House of Zathras

Obamacare isn’t official until 2014. But insurance companies, seeing how it’s going, are working now to make any profits they can while they can.

My new health insurance rates have just come out. From $357 a month to $568…while my employer’s contributions are dropping about $50.

And do you know whom I feel sorry for in this particular aspect of this mess??? All those dads who are court-ordered to provide insurance for their kids who are in the ex-wife’s primary custody…how will that affect their take-home pay…pay that needs to go to child support?

This whole Obamacare is going to be such a disaster for our country. How can people be so blind to this economic bomb?

Is there any hope at all that it could be repealed???

The Obama healthcare plan has hit us much sooner than I thought it would. We have to make a choice about how we want to continue our healthcare…to the tune of several thousand dollars…on top of our insurance premiums.

How can this be, you say? Isn’t Obamacare supposed to be affordable for everyone? Of course it is…if you choose to become one of the multitudes who will be among the thousands in line for your ‘affordable’ healthcare. Where the doctor is only allotted a limited amount of time for each patient. Which means ‘cattle calls’ for healthcare.

Our physician has told us he has pondered long and hard about his future practice. He is a very thorough doctor, and both my husband and I are very happy with him because of his attentiveness to all our concerns. But the good doctor faced the problem of having his practice turned into a ‘drive-by’ medical service, with huge numbers of patients being rushed in and out of the office (as deemed by Obamacare).

So the doctor has turned to an alternative that is allowed under Obamacare. His practice will be associated with a company that offers ‘personalized healthcare’. For adults, there is a yearly cost of $1,500.00 and a full and complete physical (it’s quite exhaustive). We get same or next-day appointments when we call, and get 24-hour physician availability by phone. Appointments are scheduled so that you have plenty of time to ask the questions you want. The number of his patients will go from 3,000 to 600. After he reaches 600, that’s it…he takes no more ‘adult’ patients after that. He will see our children without the yearly fee…and hopefully our insurance will still be affiliated with him.

So…the choice is…do we stick with a doctor we trust but have to pay an extra several thousand dollars per year? Or do we leave it to chance and the cattle-round-up…and the costs go up next year, with health benefits becoming taxed and the Bush tax-cuts ending?

Because of Obama(un)care, how many people will take home even less…and start going without? How many families will go without adequate and affordable healthcare, without money to pay for housing and food and transportation… You think the economy has taken a downturn recently? Wait till next year…Obama’s audacity of ego can quite possibly lead this country down an ever-spiraling path of economic destruction, making us vulnerable in ways recent generations could never have imagined.

Government, even in its best state, is but a necessary evil; in its worst state, an intolerable one.
Thomas Paine

Our basic rights are being eroded away, one intolerable ‘feel-good’ policy at a time. I hope (not Obama’s self-aggrandizing kind of ‘hope’), that this November’s election will be a sign-post of change (not Obama’s country-destroying ‘change’). Our country doesn’t deserve its president and Congress attempting to destroy it from within. We, the people, don’t deserve to be raped and pillaged of our basic rights.

If we do not hang together, we shall surely hang separately.
Thomas Paine

We, the people, need to now act to form a more perfect Union. Vote for real hope, vote for real change. Doc Utopia and his ilk are NOT the physicians we need.

I rarely ‘not’ finish a book. It has to be pretty bad for me to put it down and walk away from it. I only threw away one book that I can recall.

I would like to throw away one I just (partially) read, except that it’s from the library. Then I’d have to pay for the frikken thing, and I’m not about to do that.

The storyline is about a pandemic bird-flu and a family’s efforts to survive. Basic enough apocalyptic stuff, right?

Except this author was a total ditz. I think she’s from the big city and has no clue about life in suburbia.

One of her characters is an art teacher. Who when the fire alarm goes off, takes the time to find out who the line leader is, lets them slowly line up, and gets outside leaving a child behind. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Then runs back in going all the way around to the front to get back in. And then she’s praised as a heroine for rescuing the child she left behind!!!!

