"Fly the Friendly Skies" - Friendly, My ASS!

Finally, the family was NYC bound for our much-anticipated annual vacation. We’d been waiting a whole year for this day, and we were so ready to be on that big birdie in the sky.

I’m the type of person who is late for everything. I will probably be late to my own funeral. The ONLY thing I am not late for are flights. I arrive 2 hours ahead of take off, as I fret that they may actually not allow me through security. I don’t know why I worry; it's not like I was ever “convicted” and have a record, but I like to believe that I could be a badass if I had to be (maybe).

I get all nervous and jerky a few days prior, making lists of things to do (which inevitably I forget to pack, or I forget where I’ve actually packed the item.) Who is going to take care of the dog, the cat, lizard, guinea pigs, fish and now the POOL? What happens if my cat/dog dies while I am away? (I have a DNR in place – do not REPLACE, just throw the animal in the garage freezer and I will deal with that particular crisis when I get home).

I actually hate to fly. I don’t need medication (for flying) yet but have visions that my “story” will one day be incorporated into the script of the TV show, Lost (note to self; lose weight before I am fatter than Hurley). I wear real shoes, in case the plane crashes and I have to make a mad dash/swim. I bring about a month's worth of food on the plane so that I will be the most popular (needed) person on the Island and they won’t eat me. I can offer my crackers, cookies and peanuts in exchange for the sparing of my flesh or the flesh of my family.

This year started out better than last year's trip for the fact that our luggage wheels did not break BEFORE we had even checked in for the start of our excursion. Actually check-in was smooth flying (no pun intended). Our layover was in Houston, at the George Bush Airport, and that is where the trouble began. Maybe it's got something to do with the name “George Bush” – irony?

Arriving on-time in Houston was a plus right? No –
Upon arrival through gate 34 we were told to proceed to gate C23. No problemo; we will take our time and grab some lunch enroute to our gate. Once we get to our gate and spread out, preparing for the 1.5 hour layover, we are told that we need to go to Gate 25, as they changed our plane. Ok, not a big deal in the whole scheme of things. All 5 of us grab our garb and travel to gate 25. A ½ hour later – opps, the lovely voice comes on the loudspeaker; there is another change - we need to go to gate 35. Now the gates are not that far apart, but it is a good 15 minute walk for my fat ass, with my purse and bag with all the Island food. Finally, we can board, after an additional 2-hour delay. Yea!

We all get on board, stow our luggage, and dang it's hot in the plane! I hear a stewardess over the intercom who proceeds to tell us that NYC won’t clear us for our arrival, due to a "baggage issue." How could there possibly be a baggage issue in NYC? There is no flipping baggage, as we are not even off the Houston ground yet! Then she tells us there is an additional hour delay, and we can either sit on the hot plane (hell no) or get off and hang out near the gates. I’ve decided to laugh, as otherwise, the old NY’er in me might have to come out swinging.

Its all good now, as I am typing this post a million miles above Houston. At least Continental Airline feeds me. I should have a couple drinks, but I don’t, as I could not possibly swim well or make that mad dash if I’m drunk. Guess I will just fall asleep and store up any energy I may need just in case I actually do have to swim to the Island.

I'm in my bikini, whats the hold up?

I came home early the other day from work excited to see the new (any) progress on our pool. Look what I found.

Freaking slackers.......

I grabbed their Sunny Delight container and pee'd in it.

Happy Birthday to You Ms. Rachael

Today is Rachael's 17th birthday. Time flies when you are having fun! Have a wonderful birthday my Lola.

Work.... It's so overrated.

When we moved to Cali almost 3 years ago, my two oldest were in high school, and Carly was in 2nd grade. I knew no one in the neighborhood, so I decided to possibly make another radical change in my life (besides moving 3,000 miles from my "home"). I decided to get a job.

I mean a "real" job." I only put quotes on a "real" job, because years ago, an elderly lady informed me that even though I was raising my three children and running a NYS registered daycare, I should get a "real" job - "a job outside of the home," for which I am paid (that is a direct quote from her, not me).

Over the years, I've worked for the Sheraton Hotel in their Sales and Marketing Dept. I've worked for lawyers, financial planners, doctors, and taught pre-school at the local YMCA.

I was actually on Craigslist, looking for an "L" shaped desk, when I saw a posting for employment. Ah, a new concept for me at the time; a job - one that I could actually make some $$ at. It was a crazy thought, but I was tempted nonetheless. I found a perfect job, close to my house, and it had flexible hours. I thought it was perfect, and for a couple years it has been, despite a few family squabbles I was dragged into to referee.

I have one employee I supervise directly (ironically, she has more hours than I do but that’s my choice). My "boss" is a lady (the "Vice President") and there is a "President" who runs the company. Oh, I forgot to mention that the Vice President and President are actually married, and one of the employees is his son, and his son's wife (whom I adore) also works there. You get it; it’s a "family business." All together, there are about 20 USA employees and 45 employees in a PI office.

The Vice President/my boss, has had her identity stolen at least 2x in the past three years, and apparently, on Friday afternoon, it happened again. Yesterday, I went to work, and my accounting program was locked; well not completely locked, but very little tasks could be done on my new "limited" software version of QuickBooks. I couldn't even access the flippin' petty cash register, for gosh sakes.

My husband says that I should not take it personally, but I am a woman, and I do. My husband says that she's just taking steps so that people (i.e. possibly someone in the office) don't have access to account numbers or social security #'s, or whatever items one snags when they "steal an identity." My husband, I love him, but he doesn't know much about office politics or how a woman thinks.

The person who took her identity could be anyone, not just someone in our office, but she makes many purchases on her cards; in fact, well over 150 transactions a month, so the credit card numbers could have been snagged by anyone. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact she also uses it to get her dogs groomed, purchase dogfood, write off daily business meals lunches, Ebay purchases, new business contacts pleasure trips to china , hairdresser appointments, bank loans, business meals Starbucks purchases, PayPal purchases etc. The point I'm trying to get across is that her numbers are in many, many places - not just in the office. Nonetheless, I'm a bit torqued and will be looking for a new job after I return in August from our Yankee trip.

Today, I was at work opening the mail, and guess what arrived? A new credit card with her name, complete with account information. (So much for restricting my Quickbook information so that I don't have access to account information.)

I guess I'm off to shop again...

I'm such a bitch.

Update-----> today (Wednesday), I've reread my post and I sound pretty nasty. I honestly think it is because my feelings are hurt and maybe Chuck is right, I shouldn't take it personal.