New Mexico - Day 4

We started today early with the Left Hand Tunnel tour in the Carlsbad Caverns.  This tour is an excellent example of repurposing an area of the cave that has been mined for silt and ravaged of most of its prettier speleothems (cave decorations).  What’s the solution?  Take your visitors back in time and show them how to explore a cave sans modern conveniences – like electric lights.

We started the tour in the same room as our adventure tour from yesterday – but this time there were smaller people allowed.  The youngest person in the room appeared to be about 6 years old which was the age cutoff for the tour.  Labeled “moderately strenuous," the best part of this experience is that you carry your own light source - a wooden box with glass panels and a single, medium sized pillar candle in the inside.

With this as our light and Ranger Georgina as our guide, we headed down the elevator for the tour.  Ranger G. was fantastic with the four-foot-and-shorter crowd.  They were comfortable learning from her Q&A style and she allowed them to take turns “leading” the tour.  It was quickly obvious that this tour was geared more to people of their size than people of ours, but it was enjoyable watching the kids have so much fun especially when Ranger G. pointed out two dead bats found in one area of the cave.  That was a HUGE hit.

What was most interesting to us was what the candlelight did to the walls, floors and cavities of the cave.  In the places where the tunnel was ravaged, the cave looked almost fake, like a movie set.  The rocks were massive and overpowering.  The shadows the candles cast added to the fantastical, Disney-park-like “look” to the cave.  I knew I was not supposed to touch the stones, but found myself leaning very close to some with my candle in an attempt to figure out if the cave was indeed a farce.  But then we finally reached an area where the cave was still active.  In this area there were a few stalactites and draperies still in the process of forming (bad water leak in the roof).  Here, the candlelight eerily illuminated the white of the growing formations in contrast to the darker limestone beneath.  In places, the contrast created a beautiful bacon effect that was strange, unearthly and difficult to grasp.  Ansel Adams, photographer of light, also struggled to describe the caverns.  "(They are) something that should not exist in relation to human beings.  Something as remote as the galaxy, as incomprehensible as a nightmare, and beautiful in spite of everything." Well said, Ansel.  Well said.

After a trip to the gift shop for some cave swag, we drove to Guadalupe Mountain National Park's visitor center to eat our lunch out of the back of the car.  When we were done, we grabbed our offering of chocolate chip cookies for the Rangers and headed in to check out the displays.  (Quick side note:  For those of you who do not follow our blog, our habit of giving rangers chocolate chip cookies began at Mesa Verde National Park where an bored ranger deviated from the traditional junior ranger pledge and included a phrase about delivering chocolate chip cookies to the rangers wherever we go.  A Hicks family tradition was born.)  As normal, Isaac walked up to the desk and handed the two rangers the cookies while thanking them for their service to the National Parks.  Ranger Holly and her sidekick were surprised and thankful.  While we were perusing the displays, we overheard the other ranger say, “I think that is about the most exciting thing that I’ve seen happen at this desk!”  Ranger life can be a little boring.  We were glad we could bring a little sparkle to their day.)

Per Ranger Holly’s advice, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon hiking McKittrick Canyon.  We decided that we would hike to Pratt Cabin and on to the Grotto if we felt like it.  The entire trip was a little over 4 miles.  There are several trails at McKittrick Canyon – one of which is the Permian Reef trail.  As we were stocking up with water and snacks, we ran into a group of about 20 college looking people.  I started chatting with one of the girls in the group who said they were headed to the Reef trail as it is a great place for viewing exposed fossils.  The group, it turned out, was none other than the geology department from Wichita State University.  We shared where we were from, had a good laugh, and said if we had known we should have carpooled.  GO SHOCKS!

