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Bye, my lovelies.

We kissed that little velvet head goodbye. Three blonde girls skipped out the door to adventure. Bye, my lovelies.


Once again I realized airplanes are an assault on the senses. I remembered Josh's helpful tip. That is, to remove your shoes immediately once seated on the plane. The smell is lost amid the hullabaloo of passengers embarking. Much less suspicious than if you wait till mid flight. We had a row of 4 seats for the two of us. 4 blankets. 4 pillows. It's the posh life for me. I watched a fellow passenger settle in, with her knee-length coat, wooly headband, neck pillow, sleep mask, and blanket. So much texture. She promptly fell asleep. Clearly she has no voices in her head. 


We encountered pockets of turbulence. Everyone around me slumbered in the darkness, while I implored the Lord to spare our lives. The entire plane should thank me for holding vigil for our collective safety. Otherwise we'd be riding the whales below. 


The bag of apples that my sisters mocked me for were a great snack at ten o'clock, and again at midnight. My croissant at 3:30 a.m. looked delicious. It turned out to be the rubber one from the display case. I muscled through, as I never turn down free food. I hurriedly scarfed another apple as we taxied to the gate in Munich, lest the remaining honey crisps be confiscated at customs. Just for the record, they don't ask you about apples.


Rylan is currently renting our car. He will be driving the stick shift compact. Ever since I stalled the old Jeep Comanche while crossing state route 250 in Ohio, crying and praying as two semi trucks bore down on me from opposite directions, I leave that stuff up to him. I want to make it back to Canada some day. His driving in a strange country is much more likely to make that dream come true. 


As long as we remember the road sign that looks like No Sawhorses Allowed actually means something else, we should be good. 


Here you thought this post would be about something fun. And it's not. 👋🏽




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