So, the family reunion went off without a hitch – mostly. It was good to see all the left-coast folks. For many of them, I hadn’t seen them in lots of years. We had lots of laughs and LOTS of food. All the boys got rashes from being in the pool too long. I’ll post pics when I get them (not of the rashes, of course, but of other stuff).
The anecdote from the weekend foremost in my mind:
My mother – our hostess – thought it would be a neat idea to get away from the homestead for a little bit and have a picnic at a local vinyard. The view was supposedly spectacular. We all thought, “mmm ‘k,” and let her organize us into a catering company/search party, and off we go.
My cousin Jess and her fella Al from Phoenix were riding in the mommy-mobile with Hubby and the kids and me. Happily, the boys were too busy getting cricks in their necks hovering over their gameboys to make much noise, so Hubby and I had nice AZ vs. VA conversation with the cousins, as well as more ‘gettin to know ya’ chitchat. Then we left the interstate.
And found ourselves in the middle of the set from ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter.’
We traveled via windy (albeit paved) roads through a town called ‘Bacon Holler.’
I shit you not.
The Cousins from Phoenix gaped at their surroundings, with occasional comments like, “Do people really live in those?” and “What do people do for a living out here?” Hubby, always the one for a snappy retort, says, “tele-commute.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. The Blue Ridge Mountains are incredibly beautiful, one of my favorite places on Earth, and our family makes a point of visiting them often. But we just weren’t expecting Bacon Holler in the mini-van, feel me?
So after a bit, we turn off the windy-pavy roads in Dyke, VA (no, I’m not kidding). It’s actually a lovely area, and there’s a very prestigious boys school there. But it’s Dyke, VA, and I have five males in the car. You imagine the snickers and snorts. Uh-huh.
And then we hit the windy-UN-pavy roads, heading up a mountain. Terrific.
Again, don’t get me wrong. Gorgeous, of course. But… Room for one vehicle, and my mother’s Beemer is kicking up enough dust that I have to turn my wipers on. I’m thankful for the V-6, but all I think of is gas consumtion and g-d-mnit I just washed the car!
Thirty minutes of this, with occasional squeeks from my passengers, and we’ve about had enough. Hubby, again one for the snappy retort, asks, “Why have we driven an hour over unpaved roads to eat food we already had?” And then we arrive here:
Again, I’m not kidding.
This place was gorgeous, and obviously brand-spankin-new and well cared-for. Why did they put it at the end of such an arduous journey if they wanted people to come see the glory? Dunno. Guess it’s good for the grapes.
So we had our picnic. And truly did admire the view. And Youngest Son fell asleep, practically with a chicken-strip in his mouth. And then we went home and washed our cars. But look at that. Tell me, was it worth it?