That One Time We Missed Our Flight...

Mr. Barr and I rolled off our blow-up mattress and felt our way around the pitch black basement until we dressed ourselves enough to look somewhat presentable for our 6 am flight.

Amanda, in an attempt not to wake her sweet husband, slept on the couch awaiting our nudge. Upon such, she rubbed enough sleep out of her eyes to manage the trek to the airport.

In all the hustle-bustle and fun, my darlin’ and I didn’t pre-print our boarding passes—A typical practice for us. So we made our way through the crowded thanksgiving-weekend-packed aiport to the check in. Only, to our surprise, to be told we better hustle because our flight was overbooked and we better try to secure a spot.

And hustle we did.

You see, flights had been canceled due to bad weather the previous night. And in addition, the flight company we booked with didn’t fly out of Seattle, and booted us to their sister company—Alaskan Air. And being that we didn’t book with them initially, or print out our boarding passes the night before, we were left hangin.

After charging up the escalators, we met a very sorry attendant shaking her head. “I don’t think you’re making this one.” So we plumped our backpacks, printed tickets, and heavy hearts down.

“Why in the world did we wake up so early!” I exclaimed.

Cameron tossed his head to the side and held my gaze with raised eyebrows. Almost to exclaim, seriously, sleep, that’s all you're worried about?

You see, he mirrored my frustration, but for far different reasons. If we arrived home later, that meant he had to make the long drive later. In the dark. Or far worse, resign to the passengers seat while letting me man the wheel. He shuddered at the thought.

After a few short moments of complaints of how a booked flight almost three months in advance didn’t secure a seat, Mr. Barr muttered, “Well we better at least get some McDonald vouchers for breakfast.”

And then, after a brief few seconds, the ridiculousness of the words that just came out of his mouth sunk in, and we busted up.

An angered, tired, man mustered all his contempt into that one comment?

The ridiculousness of my dear’s words somehow helped us to see the ridiculousness of our own poor attitudes. And that they didn’t fix anything.

So we shaped up. And snuggled up on our grey polyester seats. And watched everyone file in line and fill up our flight.

As my honey took a walk and phone call to explain our predicament to our sweet Uncle Kent and Aunt Patty (our transportation from our destination in Denver), I was called to the desk.

Upon walking up, I tried to be really nice, cuz this lady with a sleek pony-tail and hard red-lips was not about to take no crap off of nobody.

Upon her explanation that we were, indeed, not making it, I told her I totally understood. And was totally fine with it. Kind of. And then with her eyes glued to the computer, she continued, explaining that we were already booked on our next flight. At no cost.

And then Mr. Barr showed up at my hip at the counter. Just in time. She leaned a little close and those red lips parted into a smile. Sliding a paper in our direction she whispered “And you actually might make a little money today!”.

You see, that little white paper, she continued, explains that if you are booted from a flight and the next one is within an hour, you just hop on that and are good. But if it’s not for two hours, you make a little money. And if it’s over three hours, you make a little more money. “And your flight” she said,  “isn’t for another four hours” and those red lips flashed into an even bigger smile.  

“And you are reimbursed 400% of your ticket price.”

Those words juggled around my brain as we made our way back to our polyester seats. I turned to Mr. Barr and stuttered, “So wait, what exactly…” before finishing he cut me short.

“There’s no way…that’s like two grand?”

And before I could even let myself get a little excited at the thought of money in our pockets, the most darling man came up to us.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barr? May I confirm your reimbursement before I retrieve your checks?” And there it was. On again, another beautiful white little piece of paper sat our names.  And two numbers.
And dollars signs. 

$1,183.20 for you.

$1,183.20 for me.

And there it was. The clouds parted and sun burst through as confetti fell and everyone in the airport simultaneously began dancing and singing. Cheering Mr. Barr and I on as we laughed and danced our way through the flowery tunnel of our adoring fans on our way wealth and prosperity.

