Notes from the Melody Maker

And somehow I was left feeling bad

Mon, 30 Aug 2010 16:43:43 GMT

I haven’t had a lot to write recently, what with life in general, so I hope you’ll excuse my absence. Today I want to tell you about an experience we had yesterday. I still don’t quite know how I feel about it. Do I feel bad or guilty? Do I think I should feel bad or guilty, and feel a little guilty because in fact I don’t? It’s odd.

Melody had been quite good all morning, so before we did our shopping, I took her to McDonald’s for lunch. It was busy, but not over crowded. We found a booth in the corner, and right as we sat down, a little boy who had been sitting with a woman and her son came over and sat in our booth. Okay, odd, but I looked at the woman and said – loud enough for her to hear “oh, are you going to sit with us buddy?” I fully expected the woman to collect her child, but instead, the woman and her son walked away. What? This boy wasn’t her son after all.

He looked at our food and said “french fries.” The boy was probably 7 or 8 years old and didn’t speak well, so I wondered if he spoke Spanish. He took some fries and started eating. Odd. I looked around for parents who were frantically looking for thier kid…there weren’t any. I asked him his name and he babbled. I asked him where his mommy was. He babbled and said “french fries.” I asked him in Spanish “donde estas su mama? su abuela?”

He said nothing except “french fries,” and continued eating ours.

Melody was observing all this while she munched on her chicken nuggets. She is incredibly sweet, and asked me if she could give him one of her nuggets. I didn’t let her. Was it fear of what was happening – which was indeed a strange situation? Was it some sense that a parent would show up from where ever they were? I don’t know, but I told her to keep her nugget, but that she was very kind for wanting to offer it to him.

I continued to scan the restaurant for adults looking for a missing child, but none were apparent. I realized it was possible this boy was lost. Had a family accidentally left without him? Had he been abandoned at McDonald’s intentionally? So, I asked him to come with me to find the manager of the store…and he freaked.

He started screaming and ran away from me! At that moment I realized something was very “not right” about him and it wasn’t that he needed to learn English. It was a language barrier though.

A woman who had been seated facing away from us jumped up when she heard the scream and went after him. Another woman came from the counter where she’d been ordering meals. I’m ashamed to admit that I judged the second woman based on her appearance – overly thin, unkempt appearance, scabby arms and face. She was an addict.

The two women collected the screaming boy and shot glances over our way. The skinny woman sat down in the booth with him and held him while he screamed and screamed. He wanted french fries. The other woman came over to us and apologized profusely. She was his grandmother, they just got into town to visit, she thought the boy was out with his mother’s “friend” in the play area, he’s autistic. She offered to buy us some more fries, which I declined. I told her that I had just been concerned that he’d gotten lost and was alone. I apologized for upsetting him.

I felt so bad. I felt bad for the boy. I felt bad for the grandmother. I don’t know what the family situation is, and I must not judge them based on the brief interaction at a McDonald’s, but for heaven’s sake, if the “friend” wasn’t watching the kids, and the mother wasn’t watching the kids, and the grandparents didn’t know they were supposed to be watching the kids, who the heck is watching the kids?? This boy is autistic and needs a little extra attention in what could turn out to be stressful situations. His mother didn’t even speak to us. In fact she avoided us. I imagine she was embarrassed, so I can’t really blame her for that.

I hope that I’m seeing things wrong, and that their family is very happy, healthy, well fed and taken care of; the mother is just naturally skinny, the “friend” is a great father figure, and all the kids are getting all the education and attention they need. I hope that’s the case.

But I still felt bad somehow.

Growing Up OC - The OP Pro, My Cousin and a Cop

Tue, 10 Aug 2010 18:23:02 GMT

Over the last weekend here in Orange County the annual pro surfing competition took place in Huntington Beach. It’s a great big event now, covered by local news and newspapers, but the one and only time I went to the OP Pro, it was covered by the news for a very different reason.

