At Our Age ....

.... who knew that three little words .... I mean, really little .... heck there are only 8 letters total .... three eentsy words could make you blink .... and think .... "Ouch!"?
And then ..... damn!

So here's the story (cuz I know you're all just hanging here, waiting ..... hmmmmm, maybe I'll just close now and leave you really hanging ...... nah, I'm not that mean.  Well, not habitually),

I went to my PT appointment this morning.  For those of you young enough and healthy enough to not know what PT is ..... first, I hate you and second .... it's Physical Therapy .... or Physical Therapist, depending upon your context.
Now go jog or something.

For everyone else .... I went in for my appointment this morning ..... oops, have to digress here, again.
My appointment was at 9:00.
I had been up since 6:00.
Yes, as in A....M....
I know!
And that was because last night on ESPN2, the liars sportscasters said that the men's semi finals coverage would begin at 6:00 a.m. .... 7:00 eastern time, today.
So I set my alarm for 6:00.
A.M.
Yes, I'm a tool that way because no, I don't want to tape a live sporting event, only to find out how it ended when someone .... oh, let's say someone like ..... YOUR MOM ..... calls you up to say, "Can you believe that Roger lost the final?" ..... before you get the chance to watch it yourself.  I'm not really naming names here .... I'm just sayin'......
I hate watching a match once I know who won .... it's totally not the same because then it makes no sense at all for you to yell at the TV, hoping to encourage your player, or to say, "Are you KIDDING ME?!!!  Even I can hit it into the net!!!  And I don't get paid!!"
What?
Whatever.

So, I got up at 6:00 A.M. only to realize after about .... oh 30 minutes or so, that "coverage begins at 6:00 a.m., 7:00 eastern" REALLY means, "We start chatting amongst ourselves about our deep knowledge of the players and what they think at every shot, and who wore the worst outfit, or who wore the least amount of outfit, and hey, what do you think about the new roof, and so, can you believe Rafa's not playing in the Davis cup, and all kinds of stuff like that for over an hour so don't turn on the TV thinking you're going to be watching a live match at 6:00 a.m., 7:00 eastern ..... SUCKERS!"

Yes, I blame myself.
I should have known.

The match didn't begin ..... or at least ESPN2 did not start airing it until around 7:10 a.m., 8:10 eastern.
Which worked out well in the end because at least I didn't have an excuse to not shower today.
Don't judge.

So ..... 3 hours later ..... and yes, this post WILL end ....... I go to PT.  I'm feeling pretty good this morning (as you,  no doubt, have guessed by now).  I check in and head over to the little bike thing that's not really a bike but has pedals for your hands.  So your arms and shoulders get a work out.  That's my warm up.
Next to me is this cute little old man that I sat next to two days ago.  Today I smiled at him and said hello.  Wednesday I nodded and think I managed a smile, though wouldn't bet on it.  I was still hurting on Wednesday.
He was so cute.  He looks quite a lot like Mr. Magoo and if you're too young to know who Mr. Magoo is why are you here??  You were supposed to go jogging about 5 paragraphs ago!!!  Sheesh!!

He has a cute accent that I can't quite place and a great smile that lights up his eyes.
Once I smiled I guess that led him to think I was encouraging a conversation.
Whatever.
OK, kidding.
Today anyway.

He smiled brightly and leaned towards me and said, "At our age we're lucky.  We have an adult playground to go to!!"
And he looked so cute and sounded so cute that I almost didn't notice those first teeny, tiny three words.
I kept smiling and I think I may have nodded .... because about then those words were settling into my brain and I think my body forgot how to breathe, let alone make a sound, so the nodding may have been me starting to pass out from brain, not to mention ego, trauma.

Then my brain started racing.
"At our age??"  Is that really what that not-as-cute-as-he-was-30-seconds-ago little old man just said?
To me???
"At OUR age"?????
I glanced to my other side just to make sure that I really was on the very last machine, next to a wall, so he wasn't talking to anyone else.
I was.  And he wasn't.
Come ON!!!!

This guy is pushing 80, at least.
At the very least.
No matter how cute he is was.

