“Wanna go see Madonna tonight?”

That was the text I received Sunday afternoon. I’d just gotten up from a much-needed nap. My body ached and I knew my annual Autumn cold was trying to rear its ugly head. Head throbbing, muscles sore from working a magical wedding the night before (into the wee hours), I was shaking, and just felt yucky. I nearly typed back, “hmmm…” Instead, I remembered a conversation she and I had earlier this year when we were discussing our Resolutions. “Bianca, I need to you to keep me accountable to these. I want to have more nights out. We are NOT old!” This has become our little mantra for the past 10 months. When we have free moments and she and I can go out, I pull out the “We are NOT old” card and we have a good ol’ time.

She’d purchased the tickets long ago, thinking she would sell them, hopefully at a profit. Instead, after 5 failed attempts at selling them, they were in her hands. On her end, she’d started a bathroom re-do, and was painting. She fully prepared to add another coat of paint. But my positive response to be her wingman that night had her thinking otherwise. We threw on some clothes, came up with a plan and called upon the 8-15 year old versions of ourselves. Don’t get me wrong. I like Madonna. During those aforementioned years, I LOVED Madonna. Never in my life would I have thought I’d get to see her perform live. I don’t really remember her coming to Texas (in fact, I think someone said it has been 10-20 years since her last visit to Dallas). When she did come, tickets were in the hey-you-are-out-of-your-damn-mind range. Cherish, Holiday, Like a Virgin, Vogue, Like a Prayer, Material Girl…all favorites. Her attention to detail for performance is top notch. I admire her. She’s the first female to define her own rules and be successful in a male-dominated industry. I may or may not agree with her controversial acts, but I do admire her business acumen (or ability to recognize the right people to surround herself). But was I chomping at the bit to see her live? Meeeeeh… (The only time I'm ever taller than her is when I bust out my dancin' shoes. She's nearly 2 inches taller than me normally.)

We laughed and giggled at so many things on the ride over. My sides were aching and we’d not even started dancing! Any time I’m with my best friends, I know it is going to be a great, great time. As we walked over, I mentioned that if the concert was lame, we’d leave it completely and head to House of Blues to see Matt & Kim perform. Although, her husband would have been less than thrilled about that one simply because he’s as big of a fan as I am. Anyway, we walked in and I was blown away (blown.away) by the fashion. Boy howdy, do Madonna fans know how to dress. “Dayum!” No really, that’s what I said. So many, many beautiful gay (and a few straight) men in tailored apparel working the hell out of the halls of the AAC like it was a runway. I was incredibly glad that I decided against wearing my Helvetica tshirt and Chuck Taylors.

We got our drinks (Smirnoff Ice and a glass of vino) and headed to our seats.

The DJ was spinning great beats, I was grooving in my seat, and getting excited for the show. Nevermind that we were almost behind the stage and two rows from the top. And it really didn’t matter when one of our row mates spilled their drink all down my leg. What set me over the edge was the fact that he didn’t even apologize for it. I asked my bff if she wanted to walk around to try to find our friend on a lower level. Prior to leaving, there was this guy wearing a white tank top on the big screen who was tearing it up with his dancing. He was amazing! Flipping his blonde hair, gyrating his body to the beat. I wanted that energy. I could feel the energy from that far away. (that is the screen showing what is going on at the front of the stage. The pointy thing is the end of the stage)

We made it to the lower level. We are lingering there hoping our friend comes out when I think, hmmmm…maybe we can sit closer to people who actually want to be there instead of sour pusses who are bringing us down (when we are already wavering). And so we walk in, past security.We walk down several rows. We keep walking. We are searching for our friend. When I spot him, no, no our friend. I spot white tank top dancing guy! I act on impulse, run over to him and give him a hug. We connect. Just like that. We are dancing. We are laughing. We are hugging and squealing. And then we are on the big screen with him. I look over and the name “Benny Benassi” is flashing across the screen in front of the DJ. Are you freakin’ kidding me??? I love him. How did I not know he was Robert Downey JR’s doppelganger?? Just like that, the concert went from  bah-humbug to EPIC! Here’s our new view:



After that dance sequence, we embraced, my new friend and I. We parted with positive words to one another, each of us acknowledging the energy the other brought, covering each other with kisses on our cheeks, giddy at the wonderment of the experience. We were grateful and happy. Here we are together (BOOM...Happy!):

He was such a light! I loved it! We rehydrated for Madonna. My BFF and I telling one another that no matter what, we had to leave by 11:15 at the latest. We were both fighting off something. We both had to get up early for work. “We are NOT old, but we do have responsibilities.” Again, we walked back in to the lower level and struck up a conversation with one of the workers and escorted us to some seats to watch the show. He was a hoot and had many stories to tell!

Madonna opened up with some very dark and controversial numbers. Outstanding set design. Impeccable dance sequences. Spot on costuming (straight up fashion show). She has THE BEST DANCERS! Always, always, always, the very best, most attractive, and physically fit dancers.  Right as it was almost time for us to leave, she popped cotton candy and filled up my inner teen with all of the Madonna goodness that I was hoping for. She belted out “Express Yourself” to which I danced wildly (even more so than the other numbers) and sang along. She completed that number and we had to leave. I didn’t want to go, but I needed to go. Good thing too, because I yawned all the way home, barely keeping my eyes open. I was beaming!

Good thing we left when we did. Not an hour after getting home, the Sugarbaby was up fussing. Then wheezing and coughing and bark coughing. Then she took a header, which caused her first-ever nosebleed. Reality slapping me in the face, but you know, I was smiling and still dancing despite my lack of sleep. Thanks, Lindz for a WONDERFUL date night!

When was the last time you went out?

Fashion’s Night Out: Dallas Galleria

You read that title right. But Bianca, you are soooo not a fashion blogger. Right? Well, that is accurate. The focus on this ol’ blog isn’t fashion. The focus is….well, it’s all over the place, but that is neither here nor there. If you know me at all, then you know fashion is near and dear to my heart. It’s right up there with Mexican Coke and chocolate cake.

