Here's Two Lips that Won't Talk Back

That title is for you mom. In honor of ALL the times you read me The Mailman of Bayberry Lane.

(Believe it or not, this man is sporting a Tulip Festival pamphlet in his back pocket)

This past week we went up to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival & Air Show. Ray wanted to see the flowers. I wanted to see the air planes. We both saw a lot of tulips and planes.

The highlights of the trip were:

1. Eating at an Italian/Greek restaurant. It was an interesting combo... interesting in a really good way.
   
   
2. Just driving around and talking. We spent almost an hour discussing why these farmers would grow all these tulips. It's not like Pike's Market in Seattle can sell ALL these flowers, especially because they're all blooming at once. We finally searched through and read our pamphlet. Turns out they're harvesting the bulbs as a crop. My favorite theories were: a) Postcard and calendar production is more lucrative than we assumed. b) The husbands grow the fields of tulips to attract the tourists so the wives can sell all their crafts/antiques/baked-goods at the bazaars and auctions. c) There's no money in it, at all. This is just the result of "keeping up with the Joneses." Friendly flower gardening turned into competitive flower farming.
   
   
3. Ray and I narrating the pilot's in-flight conversations while watching them at the air show. We were both SURE we knew what their air talk sounded like:
   "Bud, I'm losing my breakfast. Take over. I'm going home."
   "Ahhhh! Charlie! Get off my tail. You're TOO close."
   "Oh, before I go Bud, we should think about getting matching Flying Ace scarves. Your plane is red. You can be the Red Baron. My plane is white. I'll be the White Baron."

(Alas, only two pictures to show for all this fun... and the one of me is with a stupid, rusty bus in the background.
I was just testing my self-portrait aim, then my camera battery died)