This same teacher left in the middle of the school day to go to the post office. Yeah, right. I’d LOVE a teaching job where I had enough of a break to be able to do that…aside from the fact you usually can’t leave campus during class hours. But maybe this author lives in the big city where a post office can be very close by…although this story was set in suburbia, meaning a drive to most places. Then when this character gets back from the post office, the office is empty because everyone is in a meeting in the cafeteria. Again, total bullshit. Someone is ALWAYS in the office, or at the very least the front door and office door is locked.

At this assembly, it is announced to the whole school about the Health Department closing the school indefinitely (because of the bird flu). Again, this is not the way a serious matter is handled. Something that important isn’t announced blandly to elementary school kids. (We didn’t even tell our students about 9-11 the day it happened. When there are hurricanes heading our way, automated calls go to the parents and notes are sent home.)

And then what pissed me off enough to close the book was when the woman asked if she liked teaching, and she said to the affect of ‘it’s okay, but it wasn’t doing‘. Fuck you.

The book sat there a day after that. And then I picked it up again, deciding the author just simply didn’t research with actual teachers, and just assumed she knew more than she did. She did appear to have good research about the spread of the flu, so I would try again.

I read a few more chapters. The flu has spread, there are shortages of food and water. But somehow internet and electricity and water are all working just perfectly! What I couldn’t figure out was why the family was so intent on buying bottled water. When the outbreak started happening, the water supply was still fine…start storing up water at home. Nope, they couldn’t do that.

Then a serious winter storm hit with about two feet of snow and the power went out. So they started cooking their meat so it wouldn’t spoil. SERIOUSLY???? You have tons of snow outside, and you couldn’t keep packing the freezer with that? Or hell, even store it outside in the sub-freezing temperatures?

I was done with the book at that point. I hoped they all died in the epidemic so their genes of stupidity wouldn’t be passed on. But dammit, I peeked at the end and the stupid bitch was still alive.

Thank God I didn’t pay for this inanity. Total stupidity. I can’t wait to get this book out of my house and back to the library. That kind of stupidity can be catching, and I don’t want it spreading here at the HoZ. We have enough of our own without adding to it.

So…do you finish a book even if it’s stupid?

Saturday was rather eventful.

It started at the airport. And I have such fun at airports. (To recap if you wish, read here, here, and here.) Yesterday became one of those ‘eventful’ airport trips.

It’s been some time since I’ve been allowed back to the gate with the kids. I don’t even ask anymore. Just check the kids in, and sit outside the security entrance until the flight boards and then go home.

Yesterday, while we were checking in Princess No’s luggage (a first…ALL of it under the weight limit!!!), she urged me to see if I could go back with her. And wonder of wonders, they said no problem. It must have been a really boring day because two of the ticket agents literally jumped out from behind the counter to get my license. They quickly printed out a security pass for me, and Princess No and I got in line.

I made it through the metal detector. My shoes, cell phone, and magnetic glasses made it through the x-ray machine. My purse…didn’t.

They ran it through twice. And then I had to traipse over to the corner for them to search my purse. Thank goodness I had cleaned out my purse the day before! Even so, my purse is its own Tardis/portal to another universe/mini-black hole. You can find everything and nothing in it. The reason I had to clean it out was because I couldn’t find my keys in it, even after digging in it for a full five minutes.

So, the TSA agent starts pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. Then she finds my tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. She snarls, “Don’t you know this has to go in a plastic baggie?” Princess No is rolling her eyes.

Then the agent pulls out a small tube of face lotion. “Don’t you know this is supposed to go in a plastic baggie?” This time, the snarl results in spray landing on my face. Princess No is starting to become very embarrassed. “Mom, you KNOW all liquids have to go in a baggie!!!”

I tell her I wasn’t planning to go through security. And plus, I didn’t know that lotion was a liquid! Princess No rolls her eyes again as the security agent pulls out my tube of foundation (which I rarely wear and forgot was in there). The agent snootily hands me a plastic baggie and tells me to start putting the assorted tubes/bottle into it. As I start to comply, she dives back into my purse. And finds the small velvet sheath that holds my pocketknife. Oh, hell.

