Olympic Peninsula: The End

Dear Friends and Family,

Thank you for reading thus far in our adventures. You'll be relieved to know that this will be the last vacation post. Next week I can get back to blogging about crazy things my children have done or the air suspension going out in my car (just to whet your appetite). But for now, I've got to finish what I've started because if I don't I may just forget the important details of our trip. I am, after all, not getting any younger nor is my mind.

Our ferry landed (is this the correct term?) in Port Angeles, Washington. If you recognize that name, then, yes, it's the very same. If you don't, then consider yourself fortunate. And if you remember the name, you'll be pleased to know that we couldn't pass up the opportunity. Especially since it was only two blocks from the ferry terminal. Drum roll, please..........

And there you have it. Yes, they do have mushroom ravioli on the menu. No, we did not eat there. It was 4:00 in the afternoon and we're not that old. I had a crazy notion that we would take a picture with Chris biting my neck, but that was before it occurred to me that there would be other people with eyes around. I chickened out.

A little more geography: the Olympic Peninsula is separated from the rest of Washington by Puget sound. At times, we were only about 15 miles from downtown Seattle (as the crow flies) but you wouldn't have known it. It's prime Bigfoot (and vampire) country and once you see it you can understand why. It's isolated and densely wooded and everyone seems to make flannel their fabric of choice.

And that is why we caught Harry Potter on opening night on a tiny screen with a crease among country folk. It didn't matter because it was SPECTACULAR. And although it cut into our Bigfoot searching time, I wouldn't have waited to see it for the world.

The next day we drove through Tacoma and across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, which thankfully did not collapse. Then onto Seattle and back from whence we came.

You may wonder why this portion of our trip didn't include more photos. Or you may not care. The reason is this: I had the camera and by this point in our vacation, I was fantasizing about knocking one of my teeth out castaway style. It wasn't necessary as I convinced a friendly endodontist to hook me up with a root canal before we had been back in town for 24 hours. It's all good now.

Why is it important to mention this? Well, because, I enjoy being with this guy

so much that not even epic (I do not exaggerate) pain could prevent me from having the time of my life with him (aaand fade out to Green Day).