A week ago Monday I got a call from a friend who lives in Florida. She asked “uh what are you doing this weekend?  Want to fly to Florida?”

She decided to come back here, to Indiana to pursue a job opportunity and wanted me to fly down Thursday evening and help her drive back Friday. If you know me, you know that agreeing to get on a plane means I must really love this person. I am not a good flier. The chest pains and heart palpitations always interfere with a good flight. 

  My dad and brother dropped me off at the airport and were good sports when I asked them to hang around until I got through security. I was afraid I didn’t have my makeup bagged correctly and there was NO way I was tossing urban decay makeup. 
  Me and my make up made it through security and I sat waiting on my flight.  And waiting. And waiting. We were slightly delayed. And I was slightly nervous. But I ended up making it without incident. 

 Packing for the return trip. 

  Tiff, Olli and me heading out to start the drive back. We left about 9pm and planned on driving through the night. I was so proud of myself–I drove from 9 until about 5 the next morning. Tiff wasn’t as proud. She said the last hour or so of my driving was a little concerning. 

  Olli and I hanging out on the last leg of the trip home. We all made it safe and sound by noon the next day.  

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