Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder!

I hate flying. My husband finds this hilarious because I was in the Air Force. So? I tell him. Being in the Air Force has nothing to do with a love of planes. It has everything to do with your big brother telling you that's the direction you ought to go. Sheesh. I thought everybody knew that.

But fly I must if I want to get home. And home is where I want to get. My other home. The home where my mom is. And my dad, too. They're making the trek to the big city to pick me up so the least I can do is drag my fly-fearing, plane-dreading self to that airport and make my way onboard.

My bag is packed.
The cupboards are stocked.
I just wish I had a tranquilizer.

Wake me up when we get there, please.