Flying with Bonnie and Clyde

Let me begin by saying, genuinely, kudos to you, TSA agents. You have a very difficult job. I wouldn't want to be you. Seriously--fantastic work.

Let me introduce you to my in-laws, Dick and Jan. Here they are!

On the left is Richard. He's 84. On the right is Jan. She's 81. These two gamers recently accompanied me and Dave down to Los Angeles to watch Olivia walk the stage at her college graduation and celebrate her achievements. This was no small feat! It took some planning and some "out of your comfort zone" and some determination on the part of Dick and Jan. My in-laws, who don't travel often, came through in spades! Olivia was so excited to have all of her grandparents present for the occasion.

Let me give you (literally) a better picture of what was going on:

Okay there we go. There's beautiful Olivia in her cap and gown and stole, with her grandparents, Bonnie and Clyde.

I'll back up and explain. Dave, myself, Dick and Jan flew to LA. Which obviously means we went through security at the airports. Dave and I made it through just fine, thank you. No hiccups. No delays. Wham, bam, thank you folks. My nail file didn't spark anyone's interest at all.

Dick and Jan were another story. These two octogenarians set off all possible security apparatuses (yes, I checked--it's apparatuses, not apparati). I'm not kidding. The walk-through thingy beeped. The wand made that weird Star Trek-y sound. You would have thought they were suspects on the run from a bank robbery! Bags were checked! Cavities were searched!

Ok, well, that was just slight hyperbole. Cavities were not searched. But TSA hands did a VERY, and I mean VERY all in caps, thorough sweep of every inch of my poor father-in-law, who was nothing but patient and compliant. I don't think I would have been so patient and compliant (that's just me mouthing off for effect--I absolutely would have done whatever I was told to do).

Not only did they quite literally hand sweep every inch of him, they also made him lift himself up out of the chair so they could sweep the seat and his back pants pockets, and then they swabbed the entire wheelchair with one of those little pieces of bomb-maker-detector or whatever that is. Seriously--what is that? They never tell you while they're doing it. They just leave you wondering what it is they're swabbing for. What would happen if you just jokingly told them, as you were being swabbed, that you dabble in firecrackers? I mean, don't do that. You'd probably get in a lot of trouble. I'm betting cavity search.

So let's review. Dick (this menacing looking guy below, who was in a wheelchair) gets a solid ten minute head-to-toe search.

But it doesn't end there! Jan, the clearly-on-the-edge-of-committing-a-crime woman shown here

also gets pulled aside because her two fake knees set off all the bells and whistles! And in a little bit of poetic irony, the belt that Jan had taken off and put in her bag to go through the x-ray machine (because the sign said take off your belt and my mother-in-law is a rule follower damn it!) for some reason looked suspicious to the TSA officer so her bag was searched as well.

It's hard to imagine two less-suspicious individuals. They were troopers!

Again, I repeat, kudos to you TSA officers. If these two ne-er-do-wells had been packing, you definitely would have figured out where.

I know that's your job. I appreciate that you do it so well.

My mother and father-in-law in their younger years :)

Things I Kinda Miss

I don't dwell on this shit because it wouldn't accomplish anything. I get that. But here it is. Just to get it out. Does a whale feel better after letting everything out its blowhole? We can't ask whales that, but since they regularly do exactly that, I'm going with the notion that it provides them some relief.

OK, just for ducks I just looked up the whole whale/blowhole thing, and it turns out that's part of their breathing apparatus. So, YES! In fact, breathing DOES provide relief, right? I mean, if we held our breath for a long time we'd get uncomfortable, and then actually breathing would feel great, so I'm right on the money, apparently, with my whale "relief" theorem. And also, I just correctly used the word theorem so even though this post started out like it was gonna be a downer, things are looking up!

You know those words bank pictures that are so popular right now, with words people use the most being the largest? Here's a visual in case that wasn't the most clearly stated idea you've heard in weeks...

Picture the following list of things I miss as a mind word bank (not stuff I talk out loud about--just stuff that sits in my brain), but in the shape of a whale's spout! Now that I've actually imagined that little idea I can see that I'm clearly making myself the whale in this whole analogy. Who does that? Who makes herself a whale in her own cleverly concocted metaphor? Me, apparently. But whales are cool, so let's just keep going here. 

Things I miss: the thickness of my hair, the definition in my left knee, the ability to run normally, drinking soda for breakfast, event planning, yoga without a strap, walking down the stairs quickly, walking up the stairs quickly, not knowing my medical number by heart, being able to squat down, being able to get back up, my ponytail, above-the-knee dresses, my body looking athletic, my mind feeling like I'm athletic, not realizing the ubiquitousness of the word cancer on TV, doing a chaturanga smoothly, and my eyebrows. I really miss my eyebrows. 

Ok, I have spouted and I am once again breathing normally. 

I will work on my metaphors.