I had to go to heartland for a meeting.  I didn’t really know where I was going because I keep myself on a “need-to-know basis” — I don’t need to know details until just before I really need to know them.  It turned out to be a perfectly lovely and forgettable place.

At the lunch meeting, for salad dressings we had a choice of ranch or (violently red) raspberry. You know you’re in “America” when you would kill for a bottle of Wishbone Italian dressing.

Also the plane was so small that, instead of the pilot’s saying “flight attendants, please take your seats for landing,” he said, “Andrew, please take your seat now.”  And during the flight, I kept watching the propellers as if by sheer force of will, they would keep whirling.