Now THAT’S Funny

Ok…so that clean bill of health I got last Friday has turned out to be not quite as clean as advertised. Its nothing terrible but I got another call from the cardiologist about something they saw when I was wearing the heart monitor that they need to address by sending me to a electrophysiologist, and putting me on a new medicine. When I got the news I was naturally bummed since I went from clean bill of health to here we go again so fast I got whiplash. When I told Pam about it she sprang into action likes she always does by pointing out all the positives of the situation. By the time she was finished she had convinced me that I was probably the luckiest man alive for getting to meet an actual, honest to God electrophysiologist!! Then yesterday she sends me this text:

Here’s a tip for all of you single people out there. If you’re looking for someone to marry, find somebody who is relentlessly positive, someone who will not abide self pity. But above all, someone with a wicked sense of comic timing!

Doing My Part to Lift Your Spirits

You know what’s hard? Trying to post some decent dad jokes after you’ve read the news. First I see a video of a couple hundred teenagers running wild on Michigan Avenue and am told that during the chaos two kids were shot. Then I read of a sweet sixteen birthday party in Alabama which resulted in the deaths of four and the injuring of 16 others when gunfire broke out after a fight had broken out at a dance club…and I’m thinking, “who wants to deal with dad jokes after that?” Probably nobody.

But then I think, too bad, I’m going to publish them anyway. Its not my fault that the world is full of idiots with weapons. I’m getting annoyed with how often some whack job is given permission to steal my joy by shooting an innocent in cold blood. I’m either going to have to stop reading the news or get better at compartmentalizing. Since I can’t resign from the human race, I’m left with storing all of this mindless killing away in a dark corner of my brain and plowing forward with trying to be a blessing to someone every day. For me, part of that is trying to make people smile, laugh, or at the very least, roll their eyes. So…

What do you call a spinal manipulator from Egypt?

A Cairo-practor 

What is brown and rhymes with Snoop?

Dr. Dre

Two nudists were discussing politics. One says to the other, “Have you read Marx?”

The other nods, “It’s these blasted wicker chairs.”

A woman is on trial for beating her husband to death with his guitar collection. Judge says, “First offender?”

She says, “No, your honor. First a Gibson! Then a Fender.”

Why did the grim reaper get his eyesight checked?

He was worried about his death perception.

A blond teenager brought her new boyfriend home to meet her parents and they were appalled at his behavior and attitude. After he left they said to her, “Honey, I don’t think he was very nice at all!” The blond teenager turns to her parents and says…

“If he wasn’t very nice at all, then why would he be doing 500 hours of community service?”

What’s the difference between cats and commas?

Cats have claws at the end of their paws, but commas are the pause at the end of a clause.

A Clean Bill of Health!

My day started with a cellphone call which interrupted me in the middle of my sit-ups regime. A client was on the other end asking me if she had gotten her wires crossed, “I’m at your office for our 8:30 appointment.” I assured her that it was supposed to be for 10:00, but that I would be there in a flash. I cut my workout short, jumped in the shower, got dressed and walked in the door at 9:00 sharp. When I looked in my appointment book, there she was, clear as day…booked in precisely at 8:30 am Friday morning, the 14th of April.

I suppose it safe to say that I had much on my mind these past few weeks. This was the second such crossed-wired appointments screwup for me since my unfortunate running incident back in March. But today was the day I was to get some answers from the doctor, so to mark the occasion, I woke up with yet another swollen eye! Oh, the mysterious power of stress.

There was nothing but good news from the nurse practitioner. All of the fears I had about my mitral valve repair having gone bad proved unfounded. Remarkably, my heart is in terrific shape. Every test I endured had the same result…a healthy, correctly beating heart. Although the heart monitor I wore for two weeks did report a couple of racing episodes, they were when I was sound asleep and caused her no alarm. My stress test  extra beats episode was nothing out of the ordinary. In short, I am fine. So, when I asked her, “Then what the heck happened to me  during that run??”, she answered, “I don’t know. Maybe you were dehydrated or your electrolytes were out of whack, and certainly if it happens again you need to tell us, but from everything I’m looking at, your heart is fine!” This was the proverbial clean bill of health.

So, aside from the fact that my bank account is a little lighter, I could not be happier. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been praying for me and sending me encouragement along the way. It was and is appreciated.