I have no illusions about my age, or how old I look ..... but SERIOUSLY??????
I did a quick take of the room.  There were around 15 other patients.  One was a young girl in her early 20's (I assume, but then heck .... I could be totally wrong because I'm looking at least 80 to SOMEbody!) and was an athlete.  Her rocking body told me that.
Then there were 2 men who's age was questionable, but for the benefit of doubt let's just say they were younger than me.
That means that out of 16 people in the room, three were younger than me.
Number 4?
Me.
And I would guess (but .... you know .......) that I was younger than the next person by maybe 10 years.
And it only went up after that.  Way up.
So ..... you do the math.

Now I've never been a "math" person (and no,  I'm not blonde so just stop that right now.  I know several smart(ish) blonde people.  Kidding!), but even I can tell you that I wasn't even in the AVERAGE age range of that room!

So there you go.
Three little words from wee little man almost undid a week's worth of he-man steroids in my body.
And they definitely made my brain say, "Ouch!".
Followed by "Damn!"

Thanks for sticking around, Peeps, and for the encouragement, prayers and smiles.
I figured it was my turn.
And now, if you'll excuse me,  I have to turn to the internet and look up 'recapturing one's youth', 'health spas', or ..... just plain old 'plastic surgeons'.
Evidently there is much work to be done.

Happy Friday, Peeps.
And Happy July 4th Weekend.
Thank God for this country .... faults and all.
:)

The Summer Saga ....

.... continues.

Let's see .... where was I?
Oh, yes .... we were boarding the USless (thank you, Mollie!) plane to go, eventually, to Destin.  We had to change planes in Charlotte.

So we slowly .... ever so slowly .... boarded the plane.
The plane with more p***ed off people than I think I've ever seen in one place.
Truly.
The topic of every row around us was how much US Air sucks.
It was almost sad.
Almost.

Funny, though.
The talk on that plane was NOTHING compared to the talk on the flight to come.
Who knew that an airline could p*SS off that many people in one day.
In one afternoon!

The flight was uneventful.
D and I chatted through most of it.
There was a fair amount of turbulence.
But I will refrain from blaming that on the US Air pilots.
I'm sure they catch enough flak.

We arrived in Charlotte with less than an hour to spare.
And we had to go from terminal E to terminal A.
And get something to eat.
It was a wee bit tight, but we made it.

We were huffing and puffing when we found 2 chairs.
We dumped our stuff and D went off to "powder her nose" (to those of you who've heard/used that phrase ..... how old ARE you???).
I sat down and tried to arrange D's bag so that I could put my much-swollen feet up on it.
And then I noticed the writing on the wall board.
The next flight was leaving in 2 hours .... not in 15 minutes.
And it was going to Cleveland.
Not Destin.

Now I certainly have nothing against the lovely city of Cleveland.
I've been there before,
Interestingly enough .... with D.
But we had packed for Destin.
Of course, my bag was being thrown into the dirty belly of a plane, so I wasn't sure I'd ever see it again, but still .... Cleveland?

So I got up and waddled over to the man at the gate.
He looked up and I said, "Ummmm .... Destin?"
Yes, that's exactly what I said.
I was still trying to compose my scathing email to US Air in my head, so I couldn't be expected to communicate on a high level.
Besides ..... those were evidently the only words he needed.
He pointed towards the opposite end of the terminal and said, "Gate 11."
That was all.
That was enough.
I think I said something like, "Crap!" and then ran back to our seats.

I managed to pick up all of our food, drinks, purses and D's bag (she got to take it on board because it fit underneath the seat in front of her .... after she stood on it, squashed it, and did some kind of dance on it.
Lucky D.
Anyway, I met her as she came back from the powder room ..... all 5'3" of me, carrying all of our stuff.
I somehow managed to point .... and say, through gritted teeth that I think were holding on to a purse, "Gate 11".
I don't think it actually sounded like "Gate 11" ..... it seemed to come out as "Ate heaven", but she got the gist of it.

So we ran all the way to Gate 11.
Which was much closer than we thought it was.
And immediately found out that our flight was now delayed ..... by over an hour.
Funny ..... the oh-so-helpful-US Air employee at the previous gate failed to mention that the "Destin" flight had been delayed.  Even when he heard me say, "Crap!" .... and knew that I was about to make a run for it.
Yet another oh-so-lovely less than helpful US Air employee.
Who didn't give a crap.

