I Might Not Be Miss America, But… Part Two

photo 3We have to go.


This is the text that came through while I was out-of-town last week. Hubs telling me we need to fork out a few Benjamins for an event that he has to appear at. It’s the “politically” right thing to do.


Sure. I type back. Charge it. Not like we have the cash lying around. In fact, this particular event cost beaucoup bucks last year. They brought the price down this season, but anything times two is more, and Hubs insists I come with him.


A day before the event, Hubs sends me another text. Someone bought us 2 tix. We’re going for FREE! Nothing like that four letter word that brings a smile to my face!


And before I rub the sleep from eyes the next morning, a friend texts to say she’s free to hang out. Sorry, we have plans, I text plan. She responds, Okay, I’ll take the girls for you. Babysitting fell in our laps, and as I blow dry my hair, I imagine my fairy Godmother saying, “See, it’s all gonna work out. Now about your dress…” Continue reading

I Might Not be Miss America, But…



The Lovely Tosca Lee!

Almost a week ago, I nearly chip my bubblegum pink nail polish as I fiddle with my nails on the drive to the airport. Nothing like battling NYC traffic on the LIE while running late to a flight to get your fingers a’biting and knees a’shaking. Hug and two smooches later, Hubby drives off and I’m asking Airport security if I can be escorted to the front of the line. My plane takes off in half an hour.

“Do you have Special Business Class Priority Check-in Status?” The lady in uniform asks me something like that.

“Umm. No.”

“You have plenty of time,” she says. Meaning, get in line with the rest of the world and wait it out.

Flip-flops slipped on, jacket tucked under suitcase handle, laptop on my shoulder, I race down Terminal D to find the Delta flight to Indianapolis leaving in now fifteen minutes. Except that I read the screen wrong. Not arriving flights! Departing! Backtrack to the fork and now I’m jogging with luggage in tow down Terminal C. And it would have to be C29, the furthest possible gate from where I was on take one.

And then it happens. Continue reading