' caused those little air bubbles to break loose because I was able to release them from my body, leaving a green fog that enveloped the entire coffee shop. You know the kind. . . those silent but deadly ones that burn. 

I'm sure the fog was still lingering when her manager arrived.  If Little Miss Personality wasn't foaming at the mouth earlier, she certainly was by now, and possibly gasping for air.

I think, "Wonder if they'll call the bomb squad...the stink bomb squad?"

Weird Things About Swampwitch

Pam over at Ramblings tagged me with this weird-thing, as if I'm not weird enough as it is.

Here are the Rules: Each player (weirdo) of this game lists six (6) weird things about themselves by  creating a post on their blog.  Pictures may be used for documentation.  On the post, state these rules and then tag six (6) other weirdos by listing their names on your post. Leave a comment at their place that says, "You have been tagged. Please go to my blog for further instructions."

I combined this tag with a few questions that I have been asked along the way since I started blogging.

Weird Fact #1:  I have had my head shaved.

Weird Fact #2:  I have met a fellow blogger. (aka: Ladybug)

Weird Fact #3:  The HansMan and I had a weird feeling seeing ourselves on a post card.

Weird Fact #4:  Cruella and I are alike in a least one way. We both like dogs. (Yes, this is my hair.)

Weird Fact #5:

I have had some very weird "hair-do's." (See #1 and #4)

Weird Fact #6 (to answer some questions that have come along the way):

A)  What is your profession?  I am a retired teacher (25 years), and my favorite students were the middle school kiddos. I absolutely loved working with students in that age group. I used the philosophy of Howard Gardner's Multiple Intelligences in my curriculum which worked well with my Multiple Personalities.

B)  Why do you call yourself Swampwitch?  It has to do with a product that I manufacture for evaporative coolers, better known as swamp coolers, in arid climates.  Some of you clever bloggers have done a scavenger hunt and found the web-site. The guys at the office gave me that name.

C)  How many kids do you really have?  Together, we really have six (6)...goes with today's theme of six (6).  I have two daughters from a previous marriage and the HansMan has two daughters and two sons from a previous marriage. We live in different time zones...figuratively and literally speaking. We have eight (8) grandchildren ranging in ages from 18 years to 9 days old.

D)  Are you really dyslexic?  Well, I'm something that has to do with my "brian" and my "ginfers" not working well tohetger. With me so far?  Some days it's better/worse than other days. I constantly confuse b's, d's, q's, and p's, transpose numbers, transpose syllables, etc.  Word Verification Boxes are a nightmare for me. Sometimes, it takes four tries to get it right. I spend a lot of time roofpreading and correcting my comments and my posts.

E) In your title, Anecdotes, Antidotes, and "Anodes" what is an Anode?  See "B" above and click on this link.

F) Why do you call your musings "moldy?"  My product fights mold, and I like alliteration, so it fit.

I've been away from reading Blogs (Globs in my world) for awhile, so you may have already done this, and I just missed your post. If so, humor me and just link us to that post. Those listed here, consider yourself Weird and Tagged:

Julie

Pamela

KarmynR

Susan

Marnie

Barngoddess

Wolfbaby

Nessa

I know, I know...that's more than six (6) but who said I could count?  I plan to list more to be tagged in a few days...just ran out of time doing all the links.

Martha Stewart, Move Over

Step 1:  Thaw the turkey

Step 2:  Rescue turkey from pack of dogs

Step 3:   Enlist the help of others

Step 4:   Clean out the refrigerator

Step 5:   Chop everything into indistinguishable, miniscule pieces

Step 6:   Call it dressing

Step 7:   Immunize the bird against bird flu

Step 8:  Have the bird taste-tested & inspected

Step 9:  Immerse bird into hot grease...Wowouch !

Step 10:  Find the fire extinguisher !

Step 11:  Burn Baby Burn

Step 12:  Check temperature of bird with rectal thermometer, oh, that's the wrong end...

Step 13: Check temperature of bird with neck thermometer

Step 13:  Be  thankful for our family