She pulls it out, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger (it’s a really small pocketknife. She delicately separates the velcroed flap of the sheath and then pushes the knife up and out from the bottom (it looked like she was performing a magic trick!!).

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. That little knife has caused me so much trouble, but I don’t want to lose it. I forget it’s there until I need it. Princess No has backed away, saying, “I’m going to the gate by myself. I’ll call you when I land.”

I start asking if I could take it out to my car and come back in. Princess No is almost apoplectic, saying I should just go. Just go.

So I hug her and am escorted out by security. The agent holds my purse and knife and I walk the green (carpeted) mile to the land of freedom for pocketknives…otherwise known as the waiting area. She hands me my purse. I have to ask for my pocketknife, which she begrudgingly releases to me. (It really is a sweet little blade!)

I call Princess No to see if she is getting over her huff yet. She informs me she is in the middle of texting a friend. Mom has been written off!

Her highness takes off and I head to my school to get some work done. I have to wait for Buck to finish a Young Marine activity and have two or three hours to kill anyway. The caretaker lets me into my building and I get to work. I accomplished quite a bit, so I should be able to leave somewhat early on the teacher final work day on Tuesday.

A terrible electric storm rolls in as I’m starting to wrap up things. There is a humongous KA-POW…and the fire alarm goes off. A shrill, unending eardrum-piercing electronic wailing. And I don’t dare go out into the weather with the lightning.

So I sit. And wait. And wait. The alarm doesn’t go off. My head is starting to pound. I grab a pair of foam ear plugs and put them in. (They’re not for me to block out the students, however a good idea that may be. I actually bought them for a student who said that ‘noise’ bothered her. The noise only bothered her during test time…when the loudest sound is pencil scratching on paper! But that’s another story for another time).

The ear plugs help and I do a few more chores. The storm isn’t letting up much, and it’s really past time for me to leave to get Buck. I grab one of the plastic white tablecloths I use to cover bookshelves. No way I’m holding up a metal umbrella in the lightning storm.

I run through the rain into the parking lot…which is almost knee-deep in water. Great…I’m going to be electrocuted in the school parking lot. BUT…a big fire truck is there with hunky firemen! If I get struck by lightning whilst running splashing to my car, at least I’d get first aid immediately.

The fire department was waiting for someone with keys to show up and deactivate the alarm. Their captain was on the caretaker’s porch, watching the crazy Mrs. Who treading water. The firemen on the truck were watching the crazy Mrs. Who, looking like a little white-riding hood.

The crazy Mrs. Who finally made it to her car, only wet from the knees down (the tablecloth worked rather well!). Then she picked up Buck, went home, and had some monk-made bourbon butter-walnut fudge.

I deserved it after my day.

We have ‘Fun Friday’ in my classroom. Students who have done their work and met their reading goals get about 45 minutes of free play at the end of the day. Legos are a steady enthrallment to a small group of boys in my class.

My collection of Legos is bits and pieces left over from my own kids’ younger days, with mixtures of all sorts of models. The students love digging to the bottom of the large container and finding unique odds and ends to put into their own creations.

Today, a boy happily danced over to me, exclaiming over a piece he had just found.

Boy: Look, Mrs. Who, I found a horse’s head!

Me: Indeed…what are you going to do with it?

Boy: I’m going to put it into my house I’m building.

Me: In the house?

Boy: Yeah, in the bedroom!

Me: *blink, blink* (shades of ‘The Godfather’ are going through my head)

Boy: (dancing back to his Lego-house) Yeah, just like my Dad did.

Me: *blink, blink, mouth dropping open*

Boy: He puts deer antlers up in the bedroom, and I’m going to put up the horse’s head.

Me: Isn’t it time for the dismissal bell yet???

****************************
(bonus points if you know the title reference without having to look it up)

And I thank God I joined the union this year.

