deep breathing in LAX

Here we sit, delayed indefinitely in LAX. Traveling during the holidays with two diaper-aged children in the climate of perpetual “code orange” creates such fertile opportunities for the practice of deep breathing.

There are 24 visibly deep-breathing women with increasingly full bladders and bowels shifting from foot to foot in line for the predictably inadequate supply of toilet stalls in the familiar smelling airport bathroom. I am going to boldly guess that most of the grown ups crowded around me on the geometrically patterned taupe carpet are also doing some deep breathing, too – as the airline representatives repeatedly update the delayed flights’ departure times. Wouldn’t want that job.. especially this time of year. A week ago, disgruntled passengers’ angst might have been placated by the swooning tide of holiday cheer and seasonal cultural expectation of good will. But now, on New Year’s Eve, that buffer of glad tidings has thinned and evaporated, leaving bags under eyes, bellies over belts, and credit cards over their limits. We’re all out of holiday freaking cheer, this weary crowd vibes, in response to the rolling changes on the airline reader board.

Though groggy and over-caffeinated, I still feel annoyingly cheerful. My birthday is this week and that always provides a little extension to normal end of the special sparklyness of the american holiday season. As long as I ignore the number attached to this year’s celebration of my birth, I can get a little giddy about it. I’m having a highland games kilt fest to celebrate. Lucky little lass that I am. Wish I had a caber and straw bale to toss right now… it would be a great way for my traveling cohort here at gate 34 to pass some grump-producing time.

The least LAX could do is provide free WiFi for Kuntrywives like me who need to blog at times like this. No such luck.

Baby Nola has just pulled everything out of my excessively packed purse – leaving credit cards, herbal remedies, dirty toddler underwear, melted lip balm, half-eaten crayons, 2 week old string cheese, and mismatched adult socks for all the world to see. I’d better sign off and join my neighbors in deep breathing and innocent airport eavesdropping.

Happy New Year!