Salt Lake City

I love driving into the neighborhood where David grew up. The neighbors wave to you every time you look up. Look, there's so and so's house. And that's where so and so crashed right into that tree. When we attend church, sweet old ladies will come to me take my hand and tell me how pleased they are with how David turned out (apparently he was a very energetic 11 year old). 

Spending time at Grandma and Grandpa's house is even better. There are family dinners in the backyard, chocolate chip cookies, apricot fruit leather and homemade granola. The boys play vintage board games and the original Nintendo. We listen to stories of growing up on the ranch in Juarez, Mexico and to lessons they learned on their missions to Chile. We give tech support about Facebook, blogging and Kindles, but get back more than we could ever give.

 

 

Our calendar always stays busy. But in between there is time to swim at the club with cousins. And for outings with Grandma.

We also got together with some old BYU friends who I will love forever.

I wish I would have taken a picture with everyone we saw. Now I know better.