I had an opportunity to be part of the media during the Galleria’s Fashion’s Night Out and I was beyond ecstatic! This was my first official media event for Hello Bianca and I wanted it to be special. I fretted over what to wear for the days leading up to it. I could have been over-the-top fashionista, but instead, I wanted to project more writer, less fashion guru. I wore: a black and white striped 3/4 sleeved top from H&M (my tribute to Jean Paul), straight leg dark wash Citizens of Humanity jeans, a cobalt scarf, and gold Roxy flip flops (I know, right, even I’m eyerolling right now…at the time, I thought I would be doing a lot of standing and walking and the last thing I wanted was achy feet or an unsightly klutz moment). I didn’t bust out the big camera. Instead, I wanted to rely solely on my Samsung Galaxy S3 to capture the event, that and I wasn’t sure if they were going to allow cameras (duh, I WAS the paparazzi, facepalm).

I went to the booth to get my media badge and I was off and running. I smiled at lots of people and did my best to blend in.


I was behind the velvet rope and I had a front row pass to the pretty people and the gorgeous frocks. Typical me, I was feeling anxious and excited. I was nervous and not really sure what to do. Here I was, now what. I was oogling at everyone, clutching the media guide, trying to determine what spots to hit up. Naturally, I went for a drink.


And then I ran into a friend! It was nice chatting for a bit and mingling with beautiful people instead of just staring at them. But then it was time for us to move on and explore some of the rest of what was going on. By the way, those chandeliers were gorgeous and definitely added to the level of fancy!


In the middle of it all, there was a fashion show that stretched the length of the Galleria, which is about a quarter mile.This media lounge where I started had a DJ controlling his tunes on a large television. It looked cool (but honestly, I thought it a tiny bit unneccessary). I was still groovin’ to the beats, while everyone was huddled in their respective groups, talking about whatever, while they each casually looked each other up and down. At this type of event, it’s ok to look each other over. Heck, most everyone had on their very best choices. It was wonderful!


I stopped at the Brahmin store and fell in love (lurrrrve) with this pattern! Very chic, very Fall. I coveted the larger bag because it would easily fit my laptop, big camera (lovingly known as “Baby”), and a couple of diapers and wipes.


Next I stopped by Pink (Thomas Pink) to oogle at my version of lingerie for men…socks and ties. Whoa baby! I seriously spent 5 minutes at this table staring at the ties and mentally putting each one on the different shirts. I later spent 10 minutes staring at every pair of socks they had in stock.

I spent the next half hour, pretending I had loads of money and filled up my shopping bags with all sorts of goodies for myself, my kiddos, and my husband. Good times!

How about you? Did you participate in Fashion’s Night Out? Have you heard about it before? I’m thinking of posting my favorite outfit that I wore during the week on Wednesday’s. This by no means is turning into a fashion blog (nothing wrong with that), but it is a good accountability measure for myself to attempt to get out of my usual rut and try new things.

Kroger Cart Busting Sale: Preparing for Cooler Weather

I live in Texas. Up until last week, we have been having 90 degree weather. All of my summer clothes have been out and I've been happily (mostly) wearing my flip flops enjoying the last bits of summer. In reality, I knew Autumn would roll in fast. That's how it happens here. One day, it's nice and warm, and by that evening, the wind has blown in the cooler weather, the leaves change color and fall in a matter of days, and next thing I know I'm surrounded by hoodies, closed toe shoes, scarves, and colored tights. It's exciting and fun! 

The only drawback for the cooler weather...sickness! The changing of the seasons always forces some kind of cold. For us, we've already had bouts of sinus infection and yes, even bronchitis for the Sugarbaby. Yikes! To prepare, we stock up on plenty of Hunt's Tomato Paste for fideo and Vick's, especially their Dayquil to help us adults get through the day! 

Wanna make your own fideo? Well, here's how we do it!

Fideo (fee-day-oh)--goodness for the soul

1 package of angel hair pasta nest

1 onion diced

3 cloves garlic

1 can Hunt's Tomato Paste

2-4 cups water

1 tablespoon whole cumin seeds

1/2 tsp of cumin (I love cumin!!!)

Pinch of salt

Oil

Fry up your angel hair pasta nests in a bit of oil just to get them brown. If you have plenty of time and want to turn on your oven, then lightly coat the nests in the oil, place on parchment paper, and bake at 300 for about 10 minutes (just until it is brown)

On medium-high heat, in the oil, fry up your onion and garlic. Once brown, add your cumin and stir until coated with oil. Next, add your pasta and immediately add the tomato paste and the water. (You might need to add a bit more water. Use enough to cover the pasta. We tend to add more to ours because we like it soupy.) Go ahead and sprinkle a bit more salt and add the remaining cumin. Stir and bring to a boil. 

Lower heat and cover. Letting it simmer until your pasta is al dente and ready to eat. Enjoy!

For added flavor, you can add some demi glace and saffron if you have it on hand. (Don't we all have such things on hand? Right??<---stole that idea from Chef Primo) If we are wanting extra spicy, I will add a tablespoon of red pepper flakes or dice up a bit of serrano to add to it. 

YUM!

This post is sponsored by the Kroger Cart Busting Sale going on from October 7th to October 20th! Visit this site each day for different savings (shown below). Download a digital coupon for a different product each day straight to your shopper card at the Cart Buster site for great deals on your favorite products at the Kroger Co. Family of Stores! 

Participating Stores include: 

• Kroger
• City Market
• Dillons
• Food 4 Less
• Food 4 Less Fremont
• Fryís
• Gerbes
• Jay C
• King Soopers
• Owenís
• Pay Less
• QFC
• Bakerís
• Fred Meyer
• Ralphs

Download a digital coupon for a different product each day straight to your shopper card at the Cart Buster site for great deals on your favorite products at the Kroger Co. Family of Stores!

****I was selected for participation in this campaign as a member of Clever Girls Collective.****

Longfellow, Scalzi, and Making a Difference

Little known fact about me, I’m a huge advocate for philanthropy. I like giving as much money as I can to worthy organizations. I enjoy volunteering my time and giving it as a gift. For nearly three years, I’ve been the Chair of a decently sized charitable foundation. It sounds fancy, and it might be a bit high-brow, but that’s not why I tossed my name in the hat when the opportunity presented itself. I hungrily applied for the position because I wanted to be as connected to many charitable organizations as I possibly could. I wanted a front row seat to the change-makers, no, I wanted to run alongside them on that inside track and effect so much change that I could not only feel, but see that needle shifting.

And changes were happening! They ARE happening. While standardized test scores are falling, in other places, they are rising---where they shouldn’t be. Against all odds…against socioeconomic impact, against menacing demographics, against those that told them they couldn’t people are rising to the challenge and proving that they can. Amazing!

