Just got back from Noah's xmas program which was an EPIC fail. During rehearsals he was a super loud enthusiastic singer, so they put him front and center. He proceeded to meltdown, screaming NO at the top of his lungs, growling and stomping his feet. Through the ENTIRE performance.

He told me there were ghosts there and there were too many people and he wanted them to go away.

Poor little guy. Implosion is ugly.

Poor noodle. Owen has to wear these giant, noise cancelling headphones at any singing event at school--even at music class. he can't stand the noise.

By the way, driving back from derby tonight, the thermostat his -12 degrees. Brrrrr.

Seriously, all it is is, "Hi, my name is Trudy" and an extended hand before or after my crotch and/or ass ends up in their face on my way to my window seat.

Oh, that would get an honest hi and probably my name.

It's the people who keep asking questions where there is no conversational spark or interest from my side. They get fictions spun for them.

DH once had a seat neighbor ask him if he had accepted Jesus Christ as his savior. He said that he had, but that his wife was having trouble making that decision.

Cheeky. And brave. And lucky you let him live.

I am sometimes quite chatty, and sometimes totally silent. Depends on my mood and my seatmate.

I try not to make eye contact. If my seatmate greets me, I nod and smile. If they continue to try to talk to me, I will respond a little as is polite, then start reading a book. If they keep going, I get out the earbuds.

Of course, all bets are off if it's a hot guy.

It's the people who keep asking questions where there is no conversational spark or interest from my side. They get fictions spun for them

Sighhh... one of the five reasons I should be famous.

(Would make up lies to nosy questions, would give my kids super-soakers full of ink for paps, would move into an apartment with big-ass windows and walk around naked for a week until all the paps got it out of their systems, would comission limited edition works of art for all those Christmas presents I'm supposed to give to the other shiny people, would buy bling for my friends.)

would move into an apartment with big-ass windows

I hand't even realised Sir Mix-A-Lot was selling up.

Hee.

I'm talky so it's probably good that I get a bit shy and cloaked among strangers in urban environments or I might be one of those folks who drive you crazy on the plane.

Any thread people are talking about The Sing-Off on? Catching up on Ep 2 tonight. More peeves about this season than last season.

Tried to make myself continue to be productive - managed to fold two loads of laundry that have been sitting around for a while. Good to have that out of the way. Tomorrow my mom wants me to help her photograph and write ad copy for some of the small stuff from my grandma's estate. Which I'm happy to do - I just wish I could get some family help dealing with some of my own moving stuff. Unfortunately, I can't do it all by myself anymore.

Sing-off is being discussed in Nonfiction, which is my next thread to read.

I like chatting on planes, but I'm pretty good on picking up my next-seat-neighbor's receptivity to the idea. I've met some very nice people on planes and trains (back in college, I took Amtrak home for holidays).

The most fun I've had chatting with the person sitting next to me was when my sis, mom, and sis's friend and I were in NYC at Christmastime. We got half-off rooms at the Waldorf-Astoria and took cabs out for dinner. After our dinner in Chelsea one night, we loaded up into the cab and I ended up in the front seat. This cabbie was the stereotype of the old-school NY cabbie, lifelong older guy with the New Yawk accent who was a stitch to talk to. After we got out at the hotel (we had told the guy to drop us off at the tree at Rockefeller Plaza, but he told us it was too much of a pain for him to get there so we would have to walk the few blocks!), my sister told me she couldn't believe I conducted a 15 minute long conversation with the guy, but I thought he was fascinating.