Normally, after a vacation, no matter how wonderful, I'm glad to head home. For some reason, as our Arizona trip drew to a close, I didn't want to leave Prescott. I really like that town. It's got just enough rough edges to not be TOO idyllic (like me!), small but not too small, plus it's beautiful and has history you can see. I like that. I also love my in-laws' house. Father-in-law built it himself and in recent years has added extensively to the decks on the front and back of the house. It was freezing-butt cold there this trip, so we didn't lounge much on the decks, but I spent PLENTY of time gazing out across the valley from the front and into the trees looking for deer out back.
Truthfully, it was also hard to give up being cooked for morning, noon, and night for seven days. I dreaded coming home and having to meal plan and cook again. Ah, to live in a world where dinner magically appears on the table every night.
It's been a week of laundry, grocery-getting, Advent preparation and catch-up, and pre-Christmas stuff. I'm finally over the mild post-vacation depression. We decorated our tree (maybe now a pink-candle Sunday tradition?) and now Kevin and the hot glue gun are set up in the family room trying to construct a doll house for the girls for Christmas. He's got the walls up, I oughtta go take a photo.