Beats a bowl of Cheerios at home

One of the decidedly decadent benefits of befriending a pilot is flying to breakfast in the mountains. This morning, I was treated to a flight up to Stanley in the Sawtooth Mountains. I had to fight back the turbulence-induced urge to vomit on the hour-long flight home, but it was a beautiful ride.

Looking down at Stanley from the bluff on which the airport sits:

Me, the plane, and the Sawtooths:

Don't do anything stupid!

The approach into Boise:

I managed to make it through the trip without throwing up. But it was close.