Warming our Cockles

I hardly know what to say about the past two weeks except that they have been rich and busy and wonderful. In the past 14 days we’ve driven through 10 states plus the District of Columbia and visited 10 different groups of family and friends. It’s the most familiar faces we’ve seen in the rest of the trip combined!

Now that Patrick and I are getting married, the rare opportunity to spend time with East Coast family and friends is even more meaningful. Over leisurely meals and cups of coffee family tales were trotted out and told from various points of view. Photos were pulled from albums and folders. My Aunt Alice even had a letter to Santa from 1957, in which my father requested a hunting rifle, and all the siblings together begged for a puppy. I don’t know the status of the rifle, but I know a blonde Cocker Spaniel was beneath the tree that year, decked with a red bow and wriggling. Taffy, as the pup was called, later went on to eat a couch.

Thank you to everyone for being so generous with stories and laughter; for packing our cupboards with homemade goodies; for filling our RV tanks with water and our bellies with delicious meals. Alice, Ryan, Johany, Nicole, Henry, Dave, Sarah, Emily, Kathleen, Mike, Carla, Katie, Raymond, Connie, Andrew, Docky, Dick, Bob, Anne, Annie, Rob, Molly, Phoebe, Donna….We love you.

We Can’t Wait to Talk to You

Before we embarked on this trip, our “real lives” were filled with dozens and dozens of people – colleagues, best pals, landlords, casual acquaintances, favorite waitresses, job contacts, regular baristas, you get the idea. Now it’s just us. Always. And though we like each other about as much as two people can, sometimes we don’t have anything new or witty to say to each other anymore. If you’ve been following us here, you know we’ve had an incredible few months filled with exploring, snapping photos, making great meals. What we haven’t done a lot of is chatting with other people. Because we tend to boondock on public land and spend our time out on hiking trails, we go days without running into anyone besides a camp host or park ranger. It’s been six weeks since we last saw any family or friends.

This is a long way of saying we’re itchy for conversation.

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