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that urge for blue.

 Nothing has frozen over. Pigs still can't fly. And we did not just muddle through a month of Sunday's. a.n.d...... I still do not like to fly. After all my puffing about, my face scrunching, my eye rolling. After therapy, drugs, and many prayers, just the thought of getting on a plane is still enough to seriously harsh my mellow.  (I believe the phrase I used was "!@#$%^&*"). It hasn't always been this way, I have a platinum frequent flyer card for Pete's sake. Fear has never been my comfortable sweater. I do not wear it well. It just does not fit right, yet at this point it is surprisingly capacious. When it began to change? I can only guess. But my love of traveling trumps my fears, so I pull on it. I zip it up. I roll it into a ball and stuff the promises into my pockets. But then Darling ~ you know what?

Here I sit, the first week of Spring behind me, feeling like I am ready for anything, everything, and maybe just a bit more. You know …

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