Well gentle readers, I have moved north to our new sandy place. The trip was not one I care to repeat, three days of taking every conceivable form of transportation known to humankind and the Army while lugging hundreds of pounds of luggage. I liken the trip to the movie “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” (Mind you, I do not liken myself to John Candy!) However, there were a few good highlights which I can share.

After leaving the sandy place, we flew into the international airport
servicing our destination. There are many things I expected from a military airport, stark buildings, warehouses, the usual shoppette, food places, hundreds of soldiers standing around, smoking, joking, playing cards until the flight left. I had even heard rumor that it may have a Starbucks (unfortunately, false). This particular airport was very bare bones military airport - the waiting room was a tent, the “ticket counter” was in a tent, and the “baggage area” was really just a gravel area surrounded by concertina wire. Soldiers abounded, sleeping, eating, smoking, watching portable DVD players.

I am not surprised easily, TLRG fans. I have been to many airports in my life, domestic, international and military. Military airports are all exactly the same, tightly controlled, stark, lit with florescent lights and the exact same big screen TV tuned to CNN or Sports Center. Soldiers sprawl on the floor to sleep, weapons and gear strewn everywhere. And yet, even in our sandy place, life can be tres amusant when you least expect it.

We had just landed, pulled our bags off and were all sitting on our duffle bags in the “baggage area” outdoors, feeling rough, tough, soldier like while eating MREs. Hooah, as the Army likes to say. The last thing I expected to see in this place was civilians. Yet, no sooner had I finished my eating beef and broccoli breakfast when I saw the best non-sequitor of the journey. Three young Japanese touristy-looking women hurried bewilderedly by, dragging pricey designer wheeled luggage across the rocky gravel yard. They were dressed in the most expensive outdoor gear from North Face and REI, the lovely scent of perfumed shampoo wafted in their wake. They even giggled nervously and had cameras around their necks like tourists. They looked intimidated as they tried to squeeze by the hulking soldiers tossing bags into piles, however, much to their obvious relief, these young (male) soldiers parted like the red sea, mouths agape, duffles falling unheeded to the ground as the young women filed by onto the flight line for their flight. I guess airports are all the same, Japanese tourists and all!

Now, fear not, I had my own mouth agape moment. Sitting in the waiting area, bored out of my mind in the 11th hour of waiting for the next leg of our journey to begin, I saw the most handsome young French reporter stroll by. His hair was a perfect confection of slightly tousled natural brown curls, his nose aquiline to the perfect degree, his jeans had that perfect loose but still suggestive fit. Perhaps the years of hanging around soldiers have gotten to me, but I swear, I just had to ogle him as he crossed the breadth of the tent. A true mmm mmm mmm moment and a pleasant diversion from the endless wait of military transport.

It was a true journey of odd moments. On our last leg, we stayed overnight in a god-forsaken warehouse, no heat, no plumbing, just rows and rows of cots. You stumble outside to the port-a-potty and running water was whatever you had brought in your camel back water carrier. The most primitive of primitive. And yet, when we got up in the morning and headed to the camp chow hall, I dined on freshly baked quiche Loraine! Sometimes the Army can be downright schizophrenic.

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Just got back from a surprise get-away to the nation’s second largest entertainment escape, Branson, Missouri. So much to discuss my precious ones, so little time. How can I begin to describe Branson’s essence? If you’ve been looking for round-the-clock all-you-can eat Asian buffets and a shopping palace dedicated solely to knifes AND dolls, this is the place for you :pigtails:

Let me start by saying that Branson is a lot like Vegas only with more cowboy boot outposts and a communist country’s worth of neon backlit theatres dedicated to B-List stars who you thought were long dead, like Mickey Rooney and Andy Williams. Where else can you hear an aging impresario performing impressive vocal imitations of Scotch-swilling Rat Pack favorites like Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett and 70’s elevator music rock stars like Inglebert Humperdink? And just as a point of order and oddity, I must observe that you know you’re in a throw-back to the past kind of town when the words DSL and elliptical trainer are foreign to the natives.

I fulfilled one of my life’s dreams while in Branson which is to get this ol’ cowgirl a pair of riding boots. Not to be braggadocious but I’ve got a prime pair of Justins that have already been used by yours truly in the “saddle”, if you catch my California king hotel bed and sullied linen drift.:) Gidee-up, ride’em cowboy. Oh and ignore all calls from the hotel desk to control the hootin’ and hollerin’.

Other trip landmarks of note were the copious Amish furniture stores littered on the paved wagon route from Branson to KC, home of Robert Altman and in scary proximity to that security guard cum ladykiller BTK. And of course we can not overlook the only place in our great nation where you can get a slab of cow with cheese, mayo and peanutbutter — Sedalia, MO. Nothing induces culinary happiness and IBS like the famed, pre-McCarthy era Guberburger. If the Planters peanut man had a scuzzy, charming bachelor pad that churned out sizzlin’ funions and beef all the live long day, this place would be it.

From food to frocks, I, TLRG, am a roving hipster reporter that brings it all to you, sort of the anti-Stone Phillips. To that end, I relay that my long plane journies to the Heartland and fro have provided ample time to pursue the spring fashion mags like Vogue and Elle. While I frown at the reintroduction of peasant skirts and 80’s neon plastic bracelet ala Debbie Gibson, I have to tell my readers that the Prada 2005 Spring collection is postively to DIE FOR including must have tri-color wood wedge shoes and a 40’s looking bakelite watch that I just might sell all my plasma to purchase. And while I’m in the confessional, I will reveal my uber splurge purchase this month which I am thoroughly enjoying. Are you ready? Big-rimmed Gucci sunglasses. I feel like a real Beltway bandit NOW! What’s next? The Hermes Birkin briefcase?:mrgreen:

Moving on to the world of film, did y’all get to see the Oscars? Actress Hilary Swank looked stately and statute-worthy in her clingy number and Brit actor Clive Owen followed suit in an extra yummy tux. Leo DiCaprio on the other hand and his once dimply youthfulness has turned into something resembling a puffy Krispy Kreme donut coming off the assembly line. As that girly proverb goes, it’s true nothing scrumdillicious lasts forever. Good thing he has Brazilian armcandy to up his hot quotient, si?

I must bring this meandering blog to a close as my jetlagged eyes are about as red as my dress. Know though that I give two ranchhand thumbs up to the world of Branson and urge you to check it out, preferably when the go-cart tracks and Jim Stafford crooning is in full swing. It’s a whole country music hall’s worth of good ol’ fun! As I ride off into the sunset, grace me with your thoughts, will you pardner?

Itchin to Get a Cowgirl Leg Up,
TLRG :redhead:

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