This weekend my husband and I are going to attempt to spend a weekend alone for the first time in 4.5 years in Asheville, North Carolina.  At this point I am only going to count on the “attempt” as we have a list of obstacles to overcome before we actually arrive there.  We have to drop a kid off in Cleveland in my sister’s care, and we have to hope that our car and Continental Airlines can battle early December weather in Detroit, Cleveland, New York and Asheville.

I love Asheville, but we have no major, groundbreaking plans to accomplish much while we are there.  I just want to stand in the belly of the Blue Ridge Mountains and once again wade through the accumulation of  soft, long needles from the Carolina Pines.

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