We've returned from our family vacation. Every one survived. Hooray for surviving family vacation!
Not that there weren't some close calls, mind you. There were the literal close calls, like when Harry decided he would jump into the pool without swimmies or a noodle or an ADULT TO SUPERVISE HIM. Or when he wandered off and I was frantic looking for him. While I was outside wondering just how far his little legs could carry him and if he would know to not pet a bear should he encounter one, John and Sophie were in the clubhouse using the laptop and heard someone crying in the bathroom. It was Harry, who needed to use the facilities but ended up making a mess of himself and was unable to pull open the heavy door to leave the scene.
There were the other close calls, like when Sophie asked 343 times in the span of an afternoon at the county fair if NOW was the time she'd be going back to pet the baby deer? Or now? If not right now, then how about NOW? No? Maybe now? Because if we don't go NOW the baby deer will surely have grown into adults so how about we go NOW? My brain finally melted and oozed out my ears but the deer were properly petted and all was right with the world for the time being.
We took a fishing trip with my dad in his new boat. It was quite possibly the best afternoon I've ever seen. The sun was low, it was breezy and cool and quiet. Harry was able to see my dad reel in a fish but the cards were not stacked in Sophie's favor as she fished using stale hot dog buns for bait. It was all we had in a town where you could drive 20 miles roundtrip for a container of worms.
There was other wildlife to contend with on our trip. One night we built a campfire and toasted marshmallows. The boys had gone inside for something. All was well until I heard the sound of something approaching, "something" being a skunk, heading right for me and Sophie. There were rabbits to nearly run over with my car, toads to almost step on. The kids loved the toad and the fact that it peed twice as we were shining flashlights in its face. Because nothing says "we respect nature" like shining halogen flashlights into the face of a terrified toad. The chipmunks of Pennsylvania decided that the best way to get my attention is to zoom across my feet when I'm not looking and mosquitos feasted on my ankles, arms, forehead and shoulders.
We spent the better part of Thursday afternoon at Space Farms, which is decidedly one of the oddest places I've ever been. My theory is the founder was a farmer, a talented hunter and habitual hoarder. One day his wife told him to do something with his extensive collection of junk or get rid of it. And thus was born Space Farms.
Upon arrival you can either go eat in the restaurant on the left or look at the taxidermy on display on the right. Upstairs is a museum of stuff. Cases and cases of stuff, from Indian trading beads to gun collections to Civil War-era grapeshot. African Ivory hair combs, nineteenth century baby buggies and antique snake bite kits. Outside you can visit the zoo, which includes Syrian grizzly bears, lions, bison, lemurs, tigers, elk and an alligator.
Once you've viewed the wildlife you can stroll through the other ten buildings on the former farm and see the family's collection of other stuff all "exclusively dedicated to showcasing thousands of items, which represent American History." This includes farm equipment, antique toys, and COFFINS.
We went swimming nearly every day. On Saturday I had the distinct pleasure of reporting something suspicious in the pool to the lifeguard who fished it out and immediately declared that the pool was closed for the rest of the day. I got a lot of stink eyes that day from other swimmers but you know, swimming in a TOILET just wasn't one of the things we had on our vacation agenda.
We ate a lot of ice cream, drank a lot of beer and exhausted ourselves. There was bike riding and hiking, lakes to fall into, funnel cakes and s'mores. There was a storm that kept me and John up most of the night wondering if we'd be washed away and vomiting as the result of eating too many marshmallows.
Family vacations are not for the faint of heart.
Not that there weren't some close calls, mind you. There were the literal close calls, like when Harry decided he would jump into the pool without swimmies or a noodle or an ADULT TO SUPERVISE HIM. Or when he wandered off and I was frantic looking for him. While I was outside wondering just how far his little legs could carry him and if he would know to not pet a bear should he encounter one, John and Sophie were in the clubhouse using the laptop and heard someone crying in the bathroom. It was Harry, who needed to use the facilities but ended up making a mess of himself and was unable to pull open the heavy door to leave the scene.
There were the other close calls, like when Sophie asked 343 times in the span of an afternoon at the county fair if NOW was the time she'd be going back to pet the baby deer? Or now? If not right now, then how about NOW? No? Maybe now? Because if we don't go NOW the baby deer will surely have grown into adults so how about we go NOW? My brain finally melted and oozed out my ears but the deer were properly petted and all was right with the world for the time being.
We took a fishing trip with my dad in his new boat. It was quite possibly the best afternoon I've ever seen. The sun was low, it was breezy and cool and quiet. Harry was able to see my dad reel in a fish but the cards were not stacked in Sophie's favor as she fished using stale hot dog buns for bait. It was all we had in a town where you could drive 20 miles roundtrip for a container of worms.
There was other wildlife to contend with on our trip. One night we built a campfire and toasted marshmallows. The boys had gone inside for something. All was well until I heard the sound of something approaching, "something" being a skunk, heading right for me and Sophie. There were rabbits to nearly run over with my car, toads to almost step on. The kids loved the toad and the fact that it peed twice as we were shining flashlights in its face. Because nothing says "we respect nature" like shining halogen flashlights into the face of a terrified toad. The chipmunks of Pennsylvania decided that the best way to get my attention is to zoom across my feet when I'm not looking and mosquitos feasted on my ankles, arms, forehead and shoulders.
We spent the better part of Thursday afternoon at Space Farms, which is decidedly one of the oddest places I've ever been. My theory is the founder was a farmer, a talented hunter and habitual hoarder. One day his wife told him to do something with his extensive collection of junk or get rid of it. And thus was born Space Farms.
Upon arrival you can either go eat in the restaurant on the left or look at the taxidermy on display on the right. Upstairs is a museum of stuff. Cases and cases of stuff, from Indian trading beads to gun collections to Civil War-era grapeshot. African Ivory hair combs, nineteenth century baby buggies and antique snake bite kits. Outside you can visit the zoo, which includes Syrian grizzly bears, lions, bison, lemurs, tigers, elk and an alligator.
Once you've viewed the wildlife you can stroll through the other ten buildings on the former farm and see the family's collection of other stuff all "exclusively dedicated to showcasing thousands of items, which represent American History." This includes farm equipment, antique toys, and COFFINS.
We went swimming nearly every day. On Saturday I had the distinct pleasure of reporting something suspicious in the pool to the lifeguard who fished it out and immediately declared that the pool was closed for the rest of the day. I got a lot of stink eyes that day from other swimmers but you know, swimming in a TOILET just wasn't one of the things we had on our vacation agenda.
We ate a lot of ice cream, drank a lot of beer and exhausted ourselves. There was bike riding and hiking, lakes to fall into, funnel cakes and s'mores. There was a storm that kept me and John up most of the night wondering if we'd be washed away and vomiting as the result of eating too many marshmallows.
Family vacations are not for the faint of heart.
3 Comments:
glad you're back in the "big city" missed ya!
Happy to hear you had a nice vacation!
oh but was a blessing all that was *grin* I hope you enjoyed every second of it.
Post a Comment
<< Home