I am in Auckland, New Zealand now, courtesy of a nine-hour flight on Singapore. As of now, I have spent about 26 hours on planes in the past nine days. After my flight tomorrow to ChristChurch, then to Fiji, then to Los Angeles, then to San Jose, that will put me at around 40 hours on planes by the time the trip is over. That is almost a fulltime week for some of you. Not Masta P, of course, but most of the others. The only reason I explained this all to you is so I can justify why this blogger will be pretty short. My eyes are burning, my brain is firing the neurons a bit slower, and I could fall into a deep slumber at any point. The all night flight on Singapore Airlines would have been nice if I wasn't in the middle seat of an aisle surrounded by the cast of 'Sound of Music', with Afghan refugees running around in the seats in front of me. The homie in the seat directly in front of me had a lovely habit of tipping his chair back the whole way with utter disregard to the fact that my knees were put in quite a predictament as a result. So I stayed up, and watched three movies, played Nintendo 64 'Golf Hole in One' tournaments, and ate the chicken sausage they passed out. Could have been worse my friends. So Auckland is filled with really nice people but isn't much to look at, so we are flying down to South Island tomorrow. That is supposed to be home to some of the most awesome scenery this planet has to offer, so we are looking forward to it. Neal is trying to get me to skydive, but he is barking up the wrong tree. Call me a scared little girl if you want, but the only way I am jumping out of a plane is if it is still on the ground. We fly into Christchurch, and from there start a hiking and outdoor extravaganza that should show some more scenery than the 101/280 Junction i usually would be looking at. For you enquiring minds, the eventually found my bag. Thank goodness, after a few days of the same boxers and socks, my brother was about to kick me out. Ugh. TIred. Must sleep now.