When I got to the airport to leave, I noticed that the guy in front of me in the security line was sitting next to me on the plane. I considered saying hi, but didn’t. I was mortified to admit that I looked at the boarding pass. There is just no way to make that sound breezy. “Hey there, I noticed that you are sitting next to me…” Ok. Thinking about it now, it doesn’t actually sound all that crazy. But while I was standing there, the idea of it made me nauseated. And thinking more clearly… the after-effects of the party may have been contributing to the nausea.

I have a tendency to be nosy. I don’t mean to be, and I’m not maliciously nosy, but I do let my eyes wander, and my ears are usually open (the girls behind me? They were funny…). And standing in a slow-moving security line where I can see your boarding pass? I’m going to take a peek. And when I notice that you are sitting next to me? I’m going to glance at your name and check you out. Just a little. I mean, if you look like a serial killer, I’m going to look into getting a new seat at the other end of the plane.

Of course, since it was a small airport, I ended up sitting next to the guy, Kevin, in the waiting area. At this point, I couldn’t say anything because admitting that I had been nosy and then waited to say something about it seemed several steps further along the stalker path. Besides, we were going to be boarding in 10 minutes, so I figured that we could just talk then. If we had to.

I’m also not generally an overly social person. I like people, and when I know people well, I talk their ears off. But when I don’t know them well, I am very quiet. I’ve been told that I seem cold and judgmental and bored. (I consider this one of my many shortcomings, and if given a magic wand, this would be one of the things I would consider changing about myself first.) Given the choice in an airport/airplane situation, I bring a book and earphones and mind my own business. That day in the airport, for example, I had a book, a magazine (as backup) and 2 television shows ready for watching so I could keep to myself without seeming off-putting.

But then the gate attendant mentioned that there had been a “mechanical irregularity” on the inbound flight, and they needed to have the maintenance guy check it out before we could take off. It would be about 15 minutes, he said. 45 minutes later, they admitted that the maintenance man lived over an hour away and they were still waiting for him to arrive.

By this point, the 2 dozen of us waiting for the plane are the only people in the airport. Small plane, small airport. Although I didn’t have a conversation with any of these people, I could tell you what many of them were wearing. And I am still sitting next to and actively ignoring a stranger.

So as we queued up to have out connecting flights rescheduled, I noticed that the guy who was sitting next to me was also going to Atlanta. Which meant that he was also going to have a just over 3.5 hour layover in Philly.

Before leaving for the airport, my dad handed me a pass to go to the airline’s special lounge. He wasn’t going to be able to use it by the time it expired, and I was scheduled to have an hour layover in Philly, so he thought that maybe it would come in handy. Originally, I was supposed to be in Philly for an hour, so I would have basically had time to grab a snack, sit for a minute and leave. Now, though, it was a much bigger deal. Comfortable chairs, snacks, beverages, clean bathrooms and a generally quiet atmosphere out of the traffic sounded so nice.

And, of course, the pass said that I could bring a guest.

So I’m sitting in the airport next to a man whose name, seat assignment and eventual destination I know. And wondering how I can ask him if he wants to be my guest without sounding like a crazy stalker. I feel it is necessary to point out that Kevin was totally in his own world, taking no notice of me. He was watching a movie (with headphones) and occasionally checking his phone. When we got onto the plane, he added an iPod to the mix. I’m sure that he noticed he was sitting next to someone, but beyond that, I don’t think he gave me a second thought. I don’t think he had a clue that I was stressing out about what he might possibly think about me if I made a completely random, but kind and generous offer. (yes, I realize (now) that not many people would get upset about being offered a free trip to the lounge, but at the time… things seemed different)

I wondered until the plane landed in Philly, when I finally asked him if he wanted to go. Turns out he was a really nice guy. We chatted on walk to the shuttle, and on the way to the Lounge, and then on the way to the Atlanta plane. He was very happy to pass the time in the lounge instead of the gate area. In the lounge, we spoke maybe 10 words to each other– it had been a long day, and I was having a hard time staying awake and forming sentences. He tried a couple times to make conversation, but kept himself busy with other things. I’m sure that if I hadn’t spent so much time worrying that a complete stranger was going to think I was odd, I probably would have been able to engage in conversation better (at all) and not seem so… odd.

But, even still, it was nice to have a wide, comfy seat for a little while in the lounge.

On the plane to Atlanta, I ended up with a row to myself while Kevin was smushed in the window seat in a row with 2 big guys. I thought about going up and asking him if he wanted the aisle seat in my row, but thought it seemed weird to do that. My eyes are still rolling at myself.

If I’m going to think so much, I need to think better things.

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These women volunteered for NOTHING. Nothing!!