Last week, my beloved and I attended an event as a representative of said foundation. The location was in the gorgeous home of the board member of another organization. The place was really, really, really nice. (understatement of the year) I’ve been to several of these events and to this day, I’m still blown away by luxury and I hope that feeling never disappears. Despite what I’ve seen or done or what I will see or do, I hope that fanciness in my face will continue to wow me. Why? Not because of the wealth, but because of how each piece put together in these rooms was hand selected and hand placed by someone to make a statement reflecting its owner. It’s art and beauty. It’s like a mini museum visit. Anyway, here we are out on their terrace.

Behind us, you can see children gathering. They are 4th grade students from a local private school. They were setting up for their performance. They recited, with gusto, Henry Wadsworth Longellow’s “The Village Blacksmith” in its entirety and perfectly. Nine and ten year olds, in perfect rows, in perfect unison, reciting the poem as if someone were performing it. They captivated me. I’d first read this poem in high school and revisited it again in college. I liked it then, but now that I’m a parent, I relate to it so much more. I found myself filled with impossibly hopeful tears for these children. Why? Because they live in a zip code that has the worst high school in the state (and one of the worst in the nation). 3 out of 4 children that matriculate from this school go on to graduate high school, more often than not, from a preparatory or private high school in the area on scholarship. That other 1 will probably have gone on to the local high school, will not graduate. and more than likely end up in jail or living in poverty.

Break the cycle.

I’ve spoken of my mother instilling philanthropy in my heart at an early age. Likewise, I believe it is necessary for me to lay a giving foundation for my own daughter’s hearts. The other day, I heard a story of a running coach who inspired and trained homeless women to run a 5K. She took it a step further and had these homeless women raise money for children in Africa. Homeless. Women. Raising. Money. Marinate on that for a second, now ask yourself, “What else can I do to make a difference?”

Which brings me to my next point about being poor. I’ve thought about how growing up in poverty shaped my mother. How that in turn shaped me. I reflected on how she tends to hoard things, random things like pens, and how she holds on to so many trivial things for sentimental reasons. My siblings and I joke about it, despite how all of the extra stuff makes us uncomfortable. But all of that stuff is my mother and I love her for it. I still giggle at her comment to me, “Mija, when I pass on, you better not just throw stuff out without looking through it. I’ve hidden money here and there and you will never know when you will find it.” She’s right. Upon one of our cleaning crusades, we emptied out 6 boxes of items and collected just under $200 in bills and coins.

I look around my own house and see how my husband and I have inherited our mother’s hoarding habits and we feel suffocated by our things. About a month ago, my cousin house sat for us and during that time she gave me one of the greatest gifts. She organized and cleaned while we were away. More importantly, she organized and cleaned our master bedroom. I cried. Most of you reading this are probably horrified by the thought. I’m not. I prayed for a miracle. I’d even had a conversation with my best friend about it, on how she and I would keep one another accountable and try to empty 1 box of stuff from our house each week or concentrate on one tiny wall in one room of the house each week. My cousin bought me time and her efforts (over the course of those 5 days) brought me freedom. I could breathe again in my room. I had been embarrassed by our bedroom. What she did was no small feat. She started something BIG and each week, I do my best to maintain what she has done and take it another step in that proper direction. Again, imprints from generations long past, still ever-present in my life today.

I thought about how my mother’s and my father’s education and pursuit for a better life shaped mine. How it was never a question of if I was going to attend university, but which one. Of course, there were restrictions there, too. I dared not consider the Ivy League recruiting letters, nor any of the private schools letters of interest. We wouldn’t have been able to afford it and I knew that. I remember the look of worry on my father’s face when I told him I declared English as my major. He was an Engineer and the moment he stepped foot into the Corporate World, he groomed me for that environment. With my emphasis in Technical Communication, I found a niche that opened those doors of opportunity. For as long as I can remember, every single voice of any significance in my life told me I could be whomever I chose, do whatever I wanted, and I didn’t have to rely on anyone but myself. I am lucky and blessed. I was also adamantly told to give back. What I was given should be returned, including my gifts of time and talent. Wasting either would be a tragedy of epic proportions and completely disrespectful to all those who had gone before me.

So when John Scalzi’s write-up of “Being Poor” (also shown at the end of this post) hit my inbox, I found myself nodding and sobbing. I found myself understanding and wondering. This weighed heavily on my heart (and a tiny source of some of the melancholy I’d been feeling recently, my over-the-top ridiculous pity party for absolutely no reason whatsoever). If people only knew how much happiness they received in giving, I think the world would be much like appears in my eyes, well 96% of the time. We can make a difference! In our own child’s eyes, and in other’s eyes. I’m happily married to an educator who, yes, has a part-time job. Occasionally, we work as photographers to raise a tiny bit of extra money to support a craft we love…or pay for ballet lessons. We make ends meet the best we know how and the bits that we have leftover by the way of money, we do our best to give to others. And if I don’t have any treasure to give, I certainly have talent and time tucked away somewhere and endeavor to instill that same value in the hearts of my girls. We are trying to embrace the whole, spending less money on things and investing more in the experiences.

Next time you find yourself feeling low, it’s ok to embrace the muck happening in your life. And it is ok that you are feeling those things. But I do challenge you to take some time out of your imperfect day and perform a random act of kindness for a stranger in need. You’ll be hard-pressed to not feel your internal needle shifting ever so slightly. You might have even shifted that stranger’s needle a bit too.

________________

Being Poor

September 3, 2005 By John Scalzi

Being poor is knowing exactly how much everything costs.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they’re what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there’s not an $800 car in America that’s worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends’ houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won’t hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.

Being poor is coming back to the car with your children in the back seat, clutching that box of Raisin Bran you just bought and trying to think of a way to make the kids understand that the box has to last.

Being poor is wondering if your well-off sibling is lying when he says he doesn’t mind when you ask for help.

Being poor is off-brand toys.

Being poor is a heater in only one room of the house.

Being poor is knowing you can’t leave $5 on the coffee table when your friends are around.

Being poor is hoping your kids don’t have a growth spurt.

Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn’t have make dinner tonight because you’re not hungry anyway.

Being poor is Goodwill underwear.

Being poor is not enough space for everyone who lives with you.

Being poor is feeling the glued soles tear off your supermarket shoes when you run around the playground.