Tomorrow morning, I’m going for a run, baby!!

The Horns of a Dilemma

It was a Sunday evening, the hottest night of the summer, and Benny’s fifteen year old hormones were raging. The church service was finally over and the grownups had all drifted down to the fellowship hall for a covered dish supper, which left all of the old Sunday School classes in the old building dark and cool. Benny’s favorite room had always been the dark-paneled twenty foot square space reserved for the Sojourner’s, the Sunday School class where all the monied old men gathered to listen to someone read a chapter from the Old Testament then sat around talking about business until the bell rang. Benny liked it because the chairs were made out of wood and had soft red seat cushions. He loved the secretary’s desk that sat between the two towering stain glass windows, the solid maple frame and shiny surface held up a green-shade desk lamp, which when turned on in the darkness shrouded the place in soft yellow light. He didn’t have to wonder why this was the only class in the church which had seat cushions and wooden chairs. These were the old-timers, the power brokers whose ancestors had been the founding members of Bethesda Baptist Church, a proud congregation about to enter it’s third century of continuous operation. The fact that Benny’s father was the current shepherd of such a proud and pious flock was a subject of supreme annoyance to fifteen year old Benjamin Caleb Adams. Many nights Benny lay awake in the cramped quarters of his church supplied residence wondering if anything could be more inconvenient for any self respecting boy than being a preacher’s kid. But, he had not been given a vote on the subject of his father’s occupation. And although the assumptions that came along with having a minister of the gospel for a father were infuriating, Benny never held his father personally responsible. He loved him as much as it was possible for any teenager to love their father. But, on this particular night, any resentments he felt in this regard were the last thing on his mind. His every thought throughout the interminable service of the past hour had been fixed upon the ravishing Amanda Lockhart at his side, the beguiling blond with green eyes and delicious lips who was always game for any stolen moments of friskiness that Benny’s cleverness and audacity could bring to pass, and on this night, Benny had a plan.

After making a perfunctory appearance in the fellowship hall, and making note of the presence of both of his parents and Amanda’s equally ravishing mother, Benny led a giggling Amanda back down the hallway into the passageway that led into the sanctuary. Here they had to be careful. It was dark and hard to see and still close enough to the fellowship hall that you could still hear muffled voices. Benny, knew the route by heart and artfully led them around the baptismal pool, past the pastor’s office and around the janitorial supply closet without tripping on anything, until finally he came to the solid mahogany door with the bronze plaque attached to the arms of the cross…Sojourner’s Class.

It had been a conscious choice. Benny could have picked any number of dusty rooms in this wing of the old building. There was the largest class where the blue-haired women met—The Agape Collective— mostly the wives of the Sojourners. But they had folding metal chairs and the room smelled like mothballs and urine. There were any number of other rooms equally sufficient for the job at hand. But Benny had developed an intense mistrust and suspicion of this Sojourner crowd. Even at fifteen and having little interest in the inner workings of Bethesda Baptist, Benny had noticed that most of the people who were giving his father trouble came from this room. If he was going to risk trying to get around second and into third with Amanda, he couldn’t think of any room more perfect for such a pursuit. The prospect of getting caught was real, no matter how careful he had been coming up with the plan. So, in that hilariously dysfunctional way that fifteen year olds think, Benny figured, why not get caught in the room where the big shots do their plotting and scheming?

Once inside, Benny carefully closed the door until he felt the bolt snap into place, then waited for his eyes to adjust. He slowly made his way over towards the dark outline of the secretary’s desk, found the pull chain of the desk light and suddenly the room was bathed in intimate light. Amanda let out another giggle then, “Benny, I’d rather have that light off. Suppose someone notices?” Benny smiled at her then gave her a short kiss. “Sure, but don’t you want to see the place first?”

Benny pointed at the plaque hanging on the wall behind the secretary’s desk in between the two windows. It was shaped like the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments only made out of polished pine. Where the commandments should have been were little bronze plates with the names of all the previous class presidents going back at least a hundred years. The newest and shiniest one held the name of the current president…

“Well look here, the old buzzard himself, Horace G. Gardner—current president and president emeritus. How do you pull that off? Don’t you have to be dead to be emeritus?” Benny wasn’t sure what the word meant but when applied to Horace Gardner he figured it must be some sort of pretentious bullshit.

