California, You Were Calling My Name

Several hours before takeoff, my stuff looked a lot like my mind:

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Upon arrival in California, I realized I did not have a roommate. So I ironed clothes. Made bed. Killed spiders. God rest their souls.

[Anything to keep myself awake. You have no idea what kinds of tricks your mind plays at 4 a.m. in a cabin alone in the woods.]

The next morning I awoke to this:



Even after a pitiful amount of sleep, how could a person not be grateful to see that sunrise?



Everything about Mount Hermon was beautiful. The place. The people. The food.

Did I mention the food?

Does anyone have pictures of the food?

I have pictures of myself after the food.

Enjoy the before:



And the after:



Apparently Ethan got fat too. All the sympathy weight, you know. Because according to Amy, I'm pregnant.

It was a little disconcerting when she informed me of this fact. I'd only met her a few days before.

"Are you feeling OK?" she asked me over dinner one night.

"Yes. What's wrong? Do I look sick?"

"I just think you might be pregnant," she said. "I'm a nurse. I've been known to predict these things."

Thanks, Amy. I'll keep you posted. I'd love to have a reason for all this weight gain.

Speaking of weight gain, if you could gain weight from spending excessive amounts of time with cool people, I would weigh 3 tons by now:



My awesome agent, Rachel -- new friend, Annie -- and new friend, Tricia.

[Photo courtesy of Wendy Lawton. I hijacked it from her Facebook account. I just hope she doesn't use her amazing legal skills to cause me harm.]

Speaking of harm -- at times, the week was an uphill climb:



But it was always beautiful.

Goodbye, Beautiful Place. Goodbye, Beautiful People.

Hello, Beautiful Husband.