We go early to the airport, only to wait the longest ever to get in-laws' bags checked. Why it takes so long? We don't know. But we enjoy visiting anyway. We drink the last of our well water (sublime treat), and head to the security line, trying to find the shortest one. Of course.
Maybe it isn't normal, but nonetheless I love being with my in-laws. We have a ball traveling with them, chatting on the plane, laughing, letting them know we've left a friend gorilla (stuffed) at their house for them to find when they get back home. They think we should have taken him all the way to Alaska, likely to have everyone hide it in each other's things all week. But we've had him for eight months already, and I think it's smart not to take any chances. It hasn't been as easy to make these transfers now that we all live thousands of miles apart.
I delight in the mountains sticking out above the clouds, the way we seem to keep at the same place of morning for much of the flight, the way we land without a hitch in snowiness that would shut many an airport down. An uncle picks us up, and we crowd in the car, deciding whether to wait for Costco to open or go straight to the farm.
We go straight to the farm, where we learn that Grandpa has a fever, only a few days before the big celebration. Enter natural remedies: hot and cold foot soaks, with ice pack on head. He feels much better by Sunday.
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Greetings, fellow climbers! Leave your marks on the steps--I'll be delighted to hear from you.