A day to remember...

Admittedly, September 11th was memorable. Not entirely for all the reasons it should be. Thomas and I both felt like crap. We worked hard on Saturday, but still didn't sweat it out of our systems. There was no way we could go to Cimarron, where the bug supposedly had originated and worked its way through our family, and behave anything less than we felt - tired stuffy, achy. But we also couldn't handle staying in the house another day. Knowing I would be working the next two weekends, we decided to go to Santa Fe. The anniversary coincided with Fiestas - a little more than a weekend of parades and art stands in the plaza and "fiestas". I'd never been, so there was that, too. We made our way first to the Plaza. We arrived in time for the service. Traffic was light getting in as those not in the plaza were staking out prime real estate for the parade that would follow. There were speeches and marching and the color guard. Roses were laid in front of a folded set of bunker gear. There were bag pipes. It was a beautiful service, though I was amused at the "gentle"man who grumbled loudly at me when I stood up on the metal barricade to get a better view for a moment. We decided to find a different spot to watch. The day was also filled with traffic and chaos. Many places were closed because of Fiestas and at one point it took us an hour to move the equivalent of about eight blocks. We came home with a few groceries and a new printer. We didn't come home with chiles, but Thomas got a couple bushels on Monday. I won't quickly forget 9/11/11, nor where I was ten years before...