Silver, Gold, And A Few Days Off

A little precursor for this post: As I write, I’m currently feeling a little under the weather, therefore my brain is not working at full capacity and this may not be my best work. And by feeling under the weather, I do mean I have a severe stomach ache from eating THREE heaping spoonfuls of Nutella within a ten minute time period. This is in addition to the Nutella I was spreading onto several (Arabic version) Oreo cookies. You won’t find a lot of information on it, so don’t waste your time researching my claim, but Chocolate is actually one of the six steps of the grieving process….

Anywho….I’m finally an Emirates Training College graduate, WAAA HOO. I asked my trainers if I get a reward for holding the record of longest time spent in training. They informed me that several months ago there was a girl who found the course work particularly difficult, and had to repeat every single section of training, so she actually had me beat. Just like that, my morale improved, as I rejoiced for not being THAT girl. As is always true with life, there’s always going to be someone who has it better than you, and always going to be someone who has it worse!

Monday evening the group of us who had all finished training together went out for drinks, and celebrated!

Yesterday was the big day that we were all supposed to find out our rosters for the next month, as well as our flight schedules for the rest of March. All of my batch mates quickly began posting back and forth on Facebook about their exciting first layover destinations (Sydney, Dublin, Hong Kong)…so eagerly I logged onto my work email to discover where I would be traveling, and then I see the dreaded code written all over my April roster…RSV, reserve. This means everyday for a month, I will wake up not knowing if I’ll be spending the night in Dubai, Auckland, New York, or anywhere else that the company may see fit to send me to on that particular day. It’s obviously not the worst thing in the whole scheme of life, but being on reserve definitely makes it difficult to make any form of plans for the entire month. Emirates does their scheduling on a seven month rotation, therefore, every six months I will be on reserve. It’s actually a much fairer system than the seniority based schedule most companies use.

The other kicker came when all my other batch mates started receiving notifications as to where they would be flying this week, and I did not. After some investigating I discovered my General Civil Aviation Authority licensing has not been processed yet, because my vaccinations were not completed on time…obviously because I was out of the country for the last two weeks. So basically, I’m on stay-cation for about another week.

Not that I’m ever a super, hard core schedule orientated person, but I don’t think it’s very mentally healthy for anyone to be 100% routine less either. So to combat this problem, I started off today, day one of my stay-cation, by making a list of things I needed to do. In all reality, I don’t really have that much I NEED to do, so some of my items were simply listed in order for me to be able to cross them off and feel some sort of a sense of accomplishmen. For example, task #1 on my list for the day “Wake Up.”

Instantaneously, I had already met one of my goals for the day! I’m always a fan of setting myself up for success!

So besides waking up each day, I’ve been filling up my days with social activities, which is fine by me. Last night I went with my friend Maggie, a fellow Emirates flight attendant from Minnesota, to meet another American, Sara, who is living in Dubai with her husband, a first officer with a smaller airline here in the UAE (did you get all that???). Maggie’s aunt used to work with Sara’s husband, and set Sara and Maggie up on a friend date! We had a great time watching the Dubai Fountain Show and cooking dinner together at her awesome apartment that has an amazing view of the Burj Kalifa, the world’s tallest building.

Today I met up with two of my friends for lunch at an outdoor pub, and spent my afternoon shopping. Rough life….


My mom’s voice constantly plays in my head, and ten years ago I would never admit to this, but today, I’m so very thankful that it does. As I continue to meet lots of new and interesting friends, I’ve recently found myself humming the sweet little tune to the old Girl Scout song, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other’s gold.”

I think of her smiling as she led me and my fellow Brownies in singing that song so many times throughout my childhood. I’m almost certain that she’s still smiling. To be even more specific, she had this particular face that I am picturing in my mind, my friend Brittney referred to it as her proud face, as she only made it when she was truly pleased with your actions.

I think she’s making her proud face right now at the way all of my golden and silver friends have taken care of her “little one” during this past month.
I think of everyone from my group of friends in Dubai, whom I have known for such a short period of time, my group of girl friends from home (whom have been my best friends since….well basically forever), to all the other amazing friends that I’ve met from the times in between, all going out of their way to routinely check on me. Honestly, my mom’s death has not led me to any Earth shaking revelations about taking people in my life for granted. I think through her LIFE she taught me that every person is a blessing, and to treat them as such! I think for the most part, I got it! I’ve always treasured my relationships, (mmmmm maybe not the romantic ones, that’s for another post :)) and even though this is a HARD time for me, I know they’re here for me. And God forbid, if hard times come across for any of them, I’m quite certain they know I’d be right there wading through the trenches with them as well. And that’s pretty cool.

