"Your dad wants grandchildren. No, really."

By the way, I heard that exact phrase at least five times from at least two different family members. All right, quick update because I have a deadline looming. First things first, Dan and I have escaped the snow storm by driving south. First we visited my Grandma. We took her out to dinner at Bob Evans (her choice). This was followed by dessert at my Aunt Brenda and Uncle Bruce's. I have not seen these relatives in at least, AT LEAST, five years. It was wonderful to be reunited, but a little overwhelming as well. Why you ask? Consider the first thing that my uncle said to me and Dan, "You two should make beautiful children." This was followed by an assesment that Dan will most likely make boys. He also chided us for getting a hotel room. As he put it, we can stay with them, and, after all, his grandson was conceived in the room above. At this point Dan actually said that this was too much information. I was inclined to agree. In other news, we then went and visited my cousin Tera, her husband, and their three children. It was a lovely time. My whole extended family loves Dan. How could they not? We then drove to Parkersburg, WV, where Dan and I stayed in our favorite hotel, the Blennerhassett. This hotel is quite the gem. It is a historic hotel and features a cozy library, spacious rooms, and a four-star retaurant, complete with a pianist. Dan surprised me by getting us the William Morris suite, which I confused with Philip Morris. Oops. The shower boasted more than five showerheads so that water was coming at you from all directions. I'm not going to lie, I was made for these kinds of hotels. While I was there I kept on thinking of my bedbug infested room in London and thinking how lucky I am. One does not fully appreciate what one has until she is almost eaten alive by bed bugs. And now I'm in Bowling Green, where I'm researching members of parliament. I will update more later. Until then, enjoy this picture of the William Morris suite. Shoot, it won't load. Just paint a picture in your head.