They win a Grammy, and Natalie's still not ready to make nice. Emily and Martie were generous and sweet, as usual, even while giving a nod to Natalie’s behavior by saying they had no regrets…
Yup, once again, Natalie acted less than the lady she is...or was.
Update, 10:02 pm CST - the Chicks win their 2nd Grammy of the night...they did a little better, this time, thanking all their producers, co-writers, etc.
2nd Update, 10:25 pm CST - the Chicks win their 3rd Grammy, for Album of the Year - Natalie says she's finally ready to make nice! and says she's very humbled. This time, the girls thanked their families and their fans.
Hopefully, she means it.
One thing is for sure - the music stands, no matter her attitude.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Other Mom's Special Day
Other Mom's surprise dinner was awesome. None of her boys had called her to wish her a Happy Birthday. One of the daughters-in-love had called, and Other Mom had mentioned that no one had called (she didn't know that they hadn't called, on purpose.) The daughter-in-love acted indignant, and said, "Oh, those boys, they are going to be in so much trouble!" Needless to say, when Other Mom and her husband walked in to the The Garlic Press, they were blown away.
All five of her sons were there, which in a way, is a miracle itself. All the boys are in business for themselves, all oil-related. And the party was even more a blessing, because the youngest son was present. He has lived away for sometime, but his new line of work as a directional driller has brought him a little closer to West Texas…and we're so glad! We get to see him more often, and that is a very good thing.
Other Mom was way blessed. She loves the Garlic Press. Joshua Washburn, the proprietor, went out of his way for us, once again. The food and dessert were delightful.
And, here's the shocker for the kiddos…Other Mom is not yet 80.
She. Is. A. Whopping. Seventy-nine. Years. Young.
So, now, we have a whole year in which to plan a big fling-ding! Whoopee! All sorts of thoughts are running through my head…an out of town plan with the entire family? A big deal at church? What kind of mom-loving, yet respectful, mischief can 5 sons concoct?
Or, better yet, their wives???
Time will tell, my friends. Time will tell.
All five of her sons were there, which in a way, is a miracle itself. All the boys are in business for themselves, all oil-related. And the party was even more a blessing, because the youngest son was present. He has lived away for sometime, but his new line of work as a directional driller has brought him a little closer to West Texas…and we're so glad! We get to see him more often, and that is a very good thing.
Other Mom was way blessed. She loves the Garlic Press. Joshua Washburn, the proprietor, went out of his way for us, once again. The food and dessert were delightful.
And, here's the shocker for the kiddos…Other Mom is not yet 80.
She. Is. A. Whopping. Seventy-nine. Years. Young.
So, now, we have a whole year in which to plan a big fling-ding! Whoopee! All sorts of thoughts are running through my head…an out of town plan with the entire family? A big deal at church? What kind of mom-loving, yet respectful, mischief can 5 sons concoct?
Or, better yet, their wives???
Time will tell, my friends. Time will tell.
Friday, February 9, 2007
And I despise whining!
I’ve not been feeling up to par lately, and my doctor suggested allergy testing. So, I bit the bullet and made an appointment. They told me to block out all day, bring a book, my computer, I could watch movies, TV, whatever…so I did. This will be a snap. I can work, away from the office, and get this testing done. What a multi-tasker!
Holy. Crap.
It’s 4 p.m., I’ve been here since 9am, and I think I’ve had more sticks than … ah, heck, I can’t even think of anything funny. We’ve got the surprise birthday party for my Other Mom at 6:30 – I’m in sweats and a t-shirt, barely presentable. I don’t really feel up to a party anymore. What the heck was I thinking?
Here comes the needle lady with her pretty little poison. And she sticks me, injects the stuff. Barely under my skin. I know where the term "gets under your skin" was coined...right here in good ol' Midland, America. By noon, I had suffered 108 injections. And she told me “We’re halfway done, sweetie.”
“Halfway, my butt!” I mutter under my breath.
I think I’m having a reaction. Everything is kind of foggy. Not to worry, by now I know the drill - she’ll be giving me an antihistamine in a minute to counteract the reaction.
We’ve done this all day long. Inject my skin with some known allergen that I might possibly be allergic to…monitor the reaction for swelling, monitor me for all sorts of things like headache, depression, anger…record said reaction, if any…stick me again with whatever counteracts it. Then, in a minute or two, I feel somewhat normal again.
