It's one of those views where the clouds and the sky are the same sky blue, and the white clouds making lines and ripples, and oh my god I love flying.
zibblsnrt, on your rant the other night about the space program (or lack of), might it have become too *commonplace*? I mean flying is something everybody does these days, and it's really no big deal, whereas back in the day, flying was a bit less common. I think part of the problem is maybe that. I mean, it's not magic anymore. (Not that it ever was, but when it was a little less common, people who did fly were looked upon with awe and wonder.)
Heh, the captain just pointed out the tule fog in the San Joaquin Valley. Tule fog. That's actually something I miss about growing up in the Central Valley. For those of you not familiar with California geography, the state has one big huge long valley running from roughly Redding to Bakersfield. Two major rivers drain this valley, the Sacramento from the north, and the San Joaquin from the south. (That's pronounced San wah-KEEN, for those of you not in the know about Spanish pronounciations either.) Anyway, this valley is most of the reason why California grows so many things, and while the Midwest may be the grain basket, we provide a lot of the fruits and vegetables that go on your table. It's partly because of this large agriculture business that the State of Californai, on its own, is the fifth largest economy in the world.
Anyway, in the winter, there's fog...and then there's the tule fog. Normal fog is bad enough. It descends from the sky and cloaks everything in gray, but it usually burns off fairly quickly. This is the type of fog one sees often in the Bay Area. The tule, on the other hand, rises from the ground and smothers everything in grey. My mother is scared to death of Jill or I driving in the stuff, because it's seriously pea soup consistency. It by itself has caused a bunch of accidents on Interstate 5, which is the freeway that threads itself from Redding to the Tehachapee Range (that spelling's probably wrong, but it's close. If you've ever heard of the Grapevine, that's the path I-5 treks through that range from the Central Valley to Los Angeles. Anyway, the tule is nasty, but it reminds me of home.
The asshole is sitting in front of me. When our flight was delayed, he's the one that was yelling and screaming. He got on the plane, and said derisively, "I didn't know we were going in a puddle jumper." I caught him saying "I made the mistake of flying American" several times. A real jerk. Ah well, patience is a virtue, and while I was waiting for the flight, I had a chance to start a new book, which is cool so far, and I should remember to thank jrenken for it, as it was the book he gave me for a Christmas present.
I want to noodle on some of the themes in it before I talk about it, though.
And I think that was Santa Barbara a ways back. There's definitely an island out my window, but it doesn't look inhabited, so I wonder what it is. And there's a second, larger island, but it also looks uninhabited...hmm, that might be Santa Catalina, but I thought Avalon was there, and I don't see any signs that anybody lives there, except that maybe there's an airstrip there. It's, I think, too far north to be Catalina. There's definitely three islands.
And that looks like LA off to the left. Gah, sprawl. Granted, the Bay Area sprawls too, but not quite as bad. And there's a container ship wending its way out of Long Beach. I wonder where it's going.
Anyway, I'm going to put this up. Y'all will get to read it when I can get to jrenken's house or something. See you then.