 

Our trails diverged at the trailhead, so we left our neighbors and headed down the dry creek bed to the cabin.  About 100 yards into the trail, we ran into three deer who were snacking around the side of the riverbed.  We followed them for about 50 feet until they caught sight of us and bounded out of the creek to safer hiding places.  From there, the trip was windy, but normal.  There were a couple of rangers maintaining the trail so we regularly had

to bail to let the ranger gators through.  We heard more critters in the brush along the sides of the trail but couldn’t manage to see them.

We reached the cabin in about 1.5 hours and decided to stop, have a mid-day snack and water break on a picnic table.  The cabin was the home of Jim Pratt who, after living in the canyon for several years, donated his land to the National Park.  He built the structure out of limestone blocks found in pastures outside the canyon and

drug in with horses.  The simple home had a living room, kitchen and two bedrooms.  The best part, though, was a peaceful front porch.  It was there that mom caught a quick mid-afternoon snooze in a very comfortable adirondack chair. 
We messed around for about an hour on the property.  There was a quick history about how the cabin was built posted to the door and you could peek in some of the windows to see sparsely furnished but comfortable rooms.  We also sat down and had our mid-afternoon snack on a conveniently provided picnic table in the backyard.  And then, of course, the nap on the front porch while listening to the wind rushing through the canyon.  All in all, it was a great stop.  None of us felt the urge to continue on to the Grotto, so we turned back to the trailhead.

In places, the creek bed of the canyon wasn't completely dry and there is running water - an interesting thing to see alongside a sea of prickly pears and other desert flora.  In other places, and according to posted signs, the creek has disappeared underground.  The presence of water, however, has created a small oasis in the desert where a wider variety of plants and trees are given what they need to flourish.  We were pleasantly surprised by two huge ponderosa pines in the back yard of Pratt Cabin – we know, we smelled them to make sure.  Mom’s favorite tree on this trail was the Texas Madora.  The Madora is a graceful tree with red bark in the areas of old growth.  When the tree gains its new growth, it sheds the older red bark to reveal a lighter, pink bark underneath.

After returning to the car, we drove back to Carlsbad and ended the day at the No Whiner Diner where we enjoyed some excellent comfort food and homemade honey wheat bread. Yum!

 

New Mexico - Day 3

We spent the entire day today crawling, climbing and meandering approximately 750-850 feet underground.  Carlsbad Caverns National Park is an easy, 30 minute drive south of Carlsbad.  The visitor’s center is perched atop a mountain in the Chihuahuan Desert.  Let me tell you, desert scrub brush, yucca and prickly pears look a lot more interesting when they are accompanied by changes in elevation.

We arrived about one hour after the visitor center opens at 8:00 am and grabbed our tickets.  (Most of our special tours were reserved online over a month ago per park recommendation.)  There are two ways you can see the cave for the basic entrance fee - the natural entrance and/or the Big Room.  Each can be accomplished in an hour - two hours if you do both.  The natural entrance is a mile walk down some pretty steep trail.  The Big Room can be accessed by elevator.  We, of course, headed immediately to the cave’s natural entrance.  Over lunch, we discussed which you should do if you only had one day to spend in the cave.  The consensus was, if you have already been to a cave and only have time to work in one of these tours, do the natural entrance tour.  Otherwise, do the Big Room.  We did both and got bored halfway through the Big Room.

Our first BIG ADVENTURE happened at the mouth of the cave.  Flying around the entrance in a continual loop were about one hundred, chirping cave swallows.  The site was mesmerizing and incredibly cool.  We all paused to watch.  The adventure began when we realized that the swallows would change their trajectory occasionally to sometimes fly en masse up an out of the cave and then sometimes turn and fly down and into the cave.  When they would fly down and in, they would fly incredibly close to the cave path.  Those of you who know Ross and his aversion to birds already understand the things that were running through all of our minds.  Steep inclined path.  Very deep, long drop to the bottom of the cave.  Flying, winged creatures zipping in, out and around the path.  A definite recipe for potential disaster.