“Ready for the next injection?” she asks.
“Ready for me to open up a can of good ol’ West Texas whup-***?”, I mutter under my breath, as I half-smile (grimace) and nod my head.
What ever happened to customer satisfaction?
I’m trying to work here! I’m trying to do my expenses! Answer e-mails! Answer my customers' calls!
I think I’m developing needle-o-phobia.
I want my mommy. I want my blankie.
I want out of here!!
Holy. Crap.
It’s 4 p.m., I’ve been here since 9am, and I think I’ve had more sticks than … ah, heck, I can’t even think of anything funny. We’ve got the surprise birthday party for my Other Mom at 6:30 – I’m in sweats and a t-shirt, barely presentable. I don’t really feel up to a party anymore. What the heck was I thinking?
Here comes the needle lady with her pretty little poison. And she sticks me, injects the stuff. Barely under my skin. I know where the term "gets under your skin" was coined...right here in good ol' Midland, America. By noon, I had suffered 108 injections. And she told me “We’re halfway done, sweetie.”
“Halfway, my butt!” I mutter under my breath.
I think I’m having a reaction. Everything is kind of foggy. Not to worry, by now I know the drill - she’ll be giving me an antihistamine in a minute to counteract the reaction.
We’ve done this all day long. Inject my skin with some known allergen that I might possibly be allergic to…monitor the reaction for swelling, monitor me for all sorts of things like headache, depression, anger…record said reaction, if any…stick me again with whatever counteracts it. Then, in a minute or two, I feel somewhat normal again.
“Ready for the next injection?” she asks.
“Ready for me to open up a can of good ol’ West Texas whup-***?”, I mutter under my breath, as I half-smile (grimace) and nod my head.
What ever happened to customer satisfaction?
I’m trying to work here! I’m trying to do my expenses! Answer e-mails! Answer my customers' calls!
I think I’m developing needle-o-phobia.
I want my mommy. I want my blankie.
I want out of here!!
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Other Mom...and Mom
Friday is my Other Mom’s birthday…her 80th. By blood, she belongs to MLH. By heart, she adopted me when I married her boy. I’m so grateful for her. We’re going out with Other Mom and her sweet husband, her brood of boys (my 4 brothers-in-law) and their wives to celebrate her special day. It will be fun, and we’re looking forward to it!
The last 80th birthday I celebrated with anyone was my mother’s birthday. That was eons ago, it seems…yet it was just 2002. My Mom was a very active woman – she skillfully managed her own stock portfolio, volunteered several hours a week as a “Pink Lady” at the local hospital, and followed us around to all of our respective hobbies and kids’ activities. Our boys called my Mom “Lucy-Gran”. Elder Son and I lived with her for a while so Elder Son could go to the private parochial school my brother and I had attended in our youth. She never missed a kindergarten graduation, a dance, stock show, a roping, a ball game, or a play. My brother and I live 45 miles apart – and she was at every event, for every grandson. I will never forget how much she sacrificed for us. Where those grandsons were, you would find Lucy-Gran.
I think Mom knew every person in our home town. She stayed very active. And independent…very independent. She would drive from West Texas to Shreveport, to go gambling at the “Boats”, and call us after she arrived…"Janie, I’m in Shreveport, spending your inheritance. I’ll be home in 2-3 days, after I go see your cousins in Troup. Love you!” Or, she and my Other Mom would hop on the tour bus and head out to Niagara Falls, or north to watch the leaves turn – whatever trip came up, they were game. Mom would fly to Vegas or to Laughlin just because she’d had a dream that she was going to win…and did! I remember, on Mother’s Day, 2003, she even went to the hunting refuge to watch Zack work. Mom was, for every single day of our lives, simply amazing. She was both mother and father to my brother and I – as well as several of our friends!
To everyone else but us, she was Lucy. Everyone loved her. About two weeks before her birthday, I had a brain wave (thank you, God!), and started planning an “I Love Lucy” party. I still can’t believe we pulled it off. I sent out invitations, and enclosed were two questions to be answered by the recipient.
“What is your favorite memory of Lucy?”
“Will you please tell us a funny story about Lucy?”
I captured all the replies, and put them in an animated power point, and played it continuously at her party. My brother and I almost pulled off the “surprise” part. Mom had been gambling again in Shreveport, and we thought we could get away with putting a sizeable invitation ad in the local paper, which Mom never read. (Raised in the East Texas Piney Woods, she was a Dallas Morning News kind of girl.) The ad was styled something like this:
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Please don’t tell Lucy-gran!
