Guess where I am.
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If you guessed North Carolina, you are SO right! If you didn't...well, better luck next time.
IF THERE IS A NEXT TIME.
Okay. I...am here with my grandma, who is on her computer playing a game...oh, nope! She's checking my blog. Awkward. HI GRANDMA. My granddad is also here, somewhere, I think watching the news, but I never know where he is. Like a fox. Not like people usually keep tabs on foxes, but...the stigma. You get it.
The vacation saga is the topic of the post (I mean duh, the title), and I hope that after reading it you don't have negative impressions of my ability to travel or of my family in general. Not that you shouldn't; less than five minutes after we arrived, there was already a blood stain on the refrigerator.
The saga begins on Thursday evening, when I was finishing packing. Thankfully, I have recently obtained a clipboard (!!!), so I was at least motivated as to the list-making. The rest of it didn't flow so well. This is why, at 9:00 at night, I got a text from my friend Matt who is off at camp saying, "Hey! I have a few minutes and we should talk!" and I Skyped him for 45 minutes while I folded two shirts, which is...something.
By the way, if your name is Jeremiah, and I told you I was unavailable to Skype on Thursday, I apologize sincerely, because when you asked, I really thought I wouldn't have any free time that day. I technically didn't, but I did anyway. That didn't make sense. Soon.
Anyway. I went to bed at 11:30 and still wasn't done packing. I tried to wake up at 3:00, and woke up at 4:00. The entirety of the process was far from ideal.
We arrived after a day of flying that honestly did not have to be that long, but it was, because after waking up at 4:00 and flying to Atlanta (where it is tradition to spend obscene amounts of moneys at Popeye's), our flight was delayed from 4:05 to 4:45, to 5:00, to 5:30, to 6:00, to 6:30, to 6:45, to 7:00 (after which point they at least gave us food vouchers), to 7:30, to 8:00, which I think is when we actually left, but I don't remember anymore. I just remember feeling sick and not hungry, but also like I should have been hungry, which is pretty much the worst. And I really wanted a brownie, and I walked all over the flippin' concourse to find one, and it wasn't even that good. Anyway. We got to the final airport after 9:00, I think, after which it took just way too much time (but not too much money, apparently) to rent a car exactly like the one we have at home, and then drive to Grandma and Grandpa's.
On the way there, we played Make it or Break it. You may not know what this is. In short, it is a game where you suggest the presence of a slightly abnormal quality in a potential partner, and the rest of the car decides whether it would be possible for them to overlook it, or whether that would be a "deal breaker." (Get it? Make it or BREAK it? As in break up? Okay.) It's supposed to give you insight into everyone's character, but all I learned is nothing important about Dad and Mom (hello, they're already married), Big Little Brother has high standards, and Baby Little Brother wants to marry a vampire who can talk to dolphins and has glowing red eyes, because "you wouldn't have to buy reflectors for your bike."
The moment we arrived, some toads greeted us, and after that, our beloved grandparents greeted us, and after that, some potato salad and turkey greeted us, only to be devoured, so that was too bad for it.
Consequently, we collapsed.
I woke up Saturday morning and ate a FAT breakfast, which in reality was a fairly normal sized breakfast, it just seemed big. And DELICIOUS. Then we wandered for a bit. Then we ate a fat lunch with this glorious barbecue and hush puppies (deep friend corn bread, for the foreigners), and then we wandered some more, and I read, and then we ate a fat dinner. I just want you all to know that when I say fat, it is so totally the greatest compliment I could ever give a meal, and you need not worry yourselves that I'm judging anyone's eating habits; I just...like...food.
On Sunday we went to church and did all of the above.
Today I woke up at 11:30.
That really is the extent of the experience. For the sake of interesting details, and because I probably should stop talking about what I ate. I'll just talk about North Carolina for a bit.
First of all, the mosquitoes here are always feeding, and they're as big as a doorknob with a syringe attached to the end, with which they stab you and suck your blood, which they eventually spray everywhere when your grandma swats them for getting into the house. So far I only have one bite, which I take to mean as having undesirable blood. This is too bad, because I was really hoping to lure in a creepy vampire boyfriend in an internal war with himself over wanting to murder and marry me at the same time, but I guess I'll get over it.
There are frogs/toads of various sizes hopping about everywhere, especially in the funky little ravine by the house. This poses a problem, as mosquitoes also like ravines, but sometimes, we decide it's worth it. We found some cute lil' baby frogs/toads, but one died while I was holding it, and I may not catch anything else for the rest of the vacation or my life.
There are also fire ants, which are hard to explain until they're crawling up your leg, but then you really will get it.
Basically, there are open spaces and clean air and the only gray in the sky is thunderclouds. There is peace and quiet and two cars drive past every hour, and the only sound outside are birds and crickets and cicadas (crickets on steroids) and my dad getting back to his roots on Granddad's tractor. All we do is wander and come back in and eat and nap and wander some more and read books and go to church on Sunday, and I swear we haven't laughed this much in months. We might even go to the beach this week.
The Atlantic beach. Of the Atlantic Ocean.
That being said, if I don't come home, don't cry for me.
fin.
