Who you gonna call?

I was flipping through the channels the other night when I stopped at The Discovery Channel to watch a few minutes of a program called “A Haunting.” They were talking about The Lake Club in Springfield, Illinois. This program “recreates” the haunting with actors but also interviews the real people involved.

A woman comes on the screen and I think, “That looks like Aunt Minnie – but fatter.” Then they go back to the “recreation” and talk about “Barbara” seeing the ghost. It starts to add up. I use the handy dandy rewind feature on my fake Tivo and pause it to look at the woman again. It’s not my Aunt Minnie but it is my aunt – my Aunt Barb! I never heard them mention her last name but she did work at the Lake Club in Springfield. I know because she found a little dog there and named her LC. It was definitely my aunt. All I could think was, “I wonder if the producers of this program know she’s schizophrenic.”

Schizophrenia is not funny and I shouldn't make light – because I worry it runs in the family and it'll happen to me. But we did laugh (possibly so we wouldn’t cry) when my aunt was convinced that my deceased grandfather spoke to her through the TV and that she was a CIA agent with the secret code name Steel Magnolia. So, seeing ghosts seems pretty par for the course.

I haven’t seen this aunt in probably eight or nine years – and only briefly then. It was really weird to see her on TV.

Baby boom

Seems like there’s an epidemic of pregnancies lately. Look at all the celebrities having kids. Two women I know at work recently gave birth and there are four more who have recently announced their pregnancies. I have two friends outside of work who are expected and one friend who will be a grandmother soon. I’m not sure if the influx of buns in the oven makes me want to have a baby more or less. I’d hate for it to look like I was just hopping on the bandwagon. And what name could I give my little bundle of joy that isn’t wildly popular or just plain crazy?

Sometimes I can see myself doing the mom thing – taking Jr. to school, soccer practice, piano lessons; attending PTA meetings; baking birthday cakes. Other times I see myself as the mom that drinks too much and causes her kid to need years of therapy. I don’t think anyone has all the answers to raising kids. It’s hit or miss. And no matter how great a job you do, your kid can still end up a drug addict or serial killer.

I just know I’d end up with a girly girl – me, the lifelong tomboy – and not know how to shop for her or even act around her. I can handle a tomboy – or a boy – or a super smart (not smart ass) kid. But what would I do with a little glamour girl who wants to wear dresses all the time and is into makeup and fashion?

It’s scary thinking whether or not I should be a mom. With all the pregnant ladies around, until I make up my mind, I’m sticking with bottled water.

Maybe terrorists control the weather

I had to fly on September 11 this year and it made me a bit nervous because I thought, what self-respecting terrorist wouldn’t want to make a statement on the fifth anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center? Apparently, only Mother Nature decided to cause a ruckus this 9/11.

My flight out of Champaign, Illinois was delayed an hour, just long enough for me to miss my connecting flight by a matter of minutes – a flight that must have been the only non-delayed flight out of Chicago all day. I spent the next hour and a half running from one end of O’Hare to another, (at least I got some exercise) trying to get booked on a new flight. Someone had the bright idea to try send me to Las Vegas to get me back to Colorado Springs at 3 a.m. However, if the flight to Vegas was delayed even a few minutes, I’d be stranded … again. Besides that, I couldn’t find the gate for America West to even get on that flight. I was tired, irritable and just wanted to get home. All I could think about was “The Terminal” with Tom Hanks. I wanted to cry.

I finally was able to get on a flight to Denver that had been delayed two hours. The passengers originally booked on that flight were grumbling about the delay but I was ecstatic. My boyfriend could drive up and get me and I’d be home by 1 a.m. No sleeping on a cot in the airport for me! I popped a couple of Dramamine and sat back to enjoy the ride.

My luggage, though, is still stranded at O’Hare International Airport, waiting for a direct flight later today. All the delays were weather related and just inconvenient. All night I dreamt I was still on the plane. Today, I’m tired and irritable, but I’m home and I can stop thinking about annoying moments in the career of Tom Hanks.