Apparently a big-wig in the district received a complaint about another teacher from our principal. The apparent big-wig was surprised, because he’s known this teacher for a very long time. Said big-wig had talk with said teacher. He will also be looking into the attrition rate of long-term teachers at the school, I guess to see if it’s a higher rate than other schools.

And as a long-time teacher at Swamp Rot Elementary, I’m on this big-wig guy’s list of people to whom he wishes to speak.

Just. Fuck. It could be good. It could be bad. Either way, it’s going to be a wild ride.

Why me?

Fuck you, Pat Robertson. I don’t know who your God is, but mine doesn’t harbor supposed revenge over time to punish innocents.

Mine would be telling me, ‘Do what you can to help my children who are suffering.’

As my spiritual leader said, “I appeal to everyone’s generosity, so that these brothers and sisters of ours who are living through a time of need and pain receive our concrete solidarity and the effective help of the international community,”

And Mr. Pat…I don’t think you’ll be getting any pearls in your crown over this.

A tragedy happened today to soldiers under your command.  And when it came time to address the country about this horrific event…you start by giving ‘shout outs’…seemingly adding the soldiers’ deaths as an afterthought.

You are so unfit to lead this country.

Tammi had her ‘Saturday Question’ this past Halloween about favorite costumes.

It reminded me about Goob’s Halloween costume of many years ago, when he was in sixth grade. I never saw it. But it was awful.

You see, we had just made a visit to Utah one October, back when LTS still had primary custody of the boys, but before we found out about her criminal husband. We had just arrived back in Alabama, and called the boys back in Utah to let them know we made it. As BR talked to Goob, he could hear his five year-old half brother in the background screaming, “Goob is a ho. Goob is a ho!” When BR asked about it, Goob said he was going trick-or-treating dressed as a ‘ho’. His egg-donor came up with the idea, and provided him with a bra, fishnet stockings, make-up, and god knows what else.

BR nearly drove the car off the road in his anger. He got the egg-donor on the phone again, and I’m surprised the airwaves didn’t burn between here and there. Cold-hearted, perverted bitch.

Flash-forward a few months. We found out about the chunt’s husband, and instigated court proceedings. BR got custody of them, and the next Halloween comes around. I worked hard to make costumes for all of them…Princess No was a belly dancer, Buck was Zorro, Eraserhead was a Jedi, and Goob…Goob was a knight. An honorable and fitting costume for him. One that recognized his true worth. The picture below isn’t the best, but it shows the kids as being kids. I wonder if Goob ever thought about the difference between how his egg-donor dressed him and what I made for him. To be honest, I hope he doesn’t remember what happened then, even if it means he forgot that I made him a knight.
(more…)

Right now I’m not thrilled with my boss. I learned in a workshop this summer that it takes three positive comments to overcome/erase a negative comment. If that’s true, my boss is about, oh, thousands of comments in the red. Which means she needs three times that amount to dig herself out of that hole. I won’t hold my breath.

But I had a boss many years ago that was full of crap. Literally. So full of crap, that he had to send it to the doctor to have it checked. This boss hands the young and pretty office runner a box of his crap to drop off at the doctor’s office. Yeah. That’s a nice thank-you from the boss.

So what about you? Tell me about your worst boss.

Yes, yes, yes! I need a battle cry! As a member of that restless mob that threatens Obama and his ilk, I definitely need a battle cry. And courtesy of LeeAnn, I have found one:

Oh, yes, oh yes, come and get violated!

Wait. That didn’t come out right.

Heh.

On Craig’s List! Pelosi and Co. were right!!!!! People ARE being HIRED to appear at Town Halls!

Uhh…wait…these paid jobs….aren’t being paid by the REPUBLICANS to appear in communities to harass the Democratic Congress folk. No…they are being paid to act in SUPPORT of Obamacare.

Damn internet letting us common folk find out these things.

Does anybody else find it disturbing that the new voice-over for the Burger King commercial…is the same guy on Forensic Files?

Doesn’t that just add a creepiness factor? Would you want to eat at a place where the guy promoting it also talks about…dead people?

