Trail of Crumbs

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This is a photo of me and Rand, at the Cape of Good Hope.

 

 

I like the way the wind picked up my hair. The gusts were so strong, we could barely stand straight.

There was a crowd of people waiting to pose with the sign, and we all had to take turns. We jumped in, took a few photos, and jumped out. When we kissed, a crowd of tourists cheered.

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We didn’t end up going to any touristy grottoes while in Italy – not the Blue Grotto in Capri (it was too cloudy), or the Grotto Smeraldino in Amalfi (not yet open for the season). At lot of people have told me we missed out mightily, and I nod and try to look sad, but honestly, it’s hard for me to feel deprived. I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve seen a lot of things.

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It’s occurred to me that I’m not the best communicator. It’s not that I don’t communicate, mind you. I’m constantly telling people things. Sometimes it’s stuff that I probably shouldn’t tell them.

Ahem. (“I … I can’t believe you tweeted that.” – Rand)

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Sigh. Yes. Another kissy face photo. Why?

Because I’m leaving for Cambodia on Friday, and I won’t see him for nearly three weeks.

Because it’s one of my favorite pictures from our trip, and I forgot to include it in my photo round-up of Ravello.

Because my eyeliner looks really, really good (and let’s face it – it hardly ever does).

 

And because looking at it just makes me crazy happy.

“I have to run to the bathroom. Here, hold my camera.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, why are you smiling?”

“Huh? No reason.”

 

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There has been a lot of talk lately about Rand’s facial hair. And not just by me. Other folks have been blogging about it, too.

He started growing it out after Thanksgiving, just to see what it would look like. And it looked pretty much the same as it always did – a bit shaggier perhaps, but that was it. But then, after a few months, the whole thing started to curl.

I, personally, thought this was hilarious. Rand was not as much of a fan. I remained fascinated at how much his look changed. Some days he resembled an old-timey-prospector …

There’s a joke here … something about how he could pan my river anytime …

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Rand is growing out his beard.

He can barely keep it clean on his own.

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I know, I know. This is supposed to be a travel blog, right? And for the most part, my husband’s facial hair plays very little role in our travel, much less yours.

Goodness, what if it did, though. That would be one crazy-ass superpower, would it not?

Me: Honey, we’re going to miss our flight!

Rand: What should I do?

Me: SHAVE, YOU IDIOT. SHAVE LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SHAVED BEFORE.

End scene. 

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There are no roses in Palm Springs. At least, none that we saw. So if we couldn’t stop and smell those, there was only one thing left to do:

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We had to pause and contemplate the cacti.

(Note: Rand is growing out his facial hair and having way too much fun doing it.)