This is why they had time to be happy and have clean houses (well, and Carol had Alice).

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I’m not entirely convinced that she wouldn’t try that again right now.

As a side note, Maggie has lost 2 teeth this week. The Tooth Fairy is going to go broke here.

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4 burners cook lots of meat

And how, exactly, does one manage 32 burgers at a single time? I’ve watched Stagg make 8 or so at once (maybe even 12 down at the pool during a swim met), and it becomes a juggling act. As soon as you get the last one on, you need to start checking the first ones because they are almost ready to flip. He’s sweating from the heat of the grill and cooking meat, and sweating because with being the grill master comes a special responsibility to make sure that every burger served has beautiful, dark grill lines, but is not actually burnt– not on one side, not on the other, and not even on the edges that may have been a little closer to a flame than other parts. (Incidentally, I believe this is NOT the case with hot dogs. You can burn the heck out of them, and it is considered normal grill procedure.)

After I think about all this, I also wonder what the ramifications of this grill are in terms of the economy– did we not learn that spending so much money (the grill pictured above is over $1,500) on stuff we don’t really need can get us into financial trouble? Maybe there are more people than I thought who are coming out of this recession with more disposable income than they thought. Maybe not. And what does it say about the obesity trends in this country? Are we headed to a time when the average family of 4.2 will need to be cooking 32 burgers at once because that is how much we need to sustain us?

Or maybe this is just what it takes to impress us now. Maybe there is no realistic hope on the part of the grill makers that we will be buying this sort of grill. Maybe it is just something t make us think, I’ve gotta see that beast and get us into the store. And maybe once we’re there, the just as pretty grill sitting right next to it that only cooks 16 burgers at a time will look like something that will fit perfectly on our decks.

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On Monday morning, a new rash patch was clear on the side of her nose and cheek. There was also a small spot on her eyelid, which seemed troublesome. The quick spreading rash, the Katie’s misery with the itchiness, and our complete surprise that we had any poison ivy in our yard reminded me of my little brother’s first experience with poison ivy when we moved to CT. Like any 10 year old boy, he simply could not resist the cool vine hanging off a tree branch over the pond. Really, is there a better way for a boy to spend a day than pretending to be Tarzan and swing and yell? Of course, the next day, when an itchy rash spread to every inch of his body, it didn’t seem so fun. Well, it probably did, but the plan clearly had a flaw or two. One of the flaws was that the day after the rash came out, we were scheduled to drive 24 hours. Actually, while I’m sure that wasn’t too comfortable for it, he did get extra room since neither our other brother nor I wanted to touch any part of him.

Since one of the things I remembered about my brother’s ordeal was that it got inside his ears, mouth, nose and eyes, Katie went to see the doctor about the bit on her eyelid. Katie told him how much it itched, and which parts of her were the most itchy. She did a great job describing what bothered her, and even admitted to being able to guess where she had found the ivy. He prescribed prednisone to get it under control. As he was filling out the prescription, he mentioned that it had been known to make some kids…”psychedelic.” I think he caught himself a split second before saying “psychotic” in front of the smart 7 year old.

Katie, of course, waited until the door had almost closed after him before asking what psychedelic meant. I told her it meant “funky” and let it go. She’s been asking for over a day if she feels psychedelic yet.

I love the extra little bonuses from the pediatrician.

Most of the time, Lucy and I have walked around the block, which, in my case, is 1.25 miles, and has plenty of hills.

Last night was the first time I took Lucy out after dinner. The time worked for me, but I’m not so sure Lucy was a fan. She was happy enough when I grabbed the leash and took her outside, and for the first quarter mile, she seemed happy. But after the first break in the first hill, she started struggling against me. We had a little chat, walked a few more steps, and she struggled again. This time, she sat down, stood back up, shook her head, and managed to get her leash off her head.

For a few seconds, we stared at each other. This was unexpected. Then she realized she was free, and bounded off down the road. I followed, she ran further, circling me, but always out of reach. I walked the other way to see if she’d follow, but she didn’t. Eventually, she must have gotten bored with her freedom, and she trotted back to the garage and the door to the house. When I got there with the leash in my hand, she was excited to see me, and sat down to have the leash placed back on her head.

Off we went again, up the street. Once again, about a quarter of a mile in, she resisted. I encouraged, she sat. I pulled, she pulled back. I gave up and we walked home with no idea what had bugged her so much.

I mentioned that they are lost to Stagg, and he thought about it for a while and decided, “they are probably somewhere in the house, in the van, in the backyard or at Lisa’s.” Thanks, honey. Seriously? Are you sure you don’t want to change “Lisa’s” to “somewhere else” because that would be just about as helpful.