Ok. So I promise not to post every few hours, but hey, this is exciting stuff, and so far, it’s just me and the Macbook. But I did meet an engineer from S. India, a 20 something from Austria (who braved me watching his bags), and am now sitting next to a little Polynesian boy and mom, in route to Houston from Hawaii. I’m thinking the flight attendant has the primo job! Would they train a 59 yo??

Cruising over the Sierra Nevada, that familiar sea of granite that marks my younger years in the mountains, I spotted Half-dome, standing boldly like a dear old friend, blessing me on my way.  I’m certain I saw Hetch Hetchy Valley and glimpses of Tuolomne meadows too– through the clouds. And Mono Lake hasn’t moved either (or the tiny town of Lee Vining), though it’s shoreline has shrunk considerably since the 70’s and it’s quickly becoming a remnant of the lake I recall.

Remembering that airplane food is pretty “rot gut.”  I packed some food from home to keep me satiated. A tuna sandwich, power bars, and fresh picked broccoli. The broccoli is comfort food; little bites of home. The garden is beginning to burst. Not an easy time to leave home. I’m thinking maybe I should finish the broccoli before I hit customs in Quito. Do they grow broccoli in Ecuador? Know what it is? For a split second, I saw myself in a little room with inspectors quizzing me in Spanish about the strange plant I’m carrying into the country. Must be that movie I saw at the Redbox, but didn’t get. “Left to Die.” Not watching that one till after this trip!

And what weird aeronautic discovery made them start turning up the tips of airplane wings? Doesn’t that reduce the effective surface area for the Bernoulli Effect? Not a thought to dwell upon during this turbulance . . .

I needed this trip. Needed perspective. I’m just a few handfuls of atoms relative to this timeless expanse. I’m small. Insignificant to the big picture. And because of that,  everything is going to be alright.