Ok. Actually. We mostly just sat still. Silent. And then I started to get a lil’ excited. And bouncy. And clappy. And then Cameron squeezed my hand—a somewhat frequent signal from that man motioning me to calm down or whatever. But as I peeked a look at our flight attendant, she flashed a smile and clapped her hands in our direction—assuring me my reaction was quite alright.

And then that darling man came back. With those checks.

And slid em’ in our fingers, slapped us on our backs and wished us well.

Silently, before anyone could change their mind, we zipped up our bags, tried not to make eye contact, and slipped away.

As though all was well.

Until, of course, we turned the corner and Mr. Barr dropped his luggage, grabbed my face, and upon squishing my cheeks together laid a big one on me.
WE JUST MADE TWO THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED BUCKS!
He then slapped his hands together and rubbed em’ back and forth in a fast motion Mr. Miyagi would be proud of. Amongst our scattered laughs and squeals I jumped up and down. 

And covered my face. 

Repeating, “oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH. Oh my GOOOOOOOSHH!!”

After a quite thankful thanks and a promise that we would never again complain about a missed flight (or print off our boarding passes prior to flight) my honey and I locked fingers, threw our bags on our back, and danced our way to the food court.

To retrieve Mr. Barr that McDonald’s breakfast. 

Sleepless in Seattle

In the San Luis Valley I have the privilege of having the Barr clan all around me. Thus, whenever I get the itchin for some family, I just gotta drive down the block. It's pretty fantastic. 

But the Young clan isn't so fortunate. We are spread from hell to breakfast. And so every once in a while we all meander together for a week. And this thanksgiving it landed in Seattle. So my honey and I packed our suitcases and headed for  the great northwest. 

So, first of all we went to Pikes. Duh.
And it's a good thing Mr. Fisher Man was a little slow on the uptake.
Had that dude jumped, poor grandma would've made
quite the scene. And probably rolled her ankle.
Trying to escape or something.

And of course, we fell in love with the flowers.
 And had to walk past them seventeen thousand times 
until our lovely madre found just the right one for her entry way. 

Another evening we went to the zoo. And it was great. And then we went to the museum at the zoo. And it had a "snowball fight" area. Which got really great. And probably terrifying for every spectator and toddler age participant. You see. Youngs aren't spectators. And are quite competitive. And have an impeccable ability to clear any room at a moments notice, when there is any opportunity for competition. And compete we did. Initially grandma and grandpa took Elise and Emerson for a few shots. Then Dan got involved. Suddenly no one was safe. With Dan's fast pitch white puff whirling at your face it was either arm and defend yourself, or die. So before too long all were enlisted and jackets and scarfs, hit the floor. And the battle was on. We stood in a whirlwind of the aforementioned fast pitch by Dan dear, Mothers spuratic hurls taking out any poor soul that meandered within...well within anywhere really (Aim is hard for our sweet mother), Dads winded breath from working so hard, Dj's head shots, and Cameron's sneaking shots as he stayed clear of the battlefield meandering through the onlooking audience of terrified parents frantically looking for their children to rescue from the wreckage. 

Finally, after Grandpa was officially out of breath, and everyone recognized that the children were gone hiding in the snow cave, and the room was officially clear of any previous on-lookers, peace was formed and the warriors tossed on their winter wear onto their sweaty bodies and rounded up the ninos. And went outside and took a picture with a scary mouse. And then headed for the reptile room. 

 It was a night to be remembered, indeed.

Here's grandma with her cute hair, thanks
to Elise. And, notice she is wearing an apron.
Even on vacation she just can't help herself.
She is the kindest helper momma sweetheart out there. 

The hub is an obsessive honey-doer. I know. How'd I get so lucky.
Thus, he spent an evening dinkin' around the kitchen.
And Trey came to help Uncle Tamwin fix da Fwidge. 