Being poor is your kid’s school being the one with the 15-year-old textbooks and no air conditioning.

Being poor is thinking $8 an hour is a really good deal.

Being poor is relying on people who don’t give a damn about you.

Being poor is an overnight shift under florescent lights.

Being poor is finding the letter your mom wrote to your dad, begging him for the child support.

Being poor is a bathtub you have to empty into the toilet.

Being poor is stopping the car to take a lamp from a stranger’s trash.

Being poor is making lunch for your kid when a cockroach skitters over the bread, and you looking over to see if your kid saw.

Being poor is believing a GED actually makes a goddamned difference.

Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.

Being poor is not taking the job because you can’t find someone you trust to watch your kids.

Being poor is the police busting into the apartment right next to yours.

Being poor is not talking to that girl because she’ll probably just laugh at your clothes.

Being poor is hoping you’ll be invited for dinner.

Being poor is a sidewalk with lots of brown glass on it.

Being poor is people thinking they know something about you by the way you talk.

Being poor is needing that 35-cent raise.

Being poor is your kid’s teacher assuming you don’t have any books in your home.

Being poor is six dollars short on the utility bill and no way to close the gap.

Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.

Being poor is knowing you work as hard as anyone, anywhere.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually stupid.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you’re not actually lazy.

Being poor is a six-hour wait in an emergency room with a sick child asleep on your lap.

Being poor is never buying anything someone else hasn’t bought first.

Being poor is picking the 10 cent ramen instead of the 12 cent ramen because that’s two extra packages for every dollar.

Being poor is having to live with choices you didn’t know you made when you were 14 years old.

Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.

Being poor is knowing you’re being judged.

Being poor is a box of crayons and a $1 coloring book from a community center Santa.

Being poor is checking the coin return slot of every soda machine you go by.

Being poor is deciding that it’s all right to base a relationship on shelter.

Being poor is knowing you really shouldn’t spend that buck on a Lotto ticket.

Being poor is hoping the register lady will spot you the dime.

Being poor is feeling helpless when your child makes the same mistakes you did, and won’t listen to you beg them against doing so.

Being poor is a cough that doesn’t go away.

Being poor is making sure you don’t spill on the couch, just in case you have to give it back before the lease is up.

Being poor is a $200 paycheck advance from a company that takes $250 when the paycheck comes in.

Being poor is four years of night classes for an Associates of Art degree.

Being poor is a lumpy futon bed.

Being poor is knowing where the shelter is.

Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.

Being poor is knowing how hard it is to stop being poor.

Being poor is seeing how few options you have.

Being poor is running in place.

Being poor is people wondering why you didn’t leave.

Wherein I search for cookies and happen upon SISU Uptown

I’ve been off. For the past week or so, my mojo has been out of sorts. I wanted to chalk it up to a hormonal thing, but all of my usual go-to things to give me a zing of happy hadn’t been working. I don’t like to talk about these mini-depression episodes. I know I’ll eventually figure out a way to drag myself out of this hole. Even now, I feel happy in knowing that I’m not gonna have to turn around and attempt to tunnel out on the other side (because quite frankly, I’ve had to do that a number of times and folks, it isn’t fun…I know some of you readers have been there and done that. God bless you for it! High fives for persevering!)

This morning, I got up late. Alarms went off and some how I didn’t notice it really. I just wanted to sleep. In my dreams last night, I was crying. I woke up with unusually puffy eyes, so I guess it must’ve persisted in reality somehow. I got dressed and slipped on my “fat pants” only because I needed comfort. Then, I was irritated that my fat pants are too loose. A good problem to have, I know. A bad problem because, well, I haven’t replaced my trousers to my new size, only skirts and dresses. In the past, when my weight fluctuated, my pants remained constant. This is the first time since I can remember where I will actually have to buy new pants. I’m excited about it, but at the same time, I need my pair of fat pants. sheesh. I threw on my red sweater-wrap, a purple shell, and my favorite pair of flats because none of the heels in my closet was going to make me feel more like myself. Only my socks were wanting to be sassy today and even then, that was almost borderline to what I could handle.


Catered lunch appeared and the only vegetarian option was a plain salad. (I know, right? Who the hell is complaining about the free, catered lunch? I suck. I know this.) Wednesdays are sandwich and salad days. All of the sandwiches had some type of animal in them. I fell off the no-animals wagon over the weekend, but I’m trying to jump right back on and this was proving to be more difficult than I remembered. Seriously, I’m looking up burgers and foix gras on Google images, salivating over the food porn. I have a problem, y’all. “Just eat the damn burger already, Bianca.”

I threw my arms up, took a deep breath, and went for a walk. I’ve been stalking a new place from the windows in my office of a resort style restaurant. What? Yeah, this restaurant has a pool with cabanas and just screams, “Come, relax, and stay for a spell.” My walk took me across the street to SISU Uptown and I prayed that they had a cookie. For some reason I thought that a nice, fresh-baked cookie would make me feel better. I walked in to this beautiful and naturally lit space with a sour attitude and my heart on my sleeve. The hostess had amazing blue heels that I regret not photographing. Anyway, I needed to get over myself in the worst way. Mitch, my server, warmly greeted me and he was such a delight with the friendliest smile. He’s exactly what I needed. Even more so in that he returned my wink after a special request. Ahh…I was gonna like this place! He didn’t skip a beat when I ordered dessert first: The Better than Tollhouse Cookie.



Atop the cookie is Henry’s vanilla bean ice cream. HEAVEN...even for this lactose intolerant gal! The cookie, sadly was not the cookie I’d wanted. It was dry and hard on the outside and a tiny bit soft on the inside. It was like a hard biscuit with a slightly undercooked center. It was actually a bit burnt on the bottom. Maybe I’m a cookie snob, but no, I like my cookies much softer than that. I was that girl and sent it back. Sadly, it wasn’t the cookie I was needing/wanting, but that’s ok because what came out next was easily in my top 5 best bites of food of my life! The Roasted Beet Salad: Red beets al dente, yellow beets softened, crispy hearts of celery, candied walnuts, and a flash fried beet green, cheese. I added the fried egg on top. (This is where I’d winked at Mitch and he said, no problem. Man, I heart that dude!)