After a moment, we headed down.  Thankfully, about the time we started down the path – half of the birds headed up and out, another half headed down and in and only one lone soldier remained flying menacingly in circles around the top of the entrance.  Perfect.  We scooted into the cave where we saw the rest of the swallows resting and “chatting” at the top of the cave.  Cool.  Very cool.  Carlsbad Caverns is actually more famous for its nightly bat viewing.  Unfortunately, March is a little too early for the majority of the bats to arrive.  Even so, we felt that we got a private preview of the show via some bat-like little birds.

The rest of the cave was just like a regular cave – only bigger.  A book at the park bookstore says, "It isn't the longest cave in the world...It isn't the largest cave, or the deepest...What it is, is overwhelming."  The temperature in the cave is a pleasant 56 degrees and has 90% relative humidity.  We ate a sandwich from the snack shop at the bottom of the cave. (Calling it a restaurant is stretching it.)  Then we grabbed the elevators back to the top for dessert and then split up for our tours that started at 1:00 p.m. 

Split?  Yes. Split.  There are those of us in the Hick’s clan who are not fond of heights and tight spaces and those of us who appreciate that kind of challenge.  Carlsbad Caverns has cave tours for all types of adventurers.  So, Ross went back down the elevator to what he started calling the “AARP” tour of the King’s Palace – he is, after all, the person in the family closest to the age requirement for membership.  From his report, the tour was delightful, the ranger guide informative and he met and chatted with several nice people.  The boys and I went the opposite direction to meet Rangers Tess and Tish at the far end of the Visitor’s Center where we would don our gear for the Lower Cave tour.

The three of us and nine other people were handed cave helmets with a headlamp (we supplied the batteries) and gloves, individually questioned to gather our names, hometowns and affirmative statement that we did want to go on the tour and were then herded down the elevator to the Lower Cave entrance.  We went through a gate in the rail where Tish attached a knotted rope to an established spot near the Big Room path and we proceeded to rappel backward down a slanted flowstone to a flat space on the rock about 15 feet down.  After that, we descended another 90 feet down three stainless steel ladders anchored to the cave walls.  Only one person at a time was allowed on each ladder and we were taught to listen for the verbal code “On ladder 2” before we could start going down ladder 1.

Ranger led tours never disappoint, folks.  If you visit a National Park, take the time to attend a ranger led tour of some kind.  You will be glad you did.  Tess and Tish were funny, interesting and playful making our time wandering through the lower depths of the cave fun.  I have three more pun jokes to add to my arsenal thanks to Tess – code names: “deer,” “carion” and “column.”  I taught Tess my “What do you call a fly with no wings?” joke.  We both knew the “What do you call a fish with no ‘i’s’ joke.  Like I said, we had a great time.


Down there, the cave is left much as it was when it was discovered in 1906.  Our “path” was two lines of red tape spaced about 1-2 foot apart on the cave floor.  There were red and white sections of tape that marked dangerous areas.  We used the “cave communication system” to pass the word down the line concerning areas that were more slippery than usual or things we should watch for and step over.  There were no lights outside of the LED lamps on our foreheads.  And there were plenty of tight spaces, bridges and rock falls to scramble over.  At one point, there was a hands and knees crawl through a tunnel about 15-20 feet long.  Awesome.

Some of the more interesting sights were a couple of dead bats – one which was inside one of the stalagmites and easy to see when illuminated by a flashlight – a dead cave worm and dead cave cricket at the edge of a body of water we were crossing by bridge, and a huge area of cave pearls which are apparently unique to the cave and very rare.  Tess and Tish kept things hopping and after about 2 hours mucking around, we returned to the gear room to turn everything back in.

 

After that, we were tired.  On a tip, we returned to Carlsbad to eat at Mi Casita – a mom and pop Mexican food restaurant that was a perfect end to a fun day.