“Mom says that Mister Gardner is a great man,” Amanda offered, her first giggle-free sentence of the night.

“Yeah, that’s what everybody says. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. But his son sure is a dick.”

Harrison Gardner was the old man’s youngest son, current music minister of Bethesda Baptist and the sharpest thorn in the current Senior pastor’s side. He of the silky baritone, year round beach tan, and what passed for handsome good looks with the over forty crowd. Along with the good looks came an easy charm, an affably cheerful nature which everyone in the church bought hook, line and sinker. Everyone, that is, except anyone who lived in the worn down parsonage across the street from the church. There it was universally understood that Harrison Gardner not so secretly coveted the top job, indeed, thought he was better suited for it than the current pastor in every measurable way, and had embarked on a whisper campaign to force Benny’s father out. It had been these ugly internal machinations of church life that had begun to sour Benny on the faith, turning his youthful attentions elsewhere. Benny tugged on the pull chain, pulling Amanda close as the room was plunged once again into the blackest darkness.

Benny and Amanda were both virgins and neither of them were particularly ready for any change in the status quo. Their attraction to one another was a matter of electricity, hormones and the hypnotic coursing of blood carrying strange new warmth to exciting new places. Romantic sessions of the type going on in the Sojourners classroom were of the awkward groping variety which resulted in lots of dizziness and heavy breathing, but little else. In the midst of the action Benny thought to say, “the last time there was this much heavy breathing in here must have been the time old man Stanley’s oxygen machine blew a fuse.” Soon, the two of them were straddled across the secretary’s desk, its polished surface making it difficult to keep from sliding from one end to the other, making an already awkward encounter even more so. Suddenly, both of them froze mid-grope at the sound of shuffling footsteps coming down the hallway directly toward them. For an instant they laid there motionless, trying to listen over the pounding of their hearts. As the steps got closer, Benny made the executive decision to slide off the desk and dive underneath into the cramped space where a secretary’s legs were supposed to be. Just as was able to fit Amanda beside him he heard the door open along with the sound of whispering.

There had been many such moments in Benny’s life despite his brief fifteen years on Earth. He had a talent for trouble, a natural proclivity for recklessness. There was the time that he got caught sneaking back into the house through his upstairs bedroom window after several hours of mischief which had involved toilet papering a prominent deacon’s house. There had been the time when he had caused his father great embarrassment by getting caught practicing his short game in the church cemetery by a descendant of Thomas J. Clinton who’s towering obelisk had unfortunately been chosen as the flagstick. But this particular situation seemed particularly fraught with peril since getting caught making out with Amanda Lockhart in the Sojourner’s classroom would not have done his father any favors at this juncture of his career at Bethesda. All of this weighed heavily on Benny’s mind as he held his breath and hoped for the best. Whoever had entered the room had not yet turned on the light—either a positive sign or an omen of hellfire. Suddenly, there was the rustling of clothing and hushed words…

“Oh Harrison…this is so wrong…(gasp)…so wrong.

“Yes baby…but if this is wrong, I don’t want to be right…oooh…”

Benny and Amanda both covered their mouths with their hands in horror, their bugged out eyes only inches apart. What fresh hell had they both stumbled in to? Was this Harrison freaking Gardner, and had he just quoted a Luther Ingram lyric?? And who was he with? Certainly not his wife. They were married with two kids for crying out loud.

“If we get caught, we’re both dead, baby. But every time I glanced over at you playing the piano during that solo tonight I was imagining you naked. I just had to have you!”

This time the hands came off, their faces alive with a mixture of mortification and disgust as they both mouthed the name…Francis Powell?? It was at this point where everything changed for Benjamin Caleb Adams. Suddenly, he had become empowered. Finally he had been granted the one thing that he had never been able to grasp in his short life. Finally, against all odds the tables had been turned. Now…Benny had power. Harrison Gardner, the pretentious, slimy, phony windbag and erstwhile pretender to the Senior Pastor gig at Bethesda Baptist had now been caught doing the dirty with the church pianist and mother of three while his own wife was at home caring for his own children. How positively delicious?

“Oh Harrison, you’re incorrigible!!” 

