Paul’s Thanksgiving Family Trip Photo Gallery

When I hear the song No Place Like Home For the Holidays, it reminds me of me.

I'm the man headed for Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie.

And I did, for Thanksgiving. It was glorious. Smell is the sense most closely associate with memory, and I was able to sniff it all. This includes the smells of the best Italian food this side of Porto Fino, Primanti Brother's sandwiches, the mud of the trail, and my family's house in the mountains, and I hadn't been there in seven years. That's a long time for a place that I grew up going to at least every month, often every week.

I didn't go to my mountain bike spot of choice, but I went to one that offered way better views.

Mostly, I was amazed at how easily my son handled being handed back and forth between dozens of different relatives and friends for a week straight. He loves the attention.

I really love the holidays!