You’re invited to a Surprise 80th Birthday Party for Lucy on June 26 at ...”
Mom returned to town a day early, and ran by the bank on her way home. Almost immediately, some old codger came up to her, and said, “Well, did you have a good time at your birthday party?”
Mom called me.
The last 80th birthday I celebrated with anyone was my mother’s birthday. That was eons ago, it seems…yet it was just 2002. My Mom was a very active woman – she skillfully managed her own stock portfolio, volunteered several hours a week as a “Pink Lady” at the local hospital, and followed us around to all of our respective hobbies and kids’ activities. Our boys called my Mom “Lucy-Gran”. Elder Son and I lived with her for a while so Elder Son could go to the private parochial school my brother and I had attended in our youth. She never missed a kindergarten graduation, a dance, stock show, a roping, a ball game, or a play. My brother and I live 45 miles apart – and she was at every event, for every grandson. I will never forget how much she sacrificed for us. Where those grandsons were, you would find Lucy-Gran.
I think Mom knew every person in our home town. She stayed very active. And independent…very independent. She would drive from West Texas to Shreveport, to go gambling at the “Boats”, and call us after she arrived…"Janie, I’m in Shreveport, spending your inheritance. I’ll be home in 2-3 days, after I go see your cousins in Troup. Love you!” Or, she and my Other Mom would hop on the tour bus and head out to Niagara Falls, or north to watch the leaves turn – whatever trip came up, they were game. Mom would fly to Vegas or to Laughlin just because she’d had a dream that she was going to win…and did! I remember, on Mother’s Day, 2003, she even went to the hunting refuge to watch Zack work. Mom was, for every single day of our lives, simply amazing. She was both mother and father to my brother and I – as well as several of our friends!
To everyone else but us, she was Lucy. Everyone loved her. About two weeks before her birthday, I had a brain wave (thank you, God!), and started planning an “I Love Lucy” party. I still can’t believe we pulled it off. I sent out invitations, and enclosed were two questions to be answered by the recipient.
“What is your favorite memory of Lucy?”
“Will you please tell us a funny story about Lucy?”
I captured all the replies, and put them in an animated power point, and played it continuously at her party. My brother and I almost pulled off the “surprise” part. Mom had been gambling again in Shreveport, and we thought we could get away with putting a sizeable invitation ad in the local paper, which Mom never read. (Raised in the East Texas Piney Woods, she was a Dallas Morning News kind of girl.) The ad was styled something like this:
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Please don’t tell Lucy-gran!
You’re invited to a Surprise 80th Birthday Party for Lucy on June 26 at ...”
Mom returned to town a day early, and ran by the bank on her way home. Almost immediately, some old codger came up to her, and said, “Well, did you have a good time at your birthday party?”
Mom called me.
We. Were. Busted.
“Honey, I know.”
“Know what, Mom?”
“About the party.”
“What party, Mom?”
“Jane. You know. My surprise 80th birthday party at the church - the one that you and your brother are throwing for me.”
…Silence…
“Oh. Yeah. That party. How do you know, Mom?
“This stupid man at the bank told me. Then when I asked what he was talking about, he said “Oh, you didn’t know?” and, then, told me what the ad said. And I told him that if I was supposed to know, the ad wouldn’t say “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Please don’t tell Lucy-gran!!!” Can you believe that stupid man?! I can't believe he's even smart enough to be in a bank!”
“Well, Mom, don’t worry, that just takes the stress out of it! We’re still picking you up for lunch at 11. Be ready, Mom, I love you!”
“Okay, sweetie...but honey, please don’t make me cry, okay? I don’t want to cry.”
“Okay, Mom. It’s all good.”
And it was. We had a blast. Tons of people showed up. Memories had come in from every part of the country – via fax, e-mail, and regular mail. And they were sweet, poignant, and funny. Every time she read a new slide on the power point, she would cry. And laugh. That party blessed her socks off.
Mom died September 29, 2004. I had been out in the field on one of those massive frac jobs. Mom drove 20 miles one way to meet me in Stanton that night for supper, to celebrate my birthday. Then she drove back home and around midnight, experienced a massive brain bleed, and went home almost immediately. She was never in pain, and for that, we are thankful.