Amanda’s eyes shone bright with something between glee and lust as she mouthed the word, “incorrigible??” Benny then had to discourage her surprising advances, which under the circumstances were not only physically impossible, but tactically inappropriate. This situation needed his complete concentration. A decision was going to have to be made shortly. How should Benny handle this fraught moment? Should he suddenly rise up from behind the desk and shout, “Surprise!! Caught ya!!” Or should he wait them both out, let them finish their wickedness then wait until the most opportune time in the future to blow this tanning bed wimp out of the water? 

Suddenly the breathing became louder along with one of them whispering to the other to be quiet. Benny tried to put the mental image of these two forty year olds having sexual relations while standing up out of his fevered mind, especially since both of them were people whom he would have to walk by practically every Sunday for the foreseeable future. Mercifully, it finally seemed to be over, as they both began whispering barely coherent professions of devotion to each other. Then, the sound of the door knob turning, the shuffling of clothing and the shutting of the door. They were gone. So much for a shocking reveal. Now it was just a matter of figuring the best use of his new found clout. Benny quickly shuffled the reluctant Amanda out of the room, down the hall and back into the fellowship hall.

 It was only much later that same night when sleep wouldn’t come for Benny that he realized the full implications of his information. Apparently, what his father had always said about the knowledge of good and evil was true…with great knowledge comes great responsibility. He was now in possession of the sort of incriminating dirt that could rid his father of his Harrison Gardner problem once and for all time. But as he lay there staring into the darkness it occurred to him that he was now on the horns of a dilemma. This damning piece of intelligence came with a profound personal conundrum. How was he to share this story with his father without also having to explain what exactly it was that he and Amanda Lockhart were doing in the Sojourner’s room in the dark? His Dad was far too smart and much too familiar with his son’s aptitudes to believe that they were “praying together.” As valuable as his discovery would have been to his father and as anxious as he was to provide all the gory details, Benny wasn’t interested in being grounded for the duration of the summer. After a fitful hour, sleep finally came. At the light of first dawn, Benny gave the situation another think and this time came to the conclusion that life just wasn’t fair.

The next six months had been among the most uncomfortable of Benny’s short life. Amanda had moved on, now vaguely attached to his best friend to whom Benny held no resentment. It had been an amicable split, and neither of them had spoken a word about that night to each other since. But every time Benny saw Harrison at church it had felt excruciating. Occasionally he would notice the two of them looking at each other a touch too long in the choir loft. Each time he would throw up a little in his mouth. Many times he had come close to confronting him, especially on the rare times when they would run in to each other someplace private like the parking lot. But each time Benny had given up on the idea. Besides, he would only have denied it, Benny having no proof of anything. Who would everyone believe, the son of a founding family member and beloved music minister, or a goofy, trouble making teenager with a history of asshattery?

By the time winter arrived, Harrison Gardner-instigated machinations had picked up their intensity. Benny’s father’s position was getting more tenuous with each passing Sunday. Factions had appeared in the congregation, those who supported his father and a more vocal and growing faction that supported the music minister. Benny had been struggling under the burden of his knowledge, and growing feelings of guilt had begun to grow within him. Was his personal freedom more important than his father’s happiness and continued employment? It was time to face the music. He would walk over to his dad’s office and confess all.

When he arrived at the church he noticed that the office to his father’s study was closed, a rarity. Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open and he found himself staring into the red, puffy tear streaked face of Harrison Gardner who hurried past him without looking up. Benny cautiously walked into the office and saw his dad sitting calmly at his desk. 

“Hello Son. What can I do for you?”

Benny, momentarily rattled, asked—“What was that all about? That was Harrison Gardner, right?”

“Yes,” came the non-committal reply.

Benny prodded—“And he was…crying”

“Yes. I believe he was.” 

It had always been virtually impossible to get any church gossip out of his father. This was understandable and even admirable considering the assumed confidentiality of the confessional and all, but this was Harrison-freaking-Gardner we were talking about here. Considering the purpose of Benny’s visit he felt entitled to know why the enemy of his father had just left his office in tears.

“Dad, seriously? Harrison Gardner just walked out of here crying his eyes out. What the heck?”

“Have a seat son.”

Benny sat down as instructed as a feeling of dread swept over him. 

“It doesn’t appear that Mr. Gardner is going to be a problem for me anymore. His position of influence in this congregation is now at an end. This is very good news, I believe for me as well as this church, but I’m afraid it is very sad news for Harrison and I take no delight in it.”

