BOO

Don't cry, it's only a blog post.

Stephen and I have decided to pass on any real holiday celebrations this year. We really look forward to to putting a ten-month old in some adorable costume next year, but feel very little desire to make any effort this October 31. So while Stephen is home studying,  I'm in Utah for a couple days. If you're a Utah resident, I love you and I want to see you, but I want to see you over Thanksgiving or Christmas when I have more than two minutes to spend with you.

It turns out that air travel is a complete faisco no matter how short the flight. Turns out that even if you're flying for fifty minutes from Denver to Provo, and even if you're 7 months pregnant and unable to bend over, you still have to take off your boots to go through security. Yes, it takes ten minutes to take them off, and another ten to put them back on. However, if 7 months pregnant, you do not have to go through the full body scan, though I like to think that Ivy would have waved to the good folks of TSA.

There's that moment when, after you've heard your fellow passenger's complete life story, you realize that there's thirty minutes left in the flight you have nothing left to ask or say. You stare out the window, pretending to take in the grandeur, but instead really focusing on the smudged glass and wondering what disgusting human caused it. You pull out your mobile electronic device and act like trying to beat solitaire is the most important thing you've ever done. You occasionally say "I hope we land soon," or "I wish they gave us more than half a drink," and then fall back into silence. You wonder, "Am I completely incapable of human interaction?", "Am I as awkward as I fear?", "Yes. I am," you decide and sip your gingerale in horror.
Happy Halloween!