Back in 1986, my cousin George was either living out here in California or planning on living out here. He had joined the Navy and was planning on flying F-14s out of Miramar in San Diego. For that glorious summer in 1986, he stayed with us in Fountain Valley. My sister and I adored George like the brother we never had. He was about 10 years older than me and so grown up!

So, Geo and I decided one weekend that we would go down to Huntington to see what there was to see. We didn’t know the OP Pro was happening, but we were a little interested in it once we got there. We parked below 1st Street and eventually walked up to 8th Street before heading back to the car. Geo wanted to walk around town – which we did – and do a little sightseeing. This was all before the big “Main Street renovation” project, so the little shops and bars were packed with people, everything felt really charming and authentic. (Unlike now)

On our walk up the street, we wandered through the beach area, watching some of the crowds at the OP Pro. I was still a young teen, about 16 at the time, so George probably didn’t want me to be exposed to the rowdy crowds. This was the era of shocking day glow bikinis, plus lots of surfers and skateboarders who had been drinking all day. We saw some guys harassing a girl, trying to provoke her to take her top off, and so we left.

We had walked all the way to 8th street and bought some sodas at the little liquor store on the corner when we decided it was time to turn around and go home. It was pretty hot that day, as Labor Day weekend can be. Well, as we headed back downtown, we saw the smoke. Thick, black smoke. George knew in an instant that it was more than a trash can fire and he was carefully protective of me. As we got closer though, we had to walk through the parking lot in order to get to our car. It had taken about 20 minutes to walk that far and the crowds were rioting by that point.

This is pretty much what we saw as we got closer. I thought Maxwell’s was on fire, but in fact it was police cars, the mobil command center for the police, and an ATV. Those guys we had seen harassing the girl to take off her top? Well, they had moved on to other girls, and they had found some takers, but of course it got out of hand when the girls wanted to put their tops back on. It was drunken and depraved, and I was scared.

By the time we were in the parking area on the other side of the pier, the cops were out in riot gear. We were carefully and calmly trying to move away from them, and somehow the crowd swelled in such a way that Geo and I were suddenly right in front of those cops. I can clearly remember the guys’ face – completely pumped on adrenaline I’m sure – it was full of as much intensity as the rioters probaby were. He was shouting at everyone to get back, and reached out and shoved George out of his way with enough force that he knocked over the 6’ 1" muscled Navy airman former football player. George rolled over but his glasses flew off, and he had to scramble to find them again. I was terrified that the cops would start beating him and I didn’t know what to do if that happened.

Fortunately, George was able to recover and jog over to me. We basically ran out of that place and down to our car. Our hearts were racing with fear and adrenaline. We got in the car (the ever popular Ford LTD station wagon) and took off. Within a block, we were making up a song about it and laughing in that release of fear and adrenaline that can only come after a moment like that. And that was a wonderful thing about George – he was able to turn that frightening experience in such a way that I can remember the laughing and singing in the car better than I can remember the fear and danger.

Our brush with the OP Pro of ’86 was brief, but enough. I will never go back. I still like to watch surfing. On TV.

I remember while we were wading through that crowd, something else that was more serious than the riot, which at the time seemed ridiculous – we were in the middle of a riot after all! It was someone on top of the camera tower, shouting down that two planes had crashed into each other in Cerritos. George and I didn’t know what to think, but when we got home, our excursion seemed so minor in comparison.

Another old riddle

Wed, 04 Aug 2010 16:42:15 GMT

This one I read in a Laura Ingalls book.

A housefull or a hole full, you cannot collect a bowl full. What is it?

A very old riddle

Tue, 03 Aug 2010 05:31:09 GMT

Little Nancy Etticoat in her white petticoat and red nose. The longer she stands, the shorter she grows.

What is she?

Growing Up OC - My first concert

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 23:16:13 GMT

The year was 1981.

I was 13 years old.