And, I’m so thankful for my Other Mom. I love her. You would, too. She is a beautiful, Godly woman who loves her husband, her sons and their wives, and all of our children. She was a good friend to my Mom, and they loved each other. I’m thankful for that, as well.
I miss my Mom.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Through Another's Eyes
Sunday was a field trial practice day for Zack, The Wonder Dog, and I. MLH, Younger Son and I all are “Bigs” in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. MLH and I decided to invite his “Little” to go with us. Around 8:30 a.m., we go pick up burritos and then go pick up Little Brother #1 (So named because he is our first “Little” – he is 11). LB1 is always over the top with energy and wit – we so enjoy being around him!
We head to Big Spring. LB1 has a million questions…"Now, what are we going to do? I’ve never been hunting. What is a chukkar? What is a pheasant? Will I see chickens? Do I get to shoot? Do you use BB guns? How is Zack going to do that? Did he go to school? Will he knock me down?” We try to explain everything to him. He is so inquisitive – and so very smart!
We get to Andy’s (our trainer) house. Andy is cleaning out dog pens, quite an aromatic chore. LB1 doesn’t like that smell, but there are two little pups hanging around, and he thinks they are quite the treat. We play with them, and go to the barn to see all the birds. En route, we have to stop and see Tank, the world-class barrel racing horse. Tank gently lips LB1’s hand, looking for treats. LB1 is not so sure about that, Tank is pretty big - but LB1 quickly gets over his fear. We enter the bird pens, and there are chickens after all! We see a ton of pheasants and chukkar. The birds fly all around, and LB1 gets a kick out of the bird catching process.
Finally, we head out to the field, and LB1 is all eyes and ears. The kid doesn’t miss a thing. Andy, Zack and I head out for our first two birds. I miss my first one, and get the second one. We bring it up to the truck, and LB1 is all over it – he has to hold it and examine it. “Where did you shoot it? Let me see! Look at the cool colors! The stripes! Are you going out again?” He’s handling everything extremely well, on this, his first hunting trip. We carry on, and finish the training session. LB1 has had a good time.
We go to eat lunch, and the kid devours a triple decker hamburger and fries. LB1 is so long and lean – where does that food go?! We head into town, looking for our friends that will take the birds home and eat them. We find them at Hunan’s, eating lunch after church. We transfer the birds, and we’re heading to visit Scenic Mountain State Park . LB1 likes mountains, and is excited about going…but only if we will think about coming back to Hunan’s to eat lunch (again) afterwards.
We get on top of the mountain, let Zack out of his crate, and take off. We walk up and down the mountain side, looking at rocks, animal scat, anything and everything. LB1 is like a little mountain goat. Zack, nose down, escapes our immediate control, and LB1 is the one who finally leashes him in. LB1 is so proud that Zack came to him. LB1 looks across the mountain to another point, and off we go. He wants to go all over that mountain.
At some point, MLH and LB1 head down to another ledge. Zack and I stay on top, watching. Why didn’t I bring my camera? LB1 is just glowing, smiling – he’s really enjoying this trip. It is a beautiful day. I cannot explain my feelings as I watched these two climbing and talking – I just knew that is was right that they do so. It took me back some years. I know that MLH and Younger Son explored many a mile in their earlier years, and I’m grateful that MLH and LB1 are getting to experience this together.
I was a single mom once. Not all single moms are afforded the luxuries we enjoyed in Elder Son’s youth. ES and I were lucky enough to live in the country. We hunted rabbits, explored, shot BB guns, all the things that country-raised children take for granted. Times were lean, but we had lots of fun – and my son wasn’t hooked to the television! Elder Son was always outside, and we had tons of adventures - some even on this very mountain. I'm glad LB1 is able to taste stuff like this.
Much to LB1’s chagrin, it was time to head back to Midland. We stopped by Hunan’s, and fed LB1 again. Once the bottomless pit was full, we headed west. We’ve enjoyed a full day. It was a very good day – and it was a blessing to see our world through another’s eyes.
We head to Big Spring. LB1 has a million questions…"Now, what are we going to do? I’ve never been hunting. What is a chukkar? What is a pheasant? Will I see chickens? Do I get to shoot? Do you use BB guns? How is Zack going to do that? Did he go to school? Will he knock me down?” We try to explain everything to him. He is so inquisitive – and so very smart!
