I should have posted about the great trip we took to Tucson in April to celebrate Archie's 60th birthday. We hiked, biked up Mt Lemmon (where I met Matt who has spent the last 2 years cycling around the US), watched the Huies rock climb, ate and drank around the pool, enjoyed hanging out with Spud and Tater, and were treated to a delicious dinner by my cousin John and his wife Peggy:
And I should have posted about the fun long weekend in East Wenatchee for SIR's Northwest Crank training camp.
And I should have posted about riding a 400km brevet in Oregon which was a fabulous route including 7 covered bridges and, unbelievably, headwinds no matter which direction I was riding and finished hearing the same birds at 4:30am that I had heard the previous morning at 5:00am:
But what finally got me to post was the simple wisdom of my grand-nephew Henry.
On Tuesday, as I was sitting in the back seat between Henry and Bennett we were discussing the concept of "it takes a village". Here's how the conversation played out:
me: Henry, you have a village.
Mary: Yes you do Henry. Who are your people?
Henry: Gramma, Boppa (grandpa), Mama, Dada...
me: Aren't I in your village?
me: Well I'd like to be in your village. How do I get in?
Henry: Open the door!