Rocky Dogs

It's hard to leave Denver. Very hard. 

But it's nice to be home. I'll blame the insomnia on the altitude change, jet lag, Bella The Destroyer, etc.

Actually, I think we are going to rename Bella "The Black Beast of AAAAAAHHHHHH." After all, she carves it in the rock.

Took in a Rockies game Sunday. The Light Rail took us right downtown and to Coors Field. I am against paying for a Major League Baseball game but it was a family outing and we were on vacation, blah blah blah, so we coughed up $10 each for third-deck tickets above third base.

Impressive. Coors Field has this open feel to it, and everything is easy — easy to walk in (you can buy cheap peanuts and water outside of the gates and take them into the game), easy to walk around the concourse, everything in front of you. The Little Cousins got to pitch and bat. Sibs got to pay $6.50 for a beer and $6 for a Rocky Dog, but if you haven't had a Rocky Dog, well, you haven't lived.

The game ended and we walked right to the Light Rail and half an hour later, boom, we were home.

I will also say this about Denver International Airport — it's far, far away from everything, but a 10-lane highway takes you right there and the check-in was painless.

So the Sibling Summit was a huge success and we are already planning on a trip to the ocean next year. We didn't solve any great crisis, didn't figure out the world, we just hung out — a beautiful thing!

It's only taken 44-plus years to say this, but I am grateful for family.