And if you’ve ever watched Forensic Files, you know what I mean. There are times when the guy is narrating FF, and you hear…excitement…in his voice.

All I know is, I can’t bring myself to eat at BK any time soon.

At its finest over at BR’s place.

Most of you have heard the phrase ‘joo-joo eyeball’ in the Beatles song ‘Come Together’. I never really understood what it meant until the other night.

I had a few hours to kill while waiting on my daughter to participate in a local event and I decided to go see ‘Harry Potter’. That would fill the time nicely. I found a seat without having to sit next to anyone else, and no one in front of me. The latter is very important. Because of being short, most public seating is uncomfortable for me. I can’t place my feet flat on the floor unless I sit close to the front edge. So it makes for a restless time for me. But if no one sits in front of me, I can brace my feet on the back of the seat and place my legs straight out. It works.

So there I was, legs stretched out in front of me, and this older man comes up juggling a large tub of popcorn, candy, and soda. He enters the row in front of me, which is empty except for further down to the right. Out of about 12 or so empty seats, he chooses the seat in front of me. Jerk. It’s obvious the chair is out of place from the rest. So I dropped my feet, and he sat down in my private foot rest. Then he SPRAWLED across the seats. His body was taking up two of the seats, with his snack goodies propped in the seat next to him. Effectively, he was keeping me from using any of the seats as a brace. Effin a$$hole. I just glared at the back of his balding head, thinking that I would have to visit the restroom many times during the movie, bumping into his seat ‘accidentally’ on the way out. Or else let my big humongous purse bop him on the head. I continued glaring as the previews started.

Then all of a sudden he got up and moved to another seat. In another section. Down front and away from me.

Whaddya know…joo-joo eyeballs work!

I’d forgotten about this video until I saw it over at Bob’s place:

(NSFW!!!!)
(more…)

Getting. Old. Sucks.

I’m now officially in bifocals. And I hate them. My glasses don’t have that old-fashioned line in them…but they make the world look like I’m on a roller-coaster ride. The outside edges of my world seem to flow up-and-down if I so much as glance anywhere but straight ahead.

The glasses guy told me I might not want to wear them driving until I get used to them. Then WTH use are they????

Getting. Old. Sucks.

I’m doing a lot of sewing, and I usually leave the tv on as background noise. But when I saw what was coming on today…the great circus show known as Michael Jackson’s funeral….it’s why I pulled out a season of ‘Babylon 5′ and popped it into the DVD player. I don’t want to accidentally be flipping through channels and come across the travesty of twisted fame and psychological trauma. I’m sorry for his family and friends. BUT…what does it say about our society that the funeral of a disturbed man is so important that it must be broadcast to the whole world? Why are people so divorced from their own reality that they need exposure of someone else’s mental nudity to satisfy some sense of psychological masturbation?

Funerals are tough enough as it is when it’s a real loved one who has died. But the people who are so worked up and teary-eyed about MJ seem as nothing more than voyeurs peering at a man who was used and abused, who abused himself and others around him. Such a crock all the way around.

…but you can see it from here.

Joan of Argghh! has a fearsome take on Obama, North Korea, Iran, Honduras, on the state of our society in general:

…We have suffered a Chinese Water Torture– a slow drip of insistence. And then a soothing sense of entitlement. And then more insistence by Others who simply must prove they are right.

…Dangerous powers are moving. Powerful weapons are in immature, unstable hands, and life is cheap.

Go read the whole thing. Well worth it.

…but it made me LOL:
(more…)

Don’t read the news* before going to have a medical procedure done. There’s a risk of raising one’s blood pressure that might prevent the procedure from being done. I’m hoping I can somehow think happy thoughts on the way to the doctor’s.

*Yeah, they’ll make it sound like they’re only taking from the ‘wealthy’…but it’s just a step towards a complete control of the whole populace…via socialism or communism. Bastards.

Because I’m Catholic, some people I work with have asked me about the murder of the Tiller guy who murdered babies.

