Not ready, really.

No, I'm not packed. No, I have not stopped the mail. I'm not ready to leave for two weeks and tomorrow night when I can't sleep and I can't do much but look at the same shirt five fucking times as I put it in and take it out again of my suitcase I still won't know what I want to wear.

I don't relish the thought of a nine-hour flight and the large man who puts his seat all the way back. Oh, and you know. Getting searched and patted down isn't on my list of fun things either.

But shit. I'll be in Amsterdam and I won't care about the small stuff. I'll smell the piss in the streets on Konniningdag and love every second of it. See you soon!

I love my Dad

Isn't this a great picture? My dad (who is also a pilot) loves planes; where do you think I got it? :) When I was a kid they used to take us out to Miramar for air shows with the Blue Angels and the family was always afraid I would start crying from the booms, but I never did.

My dad lives in San Diego so I don't get to see him except about once a year. That's pretty criminal considering he's the only parent I've got living and he's just a great guy in general. I'm going to have to do something about that. Ok that sounds like I'm going to bump him off. No! I'm going to have to visit him more often, is what I meant. He's past 60 now and not getting younger. Besides that he loves bacon and probably won't live to be 90. Plus, he has a temper the same as I do and I'm sure it doesn't help his blood pressure.

Anyway it looks like he had a great time at an air show while the man and I were out having fun at Devil's Lake this weekend.