You’d never take your shoes off at a stranger’s house. You’d never take your belt off in a department store. Yet, at the airport it’s an everyday occurrence. Putting my shoes back on at the San Diego Airport, it occurs to me how odd it is that we’ve become so informal clothes-wise in the name of security.

I notice how travelers deliberately avert their eyes from others as they lift up their shirts to put their belts on, revealing untanned, pudgy bellies. We overlook the underwear sticking out the back of another traveler’s pants as she puts her shoes on and keeps her toddler from running away. It’s a matter of respect and necessity in today’s travel era.

I like to think of all these people, rendered powerless simply by the removal of a few articles of clothing, in a board room or conducting business. It’s funny, really, to imagine someone completely out of their professional persona.

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What seat do you choose when traveling? Despite having the tiniest bladder in the world, knowing I’ll have to squeeze past my fellow seat sharers, I always choose the window seat. I’m still like a kid, peering down through the clouds at the landscapes below. Now living in Southern California, I delight in the ever-changing brown and red mountains that melt into dry ravines, then farmland.

I read a lot while flying, but on takeoff and landing, I look out the window. When I travel with Max, I have to bite my tongue and let him have the window seat. He’s got his whole life to marvel at the view.

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Continental serves cereal on their flights. Even for the plebes in coach. Neat.

Sorry I haven’t written. Mom’s here and we’ve been a whirlwind of tourism activity. We…

• Went to Julian, famous for their apple pie, and didn’t eat apple pie
• Took far too many layers to wear on our very long Harbor Tour
• Spent far too much money at Old Town
• Drank a lot of wine

Then Mom stayed with Max while hub and I had a little wine country getaway in Temecula. Check out our photo tour.

I’ve got a business trip the rest of the week, and I hope to catch up on all my blogs.

I’m a good friend, or at least I like to think I am. I try to change my feelings with the tides of my friends feelings. If it’s I hate him; he’s a jerk, I concur. Once it’s he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I also concur.

But unfortunately, I also have opinions. Strong ones. Most of the time they don’t get in the way. I love my friends and know that they make the right decisions, and I usually agree with them wholeheartedly.

But there’s this friend. Who’s been dating a crazy woman (I should say girl) for years. Seriously. Crazy. Like snakes in her head. She’s caused enough drama in his (and our) life to have her own reality tv series. And he left her. And moved far away. And all his friends cheered.

Til he moved back. And his Facebook status said Engaged.

I want to get over the fact that she’s falsely accused me of having relations with this friend. That she’s done things to him you simply don’t do in a relationship. That she’s butted in our business with this friend. That she is pure evil. I want to congratulate him and say “I wish you the best” and mean it.

But I can’t. I just can’t.

What do you do when you simply can’t muster up the enthusiasm to be happy for a friend?