Okay, after the last entry I just had to break out the scanner. This is a scan of my favorite of all the notes Zoe has left out at night. It’s instructions, with diagram, of how she wants me to fill her Camelback bag with water and chill it in the refrigerator overnight. I love how specific she is that it goes in the fridge, NOT the freezer. I found it on the floor leaning against the wall outside the kitchen, arrow pointing toward the fridge.
This one’s definitely going in the Memories Folder. I’ll show it to her Prom Date 11 years from now.
Zoe has a very strict bedtime of 8:00 pm — she has to be in bed by 8:00 or else– Or else it might be a little later than that. 8:30, maybe. Or perhaps 9:00. Certainly no later than 10:00. 10:30, tops.
Whatever time it is, though, once she’s in bed she’s In Bed and must not leave her room. The loophole is that she can leave her room only if she’s 1) bleeding or 2) on fire — which has since been negotiated to include 3) if she has to go to the bathroom or 4) she sees a Bad Guy. (You’d be surprised how many Bad Guys we have lurking about.) The end result of all this is that she usually only ventures out five or six times a night.
Since the myriad excuses she offers when she gets caught outside the wire are now falling on deaf — and angry — ears, Zoe has added a twist: she leaves signs out for us. Written up on construction paper in multi-colored crayon with glitter glued on for accessorizing, they’re usually pretty cute and sometimes funny.
Tonight Beth and I were working in our offices on the opposite end of the house from Zoe’s room, and as I headed for the kitchen I found a sign waiting for me on the floor in the hallway: “Mom Dad I not sleepy at all OKOK.” Pretty cute, I thought, so I headed to Zoe’s room to give her a kiss and tuck her in again.
“I not sleepy” girl was out cold, snoring like a lumberjack.
I give up. I’m finished with poker, at least limit poker. I just got home from an afternoon of bad beat after bad beat, the crowning glory of which was:
I looked down to find AA. I raised.
Stupid called.
Board came rag, 6, 6. I bet.
Stupid called.
Another rag came. I bet.
Stupid called.
One last rag came. Stupid bet.
I knew I was beaten but had to see it so I called.
Sure enough, Stupid has called a raise and every one of my bets with 5/7 offsuit and the last card gave him a straight. He had total crap right up until the very last card fell. I had the best hand all the way, the way I was betting told him I had the best hand all the way, and still he called me all the way down. And then won on the river.
Un. Fucking. Believable.
I give up.
The American Airlines website hates me. Every month I go there to begin trying to work out my itinerary for the next month’s trip, and every month it lies to me. No matter where it is I’m trying to go, how I want to get there, where I want to fly from or when I want to fly, it always tells me: “No flights were found matching your request.”
For this latest round I’m trying to get to Fort Smith, AR. They have a small regional airport there and I’ve been to its website, which assures me that they have several flights a day from Dallas/Ft. Worth and that American Eagle flies there. Since DFW is American’s hub, you’d think it would be a pretty easy 2-flight affair, wouldn’t you? BUR -> DFW -> FSM, piece of cake, right? Wrong.
American’s website says I can’t get there from here. So just to see how badly it was lying, I told it I wanted to go just to DFW from Burbank because I know there are at least two and I think three direct flights a day. I know this because I flew them twice a month for a year. In fact, I flew one of them last month when I went to Manchester. So I checked this with the AA website, asking for a flight from BUR to DFW. And it suggests:
Fly Aloha Airlines from Burbank to Las Vegas.
Fly Continental from Las Vegas to Houston.
Fly American from Houston to Dallas.
And this itinerary begins at 10 pm and ends at 9 am the next day.
I think I need a travel agent.
