Things That Make You Go Hmm...

My longest friend, Chanin, whom I loved dearly I had to cut out of my life. I had to do it because as much as I love her, she sucks the life out of me.

She always wants something from everyone and nothing is ever good enough for her. I put up with it because she is never boring.

Regardless, I spent most of my life with her as my friend, so many of my stories need to include her.

I bought a book this weekend from the Images of America series titled "Bath and It's neighbors", and who is on page 93? Chanin and her sister Jennifer. She was four years old, and it was the year I met her.

I see that little face and I remember what she did in Kindergarten one year later.

It was the beginning of the school year, and Chanin dressed herself for school. She put on her new miniskirt. She was so cute and excited to go to school. Her Mother was so proud of how she had dressed herself that morning.

Her Mom took her out to the bus stop and waved as the school bus drove away.

Soon, the bus pulled into the school. It was time for Chanin to get off the bus. When she went to stand up, she stuck to the seat. It was at that time she realized she wasn't wearing any panties! At the tender age of five, Chanin was mortified.

During class, the teacher asked the kids to sit around in a circle for story time. In Kindergarten you had to sit "Indian style" it was the rule. Chanin refused. She did her best to keep that miniskirt pulled down while kneeling during story time.

The teacher persisted, but when Chanin refused and almost broke into tears, the teacher gave in to Chanin's wishes. Phew! She made it through the day without anyone finding out her secret. Talk about trauma!

Today, if she forgot to wear her panties I'm sure she wouldn't keep it a secret. Raaare!

Yesterday I was talking to my boyfriend about how I don't like to drink soda. I really only like to drink water, Green Tea (because it's good for me not for the taste) and the occasional Red Bull. He says I'm the only person he knows that does not like soda.

When I was a kid, my parents always pushed soda on me. I hated it. My sister was given Coke in her bottle. She loved the stuff. I remember going out to dinner, asking the waitress for water, and my parents ordering me a soda instead. I would say, "Please can't I just have water?" I would have to drink that nasty stuff, and when I got home I'd hit the water.

Every time we went out to dinner, my little sister Leanne got a big glass of soda. Every time she knocked that big glass over and it would end up on my Dad. He would get so mad at her! I thought it was hilarious. I would always say, "You should get her water, it wouldn't make such a mess." My sister always spilled her soda because she was hyperactive from all that sugar.

I guess things were different back then or something. I remember going with a friend and her family to McDonalds. We were going through the drive through, and my friends Mom asked me what I wanted to drink, "water" was my reply. She kept asking me over and over, "Are you sure?" I told her "I don't like soda." She looked at me like I had three heads. She came back at me, "How about some Iced Tea?" "No, I like water." Why was that so hard for adults to understand?

When my friends mom ordered my water, she said, "And one water, the kid doesn't like soda. Can you believe that?" It was so embarassing.

My Dad and sister still drink all that soda. To this day, people still tell me I drink too much water and that it "Couldn't be healthy." I often think, would I have liked soda if my parents would have not forced it on me? Hmm... I wonder.

When my parents split up, my Dad didn't take it real well. He turned into a redneck bachelor.

Shortly after my Mother moved out of the house, I went to visit my Dad. I noticed all the screens were out of the windows and there were shot guns lined up next to them.

I asked him, "Dad, what is going on here?" He told me it was target practice. Do you know what a redneck uses for target practice? Groundhogs.

My Dad was shooting groudhogs from his bedroom window! If that ain't a redneck game, I don't know what is.

OK, I am a flight attendant, but this is not my first career. I was and still am (part time) a horse trainer and riding instructor.

I think it's an interesting story, so I thought I might like to tell it...

After High School, I went to college. All through high school I studied art very seriously. I took all kinds of classes and I was extremely passionate about art. For me the next natural step would be to go to an Art School.

Enter, Tyler School of Art. I was accepted to other art schools across the country, but my parents talked me into Tyler because it is in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. You know, close to home.

I had a rough time at school, during my second semester I found a close friend of mine in his dorm room lying in a pool of his own blood after he had slit his wrists. That really messed me up.

Not long after that incident, I was in a position where I could have been shot during a random shooting. It took me quite a few years before I could see a gun again without shaking.

A few other things happened, and I couldn't take it anymore so I decided to drop out of school.

If I have a problem, I need to get my head straight and the best way to do that is to get as far away from the problem as possible. So I moved to Rome, Italy. Why not? In my opinion, Rome is the Art Capital of the world.

