So I stood James up last night. Hopefully he's not taking it too hard.
Apparently my love of British accents was not influential enough to make the weather behave, and between the freezing rain here, the thunderstorms in Atlanta, waiting in line for de-icing, and countless delayed flights everywhere all jockeying for priority to land, I didn't quite make it to the concert. We did actually get on the plane and taxi out a few times, but the ice-sealed flaps (which, I hear, are important for the whole flying deal) meant we never did progress to the taking off part.
I did, however, get to finish two half-read novels and chat with fellow almost-passengers and admire photos of kids/grandkids/poodles and eat ice cream on a stick from a vending machine. Oh, and I am really good at crossword puzzles. I also got to spend the night with my cousin and his wife (who live near the airport) at their gorgeous new house.
Also, I got to feel loved. The hubby drove me to the airport since I am an even worse driver than usual in icy conditions, The Ununcle monitored flights and gave advice and even missed the concert on his end of things, and Craig and Angela braved the weather and roads to collect me from the airport. I so wish I'd had my camera with me so y'all could see Angela's hand-painted footstool in the guest suite, with its welcome basket of towels, bath essentials, and bottled water. It was like a posh hotel except, well, friendlier.
All in all, it was not a bad way to spend a day.
This morning, long after Craig and Angela had left for work, I sipped hot chocolate and savored a magazine and relished the stillness and quiet. Not quite as good as a full concert of that brilliant Brit accent, perhaps, but pretty darn close.