In the middle is where these stories lie. Stuck in the foggy parts of my brain that keep saying pssst! don't forget us. Yet how do I muddle through the thick web of tales spun? Where do I tell of the Mustang convertible we drove all over the hills of San Francisco. The plane being brought in from the hanger as the 'reason we're late' excuse, then turned out to be a prop-job straight from the movie screen of Indiana Jones. The crazy kid with his girlfriend behind me on Space Mountain that kept asking how his hair looked and caused me to forget most of the ride. MoneyPenny giving instantaneous directions that involved extreme braking and hairpin right turns. Endless amounts of rain that turned into seven straight days of beautiful northwest summer while family visited, just to turn back into raindrops as they drove away. The first cab I hailed on a dark street with a flick of my wrist actually worked. Eating our favorite Greek food every day in San Fran. Preparing for the worst on the back of Splash Mountain when three 200+ pound guys were sat in the front of our log, then laughing hysterically as I watched the 20-foot wave crest our log canoe. Eating Dippin' Dots at the zoo and watching a baby polar bear belly flop into the pool for a fish. The hand of my nephew grabbing mine over and over again dragging me to the garage saying 'doggies' and loving their drool and excitement to see him. Sitting at the park taking pictures of my childhood home that no longer existed, but reliving many happy memories. Taking pictures of bursting tar to have a girl, yes girl, pass mountain-man gas right next to me.
Before and after it all I've been reading, gardening, (which by the way, has exploded since I planted my seeds a few days before June 19th) cross-stitching, watching endless episodes of Sex and the City and eating many ice cream Snicker's bars all to my heart's content.
We even found time to say good-bye to the Honda and hello to the G8.
