A decent story – Suddenly they all died. The end.

So today I was going to try and post something more updatey, but I just don’t think that’s going to happen. Instead, I think I’ll post a column I read in the Iowa Falls Times-Citizen this morning that I got a kick out of. It’s funny partly because it’s true, but also partly because the columnist is just plain funny. So, without further ado, Chuck Humeston’s thoughts on flying nowadays!

Flying has become about as much fun as a toothache.

Last week my wife and I flew to Denver, Colorado. It’s a drivable distance, but flying makes the trek across Nebraska almost tolerable. Driving it, you’re tempted to say, “We’re almost there,” but you’re really not even close. I’m sure the last thing General Custer told his men was, “The bad news is we’re totally surrounded, but the good news is we don’t have to ride back across Nebraska.”

So, we decided to fly. If you can figure out airline ticket pricing, then you’re one up on me. I studied a little economics (actually, as little as possible) in college, too, but this stuff defies all logic. It’s like the pricing depends on the moon phase closest to the equinox in the leap year. Lo and behold, I found a cheap price, even out of Des Moines, two weeks prior to our planned departure, and the airplane was even guaranteed to have wings and two engines! So I booked it.

I bought two coach seats. I’ve traveled first class once in my life only because the jet was nearly empty and the flight attendant asked if I would like to sit in first class as no one was there. Aside from that, I’ve never figured out why anyone would want to pay almost double to get there 100 feet sooner than I get there.

Then there’s the “red carpet” option. Once I saw the ticket agent set up the “red carpet” at the gate. He simply tossed a red floor mat on the floor at the entrance. My visions of the “red carpet,” with a brass band at the gate, someone putting a drink in my hand, and carrying my bags for me were dashed. Sure, you get on the jet before everyone else, but you still aren’t going anywhere until the pilot decides he wants to leave.

Then there’s security. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all for tight security for air travel these days. But for a long time, it seemed every time I traveled, I got taken out of the line and searched. I mean, they could identify me, but they couldn’t identify the “underwear bomber?”

One time I got taken out of the line, the guy kept pointing at me and then at a table. Was it a sign language? Was I supposed to sit on the table? I finally said, “Look, I don’t know what you want me to do unless you tell me.” He told me to put my bag on the table. “Has anyone, without your knowledge, had control of your baggage?” Is that a trick question? It’s almost like asking, “So when did you stop beating your wife?” Any way you answer it is going to be wrong. How would I know if it was without my knowledge?

We got through security this time, got dressed again, and got on the jet. That’s become an ordeal, too. Since the airlines have decided to get into the passengers’ pockets for each bag checked, more have decided to beat the system by carrying on as many carry-ons as possible. Some people look like they are trying to stuff steamer trunks into the overhead compartments. Last week someone even dropped a carry-on onto my son-in-law’s head!

We spent a good week with our family in Colorado and our son drove us from Denver to the Denver International Airport. How far is that? Let’s just say by the time you get there, you expect to see a sign that says, “Welcome to Nebraska.” I should have driven.

Happy Thursday, all!

Today was the annual City-Wide Garage Sale in Reinbeck. We had one. Needless to say, it was a long week. We got the garage swept out last Sunday, carried things into the garage Wednesday night, set things up Thursday night, and priced everything last night. We were up till after 11:00 p.m. every night this week and then I had to crawl out of my nice warm bed at 6:00 a.m. this morning to get the signs put up so people would know we were having a sale. The city always puts out a map of people having sales and then they have the maps at Casey’s and Trunck’s. It costs $5 to have your name put on the map, but it’s worth it because then people know where all the sales are. We paid our $5 and when Greg went to Casey’s this morning to get some pop and a couple of the maps, he discovered that they had left our house off. So we paid $5 for nothing. I guess it’s a good thing my signs held up…

So this is how my morning went:

7:32 – I would much rather be going around town checking out garage sales than sitting out here in the blistering cold running my own garage sale.
7:34 – And by blistering cold, I am, of course, referring to the parts of me not right in front of the heater.
8:02 – Come on, people, BUY MY STUFF!!! See? Three exclamation marks. Just buy it. You know you want to.
8:05 – My policy should be, “If you look at it, you buy it.” Then maybe I’d get done in time to do some shopping myself.
8:06 – I should have brought my computer out with me. Then I would be entertained and my lap would be warm. Yay warm!
8:28 – Hooray! A sale of some consequence at long last! Woo!
8:35 – It’s always nice to get repeat customers!
8:56 – Have officially given up all hope of keeping track of items sold. Managed to get two items on the list before giving up.
8:57 – Am now channeling Bridget Jones. Must lose weight. Must also try to forget about yummy Daniel Cleaver.
9:18 – I should have a no smoking sign up. Someone came in with a lit cigarette. Yuck!
10:01 – There be donuts in the house. Why is it that everything yummy is so bad for you?
10:45 – Okay, so it’s not winter-coat-and-coveralls cold anymore, but it’s still darn chilly. And the lovely heater is making me sleepy.
12:25 – Our heaters died. 😦 Apparently we blew a fuse. But then it was Greg to the rescue and now the heat has been restored! YAY!! 🙂
12:26 – My jaw hurts.
12:29 – With my trusty heater by my side, I’ll never be cold again! I sorta feel like I’m camping, but without the s’mores.
12:33 – You know, s’mores sound good. I need s’mores. Where are all the s’mores when you really need them?
1:01 – Have you ever been high as a kite and then gone garage saling? Well, my neighbor sure seems to enjoy it!
1:27 – Please, dear high-as-a-kite neighbor lady, don’t come back till you’ve sobered up. You digging through my knives makes me nervous!
1:39 – Tick, tock, tick, tock…Come on, two o’clock, hurry up and get here so I can close up and do something fun!