I’m simply referring them here, because Emperor Misha says it way better than I ever could.

The fistful of pennies made a delightful tinkling sound as they crashed against the desks and the floor, scattering and bouncing into other objects. Grinning maniacally, the woman turned and spied a jar of peanut butter, which was also thrown across the room with a satisfying splat against the floor.

The woman spun around again, but really couldn’t see the next object to grab. Her view was blurry. Partly because she had thrown down her glasses in anger, and partly because the tears blinded her vision as well. She collapsed to her knees, hands pressed against her face, and sobbed and raged.

It seems the boss who had denied the woman the time off to go see her son graduate from the Army was herself going to visit her daughter. Who is in the military. Stationed overseas. The boss who always stated that ‘family comes first’ apparently only means her own family.

Obama’s nominee for SCJ, Ms. Sotomayor, states:

“I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male who hasn’t lived that life”

Umm…isn’t that view sexist and prejudiced? As well as promoting the use of emotion to interpret the law? And aren’t judges supposed to be able to make decisions without any of those negative influences?

But what do I expect from an Obama nominee? He certainly hasn’t shown any wise decision making since taking office. Why should he start now when it only involves the highest legal office in the land? Common sense is in such short supply in DC these days. Or maybe Obama just hit his head a lot harder than we thought: (notice ad in screen capture).

Update: I’ve posted two videos below (same video, different embeds). If neither video works for you, here is the link to the page:

http://blog.al.com/spotnews/2009/05/birmingham_police_beating_vide_1.html

Watch the video…I’ll give my opinion below.

(more…)

Okay, you ladies who can remember the 80s.  Want to see how many ways you can twist yourself up and possibly need to call for a chiropractic home visit?

Try on some Spanx.  With a ‘convenient double-gusset that opens to make life easier when Mother Nature calls‘.

Somebody should beat the crap out of Mother Nature.   Forget her calling…she should hear what I called her when I tried on that thing today.

Middle age can so totally suck.  There are good things about being here.  But we have a couple of important events coming up, so I want to look good.  You know that expression ‘if looks could kill’??  It doesn’t mean what you think it means.  ‘Cause trying to look good by shimmying into this tortuous device is going to kill me!  Waterboarding…pffft!  They should have tried to shimmy the prisoners into some Spanx WITHOUT the convenient hole for Mother Nature.

Speaking of inflicting this torture…Princess No was with me when I bought the Spanx earlier today.  I also returned some underthings for BR.  While we did some other shopping, PN turned to me and asked why one package of underwear cost so much.  Thinking she meant the Spanx, I told her it was because it’s made of special material to  squish you all together.

She looked horrified.  “That’s awful!”  she wailed, making a funny face.  I started laughing, wanting to explain that it’s just something women can do to look ‘smoother’.  Before I could say anything however, she gave an even more horrified look and told me I shouldn’t be laughing.  It took me awhile to figure out she meant the men’s underwear.  She had only seen me return one set, not the several packages I had brought back for BR.  And then I started laughing all the more trying to envision ANY guy buying underwear that would ‘squish him altogether’.

Oh, yeah.  Adventures in shopping. I have them.  Now excuse me while I contemplate my power panties.

In tripping around the blogosphere, I get insanely jealous of those folks who whip out 3, 4 or even more posts a day.

And then I think…it’s almost summer! Soon, I’ll be off and then I, too, can post 3, 4, or even more times a day.

Of course, it will probably be all meaningless bullshit. But it’ll be better than cleaning the house.

It has been warming up down here on the Gulf Coast. Spring is late this year, it seems. But welcome all the same. I hate the cold.

And a couple of times this past week, I’ve been feeling the heat. Mainly in my face. In fact, I ran into a friend and she complimented me on my ‘rosy glow’. I didn’t have any make-up on. But I did feel slightly warm.

Then it hit me. It was a hot flash. I’m beginning to have my own portable summers. Dammit.

Maybe not full-blown menopause…but peri-menopause maybe? Dammit.

