Cinnamon fairies should be a thing

Sisters like to look crazy together. Good thing. Who wants to be insane alone?

I'm feeling a bit braggy, slightly bratty about my midnight successes of late. You see, I've been in the writing mood. This glorious but tentative state is brought by magic fairies, a paper pulled squirming onto my head and held flimsily in place by lack of wind. One ever-so-slight change in breath and it's gone. I'm afraid to post this puff of braggery for obvious reasons. But I've been ignoring you; everyone, in fact, falls into a lower plane when the fairies strike. I owed you a minor nod now, at mid-day, as I pre-caffeinate for another bout of late-night typing. At this rate I might surprise myself one day and actually finish something.

Without further ado, the vacation photos and more.

Dear Winona, If you actually exist, I love you for this recipe.
I come back year after year and make a huge dent in your pastry case.
This year I even called in an order. So thanks for making my whole vacation.
Still licking my fingers, Christine

As you can see, the trees were almost as pretty as my cinnamon roll,
which, incidentally, is not pictured on a tiny plate.

The drama didn't start until day 2. Guess what it was.

My little skunk hunter and her invisible trophy. Oh so proud.

7 a.m. hike along the Yampa River

Hello Beau Jo's, old friend. Your Lil Roma does remind me of Italy.

That spot where we take a photo every time.

Wynell will always be the pretty one. (Sorry, Peter)

Part of the Woody's crowd, always watching some kind of sports.

Amy and Evie, who tried not to smile all night.
She's going to kill at that game where you keep a straight face the longest.

In the mean time, between my last post and my next, I'll think of you occasionally. I'll wonder. . . What you're reading instead. Why nobody else's dog gets sprayed by a skunk during their mountain vacation. Whether I should have already started knitting a baby hat for this weekend's shower. If I can possibly run 14 miles per week in order to make my 350 mile goal this year, considering I'd forgotten about it and started biking instead. Why I hadn't heard of "Monsters of Templeton" until after I read "Delicate, Edible Birds" and fell in love with Lauren Groff's quirky prose. When my library books might be due. Who keeps stealing one of my flip flops. How I can order new glasses without going to the eye doctor. Why people are paying $160 for the Joe's Jeans version of black tights with pockets when my Walmart pair cost $20 (and those tiny Malaysian kids did a great job).

I know you're busy wondering your own things. If you think of it this week, especially after 10 p.m., wish me luck with the fairies.