Yesterday I was busy playing catch-up. For the moment, the laundry's pretty much done, the garden is half weeded and the house feels like home again. All's good.
The day I left home, something funny happened. The TSA line was HUGE, trailing through the maze thing and down the sidewalk. Our airport is open-air, like a huge pavilion, so though the line was long, waiting on the sidewalk isn't as remarkable as it would be if I were in, say, O'Hare or something. Anyway, the lady in front of me hurt her toe in the parking lot and she reported it to an airport person. There isn't much excitement around here, so if something DOES happen, people are all over it. It's not unusual to have 5 police cars show up at a simple fender-bender. This lady's cut toe caused all kinds of action. Two (count'em - 2) of those first responder pick-up truck things showed up as well as a FULL-SIZED firetruck, all for a small cut on a toe. One guy came out with a first aid kit and began working on her foot, three others stood around in case she went into shock from loss of blood or something, while another guy stood in the road and directed traffic around the fleet of first aid vehicles parked there. There was also a guy with an official looking clip board filling out an accident report. The lady looked at me and gave me this helpless, I can't believe this is happening look. All she wanted was a band-aid.
I've also made a mental note to myself to never, never, never talk about mine or anyone else's childbirth experience on a cell phone in the middle of a crowded airport waiting area. It's just gross.
My sister picked me up at the airport and I had a fun day with her and her 3 kids. We had a few of our famous snort-fests when we laugh so hard we start snorting, a common problem in my family.
Friday I went to my writers conference. What a BLAST! I had this little problem there. I was going to meet up with an internet friend that I'd met at Romance Divas. Problem was, that until I was actually there at the conference, I hadn't realized that we didn't know each other's names, just the nicknames we use at RD. I was working at the registration table, which was a good thing since I could see most of the people coming in. By weeding out the people I already knew, which were quite a few, I only ended up asking 3 people if they were Funky Bunny before I found the real one. Let's just say I got a few odd looks when I went up to complete strangers and asked them if they were Funky Bunny.
Tomorrow, I'll give you the 411 on the next phase of our trip....Canada