Saturday, December 29, 2007

Musical Hannah

We received a really cute e-card from a dear relation for xmas, and after we had viewed it Hannah was humming the music from the card for a while. Then I realized that she had switched to "My Country Tis of Thee."

Where in the world had she learned that?

Turns out, she was humming the anthem* for the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen from Ren and Stimpy.

That's my girl.

* (crammed into the tune of "My Country Tis of Thee")
Our country reeks of trees,
Our yaks are really large.
And they smell like rotting beef carcasses.
And we have to clean up after them
And our saddle sores are the best.
We proudly wear women's clothing
And searing sand blows up our skirts.
And our buzzards, they soar overhead
And poisonous snakes will devour us whole,
Our bones will bleach in the sun.
And we will probably go to hell.
And that is our great reward
For being the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

On the Road Again

John made it to Chicago, but I haven’t gotten the full travel report yet because I didn’t get to the phone last night before voice mail picked up, and John’s call had gotten cut off when I checked the voice mail. Oi! The joys of modern technology. At least I was able to check on the status of his flight online and see that they didn’t crash. I will assume that there weren’t any problems with his hotel reservations and will try to call him there later today.

If you read this before 3 pm Central Time, remember to send a blast of good thoughts toward Chicago then. That’s when he is supposed to have his interview.

I had warned Hannah that we’d have to get up at 4:30 to drive her dad to the airport (for an 8 am flight), and I think that got her keyed up, because she hardly slept that night. It was after 10 when we sent her to bed, and then we stayed up until 11-ish to get John packed. She got up at 1 to pee, and she couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ve been a light sleeper since she was born, and every time she went in or out of her room in the wee hours, I heard the door close. *snick* *snick* *snicksnicksnicksnick* She told us the next morning that she spent the time getting dressed and watching infomercials on tv.

We got to the airport right at 2 hours before the flight, but we were at the wrong terminal. Whoops! It seems that no matter where I find a spot in the parking garage, we end up in BFE relative to the gate we need. Anyhoo, we found the right terminal, got John a place in line, and then Hannah and I braved the bowels of the Frankfurt airport to find McDonald’s and some breakfast for all of us. It is scary down there, all low ceilings and duct-work. Hannah has avowed—even before the visit to Fraport (what an asinine marketing ploy)—that she will never work in an airport restaurant, never never never.

Hannah ordered a Happy Meal—yes, she wanted a hamburger at 7 am. She has an amazing memory, especially where junk food is concerned, and she had recalled that I didn’t let her order a Happy Meal at the airport when we took her grandparents there in 2005(!) because it was breakfast time and I didn’t think they’d serve hamburgers that early, but then *12* kids walked past her with Happy Meals and weren’t they the luckiest kids in the whole world?! (It doesn’t sound quite so melodramatic until I write it down, somehow.)

After the coffee and breakfast food, I was awake enough to drive us home, but even in her sleep-deprived state, Hannah didn’t fall asleep until we were 30-minutes from home, and then she only slept for 20 minutes. I thought we’d both crash after that, but I couldn’t fall asleep; I ended up resting my poor little eyes for about 5 minutes and then re-reading part of Wee Free Men (grade-A Terry Pratchett—I’ll be re-reading it many times).

After a long and well-deserved night’s sleep, we’re going to try to go to the movies later today. Hannah wants to see Alvin and the Chipmunks. Please pray for me.

Ps. John had been hoping for a white Christmas, but he had to be satisfied with a hard frost. It started to snow a couple of hours after we dropped him off at the airport. Oh, well, there's probably plenty of snow in Chicago for him to enjoy.