I really don’t want to be included in the above, age-related reference. So when El or anyone else makes this reference, I snarl like a cougar, hiss like a cat, or laugh like a hyena.
I’m now getting ready to head to the airport at what will be a very undogly hour, that is 5:30 a.m. The plane departs at 7:00 a.m. I can’t fathom getting up that early, which is why I’m considering staying up all night.
I’ll be in a better frame of mind once I get to NYC. The odd thing about my having a phobia (and mine is flying related) is that I don’t consider it to be a phobia. Planes do crash, and there is always that likelihood that I will be on one when this occurs. It’s a lottery of sorts. Some people feel the same way about bridges. And they too are right. Bridges collapse and people die.
Back to the age issue. My sister’s friend Judy is travelling with us. I had not seen her in over 45 years. She of course does not look like what she used to look like, so tonight was like meeting a near total stranger.
Judy is wound up tight, talks a lot, and is heavily into social media. On the flip side, she is an awesome cook, very articulate, on the correct side of the political fence, and has a good sense of humor. I am sure that we’ll all have a good time in NYC.
I’m lucky – I got a window seat on the plane. And I am not sitting near El or Judy. My phobia is such that I do not, when flying, want to talk. This isn’t age related. I have always been this way.
I don’t foresee that we three are going to traipse down memory lane any time soon. There is too much of the here and now to talk about. For instance, already, Eleanor has twice misplaced her ticket.
276. 10/4/18: Another Wing, Another Prayer