My Girl Scout leader organized a field trip and I surely begged my parents to let me go. It was going to be my first concert. I was a devoted fan of this band for easily 25 years and I was known in my troop to verge on obsessed with them. Who could this band be? Popular bands in 1981 were Hall & Oats, Journey, The Go-Gos, The Tubes and Squeeze. Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved all these bands, and The Tubes would have been a strong contender for my first concert, but alas, they weren’t THE band that held my fascination.

You’ve got to understand, until I heard of this band, I listened to the Beatles and Elvis. I was voluntarily cloistered in terms of popular music, and Billy Squier was downright shocking to me! But I was taken, not with Squeeze, not with Journey.

I loved Oingo Boingo.

It could have had something to do with the enormous crush I had on a boy who also liked Oingo Boingo, but this band really changed my concept of the boundaries of music. I saw them for the first time on Halloween night at Universal Amphitheater in Hollywood. Typical of an Oingo Boingo show on Halloween, people in the audience were dressed up in costume. One guy came as the Pope – and continued to do so for another 10 years or more – and another person was dressed as a big Tylenol capsule with a cyanide warning on the side. My friends and I wore Boy Scout shirts. I was in heaven. Many years later I went to their final Halloween show down at Irvine Meadow’s Amphitheater and my friend and I had procured back stage passes. How times had progressed for us!

What was your first concert?

Growing Up OC - Scouting

Thu, 22 Jul 2010 17:06:13 GMT

Being as I had an older sister, and my mother was a Brownie leader, I was a Girl Scout at the tender age of 4. Back in the days before Mini Scouts existed, I was considered the troop mascot. There were very few things I didn’t do with the older girls. Meetings were held in our house and for quite a long time the “fly up” ceremonies were held in our backyard. The troop n

umber was 1309 and I think we were in Service Unit 4.

If there is any question of the impression Girl Scouting can make on a child, that is evidence that it can last a lifetime! For me and my sister both, Girl Scouting lasted through the 12th grade. We both loved the camping, field trips, and meetings with our friends. For me, it was great because I went to a number of different schools, but the Girl Scouts were consistent. Once I entered Junior High and didn’t have to change schools until High School, it was different, but I stuck with it. Part of the reason I could is that my troop by that point – a Cadet troop – was in a different school district.

I had a bit of difficulty with my peers (who doesn’t?) and felt very awkward and unaccepted. Looking back I realize there is probably some truth and some insecure falsity to that. Anyway, I loved Girl Scouting in a different school district because those girls didn’t know that everyone picked on me! They accepted me for who I was, for better or worse. While I definitely had friends at school who also accepted me as I was (Diane B, I see you out there!), it somehow built up my sense of self to just relax and not pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

While working on the never-ending garage cleaning project – which by the way I can confidently say will end by 2013 – I found my old badge sash with 25-30 year old insignia and a packet of other badges that never were sewn onto it. My friend Donna is going to try to get me the missing pieces of my insignia, and then, I think I want to put this together somehow that I can display it, along with the patches from my old patch jacket. I’m quite proud of my accomplishments as a Girl Scout, and proud of the fact that Girl Scouts helped me become the woman I am today. I will probably be a Girl Scout leader if Melody wants to be a Scout. I will happily take her camping and teach her how to make s’mores and sing songs like I’m A Little Piece Of Tin.

As an aside, I always admired the Senior girls who came to the local Sing-A-Long and actually knew ALL the words to the various Girl Scout songs. Wow, to have that memory, I thought! Now I’m the one who will be teaching them, I’m sure. I can still remember all the words to My Name is Ricardo and Fried Ham, Fried Ham. Should I forget, I can call on my sister, mother, friend Sarah, or of course, the Internet.

My sister earned First Class (the equivalent to an Eagle Scout) the last year they were offered, and after that the project was split into two separate awards – Gold Award and Silver Award. I felt a little discouraged and decided not to pursue it. Double the work for a less special award. It sounded so impressive to say “she’s First Class” but not so much “I’m Silver Award.”

I will have more Girl Scouting memories to share in the future – it was 12 years after all!

