Apple pie is a yummy fall treat no matter which side of the country we call home. Wanda and I bought a bag of granny smith apples on our way home one afternoon and set about building a pie the following day. The crust didn't turn out light and flaky like usual (sometimes that happens), but it was delicious just the same. Don said it tasted just like Grandma's apple pie.
On Friday evening we headed off to a street fair in Monrovia where we discovered a shark as big as the fish that swallowed Jonah, various street vendors, and a yummy Mexican restaurant called Rudy's. I ordered a chicken taco with rice and beans, and a tamale. It was all so good, but my tummy filled up fast and on the way home I was in possession of a small box of leftovers for my Saturday morning breakfast.
Saturday morning came all too fast and we soon found ourselves on the way back to the airport where had first met only a few days earlier. I look a little tired in our final photo, but then again, I was only just beginning to adjust from NY time to California.
My flight out of LAX was delayed by about an hour making my arrival in Denver coincide with the departure of my connecting flight to Minneapolis. I knew before I stepped off the first plane that I was going to miss the next one, but rather than panic, I decided to relax and enjoy a new experience. There was nothing to be gained by getting mad or anxious anyway, so I walked the concourse, bought a lunch, watched people, and took a few pictures while I waited four hours for the next flight out. I wasn't alone in my predicament, and we all eventually made it safely to Minnesota.
Progress. I am making progress. I didn't stress over a flight delay (at least not much) and I remembered to trust that Someone bigger than me was in control.
Barns in Conewango.
11 hours ago