Travel Thoughts

In less just about 23 hours I will be in the first hour of a five and half hour flight (SF to Boston) with my husband, 3.5 year old son and 16 month old daughter. This I wish happen on the plane:

1. That he purple glow of the Virgin American plane creates an almost spa like effect in my children lulling them into incapacity (sans drool).

2. That there are other children on the plane, so that when I look up and meet the eyes of another parent, we can via our eyes say “Holy god, I am getting so drunk after this flight.”

3. That toddler headphones work miracles.

4. That my daughter naps.

5. That I don’t run screaming to the exit in a fit of insanity because some asshole just bumped the chair and Maggie woke up 10 minutes into her usual two hour nap (this happened before, that flight is what in which hell is loosely based).

6. That crayons occupy tiny minds, and if not occupy, I really don’t care if they eat them, because an entire twenty pack will be what, 45 minutes of gastronomical delight?

7. That there is no divorce after we land.

8. That there are no explosive poops.

9. That I can hold myself back if someone rolls their eyes at me, because I might snap. And by snap, I mean place my kid on their lap and say “Okay, Dr. Sears have at it.”

10. That by some miracle of god, they are actually a-okay, behave, and people cheer and high five me upon my exit. And then unicorns, fairies and rainbows greet me at Logan (with vodka).

The Attack of the Yellow Pepper, Plane Rides and Boston Gimlets

What you see before you may appear to be a yellow pepper. But for me, it is a killer. Today at the allergist I happened to mention what happened to me in Hawaii a few years back when I had unknowingly consumed my allergic nemesis, the yellow pepper. After the doctor stared at me, he said “This is very serious Ms. McCall. What you experienced was anaphylaxis.” Yeah. “You will need to come in for further food testing and carry around an epipen. As well as get a medical alert bracelet.” Uh-huh. “You could die Ms. McCall.” All righty. Then I was instructed on how to save myself via the epipin and watched a movie about anaphylactic shock. And now for the rest of my life I will carry around an epipin and wear a medical alert bracelet because I am allergic to god darn yellow peppers. However, this is pretty exciting in the sense my nerd status has risen to “Stephen J. Hawking” levels. Also, I was told "never to eat alone." So I better not get divorced.

Two days from now John and I embark on our adventure east. We are both a tad bit fearful on this completely booked plane that our kids are going to go ape shit and make us the hated McCalls of Row 5. I am going to look positively towards this trip and negate all memories of the trip back home with Maggie in March. The one in which I think hell is loosely based, because positivity gets positive results right? Right? Anyone with me? Help me.

Anyway, see you soon Beantown! If you are in Boston and would like to get together for a drink, remember, I like gimlets.

Happy Anniversary

Today is my fourth anniversary with one Mr. John Preston McCall Jr. I would like to stress the junior part there, because I just kind of vomited in my mouth a little. No offense John’s Dad. Five years ago today we went to a Giants game (they won!), then to a bar (shocker!) and then we made out (whores!). Exactly one year later, we got married. Did I plan that? Oh hell no, total coincidence, what do I look like, an actual girl? But I did plan the pregnancy that forced him to marry me. Kidding - he got me drunk, bought an ovulation calculator and trapped me. Duh! But yeah, four years of babies and wine and laughter and beer and sports and vodka. And even though he once tried to steal Chris Carpenter from me in fantasy baseball (first official fight) and once watched Lost without me when I was a raging hormonal weaning mess (second official fight), I have forgiven him and love him very, very much. These past five years have been my absolute happiness (okay I am a girl, gosh darn it).

P.S. Still waiting on that third fight, but guessing it will probably involve not wanting to take Patrick Willis in the 5th round in our IDP League. (He is a total fourth rounder).

P.P.S. And we just happened to make these guys.

Update on My Life - Yada, Yada, Yada

What a bad blogger. Not updating the 2.5 people who actually read this thing. Well fear not loyal reader(s), I am back. And as such, here are a few of the things that have occurred in the past few weeks.

1. Lumpy was Excised. My surgery with Lumpy went pretty well. I was awake (but heavily drugged) for the entire thing. I asked to see my lumpy. Which in some circles would be weird, but the people in that room thought it was awesome. Lumpy looked like the fat part you cut off on chicken, but baseball sized and bloody. Totally gross, and totally awesome. Also, for a surgery that was “no big deal” I got a prescription for forty vicodin. The bad news is that a tiny piece of Lumpy survived - hello surgery circa 2022. The good part is that the scar on my shoulder looks like I was in a knife fight. Meaning, if ever imprisoned, no one can make me their bitch. Holla! (Side Note: I watched Reform School Girls way too many times).

2. Vacation. We headed up to the cabin last week with Owen and Maggie and our sanity. We left three days later with Owen and Maggie and shreds of that sanity. A not childproofed propane, rustic cabin is no place for a fifteen old month girl with what may be intelligence of Einstein combined with the definate personality of an insane Viking warrior. Girls are easy my ass.

3. Happy Anniversary. June was the one year anniversary of the start of my running. I have been exercising consistently for an entire year. Pigs are not flying, but it has to be soon.

4. Vacation Part Duex. We leave for Boston at the end of the month for two weeks of humidity. If you are a praying person, pray for me. Those kids on a plane for nearly 6 hours may be the death of me.

5. Happy Anniversary Part Duex. July 22 is the fourth anniversary of The Debastardization of Owen Patrick McCall. How can I have been married for four years? How can I have had two kids? How is it that I have not run out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned? Oh yeah, because I got to marry one Mr. John McCall, who all in all is a wonderful guy that I am lucky to have met (and trapped).

There you go. A summary of event of the past, and events of the future. There is a number of things I want to do in Boston. All of which start with beach and end in oyster. But that is another story.