Balloons. Lots and lots of balloons.

I just got home from spending a week in Reno at The Great Reno Balloon Race. I am lucky enough to crew on a balloon called Fandancer and we went down to fly the balloon and have some fun. It was a hell of a week and I am unbelievably tired. We were up every morning at 4 in order to get out and get set up to fly.

Here's a picture from Dawn Patrol on Saturday:


After Dawn Patrol we would get Fandancer up and ready to fly. The nice part is that by then the sun would be up and we could actually see what we were doing! Here I am, all decked out in my sexiest outfit. I am standing on the tarp and the balloon is laid out ready to inflate:


After two years of crewing on Fandancer I finally got my first flight on Thursday. I had actually been a bit afraid to go up so I never really made a big fuss about not getting a ride. I mean...seriously? Several thousand feet up dangling from a balloon in a wicker basket attached with little steel cables? Not so much with the excitement on my part.

However, I have watched it fly dozens of times and I am responsible for working with the rest of the crew to rig the dang thing. If I am going to send a pilot and various passengers up in it then I suppose I can take a chance. See me with all the bravery and stuff?? Whee!



Since it was my first flight I was initiated after we landed. Basically, initiation consists of both drinking enormous amounts of champagne AND having it poured over your head. The pilot has you bend down to drink a cup of it without using your hands and when you are looking down they pour some of it over your head and then put a bunch of grass and stuff on you.

So...my week has consisted of up early, launch balloon, chase balloon, pack up balloon in whatever random location it landed, drive back to launch field, drink a ton of champagne and then go back to the hotel for a shower. That would get us to about noon. Then we would either nap or go downstairs to the casino and gamble. Then we would have some kind of pilot/crew party where we would all drink too much again. Then it would be bed by about 10 and up again at 4. Rinse. Repeat.

We also had to keep an eye out for the Energizer bunny balloon. He went on a terror spree. Here he is sneaking over a hill to pounce on an unsuspecting apartment complex...oh, and those three little dot looking spots between the bunny and the apartment? Those are cars. That should give you a prety good idea of just how big the bunny is.

An almost amusing post.

I have had a mini-mental breakdown the last couple of weeks and apologize for the lack of postings. I generally try to keep my posts upbeat, positive and, if I am really lucky, amusing. For about a week now the most amusing thing I can think of has been, "Isn't it funny that I woke up today and I still feel homicidal?" I wasn't sure you would appreciate that kind of humor. So I just hid out and polished my knife. And then loaded my gun.

I feel much better today. Good news is I didn't have to kill anyone. It was a pretty pleasant weekend. Today was spent with all the windows open enjoying a beautiful Fallish day. I cleaned my bedroom and bathroom to a state of cleanliness that hasn't been seen since about 5 minutes after we moved in. You know what I discovered? Homicidal tendencies, when properly channeled, CAN remove the ring around my toilet! Who knew?!

At the moment I am sitting in my friend M.'s guest room getting ready to go to bed. I may have mentioned at some point in the past that I crew on a hot air balloon. No? Ok...well...I crew on a hot air balloon. This next week is the Great Reno Balloon Race and we are flying. That means that tomorrow morning we are getting up at "Oh my freakin' bagel with cream cheese and a quad shot vanilla latte it's early" to drive to Reno. I get to spend the next week getting up at the crack of dawn (we are on the balloon field at 5 a.m. or earlier) to raise and launch the balloon. Then we pile into the truck to drive around trying to figure out where the pilot is going to land so that we can pack the balloon back into the trailer and go back to do it all again.

For all my time and energy spent working on this balloon crew I get paid the grand sum of NOT A DAMN CENT. And I freakin' love it. LOVE. IT. It is the most fun I have ever had working. It could be the post flight champagne tradition. 'Cause...well...its champagne. At 8 o'clock in the morning. That's just deviant enough to make me feel like a rebel without requiring a MOM tattoo on my right bicep or a mohawk.

