Not long ago I flew to Boise. It was a quaint city that felt more like a town than a metropolis. The mountains seemed to spill into the city streets. Cars actually stopped for pedestrians. Shop owners smiled when I walked through the door. Back alley pubs sported large patios. Graffiti was less teenage tagging and more artist confusing brick with canvas. It was the kind of spot where you expected to get whisked into the air and kissed by someone tall and handsome. Don’t worry. I knew the man doing the whisking.
Garrett and I were there visiting Gran and Gramps (his grandparents on his father’s side). They spoiled us – me in particular. There were niçoise salads and steak in a cream and mushroom sauce. There was ice-skating and a trip to Sun Valley. There was chocolate – oh, how there was chocolate. There was conversation and naps and one morning there were hot air balloons – a whole sky full of them just a few city blocks away. Continue reading