All good things must end.

It is just about time to move on from here. Good thing, it is getting cold in Charleston, what the hell? At least we get to go back to warm, sunny Denver.

The week ended with the same sloth with which it began. There was much sitting around until the very end with the exception being a short walk on the beach before heading out to the airport.

There was one final batch of biscuits which came out the best by far. They were fluffy, layered, golden brown and delicious. I finally got the hang of the self rising flour that was snuck into the house without me knowing it. It was probably a blessing in disguise since the baking powder my parents brought along was older than I was.

Well . . . back to Denver, I'm never eating again.