Last year I took a roadtrip with my two little boys from Georgia to New Jersey for 20 days, I swore I would never do it again, but somehow, I found myself on the road again for 3 weeks with a two year old, a 4 year old, a questionable minivan, a panic disorder and no plan.
In List form, in no particular order, here is what sticks out in my mind.

My little brother graduated from highschool making me officially old. There was a big party for him during which I reaffirmed my belief that goat cheese with pepper jelly is a good thing. During this party I spoke with my brother for 14 seconds, however I spent several hours plotting to dress up with an eyepatch, pigtails and my bra on outside my pajamas and then wander around introducing myself to all his friends as his favorite sister.

Later in the week I discovered that too much goat cheese with pepper jelly is not a good thing.

My kids went to a very ritzy prep school summer camp for a a week, (thanks mom mom and pop pop) They had a great time, but I realized on day 2 (by comparison) that I dress my kids in a style that can only be called “public library lost-n- found” The clothes they have are all clean, but they all have “stains” ( someone likes to draw on everything with Sharpie markers) Ogden told me I should ” Get oxi clean it takes the stains out” he watches too much TV. reminds me of when Daryll Hannah learned to speak English from television in Bloomingdales in the Movie ” Splash”
I cant tell you how many times a day I hear ” 5 dollar, 5 dollar footlong” thats the Subway sandwich theme song that my 4 year old loves to sing. Anyway, the point is I went to a real store and bought 2 clean matching outfits for my boys, and then proceeded to dress them like creepy zombie twins for the remainder of my visit. By the way, both shirts were attacked by cherry snowcones and now blend right in with the rest of their wardrobe.

I consider it a gift when dolphins and or young lovers enter my cone of vision.

Attempting to camp. I had a mental picture of camping in a little log cabin with my boys. Making smores and catching fireflys in glass jars, I saw us skipping through the forest on long nature walks and swooping up handfulls of dirt to catch a frog or what have you. What I didn’t picture was the rest of the campground. I had a complete meltdown in the campground office upon arrival, resulting in me crying, dragging my screaming children behind me and hightailing it to civilization faster then I knew I could drive. I do not know why I had that reaction to the campground, there were plenty of kids around… and beer, and mullets without irony, I saw a woman, big as I am walking around in cut off jeans that couldnt snap and a bikini top, dangling a cigarette betwixed missing teeth normally the sort of folk I would like to draw or understand, but for some reason, on this day it made me cry. I developed a new mental picture that involved a motel room with indoor toilet, fruit loops and cartoons. oh well.

The sheets on the guest bed of my parents house are like silk smothered in butter wrapped on a cloud and covered in angel kisses.

The fireworks that never came. One night we waited on the beach for fireworks that never came, leads me to think there should be some sort of sign when fireworks are cancelled. like some way to let the people know so they don’t all sit there staring in the same direction for hours like seagulls. Ever notice seagulls do that? what are they looking at? next time I see a mass of seagulls staring off in one direction Im gonna tell them ” Hey the fireworks are cancelled go home!”

Ice cream. My kids are old enough to know what they want now. I cant just order a scoop of clean vanilla anymore. Now it needs gummy worms and a funny name. what the hell is superman ice cream anyway? that’s not a flavor. and if it were, I think it would taste like sweat and smog?

Insectropolis. One day it was so hot it hurt to inhale. So I took the boys to a museaum recommended by my GPS. It was located behind a bug extirmonator office, in the kind of warehouse you might store ammo for illegal arms trafficing. I was wary, but once inside the place was really cool and we got to touch a giant millipede.

Colonial Williamsburg. The smartest thing we did on this trip was NOT pay 110 dollars on tickets to visit Williamburg, instead we parked on a side street and walked around until everyone started screaming. Then we got back in the car.

The Mighty 8th Airforce Musuam. My Grandfather was a navigator in the war, we looked him up and found a picture of him and his crew in a book, in the museam library. It really meant alot to me, to hear my Grandfathers voice in my head, there are so many questions I didnt think to ask him when he was alive. I miss him terribly. I bought a tee shirt with a B-17 on it, kind of a departure from my black on black apparel.

Speaking of Voices in my head. We stopped at the Santee Indian Mound. Its one of the largest Indian Mounds in existence. I can describe it as a hill that talks if you close your eyes and listen.

The best Morning I had involved waking up to homeade eggnog waffles with my cousins.

The worst morning that I had involved waking up to ” Mommy someone pooped on the floor…and the chair”

The best meal I ate was a greek omelet

The worst meal I ate was also strangely a greek omelet.

I didnt get to see 98 percent of the people I wanted to see.

I did however love every minute with every person that I did get to see.

I love puppets and puppeteers, on the 14 hour drive home I ” invented” a form of puppetry I like to call ” Hip Hop Finger Dancing”

Scrabble App for Iphone…its pretty much the same as crystal meth.

SOUTH OF THE BORDER. I “fasciloathe” ( I dont like it but I am fascinated by it) South of the Border. and I also ” lovemit “( Love it but find it hard to admit ) South of the Border. What I love is the whole concept of making signs pointing to nothing. Its a self fulfilling prophecy and the signs actually make something happen out of the nothing that is there. South of the border is kind of my hero in that way, ” Hey look at me im nothing over hear, hey look, oh your looking, well then I must be something, so Im gonna be a little something and suddenly Im a big something, selling nothing” Ahhh fasciloathing. What I had never experienced however until Monday night was being TRAPPED” at south of the border. Torrential downpour, lights flickering, water leaking in under the door, strange zapping noises topped off by the fact that aside from the employees we were the ONLY people there. I found joy in this giant replica Bull that had a big sign on it that said “do not sit on bull” Finally No Bull Sit!

Petting Zoos. I did not get a picture of it, but I saw a really scary cow in the woods, it was grimacing at me and it had a full set of teeth that looked like human dentures. and.. it didnt seem to be a local cow, but maybe like a cow cownapped from mongolia or something? Maybe it wasnt a cow? maybe it was a yak..I dont know but I feel like it was mad and trying to tell me something.

My kids would rather play with sticks and gravel then anything I could possibly pay for.

I have been tumbling this pun in my head for years, thanks to a long drive it finally came out fully formed as this.
” Gumbo is Meaty Ocra at best.”

In conclusion, I think a change of scenery builds charachter. personally I am content to stare at the wall, but It is not just my own charachter I need to build now. My children may never be well dressed, or well mannered… but they will see as much as I can possibly show them..damn it.