Grandpa and his knobby thumb and
dollar-store/kid friendly specs
are a smashing hit with the ninos. 

Trey was quite fond of his cousin's pink cowgirl
hat.
His father was not. 

Uncle Cameron playing 'Too Slow' with
Emerson. Setting him up for a future full
of complexes. 

Em & Em lookin' smashing for Thanksgiving. 

This race to catch a duck left the poor animals frazzled and
Elise in tears. Oh to be young. 

Mike and Boo hauled lil Petunia all the way up
for Emy-loo-hoo. So obviously we did a
photo shoot with her.  

Mike and Boo brought this lil fella (or lady?)
too. I know. Dogs. Everywhere.
But Elise is darling.

I'm tired of diggin grandpa.
Well that's too
dang bad!

 Let me explain the previous photo. In Seattle it rains. And Amanda's house is on a hill and totally got flooded. Last year. And this year she has two babies to take care of. And her husband works full-time. And they are still finishing the inside of their house. Thus, leaving little time to provide themselves with a drain ditch. 

So. Duh. Family. That's what we're for. 

So we dug. 
This freakin' huge hole.
With shovels.

Also, I think it's only fair I show my portrait of
"puppy in the park". Because it so
perfectly captures my love for these animals.

Oh, and we bumped into Ashley!!!
Just kidding.
That's not Ashley.
Dan & I are just super mean.
Ashley is one long tall beauty and we are all jealous.
So we send her pictures like this.
So she knows we are thinking of her.

So much happy goin' on.

Emily is quite the master at the 'grumpy cat face', and
struggled all week to teach us her ways.
Cameron is still workin' on it. 

Amanda too. 

Since we are such fashionable women, we all did "cat eyes".
And soI had to document them.
And Brittany.
I mostly just had to document Brittany.

Since Ralph is quite the meat consumer, it's
only right that we took him to a
Brazilian Steak House.
And it was fabulouso! 

 Well...so, we mostly just stayed home. With each other. Proving better entertainment, joy, and satisfaction than any tour around town.

 Because when you grow up in the boondocks with friends far, far away, every minute, day, hour, month and year is spent in the company of these hooligans. 

(Which, sometimes, wasn't always wonderful.)

And then you grow up.

 And just want those moments back. Those days, weeks, and years that seemed to never end. Because you learned all too fast that they do, indeed, end.  And you'd do just about anything for those loud, miserable, impossible and terribly embarrassing siblings of yours to be once again right beside ya. And to talk to your mom til' two in the morning. And ask your Dad for advice.  So, that is what we did. 

And all was right.

Kind of. 

Let me explain. Let's talk about how I was puking my guts out the day before this grand adventure began? Like lay in bed and can't pack bags sick. And we had to leave at the bum crack of dawn to catch our plane.

Ya. Stress.

 Amid dry heaving and maneuvering the bucket to catch the contents shooting from both the nose and mouth, I managed to ask my dear if he still loved me after this. He did. So that was good.

But anyways...what I want to say is that he made me chug a coke. Fast. And I thought he was crazy.

Cuz when you're sick you don't chug coke. Ya just don't.

 But my honey explained to me that it seems if a coke can eat away a nail, it can kill whatever nasty was in in my belly. So, chug I did. And cross my heart swear to die, I stopped puking. 

And was healed. So...that teaches us that coke is pretty scary. 

Anyways, it was great. 

But not so great when I passed it onto our sweet darling Trey in Seattle.

And I must admit, he made quite less of a scene than his aunt. Tough. He is way tough.

But it didn't stop there. That nasty nast was eventually passed on to every member of the fam-damily. And entire town of Austin upon my family's return. 

You're welcome.

So. I just had to tell that.
But I mostly just want to express the incredible joy of family.

And joy in knowing that families that shovel together, sweat together, smash fingers together, hit each other with snowballs, and puke together, stay together!

So here's to you Ralph and Patsy. 
You done did good.