I made jewelry during my stay in Italy, and the Italians liked my work. It was like nothing they had seen. It was real simple stuff, I made my own beads and designs. I sold it cheap, but I made enough money to stay for six months.

During my stay in Italia, I went to Amatrice, and on my way there, I saw wild horses. It made me homesick. I missed my horses. The entire time I was away at school I had neglected them. I went home shortly after that with a new for my new career.

I decided, why should I sit on my butt and create art when I was so young? I could do that when I got older and didn't need to be so active anymore. I have always had a difficult time sitting for hours at a desk. Being a perfectionist with my work, I wouldn't sleep for days and I would sit at a project for hours on end.

I told my Parents that I had decided to change my major to horse training. I had the perfect school picked out in Montana, almost 2000 miles away from home. I was excited that I could take skiing there as a class.

Knowing I was a "flight risk" my Father had other plans. He made me a proposal, "If I build you a horseback riding facility with an indoor and outdoor riding arena, and I get you the best training where they could come to our house, would you stay home?" He was going to use my tuition money. We already had the land, the horses, and a small farm.

My Parents are both successful business owners, and neither of them went to college. College in my family was always frowned upon. I love to go to school. It was a difficult decision for me, but who could say no to having a business handed to them?

In the end, it was a very smart decision. I think my college would have been more expensive than the business. I don't teach or train full time anymore. I burned myself out teaching fifty students a week and riding up to seven horses a day. I now only teach and train on a part time basis, so I still get to be active.

I now travel with my job as a flight attendant so I'm no longer a "flight risk" to my family. I get the travel bug out of my system each week while I get paid to do it.

I will graduate one of these days, when I'm older and don't feel like being so active. Until then, I'm content to draw stick figures.

The End.

I don't really believe in UFO's but, you don't have to believe in something for it to exist. I'm not saying they exist, I'm just saying.

With that said, one day I was at the mall. I met this man in his 50's. We got to talking for a little while. At first, I couldn't stop looking at him. I wasn't trying to be rude, I just never saw anyone who looked like him.

He was about 6'6" tall, an albino, and had an off set face. It was offset to the side. He also looked like an amplified version of someone I know, he even dressed the exact same way. Amplified by being taller, a lot more pale, and that offset face.

It was one of those snow days where there is nobody in the mall, and I wasn't going anywhere, so we started talking. I don't know how the conversation turned to UFO's. But what I do know, is he was the one initiating that part of the conversation.

At one part, he told me most people think they see shooting stars when they actually are seeing UFO's. He told me the way to tell the difference is a shooting star doesn't shoot down and then go back up.

I said, "Hey! I just saw a shooting star and that's what it did, it went back up!" He said, "honey, you saw a UFO". I told him, I didn't know about all that, but it was an interesting theory.

I got to thinking it was kind of strange that for the first time in my life I saw a shooting star that shot down and then went back up, I meet a tall albino stranger who talks about aliens and has an offset face all in one week. I'm not saying he was an alien, or I saw a UFO, I'm just saying it's strange.

The only reason I'm writing this is because I'm watching the Travel Channel "UFO's in Illinois" and it has me thinking back to last winter in the mall and it made me go hmm...

I just got back from a four day trip. It felt more like ten days, but that was because of the long days not because of the crew. This was my first time with an all male crew.

I was kind of wondering how this was going to go with me being the only female.

Our crew was motley. The crew members go a bit like this:

The Captain, I didn't meet him until the third leg on the first day, meaning, we went to Boston and back and then just before we left for Chicago, he introduced himself.

The captain was Scandinavian, had a very dry sense of humor, and did not like mornings. He was quite pleasant after 10:00 in the morning.

Our First Officer, he was from Arkansas, and was a good ole boy. He told more redneck jokes than Jeff Foxworthy.

Some of the things he said over the PA system just had us laughing. "If you look out the window on the right side of the plane, you will see the Biggest Hole In America! The Grand Canyon."

The lead flight attendant, he was my favorite. Somehow he managed $20 in tips from straight guys on a two hour flight. He really harassed our first officer. "Here comes our fat first officer! Ha ha ha ha ha." When he found out that the first officer and I were the same age, he wouldn't let it die. "Deanna and the first officer are the same age! Can you believe it!" He was so precious that he got away with anything he wanted.

The first class flight attendant, he was a real practical joker. When the lead flight attendant was walking around with a maxi pad stuck to the back of his pants, that was pretty funny.