It’s amazing what brings out the kooks in town. There’s an apartment complex next door to our house and one of the tenants came over to see what we had for sale. “Whoa, it’s like a little store!” she exclaimed upon entering, holding a glass of questionable contents (orange juice for sure, but Lord only knows what else). “Oh, I love your lamp! I want this lamp. I’ll be back for it. You guys have exactly what I need, I swear. You really do. You have everything I need. I’ll be back. Oh, I love this lamp! I want your lamp.” After several painful minutes of her seriously disorganized (I can’t think of the word I want, sorry) rambling, she finally left, only to return about a half hour later with her rather annoying (and awfully overweight) dog in tow. She wasn’t quite as high when she came back, thankfully, but still, when she went pawing through the box of miscellaneous knives, Teresa and I got a little nervous (Greg’s mom came up for the weekend and sat with me through most of the sale). This time, psycho neighbor lady picked up one of a two-pot set (she only wanted the one – they were a buck for the pair), a handful of knives, and a can opener, set them down near the check-out, and went to let her dog relieve itself (hopefully in someone else’s yard). “But I’ll be right back. And I really want that lamp, but if you sell it to someone else, you go right ahead, it’s okay. But if you don’t, I’ll take it.” Gee, lady, thanks; I’m so glad I have your permission to sell my lamp. *sigh* Some people. While she was amusing in her own “special” way, I wasn’t too disappointed that she completely forgot about coming back to our garage sale.

Greg had to work today, so he didn’t get to enjoy watching the people come and go. He did, however, rig something up so that we could still run the heaters after we blew a fuse in the garage. He grabbed his heavy-duty extension cord and plugged it in at the house, then rolled it out to the garage to plug in one of the two heaters we’d been using. That was nice. But apparently we must have blown another one in the house because when I sat down to count the take in the dining room, the light wouldn’t turn on. There’s no way we blew out nine lightbulbs at once, so we must have blown another fuse running that heater. *sigh* Oh, well. At least we were warm.

There weren’t many people out today for the garage sales, not that you would know it from talking to Greg. Every time I talked to him, he told me about the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Randall Street. Trouble is, we’re not on Randall Street! My theory is that people started up on Valley Drive and out in Eastgate and over on Hillcrest and Ridge Streets and then by the time they got done with all the rich people’s houses, they were too tired, too broke, or too tired and too broke to come over to the west side of town and visit our lowly establishment. For Pete’s sake, we had good stuff, dammit! It’s not like we’re in the poorhouse.

Okay, end rant. I just was not real patient with people this morning. I mean, I was, it’s just that I was dissatisfied with how long they were taking to get out to our house. Our biggest crowd consisted of four people who happened to wander in at the same time. And then there was one lady who came in with her kids and her son was just a terror! He was tearing things apart all over the place and she really wasn’t a lot better, but then she was just like, “Well, come on, we’re going,” and didn’t reprimand him once or tell him to behave and keep his hands to himself or anything. And then he wanted a toy and she wouldn’t buy it for him because it was part of a bag and he only wanted the one, so he threw a temper tantrum, clearly expecting it to work. If I’d behaved like that, my mother would have given me the spanking of a lifetime when we got home. She didn’t buy him the toy, at least, and I was glad when they were gone.

There were a couple people that came in like that, who were worse-behaved than the kids. That always gets me. This one gal came in with her sister and they were looking at Greg’s Jeff Gordon jacket. The one woman ended up buying it, but her sister was trying to talk her out of it. She used the very tips of her fingers to pick it up and look at it quick, and then she asked if we had any hand sanitizer she could use. She dropped the jacket in a heap on the table and then brushed her hands together, as if the jacket was filthy and she couldn’t stand the thought of being contaminated by it. She said if it had been a Dale Earnhardt, Jr. jacket, she would have been all over it like white on rice and I thought, “Gee, lady, aren’t you a little old to be acting like a middle schooler?”

Hmm, it seems that the battery in my laptop is about to go dead, so I should probably wrap this up. I have a headache anyway and need to go take some more something for it. Some food, perhaps; all I’ve had today were a handful of Mike & Ike’s and a few slices of summer sausage, washed down with a lovely bottle of Dr. Pepper, because clearly, I’m a health food junkie.

Oh, and happy Mother’s Day!