Why, oh why, does winter have to start the day we want to get on a big hunk o' metal and expect the tires to stick to the tarmac well enough to thrust it into the sky and over the ocean?!?
I woke up at four in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. The freezing rain against the window kept me up, like fingers typing an insistent message.
Still, we've just continued in our preparations as though we will be able to fly. Now we just have to wait and hope... No whammies no whammies no whammies! I made sure to wear nice, unshredded underwear like my mom used to tell me in case I get in an accident. I wouldn't want any fish in the Atlantic to see my bits in bits of underwear.
Bob Dylan's "Lay Lady Lay" has become a favourite going to sleep song for Swee'pea. As a result, I have been listening to it a lot, and for days it's been going through my head when it's not coming out the speakers. Last night it was playing in my mind while I slept, and while I laid awake, worrying. It occurred to me that I could easily make it into a lullabye: Lay Baby Lay, lay upon my big brass bed. Sleep Baby Sleep, sleep until the light of day... etc. etc.
I think I may work on this on future sleepless nights.
One of the blogs I read, a photo blog by a journalist who blogs under his real name, mentioned that he doesn't say when he's travelling or blog in real time about his travels, because he doesn't want his house to get robbed. That possibility hadn't occurred to me. I am not very careful about anonymity.
But I'm not completely unconcerned with security. I have thought that I shouldn't say too much about my flight because someone could try to blow up the plane. I don't know who exactly would want to blow up the plane, but it might go something like that this:
That Cinnamon Gurl must be stopped before she destroys the world! We must stop her at ALL costs!
So I'm gonna wait to post this until we're safely in SA.
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