nineteen minutes / ten hours

Left hotel in Boulder at 5am, arrived Brunswick at 7pm, spent ten hours in between either sitting on airplane (1.5 hours on tarmac in Denver, 4 hours in air, 45 minutes on tarmac in New York, 1.5 hours in air) or sitting in airport lobby. Or, briefly, running between terminals at laguardia (which included going out of security, walking outside, down the sidewalk, past the freight entrances and into the us scareways terminal) to make our next flight (which, at least was also late, so we did make it). Having never been to laguardia, I now know why people try to avoid it.

Two redeeming details of the day.

First detail (can it be a detail if it takes up ten hours?). While sitting, I read Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Piccoult. I know, it's not fine literature. But she writes a darn good story and it was a perfect length - I started reading when I got on the airplane and I finished it just as the wheels came down over Portland. The quandries in her books always make you think.

Second detail. I'm home with my sweeties. One's a chatterbox and one's a bit groggy. But they are both awfully cute. Good to be home.