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Pitt’s Narduzzi: ‘Usually the people who are paranoid are the ones stealing’ signals

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Harveys Lake residents warned of ‘scam letter’ being circulated

<p>Everyone who knows me, knows I&#8217;m a homebody. It&#8217;s hard to get me to leave my cocoon, except for runs to CVS for my Hot Tamales and Target for my Depends, but even I realized Nancy and I had to get outta town for a little vacation this summer. Somewhere without a freaking golf course.</p><p>Nancy enjoys my discomfort surrounding several things: flying, waking up early and physical fitness and this trip embodied all three of these psychoses.</p><p>Because it&#8217;s fun for him, he schedules any departure before the sun comes up. I hate him. So, we set out for that big airport of &#8220;International&#8221; travel, nestled within the metropolis of Avoca, driving round and round in circles, literally, until we found our way to an airport that can be gotten to in seven minutes from our home. Without the stupid circles. It was so early, I still had gunk in my eyes and, according to the x-ray security personnel, earplugs in my ears. I was hungry and miserable, and the flight was delayed.</p><p>The Gods of Flight hate me. The Gods of Carbs hate me. The God of Thin Thighs hate me. I just wanted a glazed donut.</p><p>We eventually had a hefty layover at Dulles, which I believe is larger than any Kenyan village, and at that point, I was feeling a little perkier. Thinking I was being all sassy and aerobic, as we were about to step onto the escalator I said to Nancy: &#8221;You go ahead and be lazy. I&#8217;m running up the steps. I have to log my 10,000 steps today!&#8221;</p><p>I jogged up that staircase like Rocky at the museum, except for one thing: Rocky never fell. I landed so aggressively on those stairs that I bruised the palms of my hands and both knees and you know my pride was spectacularly detonated. There were so many spectators, who just seconds prior heard me be a saucy bitch to my husband, and there I lay crumbled like an old bag of Lays. I was mortified. And all Nancy said was: &#8220;Woops.&#8221;</p><p>I&#8217;m just not a good traveler. My fantasy is to have super powers like Samantha on Bewitched; just twitch my minivan of a nose and arrive at our destination. Alas, I&#8217;m more like Mrs. Kravitz, Samantha&#8217;s nosy neighbor. Well, Mrs. Kravitz on medication. Because that&#8217;s how I navigated the remainder of this trip: medicated. Flight is a quagmire I&#8217;ve never felt comfortable negotiating without a prescription and a mini-vat of Pinot. So, predictably, I fell into a deep coma, across three seats at Gate G-18. I think Nancy thought/prayed I&#8217;d expired; I didn&#8217;t awaken until he waved a Cinnabon under my nose.</p><p>Finally! We landed in amazing Clearwater! Dear Jesus, my bruised body just wanted the ocean. I couldn&#8217;t fall in the ocean. I don&#8217;t think.</p><p>I bought a tube, meant for a 6-year-old, stuffed my kielbasi body into it and floated in the warm tide for four straight days. I won&#8217;t bore you with the predictable tales of sunburn bordering on poisoning, because, that Florida sun is not the same one we have here in coal mining county. That sucker sears. I sizzled and toasted like a slab of Spam in a cast iron frying pan, but it was all so finally worth it.</p><p>Clearwater: I heart you.</p><p>Dulles Airport: carpet your stairs.</p><p>Nancy: I&#8217;m still alive, albeit the color of the &#8220;Razmatazz&#8221; Crayola. And I want that Cinnabon.</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>Life Deconstructed</p><p>Maria Jiunta Heck</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck, of West Pittston, is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: Flying away to clear waters and deep-fried tans