I'm home after nearly a month gone. First to the rockin' Retreat in Whitefish, then two weeks in England visiting the kiddo, seeing the sights.
And sights were seen.
Stonehenge is awesome. Truly.
Compared to a famous nearby cathedral, Stonehenge felt full of power and spirit, where the cathedral seemed a monument to dead, dry excess.
I walked barefoot on the Salisbury Plain and wanted to know more.
But then we were off to London to see the British Museum. The Rosetta Stone and the British Marbles.
Dropped by Buckingham Palace. The Queen was home, but didn't come to the door.
We had a chance to see pastoral England too.
The natives stared at us as often as we stared at them.
In between there was plenty of this.
FYI: Don't eat anything a Brit calls "pudding" because it isn't.
It might be a sausage or a pancake, but pudding, it ain't.
Even saw one of these.
Built by the son of William the Conqueror. Imagine the pressure being the son of The Conqueror. Ending up being Peveril, builder of hard to reach sheep corrals.
And then it was time to come home.
KLM managed to derail us again. Overbooked, stranded us in Chicago while our luggage made it home, on time and safely.
Having previously dealt with the Dutch, I was more philosophical this time. I had never been to Chicago.
New rule of the road -- any vacation you return from not wearing your underwear inside out, is a good vacation, or you haven't flown KLM.
Montana smells different than other places. The air here is cool and light.
Walking through the jetway, I took a conscious breath.
I love to travel.
I love to come home.