Reno

We've been in a whirl of travel. Fun fact: traveling across the country with a 2.5 year old who hasn't napped, getting delayed, and arriving around midnight EST is not the most fun thing ever. In case you were wondering.

However, we're happy to be in Reno, which, aside from being the setting for such stellar shows as Reno 911, is actually very pretty. It's refreshing to be in an entirely different landscape. I love the desert---I love more striking and nuanced (paradoxically--at the same time!) the colors are.

Also? 100 degrees or not, it's delightful to be away from the humidity. My good hair days have definitely spiked.

Lorelei has been a pill as she adjusts to the new time zone and tries to catch up on sleep in a rather full, loud house (Chris's brother and his family are here too). She finally got a good full night of sleep last night, so I'm optimistic that she'll be easier from here on.

Charlotte traveled like a superstar, coloring coloring coloring. She's overjoyed to be with her cousins, whom she adores, and yesterday she started golf camp. She is not a fan of golf clothes, so we're pushing the dress code at the club a bit, but she's five. FIVE. She ain't ever gonna wear a collared shirt. I barely got her into close-toed shoes, after all.

Charlotte enjoyed her first day and appears willing to return again today. She's the youngest one in a class of six, but she's holding her own, I hear. The instructor says she has very good eye-hand coordination and that the thing she's lacking is strength, which is expected because of her age. Chris seems to think she has a good swing, but I wouldn't know a good swing from a rotten one if my life depended on it, so I'll take his word for it.

Lorelei, of course, is absolutely burning with jealousy that Charlotte gets to golf and she does not. Some day, Lorelei. We promise.

Other than that, lots of time is being spent in the pool. Also? I'm the WHITEST person in Nevada. By far.

Chris played golf with his brother and dad yesterday. I'm told he lost many, many balls. He has a 90-minute massage scheduled for today (I have one tomorrow---NINETY MINUTES!), which is good. He's sore and making all sorts of old-man sounds when he moves around.

Books:
I'm still working on  Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and Damned and Love and Other Perishable Items. For a vacation read, I started (and am making quick progress in) Nancy Thayer's Island Girls, which is LAME. Not even mediocre. Several 31-year-olds who dress in Eileen Fischer? HA! Their dialogue reads like 60-year-olds talking. Which makes sense if you see Thayer's author picture. And of course the three girls are all working girls, devoted to their careers, at the expense of their love lives. I know, I know, it's beach read drivel, what did I expect? But damn it, I hauled this hardback library book all the way across the country, so I'm going to finish the wretched thing.


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