How Fast do Airplanes Fly?

That was the question sparked by Jon and Kate this fine evening. We are watching them on their ski trip and they have been rerouted 300 miles out of the way. I commented that "that just added at least 2 hours to their travel time."

Mr. Smarty Pants McFly (also known as L.M. Lion) said something to the effect of "that so added 4 hours you mean. Planes only travel at about 150 mph!"

What are you talking about? Mom and Dad are 600 miles away and the flight to their house is only and hour and some change!

You are absolutely wrong about this. There is no way that planes travel 600 miles an hour! Go ahead! Google it and you'll see that I'm right. (Because he's always right.)

I had to take the trash out anyway so I trotted my happy behind down the stairs, ditched the trash, ignored the dry cleaning that I'll end up retrieving in the morning, and popped into the playroom/office. Oh mighty Google who will you favor tonight? The smarty pants know it all or the meek and humble open minded learner?

And it goes to...the Meek and Humble! And in my humility I politely BELLOWED up the stairs, "Commercial airliners have speeds of 500 to 600 miles per hour varying only by the presence of headwinds and weather conditions."

Ok.

SAY IT!

You were right.

My work here is done.

A Lesson in Language

We all know that men and women speak different languages. I was not aware of just how different those languages are though until last evening.

My brother in law just returned from a fifteen month tour in Iraq two weeks ago. So I took a chance to catch up a little last night. He was telling me about a kit he got while he was there that would be ideal for my van. Here's where we started to speak different languages.

He said "Gerber kit."

Take a moment and think about that. If you are a woman, you have the same picture I do - a sweet faces, chubby cheeked, curly headed baby. If you are a man you have a completely different picture. You are seeing a multipurpose tool that hangs on your belt.

I was momentarily confused. "Why did he have Gerber kits?" But my brain started seeking out logic and it suddenly made sense to me. Perhaps they were out on patrols and came across families with small children in need. Perhaps the fine folks at Gerber made a donation to the humanitarian effort and put together packs for the soldiers to distribute. Makes sense!

But then he started telling me what was in the kit. Flashlight. (Logic seeker still active) Ok so I can change a diaper in the back of my car at night. Shovel. Ok so I can bury the dirty diaper if I don't have anything to wrap it up in and it's just THAT foul. But then he said the flashlight had a really heavy handle in case I was ever attacked. My brain shorted for a second and I started to think "man speak."

Duh!! It's a tool kit, dummy!! It's not a kit with diapers and wipes and food. I started to laugh out loud so hard my poor brother in law thought I had completely lost my mind. I'm pretty sure he was groping for his cell phone so that he could keep me on the phone while he called the men in the pretty white jackets.

Although I have to admit, that shovel idea could have some practical applications.

A Letter to Karma

Dear Karma,

I sincerely apologize for my gaseous outburst just a mere hour or two ago. Thank you for rewarding my consideration for others. It was very generous of you to send information to Beloved just as I published my rant.

Please be lenient with The Tie. Do not treat him like the stressed out mother of three with raging PMS (or other appropriate cuss words) that we know you can be. A little pop on the hand or butt probably would not do him a disservice but I leave that entirely to your discretion.

Again, I thank you sincerely for overlooking my rage and for allowing the lines to be short and the pumps to be fast. I'm sure it did not escape your attention that in spite of my state of mind over The Tie I did not fill up or take more than my fair share. I did double up over last trip though because enduring this stress week after week will significantly shorten my life span. I would not want to deprive you of any opportunity you may get in the coming days, weeks and years to teach me more lessons.

Thank you again for your tolerance.

Sincerely,
A Gassed up Friend

I Tried to Avoid it.

I tried very hard not to vent about the gas situation here in Metro Atlanta. I really did. I mean it's been ugly for over a month now and I am just getting to losing my mind so I think I did really well. But now I have had it.

For those of you who have been under a rock, the metro area is out of gas. No not low. Not suffering from incredibly high prices. No we're out. As is none. As in little baggies on all the pumps for a 50 mile radius (possible larger but I was afraid if I did anymore research I would be left). "Why?" you ask?

Because Ike knocked out some refineries. I understand that. But we weren't in this situation during all the chaos of Katrina. We weren't in this situation even when 9/11 happened and everyone panicked. So why are we in this situation now? No really! I'm asking why?

And as if being out isn't enough. When stations DO get shipments, folks pull stunts like I witnessed this morning. There was a line over a mile long which I had waited in for over 30 minutes with The Boy and Munch in the van. I watched a man fill up his SUV AND 5 2 gallon jugs. Now tell me. Why is a man driving and SUV and wearing a tie filling extra cans? Is he a landscaper? Is his wife's car low? I don't know and I really tried very hard not to judge him.

Until the pumps ran out just as I swiped my card to get a measly $15 bucks. Did the Tie really need to FILL UP? Did he really need those extra 10 gallons which would have done me for 2 weeks?

There's my real problem with this whole situation. If you are a commuter I understand, but are you carpooling at all? Have you looked at MARTA (our measley mass transit) if you work down town? Can you make do with less so that everyone can have some? I don't go anywhere so when I can find it I'm not filling up. I'm putting in enough to get me around for a week or two and then I'm going again.

Is this my own fault? Should I stop watching out for everyone and start being selfish like the rest of the world? Maybe. In the meantime I get to pray over my tank everytime I go out to pick Mo up from school (and yes, I should probably put her on the bus but she's only 5!) and subject my two little ones to morning gas raids until we can get anything.

And by the way if you live in a neighboring state that has plenty, could you talk to your lawmakers about sending us some relief? We would appreciate it!

Wordless Wednesdays

Just because I'm having a blogging day today and I want to! So there!!