Flying the Friendly Skies

Megan in FreeFall

Fiancée has some quirks.

One of her quirks is that she loves being surprised.  You may lazily yawn and say that you enjoy a good surprise, too.  But that is not at all what I'm talking about.  I mean that she LOVES it.

Think last-day-of-school-summer's-here-now kind of excited.

Think winning a billion dollar lottery kind of excited.

Think the-kids-are-gone-for-the-weekend kind of excited.

If you're female, think bubble bath, a glass of wine, and no one yelling, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," kind of excited.

If you're a guy, think kids are being quiet, she's shriveling in the bath, and I'm not in trouble for something that I don't really understand kind of greatness.

She gets like a little kid.

Not kidding.

Needless to say, I noticed this pretty early on in our relationship, and, to my credit, I have created some cool surprises for her.

Redfish in Venice, Louisiana

Once, I took her fishing in Venice, Louisiana.  She had no idea where we were going, much less the reason for the trip.  We were at the end of the continental United States, right before one disappears into the Gulf of Mexico, and she still didn't quite know what we were doing all the way down there.  She didn't do very well at guessing that surprise, but she caught plenty of redfish and speckled trout that day.  She was excited.

So, keeping with the tradition of random surprises, I found a skydive place and booked a reservation for her.  Unbeknownst to her, of course.  Then I told her the date and said that that day was all mine because she had a surprise coming.  I even handled the child-care issues.

She says that I'm amazing.

Who am I to question insight when it's so perceptive?

 

 

Check out Megan's Skydiving experience (complete with video) at:

 

 Reckonings of a Curmudgeon

 

 

 

Shipwrecked at Angola

Shipwrecked

Well... We made it back from the rodeo all in one piece.  We even had a good time, mostly.  Successful trip, I'd say.  Wouldn't you?

We began the journey later than we meant to, but, of course, that's my fault.  Somehow.

As you may or may not know, Fiancée has two sons.  One, of course is the little tornado; he's eight.  The other is a freshman in college; he's eighteen.  We decided to swing by his university and include him in our little rodeo soiree.  I was happy to do so, and I'm glad he went.  Besides, he's thin, so he doesn't really add much weight to the bus.

After picking up skinny boy, we headed to Vidalia, Louisiana to overnight in the Wal-Mart parking lot there.  I'm really getting acquainted with the Wal-Mart parking lots in America.

Crossing the Mighty Mississippi

I went to sleep with instructions to be awakened at a certain time, but Fiancée took pity on me and let me sleep in.  (For you English critics out there, "in did she allow me to sleep.")  She's really very sweet to me.  And I do try hard to appreciate her kindnesses.  My new motto is: "Clocks be damned!"  It's easier that way.

We crossed the mighty Mississippi River into Natchez, Mississippi and headed south to Angola.  I've never been this way before, so I had no knowledge of the local roads.  I followed the GPS which directed me onto a "highway" that has a speed limit of 45mph.  Hmmmph.  I came to the conclusion that 45mph was a very optimistic assessment of the maximum speed that one should travel on this particular stretch of asphalt, patches, and potholes.

Read the rest of this post at:

Reckonings of a Curmudgeon