Dearest, sweetest Cosmic Twin. I didn't notice but I felt it. Rob and I really wanted to take your mind off things (and our own minds as well). I know we did a fair job of things but yeah...when I look around now I too think of things that I can't seem to stop inside. I know that you're that way, too. TwinChick :-) We're wired like that.

When the plane was taking off from Seattle...I'm always freaked at take offs and landings. Rob let me dig my claws into his hand and after an entire chorus of Ave Maria (in my head, not aloud so as not to frighten the neighbors), we're airborne and climbing. We were over Federal Way en route to San Diego. Looking out the window (beyond Rob, who had coveted the window seat forcing us to race down the airplane's aisle in an undignified manner upon boarding as I was suddenly possessed of a desire to sit there), I thought as I looked at the buildings and waterways below, "This is what it would have looked like for those poor, poor people on those planes."

I don't know with everything going on in the world now…they said things would never be the same. You hear that a lot about events and somehow, things do seem to recover and go on as before. This seemed to be so personal, so close, even though it's no closer than anything else. I feel more upset and bewildered than I did dodging bottles and tear gas during Mardi Gras. Things really aren't the same. Even something as personal as my fear of flying is now tinged with fear of something else that was never there before.

This weekend, I sought diversions. I read a couple of children's novels by L. M. Montgomery, the last two in the Anne of Green Gables series. I hadn't realized the last novel, "Rilla of Ingleside," dealt with the Canadian entrance into World War I. It wasn't as escapist for me as I'd wished, although still a lovely story. I'll have to read it again at some other point in time where it's harder for me to identify with the initial denials and eventual personalization of the tragedies in their time and place.

And so, we strike back. Thank goodness for weapons of intricate design and skillful plotting. No wonder the Chinese didn't believe we'd made a mistake in bombing their embassy. We can be so precise with our weaponry.

In three years, Chris will be old enough to register for the draft.

I'm glad to know you had a great weekend, Corey. :-)

Dearest, sweetest Cosmic Twin. I didn't notice but I felt it. Rob and I really wanted to take your mind off things (and our own minds as well). I know we did a fair job of things but yeah...when I look around now I too think of things that I can't seem to stop inside. I know that you're that way, too. TwinChick :-) We're wired like that.

When the plane was taking off from Seattle...I'm always freaked at take offs and landings. Rob let me dig my claws into his hand and after an entire chorus of Ave Maria (in my head, not aloud so as not to frighten the neighbors), we're airborne and climbing. We were over Federal Way en route to San Diego. Looking out the window (beyond Rob, who had coveted the window seat forcing us to race down the airplane's aisle in an undignified manner upon boarding as I was suddenly possessed of a desire to sit there), I thought as I looked at the buildings and waterways below, "This is what it would have looked like for those poor, poor people on those planes."

I don't know with everything going on in the world now…they said things would never be the same. You hear that a lot about events and somehow, things do seem to recover and go on as before. This seemed to be so personal, so close, even though it's no closer than anything else. I feel more upset and bewildered than I did dodging bottles and tear gas during Mardi Gras. Things really aren't the same. Even something as personal as my fear of flying is now tinged with fear of something else that was never there before.

This weekend, I sought diversions. I read a couple of children's novels by L. M. Montgomery, the last two in the Anne of Green Gables series. I hadn't realized the last novel, "Rilla of Ingleside," dealt with the Canadian entrance into World War I. It wasn't as escapist for me as I'd wished, although still a lovely story. I'll have to read it again at some other point in time where it's harder for me to identify with the initial denials and eventual personalization of the tragedies in their time and place.

And so, we strike back. Thank goodness for weapons of intricate design and skillful plotting. No wonder the Chinese didn't believe we'd made a mistake in bombing their embassy. We can be so precise with our weaponry.

In three years, Chris will be old enough to register for the draft.

I'm glad to know you had a great weekend, Corey. :-)