You'll Get There When You Get There

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This old gal…

Saw the perfect shirt at that festival of trees…not made for winter…a motto ringing true…for that Texas born husband of mine…

Cold…is not his friend…makes him crabby…makes his bones ache…makes him…sad…

The time had come…to head south for a bit…leave early Monday morning…avoid holiday traffic…easy peasy lemon squeezy…

But old man winter…had a different idea…the first snow hitting…just as eager travelers…backed out of the driveway…

High winds…visibility nil…slick roads…could not have chosen…a more unfortunate hour to leave…

And so it is…even in this zippity doo dah fast paced world of ours…there are times…you just have to take it slow…be smart…and get there…when you get there…
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And this husband of mine…agrees…