"A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature."
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just Keep Walking

“Please both of you recognize that God is with you and trust him. I know both of you are going through your own struggles right now, but you will always be going through something-really. Just keep walking.”

I found this in an email to my sister, Genny, and I from mom in September of 2008. To tell you the truth, I really can’t remember what specific crisis either one of us were going through during that time. Whatever the issues were, I’m sure we were both using mom as our sounding board, and she was serving as our ever present cheerleader and number one supporter.

She’s not here anymore, and the reality of that truly bites. However, she’s left us with so much (wisdom she’s instilled in each of us, personal letters, 50 years worth of journals), that it would be foolish for me to collapse, fall apart, and say I don’t know what to do. She’s not here to talk us through this one, but I’m quite certain I know what she’d say if she were, “Recognize that God is with you and trust him. Just keep walking.”

So walking I go.

Last week I completed the first five days of service training. Prior to heading back to the states, I had already completed four of the days, so much of the week served as a recap for me. We do most of our training inside the Cabin Service Trainer (CST). The CST looks just like a real section of the aircraft cabin, and is complete with a working galley. We’ve been learning the proper Emirates’ technique for serving drinks, offering croissants, and collecting waste (not “trash,” as I’ve been corrected for saying multiple times). We’ve been learning the various services that are conducted on each flight, depending on the time available and the specific route. We’ve also been memorizing which destinations have bans on alcohol and gambling so that we do not accidently serve alcohol or offer our customers playing cards.


I also had to finish up my required vaccinations this week so that I am clear to fly. During this visit they chose to stab me with tetanus, yellow fever, and diphtheria vaccinations. I’m aware that I have been known to be a baby and slightly dramatic when it comes to dealing with physical pain, but holy crap! It’s been three days, and my arm and neck are still sore! Given the option, I’d rather take my chances with getting a small case of yellow fever than enduring the pain of that shot!

Besides the stupid shots, everything else work wise is going well. I was very fortunate to be moved into such a friendly and welcoming new training group. I’ve gotten to know several of my new batch mates over the past week, so it’s nice to now have groups of friends from my previous group, as well as my new one. The only downside to my new training group is that they are a part of the morning session, which begins at 7:30 A.M. I don’t do mornings. Woof.

The biggest highlight of my weekend was spending yesterday afternoon at the beach. Even though I’ve been here for two months, the stars had never aligned for me to go during the daylight hours. The water here is very calm, not a lot of waves, but it was clear and fairly warm. The ocean always has a way of making me put my life into perspective and realizing my place in this world.


Grieving is weird. My cousin Lindsey, who is a social worker, has been jokingly inquiring during the past three weeks about which category of the five steps of grieving am I currently falling into. I’ve actually thought about this, and I can honestly say that my feelings about the whole situation don’t seem to be fitting into any of the textbook options. Kelsey, not being a classic textbook case, SHOCKER!

I haven’t been crying very much during the past few days. Of course, the most random things are the ones that bring tears to my eyes (seeing Sherbet ice cream in the grocery store, watching a family wrangle up their million kids at the beach, putting on the running shorts she got me for Christmas). Overall, the breakdown sobs have stopped. And I don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me knows she’d be proud of me for being strong, and continuing to live life to the fullest. Part of me feels like a horrible, emotionless rock for not being able to blink out one single tear less than a month after my own mother died!

With each day that passes I get a little bit prouder of my family; for the way we’ve all relied on each other and have become even closer as a result of this tragedy. And with each day that passes, I get a little bit sadder, knowing that from now on everyday that goes by propels us all even further into the future. A future that my mom isn’t a part of.

