This guy's 81 years old. I've always hung around with people much older than I am. Twenty years older. He received many well wishes and phone calls, but I had to be the party for the day. So I thought we should drive to Huntsville, because it's a beautiful drive and there's something about that town that has always drawn us.
It used to be the monastery with the little store where the monks sold their own honey. Fabulous. They had a church with one gigantic stained glass window at the front. Once we went to hear the monks chant. I think we expected the Russian Male
Chorus, but these old guys sounded woeful. Such expectations for twenty old men.
Ahh, but the honey was divine. It's gone now.
Still, there are lovely old pioneer houses, and President McKay's house, and Pineview resevoir with its sandy beach.
We drove Emigration Canyon, to East Canyon, through Hennefer and Morgan and then were pushed off at I-84 where we didn't want to be. Our GPS wasn't working,
or perhaps I told Tom to leave it alone, because he fusses with it and forgets to
look up at the views. Then he moved onto Google maps, but it was too small to read. And I am probably still suggesting that he should be looking. See what a party I am?
We never got to Huntsville.
It didn't matter. The drive really was so lovely and he saw most of it. We bought a raspberry almond cream torte and I found old candles in a drawer. Thus the photo.
I sang the birthday song in my best alto voice and then he beat me at Parcheesi.
Happy Birthday, dear Tom.
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