Greetings, internets, from sunny California!
It only took about ten minutes after our arrival for someone to ask D. if he was from Texas and then make the comment that they couldn’t understand his Southern accent.
So we’re off to a smashing start.
And really, we had a great trip. Sister decided that her nephew HAD TO HAVE a portable DVD player (along with a brand new copy of “Shrek”) for his first Disney journey, and oh, it was a thing of beauty. Alex watched a movie all the way to Houston – then watched another movie from Houston to oh, I’d say, Arizona, at which point he promptly fell asleep for the next hour and a half. So by and large, the plane rides were completely stress-free.
Unless you consider the ineffective air conditioning on the plane from Houston to here. That stressed me out just a wee bit. Because I was hot, you see. And I hate to be hot. And if I had wanted to be hot, I would have stayed home and turned off the air conditioning and started a fire. But I did not want to be hot, because I never want to be hot, and I especially do not want to be hot when I am surrounded by strangers and trapped at a high altitude in what essentially amounts to a bus with wings.
But now I am sitting in our friend Todd’s house, and even though he does not have air conditioning (I almost had a panic attack when D. reminded me of this earlier today), I am not hot at all because it is about 60 degrees here right now. With a light breeze blowing. EVER so pleasant and enjoyable.
And tomorrow: we’re going to see the large mouse. If Alex’s head doesn’t fly off its axis first. Because he’s just a smidge excited.
Finally, thanks so much, y’all, for all the sweet anniversary wishes. I think it’s sort of appropriate that earlier today, as D., Alex and I made our way through the Houston airport hand in hand, I couldn’t help but reflect on the sweet blessing of our little family. And then, five minutes later, when D. couldn’t understand a point I was trying to make about our lunch plans, I wanted to roll my eyes at him and say something really profound like, “UM, I MEAN, WHAT-EV-ER! GAH!”
And then five minutes later all was blissful again. Such is marriage, I reckon.
So we’re off to celebrate Numero Diez with a little Mexican food. I’m giddy just thinking about the guacamole.
And if that seems a little pathetic, it’s only because it is.

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