Hank planned it all. A surprise anniversary getaway that started with flying Gram out from Oklahoma to watch the boys and only telling me what to pack.
The cover story was that we were headed for Steamboat Springs. But my suspicions started to rise when we turned the wrong way off I70. This kind of stuff began looking familiar.
And finally, Hank asked. “Have you figured it out, yet?”
“What’s the next town?” I asked.
“Are we going to Crested Butte?”
And with a grin, he said yes. And the reason? Because twelve years and five months ago, this is where he asked me to marry him.
But first, a stop in Salida.
If you’ve never been, it’s worth a trip. It’s an awesome town. A quirky town. A mountain town.
The last time we were here, we brought Holden and the baby Oscar dog. It was the first camping trip for both.
(That picture makes me laugh every time I look at it. Oscar looks gigantic.)
After a bite to eat, I snagged up these intensely cool shoes.
Do not judge the ugliness, for they are, quite simply, Heaven for your feet. And I shall be wearing them with shorts this summer. So when you see this girl rocking the fugly shoes, know that I am KICKIN’ it in THE most cush, comfy, crazy cool shoes. Evah.
After this fine purchase, we were off again to Crusty Butt, where a second surprise awaited. A massage…for 90 minutes.
And after being whisked away again on jello legs and an insanely relaxed self, we took a stroll down the main street to view lovely front gardens of yellow flowers peeking through wooden fences,
which ironically were all dandelions. And might I add, dandelions have never looked so lovely as they do in a mountain town. There are waves of them here, and they are celebrated as the happy-go-lucky sweet little faces of springtime in Crusty Butt.
We picked up this gem for our backyard garden,
oh I’m just kidding. He wouldn’t fit in the car. Or our yard. Sadness.
This was about the time that my stomach growled. Loudly. And then Hank’s answered a strong reply.
to Tandoori chicken wings and edamame and mango mojitos.
I then tried to bait the birds with a bean sprout from my salad, which in my mind totally resembled a nice, fat worm, but no dice. He was on to me.
And so was Hank.