Our first class flight attendant also did a lot of impressions. I think from doing all of his impressions, he thought he was a black woman. He is a white man. When the lead flight attendant would make his funny comments, the first class flight attendant would say, "Oh no you didn't!" Or "I know that's right, mmm hmm." Or "Two snaps for that one sister, mmm hmm."

Then there was me. I was there to cheer everybody on with their colorful personalities. There was a lot of laughing, and everyone really liked each other. Because I was the only girl I didn't think I would be comfortable, but I had a blast.

I went to a football game over the weekend. If I see a bunch of girls doing cartwheels, of course I have to go do some too. That always gets me a crowd. Considering I haven't done gymnastics in about a year I went a bit far with some front handspring's, so I'm kind of limping today but that's another story.

I met a bunch of kids running around the game and they started asking me to teach them some gymnastic tricks. One girl in particular, was starving for attention. She was about ten, and a very sweet girl.

We worked on this one skill with her for about a half an hour. I couldn't believe it, but she went from being very afraid to even try it with me spotting her, to doing it by herself!

She went and showed her Mom, her Mom watched, nodded and smiled. Then the kid went to show her Dad. Her Dad barely watched, and then when prompted by his daughter, he said it was "good." He barely looked at her. She worked so hard on that trick.

I felt so bad because here was a child I had only just met and I knew how important something was to her. Her own father had no idea. He wasn't busy, he wasn't doing anything else, he just didn't care.

That is just sad.

Today being the fifth anniversary of September 11, I am glad I have the day off.

Being a flight attendant, I am not afraid of terrorists, but there is an uneasy feeling that would be in the back of my mind if I were to be in the air today.

I have walked through Newark Airport's Terminal A with a flight attendant who stood with me in the exact spot where five years ago he watched the smoke from the twin towers collapsing fill. It's quite sobering to realize we can be gone in one second of time.

I am quite certain that there have been many other failed attacks not only in air travel that the public was not made aware of.

Today as we are remembering those lost their lives in the 9/11/01 attacks, I would like remind everyone to keep their eyes and ears open, you never know who's future you can change just by being aware of your surroundings.

I recently had a three day trip with one of my classmates from training. She put the "trip" in three day trip.

I also met my perfect lead flight attendant on that trip. Her name is Lorrie. We liked all the same food, we worked really well together, and we were both love to dance. So when we were in NYC, we got to take a Hip Hop Class at Broadway Dance Center. It was supposed to be a Jazz Class, but the instructor cancelled at the last minute. Forcing us to take a Hip Hop Class. It was FUN! I'm glad it worked out that way.

Anyway, Heather, my classmate, the night before the first day of the trip, decided to stay up all night because it was an early check in. I had to wake up at 2:15 AM, but I at least had some sleep, by getting to bed by 11:30 PM.

Due to lack of sleep Heather was in rare form. The entire first morning, as we were on our way to Atlanta, she greeted everyone on the plane by saying, "Hi! Ya'll ready to go to Florida?" The people were so worried that they were not going to Atlanta. Then Lorrie, had to go comfort all of the passengers and reassure them that they were not going to Florida, but to Atlanta.

Right before the safety demo, I see heather sit on the arm of the first class seat to ask one business man, "So what are you going to do when you get to Florida?"

The passenger played along because he had already been "debriefed" about the whole Florida thing by Lorrie.

I sat at the airport yesterday waiting for a trip and ran into Heather again. She told me that the other day wasn't the first time that she played the "Florida" trick.

She said on a flight a few months ago, the agent informed her that one more passenger was coming and he was running to make the flight, from a connection.

After the agent left, Heather got on the PA and made an announcement, "There is one more passenger we are waiting for, and he's a friend of mine, I am going to tell him we're going to Florida and not Las Vegas so everybody play along." She didn't know him, she totally made that part up.

He gets to the plane and they close the door. Heather makes her final announcement "Welcome aboard flight 1234 to Fort Lauderdale Florida."

The guy starts panicking and sweating. He tells her he's on the wrong flight. Heather proceeds to tell him that it's too late they have already pushed back and cannot open the door. None of the passengers told him the truth either.

She said she kept him going the entire flight, until she made her final announcement after landing, "Welcome to Las Vegas Nevada!"

She said he called her a name that rhymes with "witch" as he got off the plane.

That's taking a joke to the extreme, even for Heather!

