Wednesday, May 26, 2004
I'm afraid it's going to take me longer to blog our adventures with Gretchyn than it took us to actually HAVE said adventures. I've got almost 100 photos to sort through, and I have to start somewhere. So I'll start with the first day (Sunday) here and hope to begin posting the pics from our big trip tomorrow.
I picked Gretchyn up at the Frankfurt airport Sunday morning and drove her out to the Odenwald for lunch at Zum Morgenstern, home of the fabulous cappucino torte. Later that afternoon we headed over to Schriesheim so Gretchyn could say she had seen a castle ruin up close and personal:
We paid the 50 cents admission charge for the privilege of climbing to the top of the tower. Instead of traditional stairs, we climbed wooden ladder after wooden ladder. Once at the top, we enjoyed the view of the town and vineyards below us:
***
In other news from Taylor-town, Mike is pleased to report that his mean old mother finally gave in and took him to her stylist for the highlights he has been begging for. First, they encased his head in plastic wrap; then they used a teeny-tiny hook to pull individual strands of hair through the plastic layer.
They smeared these strands with bleach and stuck him under the dryer for what seemed like ages.
Finally, they washed out the bleach, gave him a trim, and spiked it out all over the place. Here's the final product, of which he is quite proud:
I picked Gretchyn up at the Frankfurt airport Sunday morning and drove her out to the Odenwald for lunch at Zum Morgenstern, home of the fabulous cappucino torte. Later that afternoon we headed over to Schriesheim so Gretchyn could say she had seen a castle ruin up close and personal:
We paid the 50 cents admission charge for the privilege of climbing to the top of the tower. Instead of traditional stairs, we climbed wooden ladder after wooden ladder. Once at the top, we enjoyed the view of the town and vineyards below us:
***
In other news from Taylor-town, Mike is pleased to report that his mean old mother finally gave in and took him to her stylist for the highlights he has been begging for. First, they encased his head in plastic wrap; then they used a teeny-tiny hook to pull individual strands of hair through the plastic layer.
They smeared these strands with bleach and stuck him under the dryer for what seemed like ages.
Finally, they washed out the bleach, gave him a trim, and spiked it out all over the place. Here's the final product, of which he is quite proud:
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