I was in love with this plate. Had Mitch not snuck up to me to refill my water, then I would’ve been licking this plate with unapologetic gusto. I even told him it was so good I wanted to slap him. We had a laugh. I wasn’t ready to go to jail for assault, so I kept my hands to myself. But seriously, this was the happiness I needed. This plate, I felt warmth, tenderness, love, and great care with each bite. This plate made me think of California. It reminded me of how relaxed I was just a few short months ago. This plate gave me a much-needed hug from the inside and wiped those tears I’d been crying.

better.

Executive Chef Stefon Rishel came out and we had a nice chat about the cookie, about the beet salad, about the concept behind SISU, about pretentious sounding food being unpretentious. I wanted to slide over in the hot pink backed booth, and have him sit with me over coffee and talk all about food and culinary adventures. He was so friendly, so approachable, and you knew he had a real passion for his craft. He had to get back to the kitchen, but I did indulge in some of that coffee. I stared off into ether of the world, just tasting, smelling, listening, feeling, and seeing. Not worrying, thinking, or stressing, just being.

If you are in the Uptown area of Dallas, check them out. SISU Uptown Resort off of Maple. I can’t wait to try out their Sunday Brunch menu!

Mat Kearney at aLoft Dallas

Remember back when I did a blog review about his album “Young Love” Yeah, I flatter myself into thinking I’ve had longtime readers since day 1. Yes, I know there are a few of you lurkers who may remember this. I’ve since taken numerous road trips and have done a lot of commuting where this album has taken center stage. If you’ve been a passenger in my car during those past several months, you have unavoidably sat through this album repeatedly. Just ask my darling husband.

I was more than disappointed when I missed his Dallas show by a few weeks. It was before I was an avid follower, I suppose. No worries, because I began to stalkfollow him on Twitter. I saw he was going to be opening for Train and well, I couldn’t reconcile it in my head and in the budget. I like Train and all, but I wanted Mat fully. I didn’t want him opening. I just couldn’t justify the cost of the tickets and babysitter. It just wasn’t gonna happen. So I continued to listen to his words, many times belting out the tunes in traffic, happily clapping along, or singing along to “Down,” those words that rock my soul and connect to me as someone who knows struggle. And then magic…

THANK YOU SOCIAL MEDIA!!!

I called my beloved immediately and he sensed the excitement in my voice. After work, I trudged home through 3 major accidents on the main highway. I beat the rest of my family home because they were hanging out at Discount Tire getting a flat fixed. (surprise gift courtesy of the Rangers game we went to the past Friday, but more on that later…hi Sam! Thanks again!!) When I saw him, my heart sank because he looked like he had the kind of day like the one I’d had yesterday afternoon. He was tired, worn out, and just needing some chill time. I decided that I would do the right thing and at the very least stay home, or if I went, I’d take Tesla. But he changed clothes, prepped the diaper bag, and declared it a family date.

As we headed into downtown, I was vibrating with excitement. I couldn’t believe it! I really couldn’t believe it. Was this going to happen? Were we actually going to hear him live? We probably weren’t going to see him, after all, with the Sugarbean and Sugarbaby in tow, it would be unrealistic to be near, if there was even room. I just prayed they weren’t going to have a meltdown of epic proportions. I mean, we didn’t even bring a bottle or food for them. I hope they have food! It’s a hotel, I mean I know they have something.
We scored a parking spot across the street and didn’t have to feed the meter! This was the view from the front of the hotel.


I think that is mighty spectacular. We walked in and I saw a woman with an infant. We settled in nicely about 15 feet from the stage. We were standing behind a group of 20 somethings and they didn’t at all mind that we had taken up shop there. I scurried off to secure food for the girls. Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni and a turkey club sandwich. Mari took two bites of the beefaroni and proclaimed that she wanted the sandwich. Tesla enjoyed it, somewhat. Don and I toasted our adult beverages, neither of really knowing what to make of the whole experience. We were still shell shocked from our working days.

It was a very intimate set up there in the lobby of the aLoft Downtown Dallas. A small stage with two bar chairs, some speakers, and all of the furniture from their lobby. The bar area packed, but not overly noisy. We were there early enough to have a good spot. Plenty of people gathered and all of the collective body heat made it rather warm, but not uncomfortably so. It felt good to be surrounded by so many fans. I prayed he started as close to 8 as possible. I hoped he’d play at least 3 songs. I cautiously looked over at our girls hoping they weren’t going to kick in to beastmode, as is prone to happen so close to bedtime. I reached for my Beloved’s hand, squeezing it, grateful that he was there alongside me, making this dream a reality.



8:15PM He came out and the crowd erupted. And he sang, and laughed, and sang some more. He introduced Nathan Spicer as the one accompanying him. He was wearing a brown tshirt, jeans, his boots, and fedora. He had his guitar, fingers dancing along the strings. He confessed that he was tasked with only singing 3 or 4 songs. But he took requests from the crowd, each of us yelling out our favorites. When he played, it sounded like the album. The crowd sang along, we clapped, we cheered. Our girls danced and clapped. I sang along and danced. I rocked Tesla to sleep. She would have slept, too, until everyone began to applause and she forced herself awake. I stood still, even, fighting back tears. Grateful that we had this opportunity to have a date, that I was gifted all of the requests that I’d made nearly a year ago: To see him perform, up close, in an intimate venue, to connect to his words in real life, to feel that emotion that can only be conveyed through live music. (Thank you aLoft Dallas and Mat Kearney for making a wish come true. We appreciated it!! These parents right here are so, so grateful!) He played for a solid 30-35 minutes…for free!! Had our girls not already been fighting the sleepies, we would have stuck around for him to sign my CD, yes, it was tucked in my purse. He played almost all of my favorites! Here they are performing “Ships in the Night.” (Go to my Google+ page to see the short video)



And then here’s the kicker…

As we left, Mari asked if we could go back. She tends to make this request when we leave someplace she has enjoyed. I didn’t fully understand to what degree she enjoyed herself. Because well, as I tucked her very sleepy body into bed, she said, “I want to see Mr. Mat Kaaaaarney again. Can we go back to that hotel with the band?” This past summer, we were treated to a live intimate concert by our friend, Ben Varela. At that time, he was up on a makeshift stage, with his acoustic guitar, singing songs (a lullaby for Tesla that he’d written for another small person), his voice echoing off the nearby canyon in that backyard in San Diego…this was her frame of reference. My cousin, when he stays for a visit, will bust out our acoustic guitar and start playing along. So you can see where a 4.5 year old thinks that an intimate live concert where the performer looks out at you and talks to you, well, she believes that we know the person, that we are friends. That’s how Mat connects with you. He’s totally people.

