… but it’s a good kind of exhausted.
Grant just called a little while ago to report that he and the Firebird made it to Flagstaff safely. Meanwhile, I am unwinding with a plate of leftover barbecue (add “world-class pitmaster” to Grant’s long list of assets) and some baked mac and cheese while this evening’s guests — a biker from Oxnard, Calif., and a retired veterinarian from Detroit — are down the street at Casa de Jesus, undoubtedly solving all the world’s problems over a pitcher of beer.
This is the first semblance of peace and quiet I’ve had all weekend. Not that I’m complaining about 100 percent occupancy, of course, especially when Grant is one of my guests, but it’s good to stop and catch my breath after a weekend of nonstop laundry and cooking and errands and what-have-you. I was afraid Grant might be upset that I didn’t have time to go for a drive or hike up the mesa, but he just jumped right in and helped hang up sheets and fold towels and cook dinner.
You can learn a lot about a person across a clothesline or behind a barbecue grill. I’m too tired to go into details at the moment, but it was a good weekend. I’ll try to have a full report tomorrow.