Obama. Jesus. Goldman Sachs.


There. How's that for covering The Three Big No-No's of Conversation in one sentence: politics, religion and money. The only thing that would be worse is if we were all drunk. Which, given the recent events, I probably deserve a cold one. You do too.

I realize that a financial crisis is looming. And no, I am not going to tell you who to vote for. That would automatically let you in on who I'll be check-boxing in the voting booth. Religion? Yes - we should all probably pray about the election and financial "crisis".

Here is my issue: I went to college on student loans. Thank you, Sallie Mae. The house I live in? While not a sub-prime mortgage, it is mortgaged nonetheless. Thank you, Federal Reserve Bank, for that fabulous interest rate. My money, while not amounting to much in quantity - it is quality. I worked for that. Thank you, FDIC, for promising me that it will be there in the morning. This monumental election (anyone for a Biden/Palin write-in)? Someone fought for that right. And while you may not feel like you have a real voice (I don't much either) - you have a choice. To vote or not to vote.

I think we can all agree that the world would be a better place if we drank more water, didn't produce as much trash and there were fewer abortions. Regardless or your political denomination - we can ALL agree that fewer abortions are a good thing, less trash is a good thing, clean air a great thing, living beneath our means a fabulous thing.

Things may get worse before they get better. It may all be a huge hoax. (I really doubt that - but that isn't the issue.) The cornerstone of all this is: good things are still happening. Life does go on. I didn't exactly picture the Apocalypse occurring because the government basically wrote a hot check. You did? Well, run for president then. I'll be your VP. But people are still getting up and going to work and coming home and eating dinner with their families everyday. Some of us are eating Hamburger Helper instead of sirloin, but we're still showing up.

Somewhere out there is a plane with no babies on it. I want to be on that plane.

Enough ranting from me about the obnoxiousness of marital details. (are people shocked that someone would put up with my constant ranting? I am actually quite pleasant to be around outside of the hours between 8AM and 5PM. I swear. I read past posts and can completely see where the concern would stem from, though.)

The first leg of many to be be completed over the next month started with the usual pleasantries of TSA. Ziploc with three ounce containers? check. shoes off, wand, all clear? check. Wave to Andrew through the glass partition? check. (short diversion here-I actually remember when people could go inside the airport to say goodbye. Remember those days of yore? Remember eating at the airport with the person who dropped you off? ahh... to return to those days of civility...)

Window seat? check. Awww, sweet family coming down the aisle with a stroller and a booster seat (hello! gate check those puppies!) and THREE ZIPLOCS of juices* (definitely larger than three ounces! what TSA palm did they grease?) and animal crackers and the Beanie babies! Lord-a-mercy at the Beanie babies. I didn't know those things still existed! For sure, I thought Dora and the Bratz dolls had teamed up and staged a coup on those blasted Beanies.

So, half of the fam takes the remaining seats on my row. You don't how lucky I felt. The other half takes up residence (and I do mean residence) to my rear. And the kicking and thumping and tray-up-tray-down-tray-up-tray-down performance begins. At one point - I swear to you - the next Mary Lou Retton was practicing on the fold down tray. I swear this. The munchkin beside me? Decidedly cuter than her gymnast counterpart behind me and silent. As a church mouse.

Life is nice at thirty thousand. and then! just when I had talked myself into the Suishido back massage I was receiving for free... the wailing begins. At this point, I am questioning the ethics of administering pharmaceuticals (see...by using that word it seems so less...well,... mean) to small children for one's own sanity - not so much theirs. I'm sure this has crossed many the mind of a mother.

I realize that traveling with children isn't easy. I was a nanny for four kids ages eight months to nine years at one time and flew with them. Alone. (well, parents were in first class. but still.... nothing like coach for the hired help and kids!) So, I can relate. Really. I can.

Folks - would you let your children behave this way in a restaurant? No? Ok then. Don't let them behave this way on public transportation. (Yes - I realize I bought my ticket for hundreds of dollars. But flying is not unlike stepping onto the subway these days. Just with more hassle. More on that later.) Obviously, there is more to this story (the mushed up animal cookie food fight). I am not just a grumpy hag looking for something else to gripe about - really - I'm not.


Our final destination is this: I don't hate kids, particularly yours, but they're kinda like crying babies in church - don't you think? Yes? ok then. You may now travel about the country.

*I'm alllll for breast milk. And all the bottles you can handle. But CRATES OF CAPRI SUN? Unnecessary.