Sojourn into Childhood

After a turbulent end to the semester, I find myself traveling 800 miles across the US with my parents, my sister, and my 10 year old brother to the sunny state of Florida. In a car. So far we've discovered the most complicated ways to order Subway and to arrange blankets, pillows, and bags of snacks in the overly-packed vehicle. We had car trouble not even a third of our way down south and had to stay in a hotel that was also housing a couple hundred drunken monster-truck rally fans. (I was prepared to fight for my continental breakfast).

The trip is highlighted thus far by Erika almost popping one of our tires on a curb, me almost killing everybody merging onto the expressway, and our family pulling up to the wrong house at 1am.

Despite all of the complications and the Beverly-Hillbilly methodology of transportation, I realized that there is nothing else I'd rather be doing, and literally no where else I'd rather be.

My biggest worries right now consist of doing a bit of light reading and figuring out how many sodas I owe Weston. (Stupid "jinx" game...)

This is, in many ways, my last sojourn into childhood.