Craig was our "cellular cheerleader" as we made our way north on the 51, then the 101, then the 17, then the 89, then across on the 20, then finally, up I-15.
Here we are and I must gloat, I rose to the occasion.
After days of fretting, it turned out our time in the car went more smoothly than our days at home often do. Lucy, of all three, did the best. Seth was anxious to get there and Hazel (a new crawler) was not happy about 11-hours strapped down. Two stops, and 80+ times listening to "Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques"--we've arrived.
And...I think this mountainside retreat is one of the most beautiful places on earth. The kids are in summer heaven with cool nights that mean cool mornings. Summer-sault-able grass, chickens, hot air balloons in the shape of strawberries, old familiar toys from their mother's childhood, and endless possibilities of exploration. Seth, enjoying this "new" place keeps asking, "Why did we come to Gramma's house?" As if, this is too good to be true. As if, there's going to be some sort of drudgery, otherwise why would mom have spent forever driving us away from home to this magical place?