Cubs... of all sizes

Off we went to Shenandoah National Park this past weekend, despite our sick cub in the backseat. Oh, how he scared us with the low-grade fever, vomiting, and diarrhea-- but when the pediatrician says that we can go as long as we bring back a brochure for him, who are we to question?

We hiked down the Cedar Run trail to see the falls at the bottom. Discovered that we heard no water flowing as we were on our way down and that the rock where the falls were supposed to be was bone dry. Doggone drought. On the way back up, I heard a rustle. I looked to my left to see... a bear cub sprawled on the other side of the ravine. That's when I remembered that I had a bag of homemade granola in the baby backpack. And that cubs have mommies.

So I clapped at DH. Who just kept moving. So I said his name. When he turned around, I pointed and he just looked at me. So I said, "Bear!" in my most urgent tone. We both got moving.

A few hours later, we saw a cub posing for tourists just like Yogi did in the cartoons. I think it was the same goofy adolescent bear that I saw earlier-- I'm sure that he was doing his best 'feed me' look.

Oh, and dining choices near Luray were oh so sparse. Very, very disappointing. I always forget that I was spoiled by the quality of the beef in SD growing up. Not to mention that the Confederate-sympathizing vibe in our restaurant choice was very off-putting. But I forget that I'm south of the Mason-Dixon sometimes.

Random thought of the day: Having a husband that insists on being involved with decorating decisions to the point that I get frustrated and worn down is not fun. Who knew that paint colors could be so stress-inducing?