Back to my five stages of grief, I would not say that I’m angry. I’m not allowing myself to play the what if game, or even get mad at God because it’s useless. I know that no one ever knows the right thing to say to someone who is grieving, but the “your mom is always with you” comment from well meaning people is starting to piss me off slightly. I know my mom is still with me in spirit because I feel her and know it’s real. But she’s not here physically anymore, she’s just simply not. We can’t meet up in New York next month, and we can’t take our trip to Germany this summer, and she can’t make me Salisbury steak next time I come home, because she’s not here anymore! And it sucks! So Kelsey’s tip of the week: when people are grieving, just listen! I appreciate people's kindness, but cliché statements are usually not helpful. Now that I got that off my chest I will step down from my soap box. :)

Back To Normal Or Something Like It

Friday morning I arrived safely back into Dubai. The 13 hour flight was nice, despite serving as a pillow for the Indian woman seated next to me for a large majority of the trip. I didn’t sleep much, but I did keep myself entertained by watching Toy Story 1 and 2 (because obviously that what’s you do when you’re all grown up and travel by yourself) and used the onboard telephone to text my dad and Stacy. I even felt proud of myself, as I was able to navigate my way through the airport all alone, and instructed the cabby which streets to turn onto for the fastest route to my apartment. In felt nice to be back.

Sunday morning I arrived at the training college to join a new group for the last week and a half of training. I had mentally prepared to be surrounded by a whole new group of people who didn’t know me, didn’t know my story, and that I would be completely fine. I walked into the class, and immediately found out that I had joined a group that was finishing their last two days of training. I assumed I would need to repeat the entire week and a half, so this through me for a loop. Normally, I would have taken this slight change of plans in stride and rolled with the punches. However, normal just went flying out the window two weeks ago, so instead I started hysterically sobbing in front of the entire class. Thankfully, the Emirates’ staff was exceptionally kind. The trainers quickly ushered me out of class, and had me meet with an induction specialist who had a background in counseling. The induction specialist then arranged for me to be put in with a class who was just starting the service section, and for the past two days I have been doing well in my new group.

Every situation I now enter feels completely different than ever before. Thankfully, this whole grief process is very new to me. I have lost three of my grandparents, who I loved dearly, but they were all in their 70’s and had led full lives. With my mom, it’s different. I feel like we were all watching a great romantic comedy, her favorite kind of movie. We had already watched the important parts of the film, the climax of the story line had already occurred, but we of course wanted to watch the last 20 minutes of the film, just to see how all the loose ends played out. Except, I feel like right as the last 20 minutes of the film were approaching the DVD stopped spinning, the screen went black, and BAM no more movie! I wanted to see the last 20 minutes!!!!

I’ve heard grief comes and goes in waves, and so far that seems to be very true. I have moments where I am doing fine, and even give myself little pep talks, “Wow, self, look at you! You’re handling this beautifully!”

Then, within an hour I’m a complete mess and doing everything within my power to refrain from hitting purchase on the one way ticket to Saint Louis I have pulled up on my laptop. Once again, my friends here in Dubai have been incredible supportive, and I have not spent a night alone yet. Nothing Earth shaking exciting this week (i.e. no camel riding), but it’s just been nice to go out to dinner, go to the beach, or as was the case last night, lay on a friend’s couch in my sweats and just have them listen as I blew snot out my nose.

As my mom reminded me in her last letter to me, God communicates to us all the time, it’s just a matter of us being observant. I continue to see signs even in Dubai. After writing my last post, the key theme of my mom and I always being connected has really stayed with me.

I have never been much of a saver, but my one exception has always been personal letters. During my time at home last week, I went through my box of old letters, and without reading them, I pulled out all the notes I could find with mom’s handwriting on them, and packed them into my suitcase so that I could read them once I was back in Dubai. I have been bringing those letters out to read over the past couple nights, and have once again been reminded of what a truly awesome mom I have! Here are a couple that were too cool not to share.


Written to me in 1997 while I was attending my very first Girl Scout Summer Camp.


A note mom had left me when I was little, and they had gone away for a weekend seedcorn meeting.

Endless Love

Energy, it’s something my mom spoke of often. It wasn’t some new age religion she was following. It was just her belief that the entire universe was vibrantly connected. We would laugh at the many, many times one of us would answer the telephone on the first ring, as the other was just getting ready to call as well. Mom and I often spoke about how the deep bond of love knows no end. It does not stop at state lines, international borders, and it most certainly does not stop at death.

