I know ya'll are going to be excited because there are actual photos of The Husband today. I don't write much about him on this blog -- I don't write much about him offline, either -- and part of that is because I don't care to tiptoe or blunder through the dark thicket of marriage, the effects of disability on marriage, yada, yada, yada. The other reason that The Husband doesn't appear that often on this blog is because he is, quite literally, never around. The man works ungodly hours as a chef and always has worked this way. He is a wonderful father, though, particularly to his golden girl, Sophie. When he was able to get off work and come on a vacation with us, for the first time in over five years, we knew that we could handle bringing Sophie along, too.
But let's get back to Oh, Yosemite. The day before we left we signed up for a sleigh ride into the woods around the hotel. Here's the sleigh:
Here's another shot:
I love this quiet photo:
and this one:
and this one. Sophie has always been The Girl Who Loves Trees -- her face is nearly always looking upward, toward trees, so Yosemite was perfect for her. That's The Husband's right shoulder. That's all I have of him.
We sat around a smoky firepit, drank warm apple cider and roasted marshmallows. Oliver cheered up considerably when the marshmallows were brought out. He was only wearing a sweatshirt on the ride despite my advice to go get your snow jacket, Oliver, it's going to be cold. He was freezing, of course, and mad at me because you're always right, Mom, and it's annoying.
Here he is, finally smiling, perfecting a new technique of heating up the roasting stick to an extremely high temperature and then inserting it into the marshmallow so that it cooks from the inside out. Have ya'll tried this?
So, there you go. Sleigh rides, Sophie, The Husband, Yosemite and marshmallows nouveaux. I hope you have a wonderful Saturday.