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December 8, 2010

Dude, where's my pat-down?

So I've been off gallivanting and I was sure I would come back with lascivious tales of pat downs and someone (me) making inappropriate sexual remarks to someone (random TSA dude) just doing their job but alas, there was nary an x-ray machine nor a rambunctious pat-down in sight. I had even carefully checked out the TSA attendants while I was standing in line, trying to figure out which one would become my post-pat-down babydaddy. What a surprise to discover that flying is the same old shoeless bore as always.

So yes, I headed off to the airport on Friday for a very early morning flight out to Kansas City. My family was gathering from the far-flung ends of the map to show up for my Uncle Truman's surprise 70th birthday party. (It is a very long story of how an avowed Southerner came to live in Kansas, a story for another time.) My brother flew in from Florida the same day and I timed my flights with his to cut down on the chauffeuring my family had to do. You can guess who got the better end of that deal. Why my vacations always seem to start at 3 a.m. is a constant mystery to me ... can someone please tell my why vacation cannot start at 10 a.m.?

Aside from my departure time, which was still the middle of the night, the flight was just fine. I am one of the few people I know who really loves airports but even I can't find anything good to say about the TSA's full body x-ray scanners so I was going to opt for one of those gynecological pat downs. The only downside is that I deeply believe if you want to get that up-close and personal with my coochie I need a glass of wine first, so I planned to make the TSA buy me a drink. HOWEVER, even I do not drink wine at 5 o'clock in the morning (yet). You can see how flying is very stressful for someone like me. Lots of stress. What with all the neuroses and all.

My cousin Melissa picked up me and my brother at the airport (different states, different airlines, yet still so coordinated! we are a marvel of ingenuity!) and we were off on Mission: Birthday Surprise.

Here are my brother Guy and cousin Melissa at the party:

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They were best friends when we were kids. After all this time they are still like peas and carrots.

The three brothers, that's my Uncle Truman, my dad and my Uncle Skipper:

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Uncle Truman, Carol (family friend) and Dad checking out the photos:

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Paparazzi got you!


Me and my Dad having a self-portrait moment:

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You KNOW my parents brought their favorite child along for the family reunion! Here is my mom and the baby:

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I LOVE THIS PICTURE.

No family travelogue would be complete without some Corgi butt:

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Now, the picture below will not make my Dad happy, since I caught him mid-conversation, but it is the sole image I have of any of the handknits I hauled across the country for my family:

surprise-dad-hat.jpg

Sorry, Dad. But I have been knitting like a small factory sweatshop of one for weeks now and did I take a single picture of all the handknitted items I made? NO. I completed seven hats, one scarf and one pair of armwarmers. Also in addition to forgetting to take snapshots of the handknits I neglected to take pictures of the scenery, most of the people and most of the events of the long weekend, probably because it was 12 degrees outside. People. I am not used to degrees in the lower end of the 100s. For example, "freezing." I love all ya'll who live in the frozen Arctic tundra but I will not be visiting you again in December because although I thought I was prepared for the cold what with my raincoat and all, as it turns out I do not know from cold. In December here in Los Angeles we have dapper Dallas Raines and our difficult winter weather:

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Yeah, that's right, 84 downtown on Sunday. Read it and weep.

After a long and happy and wine-drenched weekend I was so excited to come home to my little family of shorties and my weird city and my bed. Home is a beautiful thing. One of the shorties especially missed me, so much that even when typing this he was all into helping me and making sure I got it right, especially the spell-check:

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Bob says, "No pat downs here, but we got all purring at half price!"

Posted by laurie at December 8, 2010 6:25 PM