We visited. We ate. We watched the kiddos play on haystacks. I drove a tractor around for a couple of hours. Did I mention, we ate?
For an entire day I ESCAPED. No cares. No worries. No laundry. No dishes. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Do you have a special place you can go to get away? Is it somewhere that brings back good memories or has the potential to be a new happy place? If you do, and if you can, go there today. Go! I highly recommend it. Find the time, before the winter madness sets in, to get away. Go, go, go!
Tomorrow, we return to suburbia and life near a big city. I'll have to face a yard torn up by plumbers, Girl Scout camping trips and everything else that makes my life insane. However, I'll go back feeling relaxed. It's a good feeling, and I'd love some company.
Another special place is Rocks In My Dryer. I'm not sure if she'll relax you, but she sure can make you smile.
Here's a photo of me on a tractor, working hard. The guy with a chain saw who's lost his head is my brother. He's a pilot.
Don't laugh. I was really working! (kind of)
Thanks to Grandma for the photo.
Tomorrow we are going to The Farm. No visit to Louisiana is complete without a trip to The Farm.
My grandfather was a farmer. He farmed soybeans and rice, and he had a small herd of cattle. We spent large chunks of time there every summer when we were small, playing with the cousins and getting into trouble. Our parents would throw us out after breakfast, and we would roam acres of land and play in the gully that runs behind the house. The fact that none of us broke any bones is, to me, proof of divine intervention.
I have to admit, we did some pretty stupid stuff in those days. Once, after a heavy rain, the parents warned us not to swim in the dam. Well, wasn't that just an invitation to get in and enjoy the water? To keep them from finding out, we stripped down to our skivvies and took the plunge. Boy, that water was moving! And yet we live.
Those of you who live around large animals know that they are a source of endless entertainment. One afternoon, I was sitting on a gate to the fence that went around the barnyard when I heard screaming and the sound of thunder. My brother and cousin came tearing around Grandpa's shed with the entire herd stampeding behind them. "Open the gate!" they yelled. Yeah, right. I was draped over the gate, howling with laughter. They were not amused.
Another time, the joke was on me. My sister Aunt the Major, my cousin Kat and I were picking pecans at Aunt D's with Mama. I was dutifully picking up pecans when I was suddenly pushed about three feet. Aunt the Major and Kat had sacrificed me to a perturbed mama cow who was pawing the ground and snorting something fierce not ten feet from me. My mother, the unnatural parent, was holding her side she was laughing so hard. I was not amused.
So, we're going to The Farm tomorrow. It's time for the next generation to climb trees, skip stones, roll off of haystacks and play in the tree house. I feel a little sad for them, though. The cattle are gone, so they'll never know the joy of stepping on a cow patty on a warm summer's day. Poor little monkeys. They don't know what they're missing.
...didn't you? Get real! I'm AT Grandma's. How could I possibly forget Grandma's Word of the Week? We've just been busy eating and shopping and eating...
This week's word is IMPORTUNE. Hit the link for the definition. Oh, would you do some sit-ups for me, too? That would be VERY helpful.
If you've never been to a wedding in south Louisiana, you need to get yourself invited to one. I did this weekend and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
These people know how to throw a wedding. Where else can you see a bride and groom giggle over their attendants giving the priest Ring Pops for the Blessing of the Rings and then present flowers with a sense of awe and reverence to the altar during the singing of Ave Maria? Where else will you see a grandmother two-stepping with her grandson, and the older, unmarried brother of the groom dancing with the traditional broom to Brick House by the Commodores? Where else will the groom reach for the garter and pull out a *POSTED: No Trespassing* sign? Where else can you eat food that tastes this good?
A south Louisiana wedding is a mixture of the sacred and the irreverent. It's a mixture of old traditions and youthful joie de vive. It's a wedding given by people who don't take themselves too seriously, but who are very serious about what truly matters. It's a time for friends and for family. It's a time for fun.
We went to an Acadian wedding this weekend, cher, and we sure did pass a good time.
Shortly after we headed out for Louisiana, I saw a cardboard note attached to a road sign. It said, "Judgment is coming." I should have taken it as an omen of things to come.
Initially, the weather was a little dreary. Okay, it was rotten.
This is I-55. Pretty exciting, huh? After awhile, the skies cleared and the sun came out. Well, hot dog. The kiddos were luxuriating in unlimited DVD viewing. It's a rare treat. The movie of choice was Willow. (There are a few restrictions on the DVDs. It has to be something that won't drive me into the ditch.) I like Willow. There's something about Val Kilmer in a dress that makes me laugh. Go figure.
We were cruising along, making good time, until we hit Baton Rouge and came to a screeching halt. We sat and sat and sat and sat and sat....(name that children's book for ten points).
Finally, we started creeping along. Want to see the view from the Mississippi River Bridge?
Good shot, Salamander. The tall,pointy building to the right is the state capital. Don't look at my dirty windows.
We hit five miles an hour (whoopee!) and then we stopped again. Salamander was bored so he started fooling around with the camera. My hands are really riveting, aren't they?
So, I reclaimed the camera and snapped this one to show you how big his feet are.
Those things are huge! Then, I took some shots of the traffic.
The smoke is from an accident. Seven cars. Geesh. Thank goodness, no one was killed.
By this time, we were all whining and grumpy and ready to GET OUT OF THE VAN.
But first, we had to cross a swamp.
It's the Atchafalaya. Say that fast, three times.
Yea, we made it. So, it took a little longer than seven hours. Who's counting?
I love my librarians. Every single last one of them.They are helpful and friendly, courteous and kind, clean and thrifty...just like a bunch of grown-up girl scouts. While they are always on my list of Top Ten Favorite People, today I am especially fond of them.
Brandi (that Queen of a librarian) answered when I called to grovel and let them know that my books were not in on time. After listening to my pathetic sniveling, she promptly renewed all of my check-outs (all eight thousand, four hundred and fifty-eight of them) until November 30th!!! She's my hero.
You just can't say enough about the value of a good librarian.
Have I mentioned that I love my librarians? No? I love ya, gals.
P.S. Still waiting to hear from the neurologist. And waiting, and waiting, and...