Old Photoitis

Tue, 20 Jul 2010 02:29:33 GMT

My 2D pal Connie of Forgotten Old Photos accused me of having caught Old Photoitis, and as evidenced by my last post, I think she’s right. But, a further symptom has come to light.

Who Were They?

This is my new, new blog, lol. This will not likely be a daily blog posting, but maybe a frequent posting of 19th century photos. I hope you will visit and enjoy the fashions, history, mystery and speculation of it all.

Thursday Confession

Fri, 16 Jul 2010 04:16:59 GMT

I have a new hobby. This is a confession of sorts because I don’t need a new hobby. I don’t have time for a new hobby. I don’t even have time for the hobbies that are old! But, I have to admit it. I’ve gotten sucked into a fascinating world. There is mystery, intrigue, history (of course) and a lot of guess work.

I am fascinated by old photographs. I’ve always loved the old family photos my folks have. My sister and I made a photo album for our Dad with photos in it, some of them over 100 years old, all family. So, I cherish the few I have. Then, this started out with some photos and tin types Pauline gave me to scan. Then I found an old photo of the day website. Then I found my muse: Forgotten Old Photos. The blog readers try to find the ancestors of the person in the photo, whenever there’s a name. I am an addict. I check the site early every morning to see if there is a new name to hunt down. When there is, I could spend hours sifting through the information on Ancestry.com and Google searches. When one of us finds a living family member, we turn it over to the site owner, and she gets in contact with them, trying to reunite the photos with family.

Well…..I caught myself before it was too late, but in the few months since I discovered that site, I’ve been, um, acquiring old photos. Here and there, ebay, antique shops, friends, the like. This past weekend, my friend Cat gifted me with an antique photo album with 28 cabinet cards! She’d had it for years in a box. I caught myself wondering if any of them had names I could start hunting.

Some do. I am practically salivating over the possibilities.

I’ve decided I need to start a spreadsheet to keep track of everything. There are recurring photographer names, locations, dress styles, eras, men, women and babies, accessories and interesting settings.

If you are trying to find me, just look in my office. I’m probably in front of the computer or scanning photos.

Tattle Tale

Thu, 08 Jul 2010 22:15:04 GMT

I was a bit of a tattle tale goodey two shoes when I was in school, and I learned after being threatened within an inch of my life by Cathy C in the 7th grade that sometimes it’s best to hold your own counsel. When I see things that are wrong, unless they are a danger to others, I usually don’t say anything.

I will always call the cops on a dangerous driver.

One thing that annoys me is when I see a perfectly capable person using a handicapped parking space. My dad requires a handicapped space, and twice in my life I’ve been in a cast, requiring that I use a temporary pass. These spaces are designed for people who need them.

Well, my sense of right and wrong was offended recently when I watched a post office truck park in the last handicapped space at a large shopping center. The letter carrier got out, carried a huge load of mail into the store, and I decided I was going to do something about it. I took a picture with my phone, of the truck in the space. I did in fact post it to Facebook, lol, but then I decided another way of handling it was to make others aware that it’s not allowed.

I sent the picture to Jim Radcliff, writer for the Orange County Register. Jim writes the traffic law Q&A column. I read it often and have learned much about the ins and outs of our laws. Jim just called to say that my question will be in the print edition of the Register on July 9th, and it is already online here.

I didn’t want to get the lady in trouble, and Jim thankfully did not use the photo, as it had the truck number clearly emblazoned across the front of it. I did want to raise awareness, and it appears that I have.

Call me a tattle tale. This time, I don’t mind.

Weezer Wednesday

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 05:05:50 GMT

When Melody was about 16 months or so, she was fascinated with one of our favorite bands, Weezer. We even have a little clip of her watching them on YouTube. She still likes them and we have adapted one of their radio hits into a potty song. Weezer is a big favorite in our house.

She also loves the children’s show Yo Gabba Gabba. YGG is sort of like a kiddie DT hallucination. It’s odd on many levels but hugely popular with kids and actually pretty harmless. Well, now we can enjoy both of our loves – Weezer and Yo Gabba Gabba – all in one song. Weezer recently performed an original song “My Friends Are Insects” on YGG, in insect costumes. This from the boys who brought us Buddy Holly and Hash Pipe. I guess it’s not so much of a stretch after all.

