I really don't like flying. I know it's supposed to be safer than driving, but there's something about boarding a large metal bird and flying thousands of miles above land that makes me a little nervous. Maybe it's because I watch LOST and the images of people being sucked out of the back of a plane that has broken in half and falling into the ocean are burned into my brain. Anyway so flying is not my favorite thing to do. My husband and I were flying back from Virginia and we were landing in Denver and then on to Salt Lake. Of course there was a storm and the captain told us that it might get bumpy. As the plane descended through the storm there was a lot of turbulence. At one point the plane dipped down really fast. I grabbed my husband and buried my head into his shirt. The other passengers reacted by saying, "Wooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" It wasn't the good woah when you are having the time of your life on a roller coaster. It was the type of woah when you think, "We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die." Well at least that's what I was thinking. Of course Evan laughs at me for being so scared and the guy next to him is looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe he was looking at me like that because he felt the same way and wished it was socially acceptable for him to react the way I was reacting. So we finally land but then we took off again twenty minutes later. So flying is still not something I want to do for a while.
On a lighter note, my husband stole my pillow last night...and I was sleeping on it! Usually after I get up he'll take it and use it along with his pillow. But last night Evan rolled over and pulled my pillow out from under my head. Of course this woke me up and I had to take it back. Of course he doesn't remember this and I swear it wasn't a dream. I'm 98% sure that it wasn't a dream. It was pretty hilarious.
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