Waiting for Karen.

This photo belongs to a whole genre of pictoral moments which are forever etched in my brain under the category "Waiting for Karen." Here is our third companion Sr. Anne, waiting with me for Karen in a shoestore in the Madrid airport. (Don't ask.)
















Here, on the right, is our cab driver waiting with me for Karen outside our parador in Santiago Del Compsotello.

There was waiting to go to the airport while repacking was done. Much, much waiting in hotel lobbies, restaurant foyers, church vestibules and outside souvenir shops. Pretty much every memory of the two week spread could be bookended by the obligatory "Waiting for Karen" moments. Waiting to go. Waiting to come back.

And on the scale of one to one thousand, with one thousand being my most hated thing to do, waiting falls probably right around 999.98. Which means that this trip was a spiritual pilgrimage for me on a whole other level.

It got to be funny, which shows real growth I think. Ahem.

But it was worth it. Absolutely worth waiting for.