UPDATE You have to go to EW.com to watch the video. I guess they want to protect their content, and I’m fine with that, but since it’s not new, and it’s Weezer dressed as insects, it seems a little silly. Click here to go to the video.

Young Sarah Bing

Tue, 29 Jun 2010 04:22:38 GMT

I’ve really been feeling nostalgic for Gram what with the recipe site, so I was delighted when my mom found the story of Young Sarah Bing, which Gram had often told to us when we were kids. She also wrote it out a time or two. Once was in a little book of this and that which she put together for Kathy and I to enjoy. It has stories, rhymes, drawings, and other trivia that had been fun for Gram, and so she passed them on to us. Kathy has the book but I’m hoping to borrow it so I can scan a copy for Melody.

Following is a sampling of Gram’s sense of humor. I’ve searched on this story several ways but can’t find it replicated anywhere online, and that’s saying something. Could this truly be a forgotten story, or even one that Gram created? She was known for her memory for trivia, songs, stories, and etc but I don’t know that she was a writer of such. *

Young Sarah Bing

Young Peter Gool, a child of nine

Gave little reason to complain.

Though an imaginative youth

He very often told the truth,

And never tried to black the eyes

Of comrades of superior size.

But not so, Sarah, not so Sal!

She was a most uncultured gal

Who didn’t give a pinch of snuff

For any literary stuff,

And gave the classics all a miss.

Observe the consequence of this!

As she was going home one day,

Across the field and far away,

A gate, securely padlocked stood,

And by its side, a piece of wood

On which was painted, clear and full,

“Beware the very furious bull!”

Alas! The young illiterate

went blindly forward toward her fate,

And ignorantly climbed the gate!

Now luckily the bull that day

Was rather in the mood for play

Than goring people through and through,

As bulls so very often do.

He tossed her lightly with his horns

Into a hedge of prickly thorns

And stood by, laughing, as she strode

And pushed and scrambled to the road.

The lesson, as you well may guess,

Was not lost upon the child,

Who since that day, will go a long way

Around to avoid all signs,

No matter what they say,

And leaves a padlocked gate alone!

And also, she is wisely known,

Confirmed in her afore time guess

That literature breeds distress.

* and of course because the word “bing” is in the name, it brings up lots of references to some search engine other than Google, LOL!

Summer sprinklers

Fri, 25 Jun 2010 16:42:24 GMT

Melody has been enjoying playing in the sprinklers. More pictures in the gallery, or click here for a cute slideshow.

Love rainbows, not gay

Thu, 17 Jun 2010 22:30:18 GMT

For many years now, there has been a co-opting of the rainbow, and darn it, I’m tired of it. The rainbow is a beautiful phenomenon of nature after a rainstorm, next to a waterfall or in the splash of the backyard sprinklers on a lazy summer day.

It’s also the international symbol for alternative lifestyles.

I do not care if a man marries a man or a woman marries her ferret or any other sort of non-traditional relationship. I really don’t. Whatever floats your boat is good for you and I support your right to live your life according to your needs and choices.

But can someone explain to the LGBT that rainbows are also enjoyed by three year old little girls, middle aged women and people all around the world who are not homosexual? Back in the 70s and 80s you often saw rainbow stickers on cars – the ones like these:

They didn’t have a political meaning. They just meant that the person driving the car liked rainbows and was probably listening to Kermit the Frog as they cruised along in their VW. I had a rainbow sticker on my notebook for school and all it meant was that I liked rainbows. And Kermit the Frog.

These days, were I to display a rainbow of any sort on any part of my person, including a decal on my shirt, embroidery on my jeans, or on a hairbow, most people would think it’s a visual declaration of my sexual orientation. That upsets me. No one owns the trademark on a natural phenomenon and I don’t think it’s right that I deny myself beautiful images for fear of being classified as something or someone I’m not.

