Last night, one of thefew married couples we are friends with invited us to come away with them for this weekend (starting tomorrow) but Jesse gently declined, or would have, if his return phone call hadn't been "Hi." "Hi. Yes or no?" "So you know why I'm calling, then?" "Yes. Just yes or no." "We're going to have to say no." "Okay, bye." I had envisioned this conversation going more like "We really wish we could go, if it was any other weekend, we would jump at the chance, but we just got back from 10 days away, have either been cleaning or had guests literally since we got back, and we both start work again the day after you are coming home. But we'd love to have you over for dinner next week." Apparently, in the world of men, conversations don't always occur as planned.
Our trip was wonderful, busy, restful, exciting, peaceful, and Holly's wedding was beautiful. We did have some adventures and took some marvelous photos during our time away, but Jesse is hogging the computer where they are stored so those will have to be another time. Especially poignant is the story I like to call "The Night of Hell". The setting? The Coeur D'Alene Resort on the weekend of our first anniversary (remember how excited I was to stay there? In truth, I spent the night crying my eyes out). I know you'll be waiting with bated breath.
For now, adieu. I want my pictures!!!