Oh oh oh Mr. Powell is gonna be bummed. On the spur of the moment we drove up to Redmond so Vassee could check out the old digs, visit the motherland, sojourn our old haunts, and relish the zealousness of our childhood.
El-Tio-issimo relishing.
We simply had to reenact a leg-wrenching misdemeanor...
We simply had to let my children walk the paths that I had walked: in the park...
We simply had to do a drive-by shooting of the old homestead. I did forget to mention to Vassee that the house has changed a bit. It looks nothing like itself. Now it's a group home for a bunch of retired people.
We simply had to visit the old rope-swing in the forest only to discover somebody creepy was living there...in a tent.
The tent is behind the trees... Vasseewas to afraid to get any closer.
From our little jaunt up north we also learned that Sunday traffic is easy-cheesey, so if Mr. Powell can ever forgive me, they can invite us up to Sunday dinner and we'll accept. Because it's just so nice to be invited places.