Not done yet…
Palm trees at the airport. This was not skiing country.
The cheap tickets were through LA, so, back up and east to snow on the mountains, and between having been dropped off a tad early on Michelle’s way to work and when we finally arrived, the hank of worsted merino/silk needing to be wound into a ball was now a new hat with ends needing to be run in. Made for a long day; might as well make it a productive one. (Is it just me that feels like after sitting in an airport awhile you no longer remember what time zone you’re in when you haven’t even left your own yet?)
My family and I spent the evening laughing nonstop as we compared do-you-remember-whens between our parents and the oldest and youngest siblings with me in between.
Good times. And as Mom pointed out, her parents were married 72 years; they’ve got twelve to go.