If you don’t have kids and you have extra money and you have some time and he’s playing nearby, you will not be at all disappointed. He’s amazing!

Villa Creek, Paso Robles

Kismet: Destiny; fate.

Back in late June, my husband and I bid farewell to our littles in Los Angeles and headed North on the 1, then veered off into Atascadero/Paso Robles for the night.

Our travel day was peculiar because we didn’t get as early of a start as we had intended. We also made an impromptu stop over at Venice Beach before checking Grandma and the girls into the hotel. My parents, Nana and Grandfather, were flying in later that day. We decided to linger until their arrival. When they did make it, we loaded up into our rented Crown Victoria and headed out of town. Except, before we left, I asked my Beloved if he minded delaying just 10 minutes longer so I could see family. It would be a shame if we were all the way out there and I didn’t at least get to say hi. He agreed, I fired up the navigation, just in time to make the turn. They were less than 3 miles from the hotel! I knew we were close because I remembered the oldest McDonald’s (Downey, CA) from previous visits.

We pulled in and I was able to see my second cousins and my great aunt and uncle. I fought tears. The last time I’d seen them was at my grandfather’s funeral in December. Oh my how the family traits run strong. When I heard their voices, I heard his voice. I was so very grateful he agreed to the quick visit. I needed to see them.

Well, we got on the highway and headed north. When Don has something on his mind, he gets this look where he goes in his head. Different times, there are different looks. This particular look, as we sat in traffic, had me wondering something. I inquired and he confessed that while he was ok with our delayed departures, because it meant we weren’t going to be able to hit up any of the wineries in the area, it also meant that we weren’t going to make it to a very special restaurant that he’d researched for us. He wanted it to be a surprise for me, and only told me about it because he still wanted me to know about the surprise. I was crestfallen, but did some quick math in my head and very determined said, “We’re gonna make it!”
As we neared closer to our final destination, he too was getting nervously excited at the thought that we might possibly make it. He was in charge of planning our Northern California outings. I was in charge of finding lodging in California.

…let’s take an aside…I was supposed to find lodging in California. ha! As we were driving to the airport the morning before we got to LA (at 6AM), I was on my phone booking a hotel! We stayed with friends in San Diego. We booked a hotwire deal in Atascadero. And San Fran…well, I actually phoned a friend who opened his beautiful home to us, but more on that later. Procrastinator much? yep…

Anyway, on that drive over, after hanging up the phone with my friend (now our friend), I looked out the window as we drove through Los Alamos and my breath was taken away. There was overcast, the clouds were hanging low, and the colors popped. That magic light was a photographers dream. Had we had more time, I would’ve insisted we stop, but no, I was hellbent on making dinner.

We were near enough that it was hit or miss. So I suggest Don call and order in advance. I’d browsed through their menu so I wouldn’t take my usual time needing to read every single item on the menu twice before deciding. Yes, I’m that girl. Don’t judge. Anyway, I knew what I wanted, I was ready. But he didn’t want to place the order because there was no guarantee that we would be there before close.

Villa Creek: Fresh. Local. Organic. Fine Dining in Paso Robles.

Hours from 5:30-10. We arrived in Atascadero at 9:43. Paso Robles is 12.3 miles away. We quickly checked in to the hotel. Threw off our travel clothes and were on the road by 9:48. And because I sometimes don’t type things correctly into the navigation system, we took a wrong turn. We arrived at Villa Creek at 10:01. !Santo Merda! We still walked in for hope against hope. The hostess kindly said that we were too late. And because I am not one to be ok with accepting the first offer, I inquired, would we still have been able to eat had we ordered our food on the phone when we originally called you? She looked at me with a bit of familiarity, I suppose, and said, “I’m sorry, no. Buuut…you are welcome to go to the bar for a drink. They might still have a couple of items on their bar menu before they close out the system.”
We’d come all that way, so we went to the bar. It was lively, full of locals indulging in libations. Our gorgeous bartender was so friendly and struck up a conversation. We told her our story and ordered a flight of wines. She said, “We have a rehearsal dinner in the main dining area. I know the kitchen is still cooking. I haven’t closed my register for food, so if you wanna eat, here’s the menu. I can get it in the system before it shuts me out.”

Thank you, Universe!

Without really looking at the menu, we ordered quickly, and browsed over the Wine Flight notes until it arrived. She said, “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew what you wanted!”


We started with the Escabeche Misto (boquerones, marinated mushrooms, marinated baby artichokes, grilled bread) and the Hatch Green Chilies, Pork, Cilantro, and Queso Fresco soup/chili. I didn’t get a photo of the Escabeche Misto, but here’s the hatch soup. Holy eff…it had animals in it, but we’d traveled all that way and I needed a taste. That was hands down some of the best stuff I’ve put in my mouth. Wow! It gave me happies. It brought out memories. It made me think of cold nights from my childhood.



And then something magical happened that made all of our delays make sense. This outing went from amazing to spectacular times a thousand. The chef, Tom Fundaro, sat at the edge of the bar right next to Don. He saw us inhaling the first course and struck up a conversation. We told him our story. We talked to him about our love of food. We talked to him about our children. He told us about his. We discussed our love affair with hatch chilies. We talked about so very much and were regretting that we only had mere hours in this fine place. But then he did us one better. He treated us to an order of his chicken and waffles and wanted us to let him know what we thought. Humbled. Magic. Kismet.

My main entrée was the Torchio & Mushroom Bolognese with wild mushrooms and parmesan. Ok, if that soup wasn’t delicious enough, this made me want to find a stranger to slap because really? No really? I didn’t even share with Don. There wasn’t time. I’d inhaled it. All of it. Used my finger to clean the plate, even, without apologies or shame. That was amazing! Ok, I gave him a tiny sliver of a taste, but that was it. I’m not completely selfish.



Don had the Salmon with quinoa lilac and a kumquat slaw. He liked it fine. I tasted the quinoa and was impressed with the use of lilac in it. Very subtle, very delicate. It went well with our wine.


And then the chicken and waffles…here they are in their glory


Gluttony at its finest. We thought the chicken was well cooked and paired well with the waffles. It was nice to taste another variation of the chicken and waffles!

