On the morning that we left the Smoky Mountains, we woke up to, and packed up the campsite in, extremely heavy, dense, fog.
Another year older yesterday.
We went out to dinner (at The Pine Club) the night before since the actual day I had to spend down in Cincinnati for non-reschedule-able work reasons, and there was some uncertainty over when I would actually make it home that evening.
So last night after I finally got home I had leftover bone-in ribeye steak, guacamole and tortilla chips, some fresh bread, and a bottle (shared with John) of my brother Jeff’s (very delicious) wine. A dinner of whatever then heck I could scrounge out of the kitchen because I sure didn’t feel like cooking, and John needed to kitchen for bread-making and coating the cheese with wax anyway.
(More on the cheese later…)
It was an odd birthday, and I didn’t get to take the day off as I like to do, but an oddly satisfying one nevertheless.