Because sometimes, in winter, I'm out on the street and I catch a whiff of something that smells like airplane fuel, and it makes me hugely nostalgic. Because we always lived in places where you walked across the runway to get to the plane.
Like I ever intimated I was normal.
The picture above was taken on a houseboat in Kashmir on my Gramma Lillian's first trip to visit us in India. From Minot, North Dakota. In fact, it was her first trip out of the continental US. Minot does, in case you're wondering, have an international airport; they have a daily flight to Canada.
This photo jumps forward several years, clearly. I love that we are decked out in our Christmas finest - and so are the Christmas elephants. (And please, please check out my mom's hair and my dad's pants.)
This photo has nothing to do with Christmas, but it makes me giggle. I'm not sure why I'm propped on suitcases. And I look like I'm smoking a cigarette. Although, casual as my parents may have been about us wearing seat belts and going to the bathroom in public and such, I'm pretty sure, on closer inspection, that I'm clutching a hankie or something.