Monday, July 23, 2012

family vacay

Speaking of new adventures, how 'bout this family road trip?
To give you a picture of everyone's mental states: we visited a "French café" (cue the askance faces) in the heart of Gettysburg, PA this afternoon for lunch.
My father ordered a shot of espresso. Because he's the best he only drank half and then let me have the rest.
Mistake number one. I haven't stopped talking since approximately 2:30 this afternoon, when that glorious rich nutty liquid hit my lips and brought me new life in mysterious ways that I can't even begin to plumb. So I think I've been incredibly amusing and witty, and graced my family with my clever commentary and my hilarious insights. I think they might view the situation differently. Clue Number One: they're not laughing at my humor as much as they were six hours ago. I mean, thank goodness I still find myself amusing, or else this would just be a lose-lose situation. 

I'm joking of course. Kind of. But really.

ANYHOW.

There is absolutely no better mode of travel than trapped in a mini-van with eight emotionally volatile family members. Trust me. The only thing that makes it better is if one of them (namely myself) is on a caffeine high, one of them is trying to make heads and tails of the numerous attacks and counter attacks of the various Confederate and Union brigades (tears ensue), one of them is trying to find new creative ways to lie down in the backseat (while surrounded by two other people. Good luck, kiddo), one of them is instigating tickle fights when things start to get "dull" (this is my 22-year-old sister. My personal favorite quote of hers thus far on this trip is: "Oh I'm not really worried. I was just making a big to-do about it because I'm bored." Save me. Someone.), and one of them is amusing himself by bouncing a ball off the seat of the person in front of them (prompting loud repetitions of the phrase: STOP. NOW. Sadly, Common Courtesy is usually the first casualty on family roadtrips). The other three people (namely parents and smart-aleck brother) are obsessed with trying to explain the Battle of Gettysburg to the rest of us. 

If we all have our sanity at the end of the week, it will be due to no merit of our own. There, but for the grace of God, go I was a phrase obviously penned by some person who was reflecting on the beautiful insanity of their family.

A photo gallery of our day:

My little sister really entered into the spirit of reverence and awe that surrounds the solemn battlefield.

"Renée, take a picture of me! Take a picture of me here on this cannon!"

My brother and I entered into the spirit of solemnity and awe that surrounds ice cream.

Note the waffle cone as big as his head.

My father staged a sneak attack on my sister, in a desperate attempt to steal some of her milkshake.

We really do take ice cream seriously.


But in all seriousness, this place is remarkable.

The golden hour hits the High Water Mark on Cemetery Ridge.

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