Since our car trip to Arizona in March was such a roaring success (meaning nobody killed anyone else and I only had to scream at the kids to shut up a dozen times), I decided that we shall take another car trip. Mister will hold down the fort while I travel with all six children in a
shoebox minivan all over the South. My hatred of planning things in advance is fighting madly with my fear of getting lost, and I have developed only the loosest skeleton of a plan for the next two weeks.
First off let me say that I love the South. It’s my favorite. There’s a constant debate over whether Texas is the South (I think that Austin technically isn’t–it’s got way more of a Western vibe–but people say “yes, ma’am” so it’s close enough.) If I had piles of money I would spend the entire rest of the summer exploring the nooks and crannies around that South. But I don’t. So instead I will go and freeload on all my friends in that part of the country.
We’ll stay with some old friends of ours who used to live near us in Utah but now have a farm in North Carolina with a dozen yaks and a hundred chickens. I know. I’m so excited. Visiting someone else’s farm is even better than having your own.
At some point we’ll also stop by Tryon, the town in North Carolina where my grandparents lived. It’s probably my favorite place on earth. I haven’t been back there in 14 years since my grandma died and I’m sure lots has changed and it will make me horribly sad. The bad thing about Tryon is that it’s in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere. Seriously. But I won’t have a husband telling me what a waste of gas every little detour will be.
I’m purposely not telling him our agenda and he’s purposely not asking. Also, I don’t actually know what our agenda is.
I do know that we will be stopping in Washington DC, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia (I need to spend some time with my BFF Tiffany), Alabama, Mississisppi, and Louisiana. I feel like I need to paint a confederate flag onto my car à la the Dukes of Hazzard.
I’m pretty excited. There is such a sense of history that you just don’t get anywhere else in our country. Well, there sort of is in New England, but the South is just . . . what’s the word? Better.