The long, long trip

We are driving home from Seattle. Because.

First night: Bozeman, MT
Second night: Medora, ND
Now we're chilling in Denver with friends.

Why are we doing this? I'm not entirely sure. Justin hates flying and loves road trips. This might be the last time Auletta travels so far without extensive complaining (she's been amazingly good, although the problem with lots of sleep during the day in the car is not so much sleep at night when we need to sleep). And this country is hella cool.

Pictures are forthcoming. Will be back by the end of next week (I have a shopping date in NYC! which required a little additional shopping today so I don't look like a hobo when I do the future shopping. At least that is my logic).

Okay, but here is a preview: Sunset at Buck Hill, Theodore Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota.

Nine months!

Okay, I wasn't that far off. I took these pictures yesterday, only a day after her nine-month birthday. I'll go back and do reunion pictures soon, Deo volente.



She reminds me a LOT of Grandma Sue when she looks serious like this.







Photos taken in Seattle, where grass dies in the summer.

Westward

We are headed to the west coast for the second time in four months: to visit my family in Seattle, and to attend Justin's family reunion (his maternal grandmother's side) in Lincoln City, Oregon. Here's hoping Auletta travels as well as she did on her first cross-country trip.

Four years!

Since the Best Wedding Ever. Okay, I am biased.



Tiaras for weddings: Because some of us were too cool for prom.

Four down and many more to come, God willing. I love you, honeybee.

Tomorrow, by the way, is the sixth anniversary of the Fourth of July party where we started dating-ish. So Justin and his roommates had this party at their flat in Rome attended by most of our Latin class as well as some of his roommate's friends from the Largo Argentina cat shelter--and the pub by the shelter--including this drunken British poet and his dog whose name degenerated from Gypsy to Nootsy over the course of the evening. Someone put a lock on the front gate of the building, so we were all locked in for a while, and I got jealous of this creative writing major from Columbia who stole Justin's attention when he and I were alone in the kitchen obviously having a private conversation, so I retreated into his bedroom, lured him in somehow while everyone was freaking out about not being able to leave except by jumping off the terrace, and then we expressed our mutual affection for one another. And the drunken British poet's kind of scary companion cut the lock, so eventually we all went home. The end. Or the beginning. Good times.