So I was trying out Skype for the first time with a photo studio on the other side of the country. It was better than getting on an airplane and having to fly in to approve one shot when I was very proud to have successfully figured out how to a conference call. “Wow, and just like that we are doing a three-way.” I said.
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Apparently, it means something else.
So… You’ve met me.
Monday night, I a huge thunderstorm, I was putting the dogs in the car to head home from Mom’s after work (and grandma doggy day care). The rains where heavy and the wind strong. I picked up one dog from the safety of Mom’s attached garage and rand with him in my arms to the car. I to saw him onto the from seat and turned around to get the other one when I was hit with the car door. I saw stars. And, of course, there was a dog at my feet who couldn’t wait to get in the car and left the safety and protection of the garage.
I put him in and wondered if my head was bleeding and if I needed to straight to the ER.
Long story short, I decided to head home and put ice on my head. After all, there was no blood.
I home, thought I thought I might pass out from the pain, I convinced myself it wasn’t so bad. And the ice seemed to help.
A few days later, my head not hurt if I touched it.
And now, nearly a week later, I have a bruise in the shape of an “L” across my forehead.
That’s right, a giant L, for loser, on my forehead.
Have you met me?
Maybe, when someone showed me that sign back in high school, they weren’t being mean but were somehow channeling the future, warning me of bruises to come, saying ‘you’re going to have a bruise here. Be careful.’
What makes this all better is this week I am traveling through Chicago and eastern PA. With a giant loser bruise on my forehead.
Because, you know, you’ve met me.
A few highlights from the most recent vacation:
Savannah was nice and lovely but then, we made our way to Charleston and it so, so, so much more lovely and breathtaking that Savannah was a distance memory.
Tybee Island is a sh!thole. I won’t ever need to go back there.
Hilton Head Island is another place I never need to go back to. It was the total opposite of Tybee. It was upscale, gated and exclusive. The poor common traveler (like yours truly) wasn’t able to even get to the ocean. I guess if you are into golfing, it would be an ok place. But that’s not who I am.
Mytrle Beach was much, much, much nicer than excepted. Well, maybe it was North Myrtle Beach.
With that said, I wish we had kept count of the important sights like:
Places that sold fireworks
Storefronts with things like giant sharks you had to enter through.
Asheville, NC was so amazingly beautiful. I want to go back in the fall.
We didn’t see the Biltmore Estate in Asheville. We just ran out of time. See, the truth is we had a few hours to kill and were hoping for just a grounds pass to stroll around the estate (like you do). They only offer an all-inclusive pass for $60/day. It just was not worth us to pay that kind of money for an hour or two.
No worries though, we hit up the gift shop and were able to get some wine.
Another reason to go back.
Also, the mountains around there = amazing.
And the town itself was cool too.
When in Charleston, we were able to do a tour with the dogs. Yes. that’s right. The dogs went on the tour bus with us. They did great.
I wasn’t prepared for the accent differences. Honestly, one day, I was sitting on a bench in Charleston with the dogs, waiting for my mother to return from her bathroom search. A nice man sat down next to me and began talking. I had no idea what he was saying. None. Seriously, none.
And to make it even better, I wasn’t sure if this man was drunk or just Southern. The same thing repeated in Savannah. And in Hilton Head.
I don’t really know if I can call all of this a vacation. It was really more of a road trip and scouting trip for vacations to come. But it was good to get-away.
My mother, the Diva, kept a travel journal. Hopefully she will type it up and we can share it here. Edited, of course.
Is it too late to become a contortionist ? Watching Americas Got Talent
From my mother. Of course.
“I see you didn’t manage to find any lipstick.” said my mother this morning, when I dropped the dogs off. It had been awhile since my dogs had seen my mother and they were super excited, their tails wagging as they ran into her bedroom to greet her, still in bed.
“I was gone two weeks and nothing changed.” said my mother.
I rolled my eyes. “Goodbye.” I said.
On the road today, I saw a white Toyota with personalized plates. “GOD” it read.
God is driving a Toyota. And is a black woman.