We get to Andy’s (our trainer) house. Andy is cleaning out dog pens, quite an aromatic chore. LB1 doesn’t like that smell, but there are two little pups hanging around, and he thinks they are quite the treat. We play with them, and go to the barn to see all the birds. En route, we have to stop and see Tank, the world-class barrel racing horse. Tank gently lips LB1’s hand, looking for treats. LB1 is not so sure about that, Tank is pretty big - but LB1 quickly gets over his fear. We enter the bird pens, and there are chickens after all! We see a ton of pheasants and chukkar. The birds fly all around, and LB1 gets a kick out of the bird catching process.
Finally, we head out to the field, and LB1 is all eyes and ears. The kid doesn’t miss a thing. Andy, Zack and I head out for our first two birds. I miss my first one, and get the second one. We bring it up to the truck, and LB1 is all over it – he has to hold it and examine it. “Where did you shoot it? Let me see! Look at the cool colors! The stripes! Are you going out again?” He’s handling everything extremely well, on this, his first hunting trip. We carry on, and finish the training session. LB1 has had a good time.
We go to eat lunch, and the kid devours a triple decker hamburger and fries. LB1 is so long and lean – where does that food go?! We head into town, looking for our friends that will take the birds home and eat them. We find them at Hunan’s, eating lunch after church. We transfer the birds, and we’re heading to visit Scenic Mountain State Park . LB1 likes mountains, and is excited about going…but only if we will think about coming back to Hunan’s to eat lunch (again) afterwards.
We get on top of the mountain, let Zack out of his crate, and take off. We walk up and down the mountain side, looking at rocks, animal scat, anything and everything. LB1 is like a little mountain goat. Zack, nose down, escapes our immediate control, and LB1 is the one who finally leashes him in. LB1 is so proud that Zack came to him. LB1 looks across the mountain to another point, and off we go. He wants to go all over that mountain.
At some point, MLH and LB1 head down to another ledge. Zack and I stay on top, watching. Why didn’t I bring my camera? LB1 is just glowing, smiling – he’s really enjoying this trip. It is a beautiful day. I cannot explain my feelings as I watched these two climbing and talking – I just knew that is was right that they do so. It took me back some years. I know that MLH and Younger Son explored many a mile in their earlier years, and I’m grateful that MLH and LB1 are getting to experience this together.
I was a single mom once. Not all single moms are afforded the luxuries we enjoyed in Elder Son’s youth. ES and I were lucky enough to live in the country. We hunted rabbits, explored, shot BB guns, all the things that country-raised children take for granted. Times were lean, but we had lots of fun – and my son wasn’t hooked to the television! Elder Son was always outside, and we had tons of adventures - some even on this very mountain. I'm glad LB1 is able to taste stuff like this.
Much to LB1’s chagrin, it was time to head back to Midland. We stopped by Hunan’s, and fed LB1 again. Once the bottomless pit was full, we headed west. We’ve enjoyed a full day. It was a very good day – and it was a blessing to see our world through another’s eyes.
Monday, February 5, 2007
The Perfect(ly stupid) Response
Last week was absolutely crazy. Returned from Denver late Wednesday night, rose at 5 a.m. for a small breakfast meeting at 6:15 a.m. with a customer and another coworker. Left there for another meeting in the morning, a new technology lunch and learn at the Petroleum Club, then back to the office for more meetings. I am tired – and my day is not yet finished. Around 8:30 p.m. (still in a meeting, BTW) my phone rings…it is a co-worker, asking for a 6:45 a.m. breakfast commitment - a VP is in town and wants to meet me.
My (tired, and yet, beautifully inane) response to such a request?
“What for?”
I could give you a million excuses, yet I think I’ll just tell you the joke I coined immediately after accepting the breakfast engagement and hanging my head in shame for my lack of utter professionalism…
#9 of Top 10 things NOT to say when the VP of your company calls to invite you to a breakfast meeting:
“What for?”
The breakfast meeting was absolutely delightful.
My (tired, and yet, beautifully inane) response to such a request?
“What for?”
I could give you a million excuses, yet I think I’ll just tell you the joke I coined immediately after accepting the breakfast engagement and hanging my head in shame for my lack of utter professionalism…
#9 of Top 10 things NOT to say when the VP of your company calls to invite you to a breakfast meeting:
“What for?”
The breakfast meeting was absolutely delightful.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Bad flight, good flight...who am I to judge?
