Airplanes still amaze me. As I gaze down at the geometry of the land, I am mystified and impressed by human achievement. Right on Bernoulli!
It also amazes me that I've yet to find myself seated next to a prolific farter. (A somnolent booger picker/eater—yes.) A girl can dream.
But not about being served meals on the airplane any longer. Although our reservations asked me (me, not Leslie) to specify a meal choice, they gyped me out of my kosher meal. We could purchase "snack boxes" of chips, cheese dip, turkey stick and Lorna Doone cookies, which all sounded as appealing as eating the Sky Mall catalog.
I ungraciously accepted the stale bag of pretzels. The flight attendants gave us two bags; I think it was the consolation for having to return to Cleveland. Pretzels are not consolation. Honey-roasted peanuts—yes. Honey-roasted peanuts are a salve for many, if not all, unpleasant situations.
As you can see by Leslie's artful photography, I could take my knitting needles on the plane with me. Unfortunately, I accidentally snapped one of the needles in half on the plane. Also, all that knitting was for naught as I can't accept the varying width of scarf I knitted so far. Somebody get me some honey roasted peanuts, all ready.