A Case of the Mondays

glasses: ARMY eyewear dress: Target belt: H&M shrug: Old Navy plugs: Body Jewelry Source necklace: handmade by yours truly shoes: Blowfish

Last night's loss was a rough one for me.  I had to work, and I ended up being the ONLY person to take tables for the last three hours of business.  It was a quiet night, except for the occasional scream or yelp that escaped my mouth.  I know sports are not important to everyone, but they are important to me.  What is more important that sports?  Outfits! No, just kidding.  I was going to say "character" and go on a whole rant about certain athletes...but I won't.  Karmic energy will take care of everything and everyone, all in good time.

I wanted to start this week off with a few more pictures from our shoot in Downtown Santa Ana.  Gina and I decided to snap a few  right in front of the historical Santa Ana Courthouse, a hot spot for weddings here in Southern California.  The building is beautiful: older shade trees and colorful bricks, and it is really special to see happy couples pouring out of it's front doors. 


When John and I get married this spring, we will probably do our official paperwork here, and then take the first jet to Hawaii!

Speaking of Hawaii, I was just remembering one of the first trips we took with my brother Brad.  You see, my father is mostly Hawaiian with Irish blood, and grew up on Oahu.  My parents met in Honolulu and were married there as well.  My family has split our time between the "mainland" and our "real home" for most of our lives, and it has never been easy. 

The first time Brad was old enough to fly, we booked four seats in that REALLY comfortable area of the 747 where there are 5 or 6 spots in the dead center.  You know, the same area where you sit right next to the giant screen that tracks the flight...the flight that is seven grueling hours.  This would probably have been a lot easier today, what with the portable DVDs, the Nintendo whatever and all the other junk I see parents shoving in their kids' faces.  We had crackers.  Crackers, puzzles and a Game Boy.

Brad did well.  He was an adorable child, and the little guy was quite the charmer with the stewardess.  He did a few puzzles, ran up and down the aisles and never, ever napped.  After what seemed like a short eternity of me watching that stupid little plane sail on-screen across the Pacific...we landed.

Traveling smart with small children, my parents were gathering all of our carry-on bags.  We decided to wait for most of the plane to vacate before we made any moves.  I grabbed my tote and tried to help my brother out of his seat.  He didn't look right at all, his face was a very strange color and he wasn't saying a word.  He mumbled to me, "I don't feel good."  Then, he started to hurl.  And I mean hurl.  He started to spew INSIDE of my bag, and then moved to the airplane's floor and probably a little of my mom's arm.  

I looked around, the plane was empty.  I thought it remarkable that the little guy had made it the entire trip completely composed and decided to lose his lunch after we had landed...and been stopped and still for nearly ten minutes.  I think I was giggling a little bit as myself, and the stewardess he had charmed earlier cleaned up our aisle.  I bet she was thinking he was just slightly less cute than before.  Eh, probably not.  My brother has this way of making you laugh no matter what the situation, no matter how annoying he has been prior, no matter where you are.  Just this morning he called me.  When I answered he said, "Do you suffer from mesothelioma?"  I died.