Only One Hour

Note to self:

Always check your flight arrangements when you entrust them to someone else.

We checked in for our final flight home Saturday night and afterwards, did the math.

We arrive at 8:30 p.m. in DFW Terminal E, have to grab our checked luggage.  Then, run to the train.  Then, go back through security for American Terminal B.

And hopefully, catch a 9:45 p.m. flight home to Midland.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Once again, welcome to Mi Vida Loca.

It’s never boring around here.

UPDATE:

We landed at 8:20 pm.  Got to baggage claim at 8:30 pm.  Baggage arrived about 8:40 pm.  We grabbed a taxi who tentatively knew where to take us.

Point being:  we needed B40 Terminal.  He took us to B40.  It was closed.  Then…

We hurried to B18 to check in …the final American Airlines Terminal open…until 9 pm.  We made it there at 8:59 and they gracefully took our bags and sent us on our way.

We make it through security checkpoint when I realize ThatManILove is missing his backpack.  He runs back 2 gates to get it…and it has been sequestered.  (He forgot to take his water bottle out.)  They finally relinquish the bag.

Meanwhile, resourceful woman that I am, his chariot awaits.  I have begged a golf cart driver to take us to B40.  We tipped him $20 and it was worth every cent.

We get to the gate with 2 minutes leeway to board!  AND they upgraded us to first class!  (short flight, but we’ll take it!)

MIRACLES do happen!  Thank you, Lord, for your absolute favor!  

Also, because we kept a full supply of Young Living Ningxia Red going, I really think we'll experience minimal jet lag at best. Young Living rocks!  YAY!

UPDATE:  Out of a full flight, only 12 bags made it to Midland.  Ours…did not.  Hopefully tomorrow!

PS - I love Southwest Airlines. 

Our Favorite Spot…Vamos Por La Casa, Senor

 Talk about comfort…this is our first stop towards home.

We stop here, every time, en route from DFW to home.

God bless you, you people of Starbucks in Weatherford, Tx.

God bless you.  Your coffee.  Your clean bathrooms.

Choot 'Em - Like A Girl!!

Scanning the online news, I saw the headline How To Live Longer.

One of the sub-topics was “Don’t Be A Drama Queen” and you’ll live longer.

Who writes this stuff?

The article had some great points, though, for couples...

1. Fight fair. (Bwahhahahahahaha. But I digress.)
2. Women’s hearts suffer when they hear or make hostile comments.
3. Men’s hearts reacted badly when confronted with domineering words.

Please note the article did not define a "Drama Queen" to be male or female.  (And baby, I’ve seen both!  Remember, I hang out a little bit with golfers, shooters, AND team ropers.  Grown-up ones! Whinier people I’ve never seen - but I won’t go there.  Oops.  Already did.)

Well, okay then.  I’ll make you a deal, honey darlin’, ThatManILove.  I won’t tell you what to do if you don’t get hostile.  Bueno?  I mean, I can't remember you ever getting hostile, but this is merely a preventative step.  

Agreed? Truce-amundo? Capiche?

If we ever get to the point where we can’t agree, then let’s at least agree to repair to the ol’ shooting range to settle things.  And you can even pick the shotgun shells, the date, time, and weather conditions. A duel, as it were.  Our shotguns are of the same quality and caliber, so it's a push there (even though I did win the Beretta Teknys, give it to you, then beg for it back when I started having major Browning Gold malfunctions.    But I’m NOT an indian giver - and you were so sweet to let me have it that day I shot 89/100.  Notice, I ran right to the gunsmith and he cut the stock down for a custom fit - for me! Have I told you lately that I love you?  And I love that 30" barrel?)  But, I digress, AGAIN.  Back to the case in point.

When and if we ever disagree and I admit, there is the rare occasion, let’s just take it to the sporting clay range.  Let’s work it out there.  Okay?  Then, you’ll be dominated without hostile words, and you’ll live longer.  Just pure-d talent will prevail.  And we’ll both take our aggression out on those little clay targets.

In other words, rope up, cowboy, and shoot like a girl.  Your girl!  And we'll both live longer.

Finish that project and hurry home.  ThatGirlYouLove misses you!

Love,