When he flies, Elder Son always teases me, “Wonder if this will be a Mom fly day?” Or he will call, “Mom, you’re rubbing off on me, guess what happened at DFW?” Or, Vegas - “Mom, I’m sitting in the plane, on the tarmac. The captain just announced they’re canceling this flight due to maintenance issues, so I won’t be home for 4 more hours, and Mom, it’s your fault, they must know I’m your kid.”
Yes, we are finally home from the Mile-High City trip - and glad to be so. You thought the weather was funky in West Texas? You should have been in Denver. It was fun, and pretty there. But…
We. Almost. Got. Stuck. In. Denver.
Our flight out of Denver was scheduled to leave at 12:45 p.m. . Some of our colleagues were on the same flight, going to Houston. They had been in the President’s Club, and heard that at 2 p.m., high winds were expected, and the Denver airport would be shut down. It was lightly snowing, I was a little worried. We were on time, boarded the plane, so I started breathing a little easier.
We back away from the airport, and start taxiing for position. We stop. Everything goes quiet. The engines start again, and then go quiet.
Due to the cold temperature, the right engine would not start,. Mechanics came out and start working on the plane. Meanwhile, time is ticking by. We sit on the plane 15 minutes, then 30, then 40. Finally, at 1:45 p.m., we are cleared to fly. They spray antifreeze over the entire plane. The snow outside is now blowing in a horizontal line, so I know the winds are coming, if they have not yet. We take off, and everything is well.
We get to Houston, and basically run to the train. Our 2 ½ hour layover has now evaporated to an hour. Disembarking the train, we are running (with many others) to the B Gate (down in the bowels of IAH Airport). As we come down a ramp, a security guard stops the entire crowd. “Halt! Back up!” she screams, cordoning off the area. There has been a security breach within the airport.
About 5 minutes later, she lets us all go (with no explanation as to the breach), and we get to our gate just in time to board the bus to go to the small jet that will fly us to Midland. Thank God. We’re home again…finally.
And Elder Son? Well, last night he was scheduled to fly from Lubbock to Austin. He was invited to hang and spend some studio time with Keith Gattis, a renown lead guitarist and rising country music solo artist.
I know ES arrived at Austin in a timely fashion, because he text-messaged me: “Austin, Texas welcomes Elder Son!” We can always count on our sons to make us laugh.
Yeah, well - let's see what happens on his flight home.
Yes, we are finally home from the Mile-High City trip - and glad to be so. You thought the weather was funky in West Texas? You should have been in Denver. It was fun, and pretty there. But…
We. Almost. Got. Stuck. In. Denver.
Our flight out of Denver was scheduled to leave at 12:45 p.m. . Some of our colleagues were on the same flight, going to Houston. They had been in the President’s Club, and heard that at 2 p.m., high winds were expected, and the Denver airport would be shut down. It was lightly snowing, I was a little worried. We were on time, boarded the plane, so I started breathing a little easier.
We back away from the airport, and start taxiing for position. We stop. Everything goes quiet. The engines start again, and then go quiet.
Due to the cold temperature, the right engine would not start,. Mechanics came out and start working on the plane. Meanwhile, time is ticking by. We sit on the plane 15 minutes, then 30, then 40. Finally, at 1:45 p.m., we are cleared to fly. They spray antifreeze over the entire plane. The snow outside is now blowing in a horizontal line, so I know the winds are coming, if they have not yet. We take off, and everything is well.
We get to Houston, and basically run to the train. Our 2 ½ hour layover has now evaporated to an hour. Disembarking the train, we are running (with many others) to the B Gate (down in the bowels of IAH Airport). As we come down a ramp, a security guard stops the entire crowd. “Halt! Back up!” she screams, cordoning off the area. There has been a security breach within the airport.
About 5 minutes later, she lets us all go (with no explanation as to the breach), and we get to our gate just in time to board the bus to go to the small jet that will fly us to Midland. Thank God. We’re home again…finally.
And Elder Son? Well, last night he was scheduled to fly from Lubbock to Austin. He was invited to hang and spend some studio time with Keith Gattis, a renown lead guitarist and rising country music solo artist.
I know ES arrived at Austin in a timely fashion, because he text-messaged me: “Austin, Texas welcomes Elder Son!” We can always count on our sons to make us laugh.
Yeah, well - let's see what happens on his flight home.
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