I will back date this post but I can hardly hold up the ruse as I’ve already written today’s post and as you have seen or will see, I am wringing this info out of one tired brain.

Yesterday we caravan-ed to Great-Great Aunt Dorothy’s in Alamogordo, with the truck pulling the camping trailer which would be our bedroom, for Scott, Jonah, and me.

We arrived at 1-ish in the afternoon as all manner of family were madly scrambling to get the Thanksgiving “dinner” together. (What is this thing with T-giving in the middle of the day?)

We were tired and cranky and out of sorts, and hungry. We ate, and then we escaped with the boy to the train park and toy-train museum just down the road.

The ride-on train! And the guy who drove it ended up being our guide of the model train museum which you would think was just one room, or two rooms, but it ended up being an endless catacomb of train layouts, each one more exciting and impressive, and old and dusty, than the next. The “engineer” himself laid the track in the park that the ride-on train follows. He’s the only paid employee. Rest is done and donated by volunteers.

The owner of the train operation (the guy whose father built the place and himself not a young man) gave Jonah a big Mylar balloon with an image of an old steam train printed on it.

I bought a souvenir train whistle with the best sound of any I’d ever heard.

It. Was. Awesome.

And totally reinvigorated us for the chatting and catching up we did with everyone when we returned. And banjo-accompanied singalong.

And that night we slept in the trailer, with Jonah using his planetarium flashlight as a nightlight.

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