Anyway, I will post updates and will be sure to put up pictures for you. Should be an exciting week! Oh yeah...just so you don't worry. I left the knife and gun at home.

It ends with a Star Wars reference. What more do you need to know?

This weekend I finally got to have a much needed girls night out. Not just a regular girls night out, but an overnight to Jackpot, NV. We have been planning it for a few weeks, but man was I ready to get out of town by the time it finally arrived. Friday at work lasted for right about a week. No lie.

We left about 4:30 and made the 2 hour (or so) drive down. After checking into the hotel/casino we went downstairs and hit the slots. I played about an hour at a penny slot machine and left with the exact amount I put in. Not a bad way to warm up the button finger! I start out doing that whole bet 1 coin on all available lines so each spin costs me about 12 cents. I know! I was gettin' crazy all up in the casino! Every so often I would kick it old school and do a max spin just to mix it up a bit. Isn't it weird how those machines will let you win 10 times in a row on 12 cent bets, but everytime you hit max spin you lose? Hmmmm...you'd think the casino game companies had figured out how to program the machines to take your money? Wouldn't that be WEIRD?

On that topic...why is it that people think they are going to win big on slots? It is a computer. A computer that someone programmed to act in a certain manner. A computer that a casino paid someone to program to act in a certain manner. They could program that thing to let you win 87 times and then crack you over the head with a hard metal object and we wouldn't know the difference. It's not like we can SEE THE CODE and tell if they are cheating. Seriously? I'm just sayin'.

Anyway, in an act of defiance against my own logic I moved around to different slot machines for a while playing my little pennies. Pretty much waiting to see if, in fact, the crack over the head was forthcoming; while trying to muster the courage to hit the tables. Let's just say, just for giggles, that I'm not exactly the best gambler. I'm the girl that freaks out when I lose a dollar in the slot machine. This one time in Vegas - Eric was playing blackjack and I was watching. Everytime he lost a hand I would do that sharp intake of breath thing and he finally ordered me to stay at least 50 feet from him until further notice. I just can't stand losing money.

I was all, "Hey, I coulda bought something useful with that. You know, like a souveneir lion from the gift shop at MGM or a strawberry daiquiri as tall as me in a Gameworks cup with the tallest straw known to man."

And Eric was all, "Well, if you stop with all the hissing and snorting and go do something somewhere far away from this table I'll win you money to buy all the tacky souveneir shit you want."

And he was right. He paid for that whole trip in one afternoon of BlackJack.

Anyway, back to me and Jackpot -- I was feeling brave after not losing my pennies so my friend, L., and I decided to hit the BlackJack table. Me gambling at the tables is sort of like a dancing hippopatomus in a tu-tu - really funny and not at all graceful.

I can't seem to count fast enough to not feel like a complete moron! I have to count on my fingers and then I get all flustered because every last one of my tablemates is staring at me and it's like the room goes all quiet and does that funny camera shot with the fisheye lens and the pit boss is getting suspicious and I can't figure out if the ace is supposed to be an 11 or a 1 and either way I can't add those stupid uneven numbers anyway and...ARGH!!!

This time I actually managed to win. I had some counting help and a great third baseman who never took the dealer's bust card which helped us all out. I started with $20 and when the dealer (Thanks, Jo!) had to leave us and we decided to go eat I had turned it into $90. I was feeling all World Series of Poker until about an hour later when we went to a different table with a different dealer and obviously really bad karma. I lost $25 bucks and ran screaming for the penny slots.

I actually managed to win my $25 back playing this really funny game with lemurs or something. It is truly amazing what they will make into a casino slot machine. Anyway, after that we went to bed so I actually came home with money. Me! A winner! Whee!

Oh...I did manage to get a bladder infection and had to spend some of my winnings on the doc in the box as soon as we hit town on Saturday. It was actually kind of refreshing. All the winning was making me nervous. My family has historically bad luck and I have kind of settled into my loserishness. I am comfortable with all the not winning. Mess up my not winning with actual winning and I start looking for an exit because clearly the lightening bolt is on its way.