While we were beyond gluttonous for that meal, we were overflowing with love and incredible conversation. The date that probably wouldn’t have happened, was born out of thin air and from it, was born one of our greatest dates ever.


If you happen to find yourself out that way or near the area, do yourself a solid and go check them out. Villa Creek in Paso Robles is divine, heart warming, and that food will satisfy your soul. The service is outstanding, the atmosphere familiar, and above all, just a darn good feel-good for your soul!

Thank you chef Tom and to the bartender who made the surprise date night (that nearly didn’t happen) possible. Thank you, Don, for not giving up and for believing in the impossible to be possible.

pssst...guess what! You can now follow Hello Bianca on Facebook! C'mon, let's be friends!

Power of Technology

I love technology. I love having magic boxes that connect us to far off places. Here is where I give mad love to companies like Logitech, Samsung, HTC, Gateway, Apple, and Skype.

Several years ago, in the early days of Skype, we tried video chatting with my folks who were on DSL, not completely broadband. There was break-ups and stop-motion video. I knew someday the technology would catch-up, so I didn’t give up hope. We tried using a few mobile device apps during the past year to stay in touch, but again, sometimes the connection was great other times, the camera wasn’t up to par.

And then this year, things changed. We were able to get a clearer feed. I was able to chat with one of my friends who was a new mother. She hadn’t been able to leave the house much, but we were still able to talk and catch up as if she was in the room with me. Before we took our big trips, we made sure that we would have some connection, some way. When we were in Costa Rica, I was able to fire up my computer, connect to wi-fi, load up Skype and stay connected to dear ones back home. What a thrill it was to talk to our little ones from so far away and see that they were having a blast! I saw many of our Costa Rica schoolmates talking with their friends on Facetime or on Skype, too. I really enjoyed the time I had to write at breakfast at the little shop in Costa Rica. I also enjoyed talking to some of my most special people in that same shop! When Don and I traveled to Northern California with friends and our girls stayed back in SoCal with their grandparents (Hi Carol! Hi Mom! Hi Dad!), each night, they fired up Skype on their iPad and we connected to wi-fi to talk to them. So very far away, yet so close.

My girls have been sick this week. This is also the first full week of “normal” as we know it. Normal is where we all get up by 6:30AM. We all rush off to our schools/work, then we come home, eat dinner as a family, and then my husband goes to his part-time job (What, he has a second job? Yes, he does. You didn’t think that the sabbatical trips were free, did you? *grin*) while the girls and I clean up dinner (he and the girls prepare it) and do our night routine. He does have a few evenings off where we can enjoy it as a family, but this weekend, he and I are having a weekend date (thanks Mom & Z!!!), so he is working different days to maintain his hours. Needless to say, I was on the brink of a serious pity party in the evenings (hello, extrovert doesn’t do well alone). Since the girls had the nasty coughs, there were a couple of times where I had to sit quietly and do my best to revisit the magical memories made in the past few months. I held my little blessings tightly and just as they slumbered, the blue notification light on my phone lit up, notifying me of a message. During this time, I keep my phone on silent to not disturb them.

“Get online and let’s chat in a bit!”

My fabulously talented cousin who is an esthetician and a professional make-up artist…on real-life Hollywood stars…like at awards shows like the Oscars…for money…was wanting to have a video chat with me to give me the requested tutorial on the list of products he’d recommended to me! (I’ve committed to taking better care of my skin and wearing more products, but more on that another time.) That night, I was having some brain issues (light-headed/dizzyness/spots), but when we connected on that phone and were dressing up my face, I felt brighter and happier! Heck, after the conversation, I felt beautiful even, because my face was wonderfully painted! Tesla had awoken during that call and was happily busying herself with my meager bits of makeup. I got to see his new addition to the family, the beautiful and furry Thor and hollered hello to his partner.

Another time, I saw this on my Instagram feed…


I’ve been hanging with these boys for years. They come up for a visit a couple of times a year and we get to hang out when we go to Lubbock for visits. It was night time, I’d put the girls down and they were sleeping, so I responded with this…


Satellite Party! (Malibu for me…American Honey in honor of my cousin on the left in the above picture…Crown Royal Black for my Brother, in his shot glass that I bought him in Costa Rica that lives at our home—I didn’t actually take their shots. I’m saving them for when they come visit.)

“Where are you online? Get your webcam ready and let’s do this!”


Cheers! Oh but wait, another buddy showed up on their end…


And then our favorite San Diego gal had seen the images and texted me this…


In those ten minutes, we were all giggling, laughing, telling jokes, taking shots, toasting and you know…being social.


I couldn’t wait for Don to get home so I could tell him all about it. He said it best, “This is what social media is really about.” You know what, it is! There are wonderful causes to support, that can unite and divide equally. But this…video chatting with some loved ones in other time zones, in other parts of the world, it’s what connects us. All of the crappy snark, political comments, self-loathing, you know, the stuff that mucks up my social media feeds (thank God for the hide features on those things so I can respectfully remove myself from the negative without completely deleting) is not what it is about. If I want depressing, then I just go to the news site.

Having a quick date from far away just to see live-motion, hearing the words, simultaneously seeing the facial expressions…you know all that non-verbal communication…is awesome! Adding video chats with my faraway (and not-so-faraway) loves to my list of weekly to-do’s.

How do you all stay in touch?

Tesla Museum

If you’ve been a regular reader of mine, by now you should know that I’m a fan of Nikola Tesla. Heck, what started as a nickname for a growing baby turned into her actual name. Recently, The Oatmeal spearheaded a campaign to purchase the land and to hopefully build a Tesla Museum to honor this great man.

Because I dragged my feet too long, I didn’t get to take full advantage of the perks that were initially made available. Life gets in the way and can get easily distracting. meh. Either way, I was able to contribute in our daughter’s honor so she can become a part of history, hopefully. Our little way of honoring her namesake.



They’ve reached their initial goal, but all funds over the goal will be used to actually renovating the site and building a museum! I would love to be able to take her to visit Wardenclyffe someday to see a museum she helped to create. If you have an extra $3, I encourage you to join the effort. Nikola Tesla sure was a fan of the number 3 and so are we. (For one year, my jersey number in college was 3. Our wedding start time was 3:33. Our own little Tesla was born on the 3rd of her month, even!)

