This plane smells like vomit and diarrhea. It is possible that somebody yacked in the ventilation system and now the smell of it is being distributed throughout the plane. I’m heading to Detroit now. There is a big football type sitting next to me—about my age and I can’t help thinking about H on my mid-may Logan to Seattle trip. I think I am in love with him.

Football dude is not my type, but it would be nice to have someone to chat with. I’m bored out of my mind. He’s glued to the window. I guess I’ll just sit here and type.

I never said goodbye to Sally. Maybe I will call from Michigan. I’m pretty sure that she doesn’t have service where she is and the only number I have for her is her cell. I’ll leave a message.

Yesterday, I spent the day making Scab a birthday gift. It came out fairly well—I think she’ll like it. She may not love the picture, but hopefully she’ll get over it—it was the only one that fit. I printed it as an 8x10, framed it, and hung it on her wall with a bow. God, I am good—a little last minute, but good nonetheless.