The dreamliner took a food/hunger? track the past two nights. Firstly, my bud Richard got us into a Royal Albert Hall-looking restaurant where folks stood up and left because of slow service. But the meals were full and elegant. Then last night we were walking outdoors along a path strewn with food service stations and some hoodlums tried to rob us but I held a knife on the bulky guy with no shirt as we fled.

Filling me up with your sweet dreams seems lazy even though safe here. Better than chintzy reviews of The Lovebirds or Military Wives which we watched and were entertained well enough but writing about it - - yawn-n-n . . .

Fifteen years ago I worded it this way:
The things we do during these trips are important but they've been covered previously and the only thing that matters is to be able to let go of the restraints and let the endorphins flow at a dizzying level. I cherish my dizziness and transfuse that within her in her first choice of manners. My largess comes from knowing she really doesn't realize how much more of a virtuoso she is than I.