Fond Memories

One thing I love about vacations is the way the experience gets infused into the memory. Although it mirrors the experience, it has a strange tendency to soften the edges, increase the intensity of certain hues, focus sharply in certain areas and blur others, and generally nuance reality. For example, I could tell you in great detail how miserable my daughter was in Texas as she endured a terrible stomach flu with a fever passing 105, but at the same time, I look back and all of the memories (taken together) are fond. We met some great people, caught up with old friends, ate some great tex-mex, saw some great sites, cared for our hurting Karis, etc... It was a wonderful, hard, time. Anyway, I don't know if this is making any sense, but hopefully someone out there is relating.

Here are some pics from our trip (I was so disappointed that I forgot to get a photo with my dear friend Brother Quotidian; we'll have to get together again sooner than later):

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To Quote Davy Crockett, "I Will Go to Texas"

In just a few short hours, Rebekah, Karis and I will be heading out to the great republic of Texas for a seriously needed vacation. We will be staying with some friends of ours in Austin, as well as spending a few days at a swanky hotel on the Riverwalk in San Antonio for our anniversary. Unfortunately, I don't own a notebook computer, and will likely be cut off from all of blogdom for a few days (much to my wife's delight).

Before I cut off communication with y'all, let me leave you with a short list of things I'm looking forward to in Tejas:

1. Sitting on the patio on a warm summer night with my buddy Steve, drinking Shiner and waxing philosophical.
2. Meeting Brother Quotidian face-to-face and talking about all things Anglican over some good German beer.
3. Relaxing with my family at the Hotel Valencia on the Riverwalk, not thinking about things that stress me out.
4. Shiner on tap, anywhere and everywhere I go (I know I already mentioned Shiner; that should tell you something).
5. Shiner on ta... Oops.
   

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