Home

Well, I made my arrangements to go home for my niece's graduation in June. This should be fun, in a tortured, scary kind of way. Because I don't really belong to a family, per se; it's more like a Mind Control Cult. My cousin Deet (not her real name) just told me that she is laying low because at 52 she has decided she is tired of our two Mom's telling her how she is supposed to THINK about things. I didn't know how to break it to her that my Mom already decided she was the proper person to pick me up at the airport. Without consulting her or her work schedule.

My Cousin Deet (not her real name) who is famous for such utterances as "That is HIGH-larious" and "He's 83 but you'd swear he wasn't a day over 75" told me that her mother in law was "in a tizzy and thrown for a loop" over a day in which she had too many phone calls or something. I started laughing, I don't know how funny that sounds in print, but it's about the equivalent of saying, "I'll be Goll-Danged AND Gosh-Darned!" NOT BOTH AT ONCE! Good Gracious! Nevertheless, I am thrown for a loop and in a tizzy, as well as fit to be tied at trying to manage all those travel arrangement things. As Head of the Cult of Spinsterhood, this is where I am put on my meddle to figure out things like: How does one get to the airport when there is no one to do it? And, Who will take care of my beloved cat who bites you if he feels you need a lesson in manners.

Fortunately, Eliza at the end of the building has been long wanting to forge a relationship with Mackie, even if she can't ever remember his name, and she has agreed to do it as long as my trip doesn't coincide with her trip to Jamaica.

That just leaves navigating the rocky shoals of flight times, with arrivals and departures taking into account that there is only one connecting flight a day out of O'Hare to the city where my family has to drive for an hour to pick me up. If not careful, I can find myself with an 8 hour layover in Chicago. An Amish buggy would be faster! And then of course I have to make sure that my departure FROM home back to Sacramento also takes into account the fact that nobody in Indiana will do anything that cuts into a potential MEAL time. You know, we'd like to take you to the emergency room to treat that severed head problem, but we were just sitting down to supper.

Because this upcoming visit was part of a Royal Edict (yes, we know you've had a stroke, are blind in one eye, can't remember your own name and could get lost in baggage claim with no one there to rescue you, it's still UP TO YOU to find your way home) I have to knuckle under and work out all these kinks.

But I am Spinster, here me snore, and I will get it all figured out eventually. ESPECIALLY because, upon realizing I have no luggage, no luggage at all, I ran to Ross really quickly and found this:

Yes, it is PINK! PINK LUGGAGE! I think that's a good sign, don't you?