Flying with Kiddos

Our girls are 4 and 16 months (1 year and 4 months for those of you who don’t have kids and haven’t learned to convert the months properly.) The Sugarbean took her first plane ride at 6 weeks. Every year since then, she’s been on at least two flights. Tesla, on the other hand, boarded her first plane when she was 8 months old. She flew like a champ without issue. Over the years we’ve tried to perfect our own version of flying with kids. In the past couple of months, they have taken 6 plane rides. This is an account of what has worked for us.

The items you will find us carrying as we walk up to the airport:

• 1 checked back for the both of them (their clothes actually fit in a carry-on sized bag, but we check it because we are usually carrying other things.)
• 1 checked bag for the both of the adults
• Mari has her carry-on bag (rolling little kid-size bag is genius) and the diaper bag is her other carry-on
• I have my carry-on bag and purse
• Don has the camera backpack and is carry-on
• 1 umbrella stroller (gate checked)
• 2 car seats (one booster, one convertible) – checked for free

The two checked bags can be expensive in this day and age. For most normal airlines, each checked bag is $25, which makes it $100 extra dollars for a roundtrip. We are AA Advantage card holders, so we get 2 free checked bags when flying American. Hooray! Two checked bags will work for our family of 4 for any trip up to a week…maybe two weeks if we can do laundry. On this trip, we flew Delta and our summer trip we flew Virgin, so we still had to pay, but no big deal.

In MariJul’s bag, she keeps her small comfort toy, iTouch, headphones, crayons, coloring book, drawing book, and 2 books. Some planes have a built in TV in the headrests. In the case of our California trip, Virgin has quite an interactive headrest. She was disappointed on the the Michigan flights. “Where’s my TV?” In the case of our Michigan trip, we couldn’t find the iTouch, so we had to rely on books and the sketchbook. Talk about taking it old school! This sketchbook was mighty handy! We received it as a Christmas gift and she loves it! That is a picture she drew of Tesla with a bow in her hair.



In the diaper bag, there is a change of clothes for Tesla, diapers, wipes, snack foods, milk sippy cups, a juice box, one of her muslin blankets, extra pacifiers, and Yummy Earth lollipops. In the case they want them, we have noise canceling headphones.

In my carry-on I have my laptop, up to two magazines or a book (ha, like I get to read books), the travel folder (which has all of our itineraries printed out, a list of addresses to mail postcards, confirmation print offs to hotels/rental cars/restaurants, etc..), a couple of pens, emergency gum, a pipe cleaner*, and in the case of the Michigan trip, the portable DVD player with movies.

*pipe cleaner?? – it is a great stress reliever and will occupy a kiddo for longer than you might think.

My purse always has purse items, which includes my phone charger. The camera bag is self-explanatory. And Don packs magazines, gum, extra chargers, and other survival items that would come in handy in the event of an emergency. (Thanks for being prepared, babe!)

The Flight

We definitely take full advantage of the pre-boarding. We need the extra time to get situated. When we walk down the gangway, Mari does get a little timid when she crosses into the plane. She sees the tiny crack between the two and gets a little anxious. Since she is 4, she has her own seat. We always seat her next to the window. For a few more months, Tesla is still a lap child until her 2nd birthday. We usually start with her on my lap. She wears a C.A.R.E.S. vest that easily attaches to my seatbelt. When I need a break (or she just wants to be with Daddy), she will sit with him, but we only switch off when the seatbelt light has gone off. We don’t want to risk injury during turbulence.



Sometimes, we may have an empty seat next to us. In the case of the California flight, Tesla was quite tired during the early morning flight, so we buckled her up and let her sleep.



Upon take off, I insist Tesla suck on the paci for her ears. I will also give Mari some gum to chew. She said she has anxiety upon take off (yes, she knows that word) and I will hold her hand and rub her belly. She also says that take-off “drives her belly nuts” (thanks Carol for teaching her that phrase. LOL). She knows that if she is brave, she will be treated to a ginger ale/OJ cocktail to help settle her tummy.



She also knows to listen closely for when she can use her portable electronic devices.



Potty breaks are inevitable. Most airplanes have a changing station in the bathrooms, so this is great. We try to keep a couple of diapers/wipes/changing pad nearby to help speed up the process. After all, the aisles are quite cramped.

I really appreciate that we get about a 20 minute warning before landing. This gives us ample time to pack everything up before the flight attendants go through their landing procedures. It also allows us to prepare to de-board the plane.

While the plane is taxi-ing to the gate, we come up with a plan of who is carrying what. I usually strap a baby to myself with the Boba (did this with Mari until she was 3 and will continue with Tesla), carry my purse, my carry on and the diaper bag. Mari carries her bag. Don will carry the camera, his bag, and the booster seat (if we didn’t check it) and he waits for the stroller. We use the stroller to carry items since Mari likes to walk.

Layovers

If you happen to have a layover, try to make the most of it. Mari is a huge fan of the moving walkways. She thinks they are magic. In the Detroit airport, there is a hall with awesome lighting with the moving walkways. I really enjoyed it. Tesla was passed out as I carried her in my Boba. The Sugarbean was in awe.



There is also a water piece that both girls really enjoyed touching. We gave them each a coin to toss in an make a wish. Mari said she’d have Tesla’s wish since she couldn’t talk yet. But then actually made a wish for Tesla in the voice she uses when she “tells” us what the Sugarbaby is saying. It was great!



Snacks are great, but aren't a meal substitute. Layovers usually happen around eating times, well for us. (we definitely try to find direct flights) It is a great time for a warm meal, just be prepared to spend quite a bit more than you might want to. That is the only drawback. My beloved will usually take one of the girls to get the food while I linger back with the other charging our devices and watching our stuff.

Help

This is all great and dandy when we are flying like a family, but what if one of us is solo. One of the things we’ve noticed is how doting people have been with Don when he travels with the girls, but the same attention isn’t paid to women. If you see a parent flying with kiddos and one is having a fit or they are struggling to take something out of the bin above the seat while juggling a squirmy child, please help!! Offer a kind word, don’t give the disdainful look. Even if the kid is screaming, I guarantee you, s/he isn’t having a great time of it. Thank you to the strangers who have helped me over the past 4 years. Especially the older gentleman on my flight to El Paso when I was on my way to my grandfather’s funeral and the Sugarbaby had spilled a bit of milk onto my dress, while she was simultaneously trying to jump out of my arms. Your help (and patience) was INFINITELY appreciated on an already difficult day. Thank you!!

That’s it! Anything you all do differently? Any flying tips?