When I see someone who has worked hard and achieved success, I admire it. It's when the success has gone to their head, that the admiration turns to disdain.

I was watching the MTV Video Music Awards the other day, and it kept making me sick to my stomach.

I wanted to watch the awards because of the performances, but the arrogance was out of control. I kept changing the channel back and forth thinking that they couldn't all be so tactless.

They kept using words like, The King of, or The Legendary, the Godfather of, etc then the performer would come out with their ego, larger than life. I just thought it was gross.

A few days after this, Jason Giambi overheard me saying that arrogance didn't impress me. Then he humbly said something that did impress me, "I'm not curing cancer."

I thought, wow, we should all remember that about ourselves. Unless of course we really are curing cancer.

It would be nice if everyone could remember they are no better than anyone else. It doesn't matter how much money someone has or pretends to have like some of some of the performers from the VMA's.

What creates happiness is people. If you are so busy thinking you are so much better than everyone else how can you be happy?

Something to think about.

Friends, you've got to love them. I have different friends for different parts of my personality.

What reminded me of this was, this past week I was in Chicago or "Chi Town" . Which was fantastic by the way! Our crew was picked up at the airport in a stretch limo. Then, we were chauffeured downtown to a very upscale hotel. I love my job.

My friend Yoshi lives in Chi Town. I had not seen him in ages, and I was pretty excited to have some time with my friend. The thing about Yoshi is, he was the person that planted the seed in my head to become a flight attendant. He is a flight attendant for another airline. I didn't think I could do it and he said something like, "Please, it ain't rocket science. You would be good at it."

Yoshi picked me up shortly after I arrived at the hotel. We went out to lunch and hung out for a couple of hours. We laughed the entire time. I don't know what it is about him, but he brings out the comedian in me. I usually not that funny, but when I hang out with him, I'm practically doing stand up. My timing is perfect, I'm doing dead on impersonations of people, and all of a sudden I'm doing these fantastic monologues. Perhaps they are better in my mind than they are in reality but I did have him laughing the entire time.

This brought to mind my other dear friends, and I was thinking about how I act with each one of them. They bring out the best in me in all different areas, with each one making me a better person. Not only do they make me a better person, but they make me value myself.

My advice to anyone is find the friends that add to you and spend more quality time with them, and find the friends that subtract from you and give them less time. It goes both ways and life is too short to not fully enjoy it.

This is kind of embarrassing but, it's funny so here goes...

First of all I'd like to say the restaurants where I live aren't very good. With that said, I was out at dinner with my boyfriend, and all of a sudden, the waiter brings out a glorious plate of nachos to the table behind us.

I was oohing and ahhing licking my lips, saying mmmmmm, that looks good, oh yeah. The nachos were piled so high with steak, avocado, jalapenos, onions, Monterey Jack and Cheddar Cheese.

In my defense, avocados and jalapenos are my favorite food. My boyfriend is all, "Can you control yourself?" I'm like, "Look at that would you! It looks so good."

Then I realize what he is talking about, it's a table full of guys that ordered the nachos, and they were all thinking I was talking about them! They were trying to get my attention after that, smiling at me, and trying to say hi.

Talk about embarrassing!

Sometimes you just know when it's OK to do something that should otherwise be forbidden.

I was in New York City with a friend of mine. We went to the comedy club and were walking back to my car alone at 2:00 in the morning in Manhattan. We were trying to flag down a taxi without any luck.

We had about twenty blocks to go, and a Lincoln Town Car pulls up beside us, and a bunch of Latino guys wearing tuxedos asked us if we would like a ride. It was like a party car, with music blasting and they smelled really good.

My friend, who had never been to New York City before said "No thank you". She thought they were gangsters. I said, "They are wearing tuxedos, give me a break. Gangsters wear suits. Let's go with them, we're safer in the car with them than walking alone here in our high heels."

There were three of them in the front, and we sat in the back. They were so nice. It turns out the guys were a salsa band from Brazil. They were playing their CD, we were jamming out to their salsa music, and they even had autographed posters of themselves that they gave to us.

I knew she got the gangster idea from watching Scarface, so I told my friend, see they are from Brazil not Colombia. She just laughed and was glad we took the ride.

Before they dropped us off, they extended an invitation to have their limo pick us up for their performance in the Bronx the following Friday.

We politely turned it down not wanting to push our luck, but that was so much more fun than taking a taxi!

So I was on a flight the other day, and there was this customer... He was so needy. He wouldn't stop ringing his flight attendant call button.

