I’m starting to think about MdS as a restful vacation with a bit running thrown in. I’m not underestimating the desert...
Hello from the St. Louis airport. It’s pretty chilly here at the phone charging station. I’ve got my puffy on, and I’m close to seeking out hot chocolate. The perils of leaving San Antonio weather in September…
I sat next to a sweet woman in her 90s on my last flight. She told me how she’s always telling her daughter to be adventurous while she’s young. Her 70 year-old daughter. I really hope my mom is telling me that when I’m 70.
She also told me how she gave away her husband’s computer when he died because the technology always frustrated him, and she wanted no part of that. I can imagine myself giving away contraptions in 2062 that seem more trouble that they’re worth.
I offered to help her open her peanuts, but flailed as much as she did with her bent, arthritic fingers. I finally had to use my teeth. (Not necessarily what you want your seat partner doing to your peanut package.)
After she ate the peanuts, she asked if I thought the flight attendants would object to her eating the sandwich she’d packed for herself. I assured her sandwich-eating was allowed — especially in the days of 12-peanut meals.
My next flight is about to board, so I’ll sign off.
Running: 1 hour with baby jogger
20 hard miles were on the schedule, but Ruby woke up with a fever and I keep her home from preschool. Neither of us were up for a 20-mile baby jog, so I’ll treadmill it at the hotel tomorrow.