It's all about keeping balance in the Force.

And yes...that was a Star Wars reference...just for Eric.

The only appropriate word is "ARGH"

Yesterday was one of those days where I seriously tried to do as little as possible. There is lazy and then there is Jayna-lazy. I did nothing of value what-so-ever. I read some. I watched cartoons with Drew some. I played with the dog some. I did not clean, or do laundry, or work or anything. I was as unmotivated as possible and I can totally prove it. My ass imprint? Still in the chair.

I had a killer headache all day. After drinking coffee to get my caffeine fix and taking some Ibuprofen I settled into my recliner and began making bargains with karma/fate/whatever in a pathetic attempt to get the stupid headache to go away.

Headache 1
Me 0

It was during one of the brief moments between the actual begging parts...as I was trying to think of what else I would be willing to sacrifice to the headache gods... when a couple of things occurred to me.

1. I was wearing my glasses instead of my contacts and considering all the squinting it might be a good idea to go and get NEW glasses because maybe, just maybe, that could have something to do with the headache.

2. My house? IS NEVER QUIET. EVER. The lack of quiet might also have something to do with the headache.

It really is no surprise that I stay at work late as often as possible. After about 5:00 my office is quiet. Blissfully, miraculously quiet. No one else is there and I can sit and listen to the sweet sound of nothing. I also usually end up freaking myself out because I'll hear some random noise and that noise quickly becomes a ghost that is living in the kitchen cabinets and has evil intent and is hell bent on scaring me right into a heartattack because it really, really wishes our office would just move already and since we don't seem to be packing just yet it is plotting exactly how it is going to...AHEM...sorry...just a tad bit of crazy coming out...see what happens when you don't get enough of the quiet? You go insane. Insane, people!

But seriously? Can you blame me for the crazy? I think not.

Case in point:

I was on the phone with my lovely, patient and understanding friend Katie last night and I was lamenting the existence of the world's most determined headache and explaining that my house is never quiet. I was explaining how my house is always buzzing with activity and while that was great back when I was...oh...in COLLEGE...it is quite irritating now. Now that I am old. And apparently crotchety.

Me: "I just hate the fact that it is never quiet. I can't even go into my own bedroom and get quiet anymore." (To Drew: "Don't stick that football in there. Are you learning impaired?")

Me still talking: "I don't even remember what a quiet house feels like. Can I come to Portland and just sit on your couch and worship the quiet? You can seriously just pretend I'm not there." (To Drew: "Drew if you aren't supposed to stick that football in the tea pitcher why would you think it is okay to stick it in my water bottle?")

Me STILL talking: "You won't even notice me unless I sit there too long and start to stink. I just need to have quiet before I lose my mind entirely."

At this point the smoke alarm went off. And our smoke alarm? Very, very shrill. And persistent. The smoke alarm proceeded to stab me right in the brain and Drew started screaming that it was huring his ears and if I didn't do something right now he was going to dddiiiiiiieeeee!! Mazie began running frantically in circles barking her head off. The cat, who was lying on the table, literally FLEW off the table taking everything on the table with him. The resulting crash provided new ammunition for the kid and the dog who both, amazingly, got LOUDER with the screaming and the barking and the running in circles. Lexy then came running down the stairs yelling something about "what the hell is going on who's burning the house down can't you make it stop do we need to evacuate where is my phone" and I was standing on the stairs waving a broom at the smoke alarm yelling for Drew to "stop with the screaming and open the door, for the love of Pete!"

And Katie? Katie was literally crying with laughter.

Me: "Seriously? Could I punctuate my point any more effectively? Really? Ok,now...Shut up, Katie. Glad I can amuse. Katie? Stop laughing. Katie? I mean it. It isn't THAT funny. OK...I'm hanging up now."