Turbulence.

I got back to England on Wednesday, after the most turbulent flight of my life. I hate flying. It's getting worse the older I get. On this most recent tempt of fate (aka. flight), I gripped the in-flight pillow for over an hour with sweaty palms as our 737 was tossed around in the air. Even the flight attendants were instructed to sit down. I said my final prayers and prepared for the imminent plunge into the Atlantic. I checked for my life vest under the seat (thanks for the paranoia, mom), and went through the emergency landing procedures in my head. Needless to say, the plane held strong and I live to tell the tale of the HORRIBLE flight. It has come to my attention that my issues with flying may be past those of normal fliers; and yes, I am a freak. It's pretty ironic that flying seems so incredibly life-threatening to me, while Jonathan has decided to make a living out of it.

After my near-death experience (yes, I am exaggerating...just go along with it), I spent over 8 hours getting home from Gatwick airport (normally the trip should take about 2 1/2 hours). So that was fun. And very British. I forgot how "British" this country really is. But I did miss England while I was in the States. It's good to be home.