The trip south and back

Traveling with a significant other for the first time can be somewhat of a test for your relationship. It can be inherently stressful, and everyone deals with travel stress differently.

So I approached the first true trip that the bf and I would take with a lot of excitement mixed with a bit of caution. We get along great, and we seem to be able (at least so far) to talk things through rationally when we have differing viewpoints. I thought that we would be ok, but of course, you never know.

When I was invited to travel south to Tuscaloosa, Ala., for a University of Alabama football game, I, of course, asked the bf to accompany me. He loves football (though, when it comes to college ball, he is a die-hard Ohio State fan), and I thought it would be a nice opportunity for us to spend some uninterrupted time together.

Little did I know that when I chose the game taking place the Saturday after Thanksgiving, that for once I had chosen wisely. I chose the game against Auburn because it meant neither of us had to take any time off of work. As I later learned, the Alabama/Auburn rivalry is perhaps the most important one for both schools. Known as the Iron Bowl, Auburn had won the last six years, and Alabama had never won on its home field. Another thing working in my favor? Going into the game, Alabama was ranked #1 in the nation with an undefeated record.

So while the choice of the game was working in my favor, the travel gods were busting a gut laughing at me when they learned that we would be traveling on perhaps the busiest travel weekend of the year, Thanksgiving weekend.

In preparation for our trip, I did something that I've pretty much never done before. I organized and packed my stuff the night before. I am famously a last-minute packer. Probably my most legendary packing escapade was in high school when I was leaving to go to Philmont in New Mexico for...three months. I started packing around 1:30 am, when we had to leave by 2:30 am to make it to Amtrak in time.

Anyway, so Thanksgiving evening, my clothes were all laid out in neat piles when the bf arrived from spending Turkey Day with his family. Thus, begun another first for me, sharing a suitcase with a significant other. I'm not sure if I'm just overly protective of my stuff or if I had just never had the opportunity before, but the bf has a large suitcase while I just have a little overnight bag. So half my stuff went into his suitcase. The result? Apparently I'm totally able to share suitcase space with another human being.

So on Friday, we managed to get our butts out of bed and make it to the Cleveland airport in plenty of time, though did run into some friends flying to Breckenridge for skiing. I was a little jealous. Anyway, we flew to Houston and had about a 90-minute layover, enough time to grab a decent lunch at Chili's Too (though I did have to ask them to fix the bacon). We successfully made it to Birmingham, and then the first travel issue arose.

We were scheduled to meet a driver who would transport us to Tuscaloosa. Now, before you go thinking that we were living it up with a driver in a black suit and one of those cute little hats waiting in baggage claim with our names on a board to then escort us to a limo with a minibar...our driver was supposed to be a nice guy driving a minivan. Anyway, just as we reach baggage claim, we get a call from him telling us that the van (which the company just bought new, and it only has 10,000 miles on it) broke down. So in the end, our main contact had to drive an hour from Tuscaloosa to the Birmingham airport (giving us time though to grab a snack) and drive back to Tuscaloosa.

We checked into the hotel, relaxed for a little while, grabbed showers and got dressed for dinner, which included divine barbecue, potato salad, baked beans (which I skipped) and sweet tea (perhaps my favorite thing about the south) - all provided by our very gracious hosts. With full bellies, we returned to the hotel, caught up on some tv and crashed.

We were up early on Saturday so that we could enjoy a good southern breakfast, complete with grits (which on this trip I learned I do not like with butter, but do enjoy with gouda). It was rainy and cloudy, but the weather guy said the rain would stop before the game.

It was then on to the Quad on campus to tailgate the way tailgating was meant to be done - show up, drink, eat, sit under a tent, enjoy, watch other football games on the flat screen, go watch the game - basically meaning someone else gets to set up and clean up.

After tailgating (more good food and adult beverages), we headed over to the stadium to hitch an elevator ride to the skybox. While we were waiting in line, we had the pleasure of seeing Charles Barkley walk by. The skybox was amazing, with more great food and company. And of course the game was...awesome - Alabama shut out Auburn 36 to zip, zero, nada. We got to experience the legendary Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer song first hand. Of course, earlier in the afternoon, the bf had thrown me under the bus by spilling to our hosts that he had practiced the song in advance and I had not. No worries, I did fine, and we had an absolute blast at the game.

We hoofed it back to the truck and then hit a great suburban restaurant, of which, of course, I can't remember the name. Warmed up with some hot cocoa and a nice Pinot Noir, and this is where I learned I like grits with gouda. It was a nice relaxing evening, the perfect way to finish off a long, fun-filled day.

Back at the hotel, it was such a long day that I was going to read while the bf caught up on the remainder of the college football scores. I don't even think I lasted two minutes. Of course, he was nice enough to inform me the next morning that i had been snoring.