New Mexico - Day 2

Sunday morning we awoke to a fairly quiet room at The BigTexan Motel.  Room 118 was at the very end of the main building in a complex that looks like a Dora the Explorer version of Dodge City's Boot Hill Museum.  The wind storm was still going strong.  Our cell phones indicated that the temperature was a balmy 30 something degrees outside.  With the wind chill the temperature felt more like 19 degrees.  Needless to say, we sprinted across the parking lot to the buffet breakfast at the infamous restaurant and didn’t get many pictures of the hotel.

According to the souvenir, plastic cups that came with the orange juice, the restaurant started in 1960.  History indicates that shortly after the restaurant opened, a group of cowboys entered placing bets on who could eat the most 1/2 pound steaks in an hour.  One of the cowboys polished off four of the steaks (72 total ounces), some shrimp cocktail, a baked potato, a salad and a roll in one hour and won the bet hands down.  Laughing, owner Bob Lee announced that anyone who could accomplish that feat again would get the steak dinner for free.  An instant Route 66 legend was born.

(Quick note to my father: Dad, the picture to the right is the "steak" in question.  The display is inside the door and available for viewing as you wait in line to eat.  Although I didn't feel comfortable enough to actually reach out and manipulate the piece of beef - which was on ice and wrapped in plastic - it did look to be cut thick enough to be pushing the "steak" definition.  It also looked like it was indeed a sirloin and cut from as far to the back of the loin as possible - as we speculated.)

The gift shop carries a book documenting the history of the complex that includes a horse hotel, doggy corral and pool in the shape of the state of Texas.  The back of the book lists people (there are more than you think) who have “won” a free steak along with their comments after finishing the meal.  Our favorite?  “I can’t feel my legs.”

After a leisurely, buffet breakfast (you pay more for the atmosphere than the meal), we strolled through the gift shop.  Then we packed up and hit the road once again striking south on I-27.  The dust storm was still in high gear.  Visibility fluctuated from about 1 mile to about ¼ mile in some places.  We would have thought we were in a snow storm had the color of the stuff blowing across the road been white.  I think the car will be due for an oil and filter change when we return to Kansas.

Having never seen the dust bowl, this storm was - we think - a good taste of the experience.  The towns we passed each had a green highway sign at the north and south city limits.  At one point, we saw a sign next to the road indicating we were at the north city limit of Meadow, Texas (population 594).  We drove for about 3 minutes and saw another green Meadow, Texas sign.  We are pretty sure there was a town in between there, but it was apparently hidden in the dust.

By the time we reached Lubbock, the dust had cleared somewhat and we were needing a break.  So, we pulled over and toured the Buddy Holly Center and Gallery.  Housed in Lubbock’s restored train depot, Buddy's gallery is in the shape of a guitar.  This was a really nice stop and worth the 20 minutes or so we took to stretch our legs.  There were two additional art galleries showcasing other local talent as well.  The boys liked an exhibit by an artist who mixes modern pictures of decaying buildings and dank basements with old photos of people.  Ross and I thought they were a little creepy.  I enjoyed a colorful painting by Ann McDonald named "Oil and Orchids."

...and of course, we learned a lot about Buddy Holly.  I learned The Beatles named themselves after Buddy Holly’s backup band, The Crickets.  Stop in the gift shop and you can purchase a pair of drumsticks signed by Jerry Allison, drummer.  I also learned Elton John began wearing his signature glasses in honor of Buddy.  I think I knew, but had forgotten, that Waylon Jennings played with The Crickets and narrowly escaped the plane crash by giving his seat up to a fellow tour member with the flu.

After the informative break, we drove through the beautiful, Spanish architecture of the Texas Tech campus to look around.  The students had exited for spring break so we pulled into an empty parking area in front of the math and physics buildings to eat a snack out of the back of the car.  After that, we basically slept our way (except Ross who was driving) through the rest of some pretty monotonous landscape on the way to Carlsbad, New Mexico.

We arrived at our hotel early in the afternoon, unloaded and checked in.  Gary at the front desk hooked us up with a great room as we weren't able to get anything that connected.  The boys hit the pool almost immediately (pools never go out of style) and then we hunkered down for the evening.  We should get to bed early and be able to hit the cave first thing in the morning.