Benny leaned forward. “Wow. What happened?”

Then his father leaned forward, placed both fists under his chin and began…

“A couple of weeks ago I received disturbing news about Harrison. I followed up the allegation with the parties involved and found the report reliable enough to believe that it might possibly be true. To make a long story short, the person who provided the original information then confronted one of the people involved and received confirmation of the truth. I just finished talking this issue over with Harrison and he has admitted his guilt.”

Benny finally took a breath and tried to looked shocked. It appeared as though he had been saved by the bell once again, wiggling off yet another hook of his own making. Then his dad continued.

“Interesting thing though…You know Tammy Lockhart, right? Amanda’s mom? Yeah, she was the one who came to me with the information.”

Benny worked hard to keep his composure. “Yeah? Well, we broke up quite a while ago…”

“Something about the Sojourner Class, of all things…”

Once again Benny, now flushed with color—“Like I said…we broke up, so…”

“But, you know what this means don’t you?” A barely noticeable smile began to form at the corners of his father’s lips.

“Sure, this means that you don’t have to worry about that greaseball gunning for your job anymore,” Benny answered with genuine happiness.

“That’s right, son. You know what else it means?”

A surprising sensation flowed through his bloodstream as Benny realized that this was not a question he should answer. This was a time for circumspection and silence.

“It means that you’re grounded.”

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, Benny’s world was back, spinning dependably on its axis.

Ten Years

Today was an eventful day in my business. It was the tenth anniversary of when Kristin Reihl came to work for me. Right before I went to work that day Pam warned me with a firm, “Don’t scare her off on her first day!!” Well, to the astonishment of practically everyone who knows me, not only did I not scare her off, she has hung around for an entire decade. This morning I brought her flowers, a Visa card and one of those blank cards where you can write your own message. Mine said, “Thanks for not quitting.”

Recently I have been reminded of how much of a slacker I have been as her employer. For one thing, in all the ten years she has worked for me I have never had a performance review with her. Recent events have brought this failing to light. A couple of months ago my friend asked if I would be willing to allow her to work for him a couple days a week. I agreed since I am slowing down my operation somewhat and Kristin wanted more hours anyway so…win, win. Well, my friend runs a much tighter ship and as proof she showed me the three page questionnaire she had to fill out in preparation for her first Quarterly Review. Here I’ve gone ten years with no reviews, and she’s already preparing for her first with my friend! I certainly felt a little bit inadequate. So I told her that it had inspired me to come up with a questionnaire of my own for her to fill out. Upon hearing this news she gave me one of her patented eye rolls, certain that I was just joking. Imagine her surprise a few days later when she was presented with this…

Quarterly Performance Review.

Question #1

How has your experience this past quarter increased your admiration for me?

Question #2

Which part of your job do you love the most?

A. Having to constantly remind me about stuff I’ve forgotten.

B. Listening to my hilarious dad Jokes

C. Correcting my rare mistakes

Question #3

Which swear words have you utilized the most often this past quarter. Why?

Question #4

Which of my amazing characteristics are your favorite?

A. Good Looks

B. Dad Joke Proficiency 

C. Organizational brilliance

D. Superior Mental Acuity

E. All of the above

Question #4

When did you first realize that I was the best boss you have ever had?

I would publish her answers but if I did I would be in violation of HIPAA laws and whatnot, but needless to say, there was more than one snarky remark tossed around along with several over the top eye rolls. But despite her outward show of disdain, I could tell that on the inside she knows how truly lucky she has been to work for such a solid professional for all these years. Actually, she’s planning on using that Visa card thing I gave her to pay for a visit to a therapist!

The Week of my Birthday

At sundown tonight, the week of my birthday is over. My seven days of extra slack, undue deference, and undeserved favor will be over. Tomorrow morning I will be a normal, everyday, run of the mill 65 year old. Later in the week there will be tests and doctor’s appointments where I will discover what—if anything—is wrong with my heart. After that I will return to being the loud mouthed, opinionated, sarcastic crank I’ve always been…I hope.

Here’s the girl who made my week so very special. She’s been the brain to my brawn for almost 40 years now. Her presence in my life has softened my roughest edges, and brought out the very best in me. It has so often been her wise second thoughts that have managed to redeem my ill-conceived first thoughts. It has been her calm cool head that has tempered my hot headed overreactions. Her grace and elegance have rubbed off on me enough to make me mostly presentable in mixed company for the better part of four decades. 

