Yup, you read that right. Twenty Eight Hours. It sounds even longer when you read it in longhand. Somehow I always romanticize it in my head before we actually go. Eating out for every meal, the being together and talking and playing, listening to my favorite songs or a book on tape, and enjoying the general spledor of the great outdoors always seems so exciting and inviting somehow before the trip actually begins. Unfortunately, by the end, those ideals have usually discintegrated somewhat. The hamburger for every meal turns into a constipation concoction in my stomach gurgling with gas and oozing with extremely awkward sensations. I am reminded of the stinkpots in Yellowstone we drove to see one year. Being together becomes more of a sentence than a treat, especially as the conversation leads closer and closer to bickering over which side of the seat line one's hand is lying or whose unmentionable (caused of course by the diet of grease and salt) is filling the car with stink. I always end up hating what once was my favorite song by the end of the trip and the endless drone of the reader proves more hypnotic than stimmulationg as I strive to stay awake and not leave us all as souveniers splattered accross the road. Even the general outdoor majesty turns tired and endless. Especially in Texas with no mountains, rivers, or anything at all to break up the monotomy of sky and prarie, the landscape can seem absolutely eternal. This of course makes me even more proud to be a Texan, but does not change the fact that driving through my beloved state is very nearly unbearable.
And that's just the contrastof what I expect to what I get. THat doesn't even begin on th smells of the thing. Six to eight human bodies cramped in the same twelve by six feet (or whatever it is) for that amount of time doesn't exactly smell good, especially when you add in the grease and salt. You know you smell bad when you smell yourself. You know you are grimy when the scum on your teeth and oil on your face are about the same thckness. When you taste your own breath... well, you get the idea.
But now it's over. An absolutely fabulous week in Idaho on Grandpa's ranch with hourses, ATVs, the rodeo, and all the fishing I could want (which, between you and me is a lot). We got home safely after the ride refered to above at around 9 this morning then I slept grumpily till noon then went to church. Today was actually quite an adventure with broken toes, near death experiences, and worship service as well. Sounds a bit like a movie, doesn't it. All in all a good Sunday.
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