New Mexico - Day 1

First day of vacation and it’s already an adventure.  We started the day heading north.  Yes, north.  The boys both won top blue ribbons at County 4-H Days and qualified to give their speeches again at Regional 4-H Days.  So, we began the first day of our vacation in El Dorado, sitting in a crowded hallway, talking with Grandpa Coy and Grandma Jane, waiting our turn to give two speeches to a judge.  Two more blue ribbons and we were back on the road to Winfield.

After a quick stop at the house to change, load the car and take the traditional “boys about to go on the road” picture, we turned south to Edmond, Oklahoma, The Mother Road, and a day of discovery.  During the drive, we made the first of three major discovery’s that day:

Discovery #1:  At a dinner party, mom and dad would probably play soft jazz or Top 40 rock, Isaac would play classical music and Sam would have silence.  These are the things that the Hicks’ discuss in the car.

We left I-35 north of Edmond and headed east to catch The Mother Road (State Highway 66) just to the east of Arcadia, Oklahoma.  It was there we stopped at our first roadside attraction – The Round Barn.  Originally built in 1898 by Big Bill Odor, he apparently felt a round barn would be tornado proof.

While tornados may not have ravaged the building, time finally did.  A book I purchased at the gift store says “At 12:09 on the afternoon of June 29, 1988, the decaying roof of the old barn ‘just kind of sighed and fell in, like a soufflé.’’  And so, along came Luke Robinson, a 74-year-old, retired carpenter who raised funds and lovingly raised the barn and its fallen roof back to its former glory. 

There was a wedding in the top part of the barn while we were there so we weren’t able to peek in.  But we did traverse the museum and gift shop in the bottom where there is some great Route 66 memorabilia – including a highway map from 1900 showing a highway running through Winfield, Kansas that we never knew existed.

After that, we stopped at Pop’s Soda Ranch and all of us – including the car, had a drink.  Pop’s is another Route 66 landmark and worth the stop.  There is a huge, neon soda bottle in the front and the store boasts that it sells over 600 flavors of soda.  We took a little time to choose four and had our first snack from the back of the car in the parking lot.

From there, we headed west following Route 66 (which has now basically morphed into I-40), stopping at the Sayre Denny’s for dinner.  Nature gave the car a nice carwash along the way.

Discovery #2 – Approximately 20 minutes outside of Sayre, Ross suddenly sat alert behind the wheel, glanced in the rear-view mirror and loudly exclaimed, “Son of a….!”  Thinking we were about to get hit by something behind us, I jerked awake from a cozy, full-tummy snooze.  “The church clothes are still hanging on the door in the bedroom.”  So at least no one was hurt, but at 8:35 in the evening, finding substitutes in the next 12 hours was a challenge that none of us were ready to take on.

Outside of Amarillo, we ran into a good old fashioned Texas windstorm the likes of which I have never experienced.  There was so much dust in the air, visibility was limited.  We were sharing the road with what Isaac termed, “the most semi trucks I’ve ever seen in my life” so the high winds and low visibility were making driving slow and troublesome.  Tumbleweeds were blowing across the road at a nice clip, occasionally hitting the side of the car but creating some interesting entertainment as we hunted for our exit.  Finally, we reached exit 74 just outside of town and pulled into The Big Texan where we had reservations for the night (more on The Big Texan tomorrow).

Discovery #3 – While checking into the hotel, Holly, the hotel clerk pointed out that I was using a Discover Card that didn’t have my name on it.  Sure enough, when she handed me back the card and I examined it, I discovered that I had been using a girlfriend’s card!  Apparently, during our girlfriend night to the movies last weekend, the cards had gotten switched at dinner.  I quickly called said girlfriend and told her to pull out her Discover Card and look at it.  We both had a good laugh at the circumstance.