Can’t rainbows just be rainbows and leave it at that?

Something's fishy here

Tue, 15 Jun 2010 03:47:39 GMT

Recently, my online friend Kate told me that her family would be here in California for a wedding and they wanted to meet us! I was super excited because this would be my first 2D friend from my mom’s group that I would meet in person. As the anticipated visit approached we decided we’d meet at the Aquarium of the Pacific, as they were staying in LA and we’re in OC. It seemed like a good “in between” spot.

On the day of our Aquarium visit, Melody was beside herself with excitement! She’s seen the large aquarium at Rainforest Cafe, and when we told her there would be an even bigger one, plus sea lions, sharks, rays, and more, well you can imagine her ebullience. Needless to say, it was all good! Melody and Jordan hit it off, and I felt like I’d known Kate forever. There’s something about sharing your most personal secrets with your mom’s group to just tear down the barriers.

Melody did not really want to touch any of the fish although they were in a “touching pool” for just that purpose. The pool contained rays and sharks and a few other fish I don’t recall. I did persuade her to touch a starfish and an anemone, but that was where she drew the line.

The Aquarium also has a lorikeet forest (though how these are fish related I’m unsure) that guests can walk through. I am NOT a bird person but these parakeet-like birds are very tame and beautiful. Their vivid color just doesn’t translate in photos. They must be seen to be believed. These lorikeets are likely all raised in captivity and handled so they are very tame. Although we didn’t purchase the bird feed, many people had the little cups of nectar that the birds enjoy and were feeding them. The birds would fly right over to the person holding the nectar cup and land right on their arm or shoulder, then proceed to sip the nectar from the cup. Maybe next time we’ll do that.

It was a lovely day and we are all looking forward to going back again soon! Pictures in the gallery, enjoy!

We're back and we're baking again

Sat, 05 Jun 2010 22:11:22 GMT

I had to take some time off because honestly keeping up with one blog is time consuming, but three is really taking up a lot of my time! So, I’m ahead on Gram’s Recipe Box, Past Periods Press is good until July, it’s my chance to focus here for a minute.

We are going to be meeting my friend Kate and her family at the Aquarium of the Pacific tomorrow. Kate and I have never really met in 3D, just online through our mom’s group. Her daughter Jordan is Melody’s age and they have a younger son, Ben. All of us are excited for the day! Pictures to follow I’m sure.

Somehow I missed a round or even two of Baking Gals. It’s okay though, because I think I really needed a break. I signed up this month, and we baked for Matt Mobley, currently stationed at Ft. Hood, which we all know is A. the scene of the terrible massacre last year, and B. a bivouac center where units are deployed overseas. Hopefully these treats will reach Matt and let him and his buddies know we wish him the best.

We went old school again and dug up a recipe from “All My Best” which is the cookbook my mom put together of her favorite recipes from a lifetime of cooking. When I realized how simple Grammie Hennie’s brownies were, that’s what we went with. Keeping with my vow of quality over quantity, I figured I’d make a batch of brownies, include gum/mints/candy and ship. Well, hm, the brownies turned out so good that there were only about half a batch left. So, I though well, I’ve got a brownie mix here, I’ll make those. Yes, we made them, but they are seriously substandard compared with Grammie’s.

Here we melted the butter and unsweetened chocolate. Ghiradelli, because my store was out of Bakers, but still delicious. Next, I have been itching to use this pan, which is one reason we went with brownies this month. It’s really a scone pan, but Joyce the Tea Lady told me it’s great for brownies. My batch of mix could have made a dozen very plump brownies, but it stretched to 15 okay.

The brownies were insane yummy while still warm from the oven. So yummy that I made a second batch of Grammie’s recipe the next day so my family could enjoy a few. The remainder were boxed up to go to Matt.