Ding! I run over to see what he needs. "Could I have a tissue?" I get him a tissue. Five minutes later, Ding! "I could really use a Coke." I get him a coke. Five minutes after that, Ding! Can you take away my trash? This went on a few more times, pretzels, water, a blanket, a pillow. He was working my last nerve, but I kept a smile on my face.

Myself and another flight attendant had finished our service and were in the back galley chatting and eating our lunch. Ding! I look out into the cabin and Mr. Needy had rang his call button again. I said, "I'm not running out there, he can wait until I finish eating." I was almost finished eating anyway.

About three or four minutes later I went out to see what he needs. He motions me to come close. I move in closer to hear him. He asks me to come closer and I'm thinking if this guy is going to try and kiss me he's got another thing coming.

He whispers in my ear, "I need oxygen, FAST!" He's about to pass out, and he is sweating profusely. Oh crap! I ran and grabbed a portable oxygen bottle in two seconds flat, strapped that baby on him and got him stabilized. I never had to administer oxygen before. Whew!

I felt bad that I had made him wait until he was ready to pass out, but if he didn't use that call button to ask me if he had any broccoli in his teeth I may have been more eager to see what he needed. So now I call him, "The Man Who Cried Wolf."

I was driving over to the barn today, and as I was driving up the street, I noticed all the construction.

It made me sad because they were chopping down the trees that I used to climb, and putting houses in the fields where I have always ridden my horses.

When I was growing up, there were only four houses on that street, and the street was a dirt road. They paved it when I was about ten years old. At that time I wished there were more kids in the neighborhood, I had not realized the gift I had been given of growing up surrounded by farmland.

A memory that popped into my head today as I was driving, was of me and my two childhood friends Chanin and Jennifer. We were so happy that our road was paved! Now we could ride our bikes on a smooth road!

We would meet about halfway between my house and theirs, and along the way we would always find white sidewalk chalk on the side of the road. We would be so happy, drawing on our newly paved road, remarking "Who is leaving us this chalk here all the time? It's so great!" This went on for about a year.

Then one day, we found a piece of chalk, and it was half white and half brown. It was that day that we found out who was leaving us the chalk. It was Poochie, a Jack Russell Terrier that lived at the farm down the street!

Our sidewalk chalk was Dog Poop! We were so grossed out, we never wrote with that chalk again.

The other day, I was riding in the car with my Sister and her four kids. I was telling my sister Leanne a story about a guy who did something terrible.

When I finished the story my sister exclaimed "Why would he do such a thing!"

Because the kids were in the car I decided to spell out the bad word. I said, "Because he is a B-A-S-T-A-R-D."

My oldest niece who is nine, turned to me and said, "I can spell!" I said "Uh oh, I'm sorry I shouldn't have used that word." I then said, "At least none of the other kids can spell." Just then my other niece, Alexa who is eight said to me, "Annie, (the kids call me Annie) did you say he was a (and she spelled) A-S-S-H-O-L-E?"

My face turned bright red, and all my sister and I could do was laugh. I will never spell a bad word in front of kids again!

I've been wanting to do this for awhile now. Whenever I mention my family to any of my friends, they can never get it straight. I have to explain for a half an hour and they are still confused.

Then, I had a request for a "Flow Chart", and I thought, hey, what a great idea...

I know, you're probably thinking, why do you need a flow chart? Read on, and you will see why.

My Biological Mother: Susan
Born to an Italian Father, and a Polish Mother, so she is half Italian, half Polish.

Not so bad.

My Biological Father: Dave
Born to a Polish Father, and an Italian Mother, so he is half Italian, half Polish.

Making me half Italian, half Polish, sounds simple right?

When I was three, my parents divorced, my mother remarried, "Larry" who is 100% Pennsylvania Dutch. He adopted me by age 5. So whenever I say "Dad" that's who I am talking about. My Dad is Dutch, but I'm not, and now that explains that question.

Larry had a son from a previous marriage named Gary. So that is one brother.

Then, my Mother and Father (Larry) had my Sister, Leanne. So when I tell people my sister is Dutch, but I'm not, that explains the question. "But you have the same Dad???" "Yeah, but I'm half Italian, and half Polish."

It still wouldn't be so difficult to understand, but when I turned 21,my parents divorced, and my biological parents remarried, making me now have a "biological stepfather". Very strange I know. I call him Dave, because I don't know him as a father at all. I hadn't seen him for 18 years. It's all good, he's just not my Dad.