Vowing to cease using the card, we hunkered in for the night to the sounds of gravel hitting the side of the hotel and the “whap, whap” of a loose tarp in the back end of a truck parked outside our door – a tiring but eventful day.  We are going to sleep in late tomorrow and have our own church service in our PJs when we decide to get up.

Perhaps it is the Snow...

We have snow in Kansas - for the first time in a while.  Perhaps it is the snow, perhaps it is my visit to the JASNA website, or perhaps it is having finished one of my favorite pieces of literature that drives me to dust off my blogger gloves, update my template and start putting words on virtual paper.

Perhaps it is the snow. 
"What we need is a good snow," said my husband.  Tension is high.  People are too caught up worrying about minutia.  "We need something to bring us together."  He is right.  We needed a reminder that people are more important than details.  Snow does that.  Snow unifies. 

Perhaps it is my visit to the JASNA website. 
What is that?  Well duh, she says....it's the Jane Austin Society of North America of which I am a card carrying member.  Why?  For the same reason I went out for track in high school, joined a sorority, became a mascot, let waiters choose my food and dance.  Because I can.  And because life is too short to spend time thinking about all the reasons to "not."

Perhaps it is having finished one of my favorite pieces of literature. 
For the past month or so, I've been listening with rapt attention at the feet of Jack Crabb.  I've loved dear and mystical Old Lodge Skins, grown up with the Human Beings, watched Caroline & Mrs. Pendrake with fascination, hunted buffalo, enjoyed Wild Bill Hickock as no one else will portray him, and revisited the Greasy Grass.  This book speaks to me like only great literature can.  It was a thrill to visit it again.

So, I find myself sitting here in front of my keyboard, coffee in hand, up early on a Saturday, contemplating Life.  ...Writing here for the first time in a over a year and feeling very much like I've missed visiting with an old friend.

Washington - FINAL DAY

We came, we saw, and now it was time to go home. Our flight left Reagan around noon, so we took our time packing, saying good bye to Joe, Sandy and Hudson and doing some light cleaning/straightening to help out with the guest transition. We also left an entirely unopened chocolate ice cream container in the freezer for anyone who might be interested (we let Joe know it was there for sure.)

And then, it was time for one more trek through our now very familiar neighborhood, down to the Eastern Market Metro and out to Reagan National for our flight back to Wichita. This time, getting our boarding passes was a piece of cake. No questions, we were in their system and we even had seats in the same vicinity as one another on both legs of the flight. Progress indeed!

Clearing this obstacle, we headed for the security line.

Now, you must know that when the Hicks' travel, Ross and I each get a travel buddy. Sam and Ross usually pair up which leave me with Isaac. This system -- devised while hiking steep canyon and mountain trails -- has worked, so far, pretty well. Sam and Ross are quiet, calm, take things slow and like to travel on the "down low." Isaac and I, well, let's just say we are not thrown by unnecessary attention. We have learned through the years that we all have a much better time if we separate into these groups during times of potential stress.

So, we queued up to the security line in this paired up fashion. We were split into separate lines by the guy checking boarding passes and Isaac went in front of me. I was very proud of him. He had his liquids at the ready, shoes off and electronics in the gray tub well ahead of reaching the actual scanner. I followed behind and got my stuff ready to go through. We both zipped effortlessly through the metal detector and started waiting for our stuff to come out on the other side.

I watched Isaac's shoes and electronics come out and pushed them down to the end of the table where he promptly began reassembling himself for the flight. I was watching him proudly while waiting patiently for my stuff when I realized that about 30 seconds had gone by and nothing else was coming down the conveyer belt.

I turned to see what was going on and noticed a small group of about 5 security officers all gathered around the screen in our line. The short, younger girl in the middle would look at the screen, then look up at me, then look back to the screen.

And then, in a sudden flash of memory, it hit me. "Here we go," I said under my breath to myself.

