Time to reflect
It’s amazing how enervating the simple act of sitting in a chair and letting someone fly you across the country can be.
This morning Anne and I went through the low-grade trauma of playing hide and seek with the north remote parking lot at DFW Airport, then enduring the magical magnetometer booth (or whatever it is) to pass through security, and finally hurtling through the skies with a bunch of other hopeful souls crammed into a narrow metal fuselage at some indeterminate hundreds of miles per hour to arrive at Grand Junction.
From there we piled into our rental car and drove west to Moab – though not quite to Moab, because our vacation locale for the week is in a place called Castle Valley, east of town about 20 miles along Hwy. 128, which winds along the south shore of the Colorado River.
From whence this photo was taken. And I’m calling it a day.