This picture  reminds me of an old expression that I truly hate…behind every successful man is a good woman. That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. Although she might be behind me in this sunset-kissed photograph, she has been by my side in every good thing I’ve ever managed to accomplish. The only time she’s ever behind me is when we are shopping…’cause she walks so blasted slow. But she’s no quiet little woman toiling in the shadows. I hate that idea. Half the time I’ve followed her lead. No…she’s my full and equal life partner, and I would be lost without her.

Our Trip to Cozumel…Part I

The American Airlines jet pulled away from the terminal at 7:05 in the morning destined for Dallas, Texas. I had managed to wedge myself into the middle seat of row 25, while Pam sat in her cramped middle seat on row 33. This was just one of the many new twists in air travel I was about to learn flying for the first time since COVID—when flying in “basic economy” being married does not guarantee you a seat next to your beloved. The second twist made itself known a few minutes later when the pilot came on the intercom with news that the flight path was being changed for unknown reasons and there would be a delay while everything got sorted out. And hour and twenty minutes later while still motionless on the tarmac at RIC, the pilot announced that we were free to proceed and that he would do his best to make up for lost time while aloft. Unfortunately for the bewildered couple from Short Pump, the delay cost us any chance of making our connecting flight into Cozumel. By the time we landed in Mexico, my body had to be painfully unfolded like a rusty pocket knife. A fellow passenger informed me that AA had refitted their planes a while back to make them even less comfortable for normal sized humans. Sweet.

Perhaps United Airlines would be an improvement, I thought as we settled in for our return flight from Cozumel six days later. For starters, our jet was an Airbus and gone were the pigmy seats. I had the legroom of old and was sitting on the aisle along side Pam. All would be well. Alas, a series of unfortunate circumstances conspired against us, turning what was supposed to be a 7 hour trip into a 14 and a half hour odyssey. My back of the envelope calculations inform me that on our two voyages to Cozumel and back we spent a total of 10 hours and fifteen minutes in the air and another 13 hours being buffeted about from one interminable line to another trying to make sense of a steady stream of screens, flashing lights, an impossible to understand signs pointing us forward, backwards and sideways. In the midst of one particularly Byzantine cattle call Pam says to me, “Question: would you rather fly to Cozumel or drive up 95 to Maine?” We smiled at each other. 

But, how was the actual trip, you ask?

Wonderful.

Whenever you travel somewhere then get home and start looking at all the pictures you took, you realize that photography is very hit and miss. Pictures distill your memories into frozen, one-dimensional images which you are glad to have but just don’t quite communicate what you were hoping to capture. So the best you can do is pick out the best of the lot and offer context which is what I will now attempt to do.

For most of our time at The Occidental this was our vantage point—the dwindling beach on the Caribbean Sea, the body of water that separates Cozumel Island from the mainland of Mexico and the Yucatán Peninsula. By the time we left some of the palm trees were holding on for dear life as the rough seas battered them relentlessly the last two days.

While most of the guests preferred the pool that was just beyond the stone wall behind us, we loved our spot just feet from the crashing waves. The place had a magnetic pull on us all week.

The resort seemed to have been cut very delicately out of the jungle. Each walkway was surrounded on all sides by thick vegetation including this bunch of bananas we passed under on our way to breakfast every morning.

Pam and I discovered that we very much like the all-inclusive concept whereby you can eat and drink anything your heart desires, anytime you want. This is especially nice when the view from your table looks like this…

Another advantage to resort living is the fact that every single time you leave your room in the morning, you return to a beautifully clean and freshly made bed. If only the help around here was as efficient.

While this tiny little patio might not look like much, it came with the advantage of jungle-insured privacy and a near constant delightful breeze…

On one of the rare occasions when we managed to pull ourselves away from the beach, there was a rented Jeep involved. With it we decided to explore the east side of the Island where there exists no electricity and no indoor plumbing, but lots of great shacks serving adult beverages and native cuisine, not to mention breathtaking scenery of rocky beaches. They were right about the shacks and the breathtaking scenery…

This blog has gotten a bit long, so I will wrap it up here and finish the rest of the story another time. Bottom line is that we had a great time just being together in a beautiful place with nothing to do.