Dear Northwest Airlines,
I hate you. I love you. I HATE YOU. I hate how you woo me back every time with, “Please, baby, just one more chance? I’ll give you whiskey and a nice meal on real plates with silverware while the poor schmucks in the back have to pay $3 for the red snackbox. I’ll give you your own private bathroom and a footrest. I’ll give you so many frequent flier miles that you’ll never want to leave me again.” I’M SUCH A SUCKER. Anyway, I bought tickets to Denver today to see the Dalai Lama. His speech is on a Sunday, so we’re flying out Friday night and will have all of Saturday to go hiking in the Rockies. So awesome. Monday night, I went to Kaye’s and ate really good macaroni and cheese and watched Mommie Dearest, and WHY DO YOU MAKE ME HIT YOU??? Last night, I went for a walk with Wendy, and we laughed about the party-cabin the entire way. When I got home, I did this hour-long iTrain routine (that site rocks, fyi) involving weights and isometrics. You’re supposed to use 3lb weights, but the smallest I have is ten. During the leg-stretching at the end, my abs cramped and I wanted to die; I’m pretty sure it was due to all the laughing. Today I’m all-too-aware of my triceps, and that’s a very strange feeling indeed. Also, I just either pulled a muscle in my back or finally ruptured the disc in my neck, I’m not sure which. Let’s pray for the first, yes? Jenni