As you can see, I also stuffed a box with regular treats. Finally I made a batch of Munchie Dudes crackers. Melody is delighted because she usually only gets these at Gramma & Papa’s house. I will be shipping these on Monday since our local post office isn’t open on Saturdays anymore. Ah, government cost cutting.

Vote for me!

Thu, 20 May 2010 18:41:24 GMT

I have entered my grandmother’s recipe for Angel Pie in a recipe contest. Please vote for me!

Now that just tears it!

Tue, 11 May 2010 17:10:28 GMT

I have been casually following the story of the World War 1 Mojave Desert monument for a while now, and today, I have just about had it! If you don’t know the story, in 1934 a 7 foot high metal cross was erected on private lands in the Mojave Desert in honor of World War 1 vets and casualties. Over the course of time, the land was transferred to the state.

The “fine” organization we know as the American Civil Liberties Union filed a lawsuit claiming that the cross should be removed because it was on Federal land and thereby violated the Constitution’s call for the separation of church and state. I’m not a religious person, but even I know that the Constitution included that clause so that churches and religious organizations such as existed in the 18th century would not control the government.

Something tells me that this 7 foot cross in the middle of the desert was not influencing policy in Washington DC in any way.

Anyway, the lands in question were transferred back to private holding in a recent land swap. As a result, the US Supreme Court has rejected the ACLU lawsuit because the offending religious symbol is no longer on state or federal lands, hence, no violation of the Constitution.

This morning I read that this cross, which had been covered by a plywood box for many years, finally was uncovered, and has now been stolen by thieves/vandals.

That is just pathetic.

My biggest peeve about travel

Thu, 06 May 2010 18:25:11 GMT

If you hadn’t guessed by now, we just got back from a short trip to Tennessee to visit with our friends Tara, Don, Burke & Cassidy. Melody and I had mostly great travel – a delayed flight, some uncomfortable turbulence, things you expect when traveling. It’s been a while since I flew last, and I had forgotten about the one thing I really, absolutely, without a doubt, find to be my biggest pet peeve about traveling.

It takes place before you even get on board. In fact, it takes place before you even get to the gate. It’s part of the dreaded security check.

TAKING OFF YOUR SHOES

It’s disgusting. Why is this considered sanitary? We have paper seat covers to protect us from the incredibly unlikely chance of contracting a disease from the toilet and antibacterial soap to wash our hands. There are trash cans by the bathroom doors so we can open them with a paper towel and then not litter. We sneeze into our elbows and most grocery stores offer handiwipes so you don’t have to touch other people’s cooties left behind on the shopping cart. We are an extremely germ-phobic society.

Yet thousands of people every day walk bare- or sock-footed across the marble and tile floors of airports across America and no one has raised a question about it. I realize the TSA wants to be sure my 3 year old isn’t going to light her Dora the Explorer shoes on fire and they are just doing their job, but seriously? First off, a three year old, an infirm granny in a wheelchair and a terrorist all face the same conditions – though at least I was able to carry my toddler and the granny can ride in her wheelchair without touching the floor with her feet.

We risk athlete’s foot, hoof and mouth disease, and plantar warts, just to name a few, by walking bare footed across the 10-20 feet of hard marble or tile that is a haven for germs at the airport, not to mention exposure to some of the most foul odors that can cling to a person’s feet. Nothing like the smell of a sweaty athletic sock to force you into wakefulness at 6 a.m!

Are we in fact safer for the removal and scanning of our shoes? Since Richard Reid did his dastardly deed several years ago, has anyone been caught with firecrackers in their shoes? Isn’t there a better way to do this?

Just the thought of taking off my shoes to traipse across other people’s fungus and bacteria laden footprints is a huge deterrant to me traveling again any time soon. At the risk of sounding absurd, when I travel again, I will likely bring wipes and clean socks to change into once I reach the gate.

Dang crazy drivers

Tue, 04 May 2010 21:05:22 GMT

Knoxville trip

Sat, 01 May 2010 03:46:12 GMT

Click for more pictures from Dollywood!

Click for pictures from the Museum of the Appalachias.

Click for more pictures of funny kids