Planes, Trains, and Hurricanes. And Shit in My Basement.


Where do I begin?

If you’re wondering why I can’t form a coherent sentence at this point in time, it’s probably because I have no idea if I’m coming or going. Seriously…what state is this? Where do I live?

And why the hell aren’t the lights on?

Last Thursday, I drove up to Boston to spend the night at the airport before flying to Los Angeles the next morning for the kick-off event for ConAgra’s Child Hunger Ends Here campaign. I’d been looking forward to the trip for weeks, and even though Hurricane Irene (a.k.a. the most UN-Mom Sexy bitch I’ve ever met) was hot on my heels and threatened to cancel my trip, the hubster assured me that things would be fine at home and that I should just get on the plane the next day and go.

And so I did.

And when I landed in LA, I got a nice email from the airline informing me that my flight back to Boston had been canceled.

And then I got my mom on the case, because she’s retired from said major airline, and she called her good friends who still work for said major airline and they were able to get me confirmed on a flight back to Pittsburgh the next day after the event, where I hunkered down with my 91-year old grandfather for two days until I could return to Boston last night.

The event in LA was great…and I will be blogging about it later this week. In the meantime, here’s a little snapshot for ya.



Yeah…that’s Mark Salling from Glee. And this was the only photo of “he and I” that I was able to have taken because right after it was taken, I had to haul my ass back to the Roosevelt Hotel and get in a cab to the airport.

And after I boarded my flight out of LA and we started to taxi down the runway, I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d be getting back home to my family instead of being stranded in an airport for days.

I fly a lot. And I love to fly. But because I fly a lot, I also know when something doesn’t feel or sound right with the airplane. And the 757 I was riding on started down the runway, and took off in like eight seconds, which just seemed WAY too early to me. And it seemed WAY too early to the dude sitting next to me too because he looked at me and commented on how short the take off was.

And then the plane did this weird thing and made this strange noise and I thought we had stalled and were about to go into the Pacific Ocean. And I totally almost grabbed the dude next to me to hang on for dear life. But then the throttle kicked back in, and I realized that even though we’d flown out of LAX, we had done a “John Wayne take off” for some reason. And if you don’t know what a “John Wayne take off” is, then google it. I really don’t have the energy to explain it to you.

After the crazy take off, I made friends with the dude sitting next to me. And I told him that while I’d had fun in LA, I was definitely an East Coast girl, and I told him that I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb in LA and had “East Coaster” written on my forehead.

And then he looked at me and said, “That’s because of the way you talk.”

And I wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a compliment or an insult, especially since this dude had also laughed out loud when he asked what I did for a living and I told him I was a blogger.

Whatever…he totally thought I was legit by the end of the flight and we wound up being buds for 2 1/2 hours till we landed in Dallas.

My flight from Dallas to Pittsburgh took off without a hitch, I landed there fine, and took the train over to baggage claim. And I had a great time there hanging out and talking to my grandfather and other family members for two days.

And then the call came from home that my husband and son had been out of power since Irene hit…and that our basement was flooding with water and sewage.

SEWAGE. As in SHIT. As in there were TURDS floating around in my basement.

My parents thankfully had their power restored, and they watched our son while my husband cleaned up the shit. And then I FINALLY made it back to Boston last night and drove home to CT, and now we are all officially camped out at my parents until our power comes back on.

Did I mention that there was SHIT IN MY BASEMENT?

Needless to say, I’m all out of sorts and my routine this week has literally GONE IN THE SHITTER.

Please send good vibes for the power to come back on soon…and for my home to remain SHIT FREE for a while.

Oh yeah, and feel free to send wine or other booze as you see fit.



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