Kansas City! Kansas City, here I come....

It's been awhile since I took a business trip--to Atlanta last fall. Next week I'll be in Kansas City, MO, traveling on Monday and returning home on Friday. One of my good friends from work will be on the same trip, so I'm looking forward to palling around with her in the evenings. I think we're booked on the same flights, too. This is an instructional 3-day session they call "Train the Trainer." When I get back to work the following week, I'll be responsible for passing along all the tidbits of knowledge I glean during the class in Kansas City to a number of others who will teach our professional CPE in August. Based on the trickle down theory, I'd better pay attention next week.

Preparing for a trip entails a little more for me than just making sure I have clean underwear and packing my bag. I can't remember much about what it was like to go on a business trip when I had five kids at home, but the amount of preparation that is required to leave a husband is considerable. For one thing, there is a requirement that he take a dessert to work each and every day as a substitute for lunch. I'm not talking about some Little Debbie snack cakes, mind you. We're talking HOMEMADE. He likes variety, too, so that means at least two different desserts so he can alternate. Recently his group had a carry-in and he advised me that, since I have a "reputation to uphold", I'd better come up with something that measured up to their expectations. Once when I was too busy to make something and sent some left-over store-bought Cub Scout treats, he reported that everyone wanted to know what horrible thing he'd done to be in the dog house.

David Archuleta--Yes, David Archuleta!

For Mother's Day, my son and daughter-in-law gave me the David Archuleta CD. From the first time I saw that boy on American Idol, I have been a fan. I have also suffered untold derision for expressing this adoration to my family. Yes, true enough, I am a 59-year old woman, a grandmother, an educated individual with a responsible job. Perhaps my tastes should be more refined and mature, but David Archuleta is just so dad-burned cute and talented! "Sweet" is trite, but that's what David Archuleta is.

When David Archuleta speaks, he is an awkward, bumbling, pubescent boy. When he opens his mouth to sing, however, he is transformed instantly, magically. If I were sixteen or seventeen (oh, let's be honest--even twenty-five) and lucky enough to be in the audience when he sang "Touch My Hand", I might sprint up on stage and touch his hand!

I'm actually old enough to be David's grandmother. Imagining my own little grandma going ga-ga over, let's say, Elvis Presley in 1959 when she was 59, or my no-nonsense mother having a little infatuation with Jon Bon Jovi in 1989 when she was 59 makes me smile a bunch.

Going to the Field

When I say, "I'm working in the field tomorrow" I don't mean on the John Deere plowing the back 40. In my occupation, field work is going outside the office to accomplish a task. Utah is a big state, and I'm starting to realize how far a person can drive in one day.

Here is a short list of signs I take no pleasure in seeing when I'm on the road, in the field:

• Runaway Truck Ramp


• Exit 127--No Services
  
• Exit 129--Ranch


• Brake Check Area


• Chains Required
  
• Elevation 7125 Ft


• Falling Rocks

On the positive side of being in the field, I can listen to the radio, CD's, and enjoy some awesome, diverse scenery. Yesterday I saw about a million acres of sagebrush, a breath taking canyon, and a fabulous lake.

Blue Sweater Revisited

My lovely daughter has pointed out to me that the origin was not Old Navy, but rather American Eagle Outfitters! I checked the label, and my goodness gracious, she's right. No wonder I haven't been successful finding a replacement at Old Navy.... This reminds me of the TV commercial about the man and his son who go to Norway to discover their roots, only to find that, once they arrive, the family tree originated in Sweden. At least Norway and Sweden are close geographically.

Blue Hooded Sweater

Sometimes it's the smallest, must unassuming things that give us the most pleasure in life. For example, a couple of years ago when my daughter lost a ton (well, not that much) of weight, she brought me a big bag of cast-off clothes. Among the items 35 years too young for me was a navy blue, cable knit sweater with a hood. It zips up the front and has a couple of deep pockets. Little did I know when I pulled it out that it would become so dear to me, so essential, so necessary!

My home office is in the basement. Although it is plumbed and has furnace ducts, and the walls are studded in, it is basically a big, cold cavern. Even when I turn the heat on down there, it probably doesn't exceed 60 degrees. To achieve a comfortable 70, it would cost us $3000 to heat it for the winter. One morning I grabbed the Blue Sweater, and it's been my constant companion since. Sometimes I even wear it in the summer because my office is never warm.

As with any child's "blanky," Blue Sweater is beginning to show signs of age and wear. I pluck tiny balls of yarn off the floor and have resorted to rolling the sleeves up because of the fraying. Every time I'm close to an Old Navy, Blue Sweater's origin, I look for a replacement. I fear I will not find one that will meet its perfection. What else would afford pockets just right for my personal and business cell phones? In what will I find comfort and warmth?

I may think seriously of retirement when Blue Sweater ceases to exist.