Expired but Not Forgotten

My UK driving licence expired on my birthday a few days ago. I have carried it since returning from England because it was rather hard to come by. In the United Kingdom an American citizen may legally drive on the driver license (notice the spelling differences) issued by his or her state of residence for one year after entering the country. In the England Manchester Mission the senior couples from the US would travel to the Isle of Man (a sovereign nation within the mission boundaries) just before their year was up and thus restart the 12-month clock, thus avoiding the need to obtain a UK licence. About a year after Maureen and I arrived in the mission field, the Church's local legal guys decided that our little loophole wasn't legal after all, so we all began the process of getting a new licence. This involved driving lessons, passing a written exam and passing a driving test. The process takes about three months and costs about $500. Two of the men in our mission failed their tests and couldn't drive anymore. I was the first successful candidate; our mission president was the second. He gave me a high-five when I got mine; I gave him one when he got his.

So I Guess I Am Old

Grandson Keaton Steck had a spelling test a few weeks ago. He was to use his spelling words in sentences. His words were "old," "fold," "told," and "cold." For the first word, he wrote: "My Grapa is verry old" (sic). I celebrated my 70th birthday yesterday, so I guess the kid isn't too far off in his estimate of me. (btw: as of yesterday, my definition of old moved out a bit. It was 75; now it is 95! ' Except for a little of what my rheumatologist calls "overlap syndrome," I am feeling pretty good (well, when I take extra strength Tylenol, that is).

Picnic in the Park

Our tummies began rumbling as we passed through the sleepy town of Clairemont this afternoon on our way to Provo, so we asked our GPS to find us a place to have a picnic. Here is the place she picked out ... less than a mile from the I-210 and practically deserted. We enjoyed forty minutes of pleasant solitude AND a yummy meal prepared by my sweetie: roast turkey, avocado and cheese sandwiches, chips, and a tomato. (I ate the tomato; Mo ate the chips.) A man could not have a better wife!

Time to Rest ... again

So here's where we decided to spend the night on our way to Provo. I think the last time we were here was back in, maybe, 1978 ... before the Winnebago. The young man doing the desk clerk job tonight did not remember us. Oh, well. We are having fun anyway