Dave remarried a 100% Pennsylvania Dutch woman when he and my Mother initially split up when I was three. Her name is Roxanne.

Roxanne and Dave (the biological step father) had three boys, Dave Jr., Dominick, and Derrick, so that's four brothers and one sister SO FAR.

Try to keep up here, because after my Mom and Dave remarried, my Dad did too.

He married Kerry, who is Italian and Pennsylvania Dutch, just how much of each I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter anyway, but it's part of the pattern.

Kerry had a daughter from a previous relationship named Rachel. My Dad adopted Rachel (just like me) so now I have two sisters. I don't know Rachels biological fathers name, but I bet it starts with an R. See a pattern here? That was good of the parents to help us out by matching the first letter of the child's name to the birth Fathers name. Well, except for Gary, but it rhymes with Larry, so it still helps.

But then... My Dad and Kerry had Larissa, my next sister, and finally about two months ago, Lucy was born, making my fourth sister.

Whew... So Kerry's my Stepmother, Larry's my Dad, Susan is my Mother, and Dave is my biological Stepfather.

I have four brothers (three half brothers, one by my adoption) and four sisters (one half sister and three by adoption) and I think that about covers it.

One thing I almost forgot, Kerrys Sister is married to my Cousin Joey. He's my "cousin uncle". That is another situation I always have to explain.

It's actually not as bad as it sounds. Joey's Mother is my maternal Aunt and Liz is my Stepmothers Sister, so they're not related. Once my Mom and Dad divorced, I guess Joey wasn't my Dad's nephew anymore.

My Grandparents were never divorced. None of them. All three sets of them remain or remained married.

What a difference a generation makes. Any questions?

This is a locust that I found in my garden. I think it's a 17 year locust. If it is, this poor little guy toiled underground for 17 years before he made his way to the surface.

He was there for a day, then the next day I went to look for him again, and all I could find was his exoskeleton. There was a puncture in the middle of his body, and his exoskeleton was perfectly intact.

I don't know if a bird ate him or he molted. Do they molt?

Then if it weren't already bad enough, I left his skeleton in the garden for my nieces to see, and they thought it was the coolest thing. That's not the bad part, the bad part is, a storm came and blew what was left of him away! 17 years of work down the drain.

I was so irritated with myself for not putting it into a jar or something. I wanted to show off the picture of him when he was alive. I'm glad I got to see something so ugly and cool, and now you can too.

I was talking with my daughter and somehow in our conversation I mentioned that I would like to maybe someday I would like to have another child. My daughter replied with "But Mommy, you hate kids!"

That took me aback because I love kids. Sure, it's funny when they fall down, or if they are whining and I see them get punished by their parents. But that's just fun stuff, nothing serious. I go all teary eyed when I see abusive parents.

I asked my daughter why she felt that way, and she said, "well you hate Kyla". Kyla is my 18 month old niece. I told her I don't hate her I love her! She is just naughty, but that's not her fault, it's my sisters fault because she lets her get away with it.

The exact incident can probably be traced to the other day my sister brought Kyla to my house. I'm an avid gardener, I've got flowers and plants everywhere. I like to grow things from seeds. I had some seeds starting in pots, and Kyla was dumping the pots as my sister looked on. I was chasing after Kyla for about a half an hour, I sat down on the hammock to relax, and Kyla grabbed the rosebush.

I couldn't get it out of my mouth fast enough "NO!" The thorn went right into her finger, and she was attached to my rosebush and couldn't get her finger off of the thorn.

My sister ran over and pulled her finger off with a "pop" and blood spurted through the air. I was laughing and saying to her, I told you not to touch things at Aunt Deanna's house. You need to listen.

I always laugh at inappropriate times, it was nothing personal. My daughter watched in horror, and told me I was being mean. I guess that's why she thinks I hate kids.

I went to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada yesterday and it was a celebrity laden flight. I've been to three countries and five states in the last six days.

We had The Dixie Chicks and Alicia Silverstone on board. I got everyone's autotgraphs and I told Alicia that I loved her. Did I go to far? I hope she understood I meant I loved her work, and not her personally. She is just so expressive with her face just like in Clueless, and so sweet. I felt like I was in a movie. The Dixie Chicks were very nice too.

The first officer was so funny, he said, "They just look like regular people." We were teasing him that there is no red carpet on the plane, and that hello, they are just regular people.

Times like that, I wish I had my camera!