On Sunday, our flight wasn't until 4:30, so we had plenty of time to sleep in, grab breakfast at the hotel and pack our stuff. This time all of the toiletries went into his bag, so that we could carry my bag on and not have to pay $15 to check it. We grabbed lunch with our hosts; then the nice guy with the minivan (this one operating as it should) drove us back to the airport, which then began the 10 hours of travel nightmares.

Our flight path was scheduled to take us from Birmingham to Atlanta (the busiest airport in the nation) for a short layover, and then on to Cleveland, arriving home by 9:45 pm. The fun started in security tagged the bf for the special full-body pat down and bomb testing of the luggage. Of course, the most amusing part for me? He was carrying my bag. So when they opened it, they were taking out my heels, dress pants and underwear. I asked him later whether he told them it was his girlfriend's bag or that he was a crossdresser. At that point, we had already found out our first flight was delayed by at least an hour, so he didn't seem so amused. So after waiting for our delayed flight for an extra 90 minutes, we finally departed for Atlanta.

Luckily, our Atlanta to Cleveland flight was also delayed, which meant we avoided having to find a hotel room in Atlanta. From what I had heard from friends, Atlanta is a nightmare to fly through normally, let alone on a busy holiday weekend. Regardless, we had enough time to quickly grab ham sandwiches and Cheetos (which the bf was nice enough to remember is one of my favorite snacks). While we finally made it into Cleveland around 11:15ish, the bf's bag did not. It was still in Atlanta because somehow Delta couldn't manage to transfer bags from their plane to a continental plane in 60 minutes. So the bf spent 20 or 30 minutes in Continental's luggage office filing a claim (along with a number of other folks who had been on both of our flights).

Luckily, I don't live far from the airport, so we finally made it home around 12:15 and crashed. (And we figured it out, that we basically could have driven back to Ohio in the same amount of time.) While we were both planning on going into work on Monday morning, having to go get back to the airport to get the bag changed our plans. So we took advantage of the situation. We slept in until about 8:30 when we got the call that the suitcase had indeed made it to Cleveland, grabbed quick showers, swung by the airport to get the bag and went to breakfast. (I have to say that It really helps the relationship that we're both huge breakfast fans.)

So that is the probably-way-too-long detailed version of our first trip together. We successfully weathered it, didn't bicker even once and managed to still want to be together. It was just a weekend trip, but I think it bodes well for us.

Random inspiration VII

Like putting together the ingredients of a cake - if you put together love, courage and tenderness - you will get a great life - every time. ~Laura Teresa Marquez

Tenderness is the repose of passion. ~Joseph Joubert

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. ~Robert Frost

True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked. ~Enrich Segal

You know you are a Boy Scout when...

As you know, there are all types of facintating groups on Facebook. I found one today that had me rolling on the floor - "You Know You Are A Boy Scout When..." It includes a list of 162 ways to determine whether or not you are. If you aren't, you probably won't even find this entry remotely funny. For those of us raised in Scouting and for whom it is a way of life, it's pretty funny.

Here's a link to the group http://tiny.cc/gEyh4 and my commentary follows on a couple that have the most personal relevance to me.

5-You can relate anything you do to a camp story.
I find myself way too often starting out a story with "remember that time at Scout camp." That's fine for my friends who lived through those adventures with me. For everyone else, it just makes me seem weirder that I already am. Beside how many girls have tons and tons of Boy Scout camp stories?? What I've discovered this year is that apparently Scout camp is the only place where I have any street cred.

39-You see the dirt in your food, but eat it anyway.
Part of my Boy Scouting street cred is the three times I've been to Philmont, a 127,000+ acre Boy Scout ranch located near Cimarron, N.M., in the Sangre de Cristo mountains in the northeastern part of the state. Now, when I was on my first week-long Mountain Women trek, as well as the longer, and much more strenuous, Rayado trek, we started our adventures with the "five-second food rule." If any type of food fell on the ground, it was still good for five seconds. By the middle of the twenty-one-day Rayado trek, I think we were up to five minutes or longer. As long as there wasn't anything crawling on it - or at least nothing that couldn't be brushed off - the food was fair game. I'm not sure my tolerance would be quite as high now.

44-You couldn't imagine dating someone non-scouting.
For most of my life, the joke in my family is that there is a rank requirement to date and marry an Eidam daughter. My brother-in-law is an Eagle Scout. He and my sister met while working on staff together at Seven Ranges (though they didn't start dating until summer camp was over). And Joe proposed to Penny at the chapel at Camp McKinley (where my parents lived until yesterday, now they're at Seven Ranges). The current bf is not an Eagle Scout. But so far, my parents seem to like him, so he might get in without the rank requirement. Though my sister was nice enough yesterday to point out that the family is going to have to take a vote in order to make it official. I told her she better make it soon.

50-As a Scouter your fire starting tools of choice are flint and steel and camp fuel (which gets pour on when the kids aren't around).
Is there another way to start a fire?!?!?!?! Camp "fuel" always worked, especially when the OA guys were the ones responsible for the campfire.