In a few moments, Isaac's bag finally came out of the conveyer belt and was immediately picked up by the security personnel. "Who's bag is this?" she asked me.

"His." I pointed at Isaac.

She nodded and looked at Isaac. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," she said. I looked at my nine-year-old son. His eyes were quite possibly the biggest that I have seen them.

"Can we wait for just a moment for my stuff to come through so I can go with you?" I asked.

"Certainly," she said -- she was no George Washington, but immediate relief registered on Isaac's face.

I got my stuff, reassembled myself and headed with Isaac to the little side area where they pat people down and search their luggage.

"Is there anything in here that will hurt or cut me?" the young security officer asked Isaac.

"No, ma'am," he said immediately. (I was proud of him for using his polite words.)

"Tell her what IS in there, Isaac," I said calmly.

And he proceeded to tell her, at length, about his really cool comb that he got at the spy museum that looks exactly like a switchblade.

Sure enough, they found the comb -- he had the good sense to pack it on the outside pocket so they didn't have to go digging around in the inside of the bag. They pulled it out gingerly and proceeded to attempt to open it up. At this point, Isaac had to help because they couldn't figure it out right away. And, fortunately for us ALL, they realized very quickly that it was exactly what Isaac had said it was.

But, they still confiscated it.

They graciously offered to let us go back and check it in checked luggage (which we did not have). If I had been on my game I could have asked Isaac at that moment if if wanted us to figure out how to mail it home. But, what can I say. I was tired.

I did tell them that Isaac had been warned this might happen and was prepared to relinquish the comb. (Yes, I used the word relinquish so that the security folks could see that they were dealing with an educated person.) And, he did let them take the comb with an amazing display of maturity. No tears. Just very, very, very big eyes and a face which was by this time devoid of color.

I, of course, had also looked over to see what Ross and Sam were during through all this. Sam was standing slack jawed and Ross had a look on his face that said, "Thank you GOD that it wasn't me." Yep. The travel buddy system never fails. To everyone's credit, we left the line without another word, got some snacks and made for an empty seat by the gate to wait for our plane. The incident was never mentioned again for the remainder of the trip.

I think, if Isaac would have cried, we might have gotten the comb back. As we were walking away, I heard the security officer ask her supervisor, "Can't we just give it to him?" But, rest assured that the security personnel at Reagan in Washinton DC are nothing but consistent in the name of safety. So, the infamous comb did not make it with us back to Kansas.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and we made it back to Kansas in time to do a little unpacking and fall in bed. Another memorable time. Another great trip. But I must say that I'm glad to be back home.

We owe a debt of gratitude to the many people who contributed to the planning of this vacation. Jeannette and the folks in Senator Moran's office - couldn't have done it without you. Beth, Connie and Justin and anyone else at NASFAA who helped, thanks for all of your good ideas. Thanks to Joe, Sandy and Hudson for making our apartment a home away from home. And thanks also to most everyone I have come into contact with in the last year who offered suggestions and ideas.

Washington - Day 6 CORRECTION

First of all, I owe the family a correction on my last posted blog. We did not go back to the apartment for egg sandwiches. We went out. We went out because the whole day it was Sam's birthday! Our little boy is now 13 years old. A fact that my brain is apparently choosing to deny at present.

The importance of the date was proudly displayed on Sam's ID that we presented proudly to the White House Secret Service -- who did not comment. The guide at the Wilson House did. She wished him Happy Birthday as soon as it was discovered.

Nonetheless, he had a good day. By evening, he wanted a steak to celebrate. The nearest place to get one of those was Mr. Henry's -- a good, old fashioned Capitol Hill pub. We ate outside and watched the Saturday Washingtonians go about their weekend celebrations. Sam and Ross both agreed that their steak was one of the best steaks they had ever eaten, so the evening party was a success!

Sam also gave his mother a great complement. When the waiter asked how he would like his steak cooked, he said, "I want it how you cook it, mom." Made my heart melt.