During the evening of February 29th (Dubai time), I was engaged in a team building activity that involved myself and each of my flight school classmates to individually enter a room, look at a shape, and then report back to the group who was trying to recreate the object in a separate classroom. The goal of the activity was to think about the distractions we will face on the aircraft. When it was my turn to enter the room solo to examine the object, the trainer, representing the passengers, began to bombard me with questions. “What country are you from? What’s color is your house? What’s your mom’s name? Huh, huh, huh?”

In my typical twisted sense of humor, I decided to pacify my trainer with a bizarre comment, “My mom passed away.”

Immediately she apologized, and I began to laugh as I told her that I was only kidding. She, of course, was appalled and asked what my mother would say had she heard me. I informed her that my mother was well aware of my corky antics and would most likely giggle, slap my arm, and yell, “Kelsey Ellen!”

Following that day of training I went home, went to bed, and woke up the next morning at 8 A.M. to urgent text messages asking me to please call home. The phone connection with my sister in law was poor, and I could only make out that she was frantically screaming my name. The line went silent and we lost the call. My mind raced as I waited for what felt like an eternity for her to reach me again via Skype. Finally, we were reconnected, and I begged for her to tell me what was wrong. You never practice what you’ll do when you receive this news. Maybe I was naïve, or just plain simple, but I had never even fathomed hearing these words. Either way, I will never, ever forget what she told me, “Sweetie, your mom died.”

Just like that, my life had forever changed. Right away I recanted the story of what I had said the night before. Not that the thought didn’t cross my mind, but I knew that my comment did not cause her death. I immediately thought of that deep connection we shared, not only the one I share with my mother, but more importantly with God, the puppeteer himself.

As I sat in my apartment, with amazing friends by my side, awaiting my flight home, I grasped onto anything that held a piece of my mom. I read the beautiful goodbye note she had tucked into my bag just six short weeks ago and realized now how perfectly it doubled for a goodbye letter for life. The letter instructed me to always pray, and to know that God will communicate with me personally and through other people. She asked that I be observant of this always.

I then removed the lyrics to the old hymn she had copied and included in my letter, and wept as I read the line she had specifically underlined, “God be with you till we meet again. When life’s perils thick confine you, wrap his arms unfailing round you. God be with you till we meet again.” Wow!

I combed through old facebook posts and focused in specifically on a comment she had left just days before. One of my best friends’ mom, Jackie (whom my mom adored) wrote to tell me she had fallen behind on reading my blog. My mom quickly replied, “What kind of a substitute mom are you? You could have yours license revoked!”

Substitute mom, never had mother used that term. However, had she known she was getting ready to leave this Earth, I’m quite certain she would have been pleased to select Jackie for this honorary position.

I also checked my email where I reread the words my mom had written to me during the start of her very last day on Earth. In closing she wrote, “Wednesday will be hard…Lenten Breakfast and Kidz Klub. It will all be fine!”

It will all be fine, again, uncommon verbiage for my mother, but such true words for the journey my family is now embarking on.

I somehow made it through the next 24 hours, with the love, kindness, and support of my Emirates’ family and all the prayers I was receiving from back home. As difficult as I had anticipated it being walking into the house, her house, without her, I was actually greeted with an incredible feeling of peace. Without seeing or hearing her, I could definitely feel her presence. It was somewhere in between being the strangest feeling in the world, and completely comfortable. My sweet niece, Bridget, informed me that she is just pretending Uncle Brock ate all the food in the house, and that Ma had to go grocery shopping for a long time. Slightly delusional? Perhaps. Am I adopting her logic? Maybe.

Saying my mom was slightly organized would be like saying the pope is slightly catholic. The woman had always told us that she had her funeral planned, and she was not joking. Located inside a folder titled, The Notebook, she instructed us on what songs were to be played, what readings were to be read, and most importantly how to dispose of her body (cremated and put in biodegradable egg cartons because it is good for the environment and she’ll finally be able to fit into something small). She signed the directives, which she updated yearly on her birthday, by writing, “I’ve had a great life, love you all bunches, see ya later!”

We carried out mom’s wishes to the very best of our abilities. She had said for years that when she dies, she wants a huge party. We gave her a beautiful service, complete with personal stories that provided the perfect balance of laughter and tears. And judging by the 40 plus people we had at our house every night of the weekend following her death, we had one hell of a party!

