Sitting in a McDonald's

. . . here in St. George, availing myself of the free internet. Ken and I are on our way to our niece's wedding in Vegas, which sounds all Elvis-y, doesn't it? We're very happy for this girl. Watching her grow up has been a true joy.

Meanwhile, I had something to say, but I got distracted by the conversation going on in the booth next to me--five old men in baseball caps, drinking coffee and talking passionately about sports. It looks fun, actually. I have the sense they've known each other forever. Played golf together. Lost money to each other.

So in lieu of anything else to say let's all toast old friendships, shall we? And give our best to the bride while we're at it.

California, here we come

Ken and I are taking off in a minute for Fremont CA where we will enjoy attending an open house for our newly married boy and his bride. Julie's mother asked with concern if I'd ever driven across Nevada before because as everyone knows you can fly to Mars and back in the time it takes you to drive across Nevada via I-80.

I told her yes. I'm very, very, VERY familiar with this drive. As some of you know, my dad used to take me and my brothers once a year to his dentist buddy who lived in Walnut Creek. Devan did our teeth for free on Sunday afternoons under a single naked light bulb. Every now and then he would say, "You. Spit now." That was our cue to hang our heads over a sink with non-running water and spit out whatever had collected in our throats. And then it was back under the single naked light bulb for another go around.

At least that's how I remember it.