Since running into my friend, I’ve had the ‘hot face’ a few more times. And I’ve noticed that I’ve arranged my desk at work so that it’s directly under the air conditioning vent. And the kids are complaining about the cold.

Dammit.

I’ve also had these weird mood changes. I could be having a great day, then all of a sudden, get depressed and feel like crying. And then three minutes later feel fine.

Dammit.

My poor family.

…and proves how insecure security really is.

You see, every time I go to the New Orleans airport, they want to ‘look’ in my Suburban. Other SUVs go through (I’ve watched) without being checked, but not me. Every. Single. Time.

Some gate attendant looks inside the vehicle…never moving anything (and I have piles of my stuff, kids’ stuff, stuff I’m not sure about). They just basically open the rear cargo door, glance in, and shut it.

This time, I happened to have a gas can in the back. It was from mowing a couple of weeks ago when I thought I might need to get gas. Wound up not needing any, but I keep forgetting the can is back there. As I pulled up to the parking lot, the thought hit me…”Oh, shit…I forgot to take out the can…” But it was too late to turn around…and boy, wouldn’t that have looked suspicious.

So I just pull up to the entrance, and sure enough, the little attendant decides she’s bored talking to the other person there, and asks me to open the rear door. She looks around, spots the can, and asks me if there is anything in it. “No,” I say.

She starts to shut the door. I’m kind of surprised, and I blurt out, rather sarcastically, “Aren’t you going to shake it or something to be sure??” She reaches in, gives the cannister a half-hearted shake, and then slams the door down.

Great. I made her do her job. Now she’s pissed.

Then I go in. I was there to drop off Eraserhead to go see his dad for Spring Break. He’s no longer considered a ‘minor’ by airline regs, but sometimes they let me escort him to the gate. It all depends on who is working the counter. Even though the airports had a ‘high’ risk (the rest of the country is ‘elevated’), yesterday they let me have a pass.

I’m getting good at going through security…I try not to wear an underwire and limit what jewelry I wear. Additionally, I’ve found in the past when you wear a ‘Nuke the Moon‘ shirt, you will get frisked.  So I was really careful…except for yesterday when I forgot my rosary in my jeans pocket.  I got a second chance to go through the metal detector.  They let me put the rosary in one of the little bowls to follow my purse through, and that’s when I noticed several lighters sitting on top of the x-ray machine.   Made me think of the lighters I had to keep confiscating from Goob in the boys’ bedroom.  He doesn’t smoke…he just likes to play with fire.

Anyway, Eraserhead and I get through security…he was a real gentleman, even holding my purse that had already exited the x-ray machine when I had to go back through security.  A teen boy…holding his Mama’s big ol’ purse.  In public.  Puts a tear in my eye.

Eraserhead’s flight gets slightly delayed, and I’m getting bored.  I decide to clean out my purse while we wait.  Tons of paper…notes, old receipts, stuff so faded I don’t know what it is…and a lighter…and a pocketknife.

So let’s recap, boys and girls:  What did Mrs. Who bring to the airport today?  Yes…a container for flammable liquids, a Case pocketknife, and a lighter.  And counting all the trash from her purse, an ignition source.  All the ‘threatening’ items were unintentional.  And all three were totally ignored.

That’s strange…I don’t fit the ‘racial profiling’…so it means I should have been checked and double-checked along with the little old ladies and babies in strollers.  You should have seen clips on youtube about a middle-aged woman yelling about her rights, being dragged out of the airport, with her teen son standing in the background, pretending he didn’t know her.  Just in case the scenario DOES happen when I go back to pick him up, we call him Eraserhead for a reason…he’ll be the one in the background who looks like this. Unless his dad makes him cut his curly locks while he’s there.  Then he’ll just be the teen in the background kicking his mom’s purse under a chair while whistling and looking the other way.

I’ll look something like this:

Being pulled over for speeding:  1 headache

Getting a ticket:  $341.00 for court costs, plus increased insurance

Trying to explain what happened next to the judge:  Priceless, because you can’t afford the attorney to get you out of it:

(more…)