Hurling through space

Just the barest peel of a moon rose over the Bridger mountains yesterday morning as they glowed in the pre-dawn. I hadn't awoken early enough to experience a mountain dawn previously, and wouldn't have except that we were high-tailing it to the Bozeman airport, where we boarded the first of three flights which would transport us to Denver, Houston, and finally, Boston.

Sunrise over the Bridgers, (but not the one I saw as  I was too bleary-eyed to think of snapping a shot.) It's from www.francona.com.

PJ --> BOS

What is there to report about the thirteen hours we spent inside the cold, recycled air of crafts hurling through space at 35,000 feet? Not much, (crazy how anything can become normal,) except that the kids were troopers, the food court in Houston satisfies, and apparently Voodoo doughnuts are worth transporting all the way from Portland, Oregon, to Boston.

The packaging alone is delicious.

When we finally landed in Boston, wafts of East coast July humidity snuck into the jetway as we deplaned, and Stella was shocked by the 'hot wet.' I felt my skin plumping up with every passing minute.

We're here in Boston for a day before heading to Damariscotta, Maine, tomorrow, where we'll be hanging with the Vance clan at this classic and breathtaking river-front property that has been a part of their summers since Chris was a little boy. The property belongs to Anne, his mom's friend from college, who will be staying in the main house while we cozy down in the nearby cabin. Word on the street is that Anne's looking for a sailing partner - I'm crossing my fingers.


Meanwhile, Boston. Or rather, Cambridge. It just feels so old and solid and stable around here, a nice change of pace from the raw newness of the land of Calamity Jane and Buffalo Bill. Chris' sister, Liz, and her husband, Jason, are some of my favorite people, and their bambinos are sweet and silly and fantastic — I wish they lived down the street.

As an added bonus, as a result of similar aesthetics and a shared collection of art by Chris' parents and grandmother, being in Liz and Jason's house feels like being in an iteration of our own — the one we haven't been to in months — and it feels so good.

We spent today lobbing water balloons, lounging, and eating authentic ethnic food that we can't get in Bozeman, (nothing fancy, think pizza and Mexican.)

When there's an entire drawer devoted to water balloons, you know fun will be had.

Stella's leaky water balloon graffiti.

Most of the day, however, was spent at the dreamiest spot: MuckyKids, Liz's art studio for children.

Liz amongst her handmade butterfly garland.

Owls

Due to past shopping trips together and inherited remnants, Liz and I have some of the same fabric and buttons in our collections. It feels warm and good to imagine her crafting away late night in Boston with the same goodies I've crafting with wherever I am.

 Tomorrow we hop on the Concord coach busline and make our way up the Maine coast. There's no internet at the cabin, so my postings will be spotty. My consumption of fluffernutter sandwiches, however, will not.