Fast forward to this morning, I woke up in my beautiful blue bedroom that my mom and I had painted together, and automatically my eyes filled with tears, as I knew today was the day Dad and I would make that trip to the airport that has become so familiar to us, but this time with mom’s absence blaring. And as the tears rolled onto my pillow, I noticed a small slit of sun shining on my wall. I put on my glasses and in clear view, I could see the sun light was shining directly over the picture of my parents and I in my photo collage. And I smiled; knowing that she was gently reminding me her presence would always be more noticeable than her absence.

It’s been two weeks since she served Lenten breakfast at our church, attended Bible study, delivered groceries to a needy family in town, led Kids Klub, brought her granddaughters home, was helping them with their baths, said she wasn’t feeling well, laid her head down on the side of the tub, and went to Heaven, and I miss her. I miss her so much that it physically pains me. But that’s the thing with what my mom and I have. We have this energy between us, a love that has no end. And although I’ll miss feeling her big physical hug, hearing her say “I love you, little one,” and watching her clap her hands together and throw her head back the way she did when she giggled everyday for the rest of my life, I know that she’ll always be with me. She’ll be with me forever!

“Whenever they's a fight so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Whenever they's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there . . . . I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad an'-I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry an' they know supper's ready. An' when our folks eat the stuff they raise an' live in the houses they build-why, I'll be there.”

This was one of my mom’s favorite quotes from the book Grapes of Wrath. She had it written down in The Notebook as something she would like to have shared when she passes.

My Kind Of Weekend

My weekend has officially come and gone, but what a great one it was! It was the perfect balance of fun, sun, exercise, food, friends, adventure, sleep...and a wee bit of wine :)

I'm now on service training, which takes place in the evening, so Thursday night was spent in training college until nearly midnight. Friday was beautiful in Dubai, and I took full advantage of the 80 degree weather and caught some rays on top of our building with a group of girlfriends. I'm trying to start incorporating the whole running thing back into my life, so I spent a little time Friday on the good ol treadmill. That evening a group of about ten girls all went out for dinner and drinks at this super cute restauraunt right on the water. Watching the sunset above the water and yachts was absolutely gorgeous!

This afternoon my two friends Charlotte (English) and Charlene (Irish) and I went on our very first desert safari! We really weren't too sure what to expect, but saw the deal on Groupon, and decided that dune bashing, camel rides, and a traditional Arabic barbecue for only 200 durams ( about 55 US dollars) was a fairly good deal. An adventure guide picked us three up from our apartment in a land rover equipped with roll bars on the outside and extra safety handles on the inside. A middle aged couple who were vacationing from India were also inside the suv with us girls. We drove about twenty minutes outside the city into the legit, I cannot see any signs of life, desert before we came to a randomly placed, hole in the wall convienince store where we were instructed to use the bathroom before we began our adventure. Following this, the six of us loaded back up into the land rover and we drove about five minutes further before the driver pulled off the road and right onto the sand. He was a man of very few words, so he turned around and very matter of factly told us to remain seat belted at all times, and that if we puke we pay a 300 Durham fine. With that, he turned back around, shifted into drive, and hit the pettle! I've experienced some adrinaline rushes in my life, but NEVER have I ever experienced anythig like this. It was non stop craziness for a solid 20 minutes. It was full speed up sand dunes, down the other side, donuts on the side of mounds, and slamming down incredibly hard after flying off of peaks. I cannot even begin to come up with ways to describe this insanity. With that being said, I loved it! At one point my body, as well as all of my belongings, were being tossed around so much that we resembled little shirts in the dryer, my Capri sun being one of those items. At the time I was honestly not sure if the violent tossing had caused my juice box to spill on me, or if I had just wet myself. Jury is still out on that one!

After that little joyride we were brought to the campsite with about 100 other tourist. One of the main things I was excited about doing at the campsite was riding the camels, which I did do as soon as we arrived. I reverted back into a 6 year as I literally ran to get in line for a ride. I do like animals, but I've never been a huge huge animal lover, so I have no idea where my camel fascination came from, but I was seriously dying to ride these beasts. It just felt so Sex and The City II ish!

