Time for that song.
That Leaving on a Jet Plane song.
The one I started singing last month.
When we weren't really getting on a plane at all.
We were getting in the car.
But I was excited.
When I get excited, I often sing.
Nonsensical singing usually. Imagine! Ayup.
This time we really are getting on an airplane.
We depart Virginia from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (goddammit that name is long and unwieldy and hard to wrap one's tongue around... even for one with maximum flexibility!).
We land at George (H.) Bush Intercontinental in Houston, Texas. (Hopefully after an uneventful safe flight! *knocking on wood*)
Did you notice? From one airport named after a republican past president to a second airport named after a republican past president. I'll wear my Kerry/Edwards button as a talisman to ward off evil. Never hurts to be cautious. Even though politics are no more contagious than homosexuality.
And it begs the question: how many airports in America are named after republican past presidents? And how many are named after past presidents who are/were democrats? Do I have the energy to google an answer? Not at present. But I am curious.
Wendy's from Texas. Which is why we are going there. There are people there who know and love and need her. And me too. So we'll go. Because that's what families do, oui?
Oui! Actually I should say "si". I'll bet more folks speak Spanish than French in Texas.
Not sure if I can and/or will blog from there. Probably not. Try not to miss me too much.
Back next week.
About this time.
About this place.
In the meantime....