Flight Delays

My husband's trip home from Haiti has been delayed twice, and now the word is, "Don't come to the airport until I call you as we get off the plane." In Columbus, this is not hard to do--it's an awfully easy city to get around in--unless I'm driving. I usually start out about an hour early for this 20 minute drive so I can ask directions after I get lost. I double checked with my friend AZ on how to get onto 670 this morning. She even offered to ride along to direct me, but I think the arrival is a bit too iffy.

However, when I talked to him this morning, not even an unexpected night in New York could dampen his enthusiasm. I asked him if he wanted to go back to Haiti, and he said, "It's not IF, it's WHEN."

Speaking of driving, last week I had another one of those rude men in a pick-up roll down his window and scream at me. And I do mean screaming--his face was purple, my windows were rolled up and the radio was on, but I could hear him. I guess he had been behind me until the stop light for which I had slowed down in order not to rear end the car in front of me. I was driving the speed-limit--seems he wanted to go faster. I just gave him the "Yo mama wears combat boots" look.