Y'all. I know we all believe that Mr. Bullington loves me. He grins a lot when I'm around. He chuckles at most of my jokes and humors me and my shenanigans. But, I think he wants me dead. He LITERALLY tried to kill me today. It was real sneaky. The most likely way to kill your wife at the Grand Canyon would just be to stumble, and bump into her so she falls over the canyon wall. A less obvious way would be to trick her into a hike o' death down into the Grandest of Canyons where she will have hike almost two miles straight up to get back to the top. Now, I know all about you yahoos that can run an ultra-marathon in your sleep with backpacks full of lead weights affixed to your person. I love you, but I am not you. I love to enjoy nature, see the views, breath the fresh air, hear the birds chirp and the bees buzz, spot the wildlife But, you know what? If I am sucking so much wind that I can't talk, then that is taking fresh air from others, and that's selfish. If I can't see the view because I am staring at my feet trying to psych myself out from viewing the actual hellish incline that proceeds me, I can't see any mountains or flowers or birds. And if Mr. Bullington wanted me dead, by the time I got back up to the top, the feeling was mutual....
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| Tuckered out |
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| My hiking buddy |
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| So happy I didn't die! |
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| What are you staring at? |
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| I reckon they call it "Bright Angel" because of the angels you feel like you are going to meet as they escort you to the afterlife |
All was forgiven after lunch when I could finally talk and didn't feel like death was immanent. I then exacted my revenge by checking out all of the beautiful historic lobbies of the old Grand Canyon Hotels. There were antiques, exhibits, art, and taxidermy! Take that, Mr. Bullington
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| President Taft slept here! |
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| I see you smiling at me Mr. Moose! |
We bid adieu to the Canyon and continued Northward to Page, Arizona. The drive to Page cut through the ever-changing landscape of the Navajo Reservation. (We can call it "The Rez" because we finished all 6 seasons of Longmire.) The land changed from sage brush fields to mountains and hills colored like a child's sand art project. Peppered alongside the road were weather-worn stalls, now vacant, but telling the stories of generations of crafts and homemade goods created by Navajo hands.
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| The Gap was all out of jeans and cardigans... |
Arriving in Page we settled into our much-nicer-than-last-night Hotel. The pool area was beautiful and the kids had some time to swim (Thomas) and lounge (the sisters). I even donned my swimsuit, grabbed a margarita and hopped in the hot tub. I'm not normally a hot tub kinda lady but my MUSCLES WERE SO SORE FROM THE DEATH MARCH UP THE GRAND CANYON I deemed it necessary.
We found a little Mexican joint in town and then called it a night. Well, almost. Master Bullington discovered, much to his delight, that his accordion style sleeping mat could be held behind him and popped open like the feather display of a peacock. He then discovered that this made both kin and stranger giggle. He popped it open for the gal at the front desk, strutted in front of the folks at the bar, and then strutted himself back to the room where he added a twerking feature to his peacock dance saved for those who love him most....That kid. He's a lot.
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| The Comedian of the Courtyard |
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| Arizona Sunset over Lake Powell |
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