November 2 is Alan's birthday. This year he fulfilled a dream he's talked about since we were first married. An item on his bucket list. We have different bucket lists, he and I. I'm sure you can figure that out. Like any true male, he loves to get his adrenaline flowing. He also loves planes. Another dream of his is to learn to fly a plane, but that's for another day, another time. I hate planes. I hate to fly. It's a freak of nature. Not natural. There's nothing holding you up. Yes, I know, that's irrational. You can try and explain the forces, air, etc. that propel you through the sky, but spare me. That's how I feel. I don't want to get in a plane (how exactly I am going to fly across an OCEAN to AFRICA, I haven't figured out yet. Prayer. Prayer. Prayer. Drugs? To be determined.) I definately don't want to jump out of one. Unless that plane is crashing and I am wearing a parachute. Then definately. That's the only valid reason. Okay, enough of my fears and weird ideas. Alan really wanted to jump out of a plane. He did it! Here we are before the plane went up. I was hoping it wasn't going to be the last picture we ever took together. Especially since the kids were there watching, too. And his parents. Morbid thought, huh? The smile on my face is actually fake. Plastered on for the kids sake.
Here's the plane he rode in:
That dot in the sky? That would be my husband.
He landed safely.......
and was all smiles when the adventure was over.
My daredevil hunky husband had a great birthday! 36 years old!