Escalators are fun. We didn't realize this at the time, so The Dickens broadcast her indignation for the whole airport to hear as we left the escalator behind and joined the line of people waiting at the security checkpoint. It is difficult to hold onto a flailing two year old while putting all of your personal belongings on a conveyor belt and submitting to various types of metal detector scrutiny.
Once we cleared security and found our gate, The Dickens calmed down enough to run over to the windows and watch the airplanes (or hairplanes, as she calls them). Outside, a crow watched us from its perch on top of the boarding ramp. So our journey began.

In Texas, I met so many of Jen's relatives that there wasn't much chance to get to know any of them too well. We were picked up at the airport by Jen's cousin Michelle, who can be forgiven for driving an SUV because she lives on a ranch. As we drove through Dallas, I noticed that the competition among boot stores was fierce. Somebody had opened a store called "Boot City" right next to a store named "Boot Town". We left the big city behind and ended up in a more country-ish part of the state, a town named Sherman. Our room at the ranch faced east and there were no curtains on the window. The view was beautiful. At night the horizon was lit up by a band of twinkling building lights. The mornings, which ranged from overcast and foggy to clear, were also beautiful, although on the clear days the sun slapped us awake. As we slept, we were well guarded by a pair of vegetarian dogs. The yard surrounding the house was littered with the remains of their meals - half eaten pears from the tree on the north side of the house.
The boys promptly attacked the air mattress, jumping up and down on it until it sprung a leak. It lowered them gently to the ground overnight. This was the beginning of the trail of destruction they left. Soon, a light fixture, a marble chess board, a plush ball, and a frisbee were added to the list of things that would have to be thrown out.
Most of the relatives were from Jen's dad's side of the family, and we spent most of the time at her paternal grandparent's place eating food cooked by an ever changing assortment of people. The Dickens discovered the delights of rolling pecans down the long, curved driveway. Lexy discovered the delights of chess (which eventually led to the above mentioned chess board destruction), and Nate decided that he didn't like being away from home and spent the majority of the time scowling (except at night, when it turned into whining). Willow got passed around to all of the relatives and wasn't too happy about it.
I really enjoyed getting a chance to see some of the places that Jen had spent her childhood, and meeting the people she had spent it with. This gave me a chance to put faces to a lot of the people I previously had known only through her descriptions and stories. Everybody was really nice, especially her grandparents.
We spent about a day and a half with her maternal grandmother, who has an immaculate house, so of course we spent a lot of time trying to stay one step ahead of the kids. We mostly succeeded, except for the light fixture. I took the three older ones for a walk down the hill to lake Texoma, and we explored a bit before going back. The Dickens wanted to bring back some animal poo we found on the road so she could properly flush it. How thoughtful of her.
Thanksgiving came and went, leaving us satisfyingly stuffed and surrounded by even more people than on previous days. Some other kids had finally arrived (all teenaged or nearly so), which meant that the boys and The Dickens had new people to play with. This gave us a bit of a break.
During the week, in addition to driving an SUV with either Lynard Skynard (requested by The Dickens, and spelled wrong too, I'm sure...) or country music on the stereo, we saw lots of cows, oil wells, a stop sign peppered with bullet holes, and an upside down armadillo (photo soon). How stereotypical.
All of a sudden it was time to go home. The flight back was longer, and The Dickens was mad. When she tired of kicking the seat in front of her, she crawled from one end of the plane to the other. Several times. On the plus side, while I was leaning over her holding her feet so the passenger in front of her wouldn't kill us, I looked out the window and saw the Grand Canyon bathed in the orange glow of the sinking sun. Long shadows stretched eastward.
After we landed, while we waited for the luggage to emerge, I went up and down the escalators with The Dickens, noticing that several other people were doing the similar things with their children. She had a great time, but threw just as big a fit as she had on the journey out when we had to go.
Now it's all sinking into that strange unreality of all vacations as the reality of the daily routine reemerges and takes over. That's why we take photos and write about it. I've left lots of things out, but I'm in the middle of a good book, so perhaps another time I'll write more.

The first cds I listened to after getting back: The Iditarod "The Ghost, The Elf, The Cat and the Angel", Cowboy Junkies "Black Eyed Man", Pinetop Seven "No Breath in the Bellows", Sam Shalabi "On Hashish", Jessica Radcliffe, Lisa Ekstrom, Martin Simpson "Beautiful Darkness"