Don't Hate the 918

I'm back. In fact, I got back Wednesday night. Or should I say that I barely got back because I almost missed my flight out of Tulsa (grumble security mumble grumble). I had to do that whole running-down-the-concourse thing, because (of course) my gate was the VERY last one. My flight was announced as closed just as the gate came into view, so I ended up yelling, "Wait! Wait!" as I finished running to the gate. Yup, just like in one of those damn movies.

I've noticed that my life is turning into one big cliche after another. Even my romantic life feels like a strange mix of Sleepless in Seattle plus You've Got Mail plus Notting Hill. My father-in-law once said we should write our story & sell the film rights. Maybe he has a point. But then I think about what sort of actresses might be chosen to play me & I wince a little.

At any rate, I made it. I left the 918 & am back in the 919. But I'm suffering from a bit of a post-holiday hang-over. It isn't that I miss Christmas. It's just that I miss Tulsa. Which is why I am now the proud owner of a "Tulsa Rocks" t-shirt. Yay. :)


Random fact: The Blue Whale in Catoosa has a MySpace page. Yup, even a giant fiberglass whale is more hip than I am.