Then I dropped my camera on a rock, a death blow from which it will never recover. It's frozen in the open-but-smashed-in position. It took two days before we arrived in a town big enough to buy a replacement, thus enabling me to miss photos of the one exciting point of the tour: a plane ride over Arches National Park.
Somewhere in there my husband came down with a cold, which he passed on to me a couple of days later.
My computer is acting strange, or perhaps it's Google, conspiring to make it very, very, very difficult to do anything with my blog. I had to start this post from scratch three times -- if I go back to the top to resize a photo, for instance, I can never get my cursor back to the bottom where I was still writing. It has taken me a week to figure out how to outsmart it even to this feeble level of success.
At least the plane didn't crash, and with any luck we will be home on Sunday.