I've made it pretty clear here, I believe, that I really hate that Bubby lives 819 miles away from me. I don't get to hug him or hear his laughter or read books to him or dance with him or listen to his toddler talk or "rocky" him or watch him fall asleep nearly as much as I'd like. I envy grandparents whose grandchildren live within a few hours drive from them.

But I guess that if Bubby, Megan and Preston are going to reside hours and hours away from me, the desert is a pretty good place for them to be. That's probably surprising to hear, since I've also made it pretty clear here how much I hate the heat they live in.

But the advantage of them living where they do is that come mid-October -- when Jim and I head off to the desert to visit Bubby -- although it may be snowy and cold here in the mountains, it'll be absolutely fantastic park-visiting weather there.

Which means, we'll get to see in person the unbridled joy Bubby gets from climbing to the top of the playground slide, plopping down on his butt, then free-falling to the bottom.

Just ... like ... this ....