So we plopped down at Ate Heaven and proceeded to eat our stale, yet just-purchased airport over-priced sandwiches.
Thank God that the Charlotte airport has free wifi for their customers .... unlike the oh-so-welcoming Houston airport.
Don't get me started.

So we ate our lunch and surfed and Tweeted and read.
And finally saw our plane arrive.
One would think that when an airline has a flight come in almost 2 hours late, said airline would try to get all arriving passengers off in record time so as to re-load the plane with the next flight's passengers.  To try to make up for lost time.
Wouldn't one?
One would not be someone who had experienced US Air if one thought that.

At about ..... oh, I don't know .... an hour later .... we were boarding the plane.
And the amount of unhappy passengers .... oh my.
Of course, a huge rain storm had come into Charlotte while we were there .... but still.
Can't an airplane fly when it's raining?

To really top the day off .... to make a late, over-booked flight even MORE interesting .... USeless Air put us in Zone 3.  It seems there were many disgruntled passengers in Zone 3.
And here's an interesting point ..... as I walked down the aisle towards our row ..... which was only row 17, I slowly started to realize .... and yet hope I was wrong .... that row 17 was the last row.
You know, the row that doesn't have reclining seats.
The row against the restroom wall.
The row that nobody wants.
The row that we, indeed, were seated in.
God must've been laughing so much that His sides hurt.

We took our seats, D did her little squash-dance to get her suitcase underneath the seat and we breathed a sigh of relief.  At least we would make it to Pensacola.  We had started making plans for over-nighting it in Charlotte .... and Pensacola, since we didn't know how long the rain would delay our flight.

Remind me to tell you about the very loud lady who was ticked beyond belief at her husband.  She sat across from us, until she traded seats with another woman so that she could sit next to her husband (yes, the man with whom she was hugely ticked off).  She made it sound like he was way up front on the plane.  So I was secretly rejoicing on the inside.
The rejoicing was short-lived.
He was sitting in front of me.
She was very entertaining ..... for about 30 seconds.  After that she was just plain irritating.
But .... another time.

We made it to Pensacola ..... with nothing much going on ..... except the on-going harping of the woman in front of us.

We got off of the plane and headed towards the baggage area.
And then .... an uneasy feeling started trying to settle on my shoulders.
I kept shrugging it off, but it kept coming back.
It was trying to prepare me.

I watched all of the bags go around on the conveyor belt.
All of them .... except mine.
And the ticked off harpie from the row in front of us.
And a few other people.

Yes, I had arrived in Destin .... but my carry on/un-carry on .... did not.
Perfect.
Don't you think?
My much-needed carry on, which had been delegated to a non-carry on status .... had been lost.
Really???
I still don't understand how that can possibly happen.

Our friend L picked us up .... after we waited for the USless Air person to take my info for me about my bag.  Which evidently made it to Charlotte (duh!) but seemed to be circling in the atmosphere above that airport .... yet could not be found.

We went with L and her daughter and got something to eat before we headed to Destin.
It was well after 10:00 when we finally checked in to our hotel.
And then ..... we headed to WalMart.
Because there wasn't a Target in sight.
And Wallie World was open all night.
And I needed some toiletries .... and some clean, cute clothes.
I settled on "clean".

We were in Wal-Mart until 1:30 a.m.
And during that whole time I was composing my letter to US Air ...... and wondering if our attorney would be willing to put some weight behind it.
I'm sure he will ..... if I pay for his time.

So .... I think it was around 3 a.m. before I finally settled into bed .... in new p.j.s  I'd just bought at Wally World.
Which USeless Air had better pay for.

We shall see.

So that was my Saturday.
All in all, a good day.
I got to spend a lot of time with D.
I got to fly on an airline for the first ..... and last ...... time.
Lesson learned.

It is now 12:21 and my eyes keep closing, so I will end this never-ending" post.
Take care, Peeps, and enjoy the rest of your week.
D, L and I are getting up tomorrow and driving back to Houston.

Yes, you read that right.
Driving.
As in, spending around 11 hours in a car.
Not something I would usually choose to do.
Unless a friend suggested it and wanted the company to drive back home.

And so ..... here I am.
Getting ready to go to bed and then to wake up, pack the car and head out.

Hopefully we'll make good time.
One thing is certain ..... we won't have to run into any more USless employees.