Off I go to the wilds of Northern Minnesota to learn once and for all how to fly a plane. Actually, flying is not hard at all, it's the landing that's difficult. There's a double meaning in that. But if I belabor the aviation-as-life metaphor any more I think I'll drive my few readers away en masse.
The goal by the end of this week is to take off, fly, and (keep your fingers crossed, here's the tricky part) land an airplane all by myself. I am trying to be calm and collected and totally nonchalant about this prospect to show how pragmatic and put-together I am. The reality is that I am simultaneously thrilled to death and scared shitless. Which, upon further reflection, would make me cadaver with a clean colon. Wow, what's with my blog and scatology?
Into the wild blue yonder,
M
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2 comments:
I'll keep reading, so let's max out the scatigious terminology.
You missed a great time last night wherein #2 heard the song "Never Tear Us Apart" and exclaimed sentimentally to her boyfriend and I to be quiet because she "looooved Elton John." #2's #2 (is that #2-squared?) is a-okay in my book after he asked her to repeat it with a big grin and then dropped a big INXS hammer in her glassful of star-shaped-glasses longing.
I hate being away and missing the good stuff.
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