61-You are known by your scout name to more people than by your real name.
My father is known fondly as Ranger Skip. Though his given name is Philip, he has always been known as Skip in Scouting circles. And since he's worked for the Scouts since 1996, pretty much everyone calls him Skip. I can't tell you the last time I heard someone call him Phil. (My mom does call him Vincent - his middle name - when he's in trouble.)

84-You know you're a Scout when you and your significant other met while working at camp, and over half the people at your wedding were scouts.
This one goes back to my sister and brother-in-law. Deciding what to wear to their wedding would have been easier for well over half the attendees at their wedding if the invitation had "Class A Dress Preferred."

92-You know you're a Boy Scout when you refer to the chipmunks on campus as "Mini-bears."
Gee, I thought everyone called chipmunks "mini-bears."

105-You come home from a jamboree and walk down the street at home and want to say hello to everyone you walk past, because it just feels natural.
My parents are friendly anyways, but I'm sure they felt this way after coming home from serving on the staff of the national jamboree.

152-You know you're a Boy Scout when you have the ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime no matter what's going on around you.
This is how I can tell that I'm way too removed from Scouting in my every day life. In high school, it was a joke that I could sleep anywhere. Top bunk with the overhead lights blaring in Riddle Cabin. Next to the campfire. In the back of the van on the way home from our backpacking trip (there may have been some other things going on back there, but I'll never tell. Hey, it was a co-ed group and the grownups couldn't watch us all of the time). Now I have horrible sleeping abilities and am lucky if I can fall and stay asleep in my own bed.

Blue v. Red, spouse v. spouse

Regardless of which way today's election goes it will be historical. If the Democrats win the White House, the first African-American will become president of the United States. If the Republicans take it, the first woman will become vice president.

Of course, among friends and work colleagues, there can be varying political views. But what happens when the political differences are between you and the person who sleeps on the pillow next to you?

There can be extremely fundamental differences between spouses - one might be pro-choice, one might be in favor of smaller government. I've read postings from people that say they simply can't discuss politics with their significant other because it can result in a knock-down, drag-out fight. I've read others that said they wouldn't have married their spouse if they were of a different political persuasion.

In my (humble) opinion, differences in politics are like any difference in view you may have with the person you love. One to be discussed, reasonably. You will never agree with your spouse 100 percent of the time on every issue - regardless of it involves politics. However, I see no reason why two intelligent adults can't sit down and reasonably discuss a topic that is of importance to one or both parties. Even if there is disagreement, each party should respect the other's point of view.

Maybe I have too simplistic of a view, but it just seems plain silly to me if spouses (unreasonably) fight over politics. Regardless of our difference in views, I would still like to wake up with my significant other smiling at me.

Jack o' creativity - the spooky chapter

Here's the pumpkins by candlelight.

My home has gone to the furry ones

So as frequently seems to happen to me, I walked through the door into my dark apartment this evening, and as I turned the corner at the kitchen counter, my feet hit a number of inanimate objects on the floor.

I flipped the light over the sink on and was met by a drinking glass (yes, one made of actual glass - luckily it didn't break), an empty Advil bottle and my new S'mores figurine lying haphazardly on the floor.

What does this mean? It means that my youngest troublemaker, Archimedes (the curious black cat pictured here), has been traipsing around on part of my kitchen counter while I was working hard at the office to put a roof over his head.

This is similar to what greets me every morning in the bathroom, a tipped-over trash can. Archimedes tips it over in order to pull out the q-tips. The best part is that he does it multiple times during the day. It's tipped over when I get home, it's tipped over when I go back into the bathroom to prep for bed, it's tipped over when I get up in the morning.

The second best thing is what he does with the q-tips - he plays with them until he gets bored and then he throws them under the bookcase in the dining room. This adds to his collection of milk bottle rims, toy mice and hair bands. Well, if I'm ever running low on any of these items, at least I know where to look.

My children are rounded out with Shelby, seen lounging above, and my diva, Patches, my calico shown super, super lounging at the left.

So while I'm working hard, the kitty crew are living large at home.

Brotherly love

My parents both come from small families. Each of them has one brother. My dad's brother - my Uncle Greg - lives in Knoxville, Tenn., and celebrated his 60th birthday this past March. My cousins threw my uncle a big weekend party to celebrate the occasion.

My parents ventured south to warmer pastures (March in Tennessee is definitely warmer than March in Ohio) for the weekend.

My cousin Shannon was in town last weekend to spend her school's fall break with me and was nice enough to share these photos with me. I just couldn't resist posting them.

Photo 1: See Uncle Greg be kissed by my Dad, Skip

Photo 2: The Eidam brothers hammin' it up.



Photo 3: All of the Eidam boys - Curt and Greg (my cousins), Uncle Greg, Skip

It had been years since everyone had been together under one roof. Unfortunately, my sister and I weren't able to make it down, but it was great that the original Eidam brothers were able to get together and share the love.