After my camel ride, us girls went inside the dinner area were they had lots of touristy activities (henna paintings, Arabic costumes, tea tasting) in which I fully partook in!

Just as the sun was setting over the sand dunes, the meal portion of the evening began. We started out with appitizers consisting of small pitas stuffed with chicken and vegetables. After our appetizers, there were a few different entertainers who came out and performed traditional dances, very talented. We were then invited to eat the main dinner that was served buffet style. The meat was definitely the best part, as they had been grilling chicken and beef kabobs on these massive grills for the past hour and they smelled heavenly. Other then the meat we were served hummus, rice, potato soup, and various fresh vegetables. By the time we finished it was completely dark out. And I do mean completely dark. The desert at night is not a place I enjoy too much! It got very cold and windy. As I type I'm still crunching on sand in my mouth...yummy!!!

So that pretty much was my weekend in a nut shell. Can't say I've ever really had one like it :)

Side note, my computer is on the fritz. That does mean I just wrote this entire post with my iPhone...impressed?

The Most Shallow Day Of My Life

So as my title states, today was in fact the most shallow day of my life, in Emirates language it was Image and Uniform Day. In all reality the day was pretty fun, and a welcomed break from SEP and medical training. It's just that I think I've spent more time today thinking about my hair, makeup, and nails than I cumulatively have throughout the course of my whole entire life!

Last Thursday we received our luggage, shoes, and most importantly, our uniforms! Today marked the first day we actually wore them. I must admit, it was pretty awesome putting on the emirates outfit this morning. Probably would have been a lot cooler had it not been 5 A.M. My class arrived at training college bright and early, and were greeted by two grooming specialists, who of course encompassed the Emirates look to a T. The room was surrounded by mirrors, bright lighting, huge bottles of hair spray, and a display of Clairens makeup large enough to make me question whether I was at training college or Macy's cosmetic department. During the morning session we discussed skin care methods, appropriate jewelry, and various Emirates' approved hairstyles. After the sessions, we were instructed to touch up our hair and makeup, and then line up for our image checks, dun dun dooon! So after nervously waiting in line, I stood before the perfectly groomed trainers as they carefully examined me. After doing several twirls, removing my jacket, and closing both eyelids for a closer look at my makeup, it was determined that my skirt is about a half inch too short and must be himmed to meet company standards, my makeup was perfect (thank you, thank you), and that my dark roots needed to be "delt with." These finding were all noted in my company file, and away I was sent for lunch. During the afternoon we discussed nail care, and then spent an hour polishing, buffing, and painting our nails. Then, following a talk on physical health and fitness (aka please don't get fat), our session ended.

So I figured while I had time, and since I was already on a vanity role, I'd go deal with my roots. So thankfully after today my nails are bright red, and my the top of my hair is a shade blonder.

In other news, I'm really hoping the good Lord above decide to take me home today because I'm pretty sure if I had to stand in front of Him and answer when He asks, "So, Kelsey, what did you do to better the Earth on your last day?" I would not be able to come up with one flipping thing. I feel pretty, oh so pretty....

Happy Valentine's Day

As you may have read on facebook, yesterday (or today, depending upon which time zone you're in) was Valentine's Day. Although I don't exactly have a significant other sending me chocolates and flowers, I try not to get too caught up in the whole cliché "I'm single, I hate Valentine's Day," bandwagon. I even busted out my red- heart underwear for the occasion!

This week's training has been focused on medical issues onboard. Luckily, I've been a lifeguard since I was 16 and already have a lot of basic knowledge on how to handle heart attacks and chocking, perform CPR, cool burns, apply direct pressure to cuts, etc. Interesting side note, although different countries use variations of CPR techniques, Emirates uses the American Heart Association's method because globally the US has the highest rates of heart attacks, therefore has done the most research (thanks McDonalds).

Yesterday's topic, which just so happened to coincide with Valentine's Day, was childbirth. Yes, this did involve watching an actual real life birthing video. It actually made me very grateful to be flying solo on Valentine's Day, and any other day for that matter. The way I see it, if that's what "love" leads to, then leave me the freak out! Clearly this video left an impression on me, and I'm still disturbed. Prior to watching this featured presentation, we all got the chance to deliver the baby via the prego mannequin, complete with umbilical cord and placenta! One word: SICK!