Holiday Road

As I write, my folks are North bound and down, heading up the great interstate to spend a few days with us. To say that the house is buzzing with getsitement would be an understatement. I've been up before six the past two days and drank almost an entire pot of coffee by myself, so perhaps some of the getsitement is chemically attributable. Max keeps asking if it's lunch yet (they will arrive shortly thereafter) and Sam keeps yelling "TOM!" and giggling with glee. Mr. Wonderful is pouring over brisket recipes and ordering power tools online.

Ah, Summertime.

This week we received a wonderful piece of mail from my dad reminiscing about a fondly-remembered family camping trip circa 1985. I'm attaching it below and I know it's a bit blurry, and I apologize, but there are sheets to change, trash cans to empty and an endless supply of legos to return to their bins and I can't really tinker with the HP this morning. (Note: you can click on the picture and it will enlarge to a viewable size).

Time travels faster than a red Mazda with an orange sleeping bag, and this photo proves it. Because even as I type, I am still inside that hot car with the white and black interior, wearing a turquoise and purple Esprit de Corps sweatshirt, listening to Bruce Springsteen on my Sony Walkman, and am about to fall asleep and hog the backseat until my brother just gives up and lets me sleep on his side of the arm rest. And my dad is making a swift jerk, pulling over to the side of the road, and we are all laughing at his impulsion to photograph the moment.

Ah, Summertime.