Spent most of the day packing and doing last-minute things. Got a welcome call from Betty and we made plans to have her drive down to Ventura tomorrow after a 10:30 doctor's appointment.
Dragged my humongous suitcase to the bathroom scale because they charge for luggage over 50 pounds. It was 40, but that was without cosmetics; hope they don't weigh over 10.
Alison called. She also has a doctor's appointment this morning, but she should get here about 11:00 and we'll leave at noon for my 4:00 flight.
Flight--aagh! Am I really going to do this? I always have this jittery reaction when it gets down to the wire.
I assume I'll be able to use Ellen's computer and blog while I'm in Cal. I like the idea because one of my reasons for this thing is to keep a diary or journal for myself. I often refer back to it if I don't remember when I did something or how long it's been since something else.
Now I'll confess: I have the horrible habit, every time I fly, of imagining the headlines and my survivors' shock and sadness if the plane should go down: "U.S. Air Flight 1421 Crashes In Iowa Cornfield"; ..."She always dreaded air travel."; "Poor thing, she had a premonition."; "And she just lost all that weight..." Oh, no, no, I can't get on that plane!
But wait. Number 1421 consists of 14 and 21, both divisible by 7 and 7 is a lucky number, everybody knows that, so how could I think twice about it? Okay, much, much better--I'll not only get on the damn plane, I'll ride on the wing.
(And how I jeer at the superstitious!)