Greetings from the shore of the Atlantic!
When we set out on our trip South on Tuesday morning, mom determined that the three licensed drivers would each spend approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes behind the wheel. I made the rule that the driver also controls the radio dial. This was a glorious idea for the first leg of the trip because I assigned myself the task of taking us safely through Atlanta and past Macon which meant I also played DJ Jazzy HP and taught the world to sing in perfect harmony in that same 2 hours and 45 minutes. Mom had the middle turn with me in the front passenger seat (which really meant that I controlled the radio most of that portion of the trip too). Then baby brother #1 took over for the final stretch. I was in the back seat for about 15 minutes when I sent mama a text that read "If he doesn't change this crap soon I'm going to turn into a testosterone enraged teenage boy." As it turns out I can tolerate Blink 182 for about 1.82 seconds. Praise Jesus that after about 30 minutes, E decided to bring out Confederate Railroad and a family sing along to "Queen of Memphis" restored road trip harmony for the last couple of hours. [If only Cash were along with us to play the role of Snots, we would be set.] E feels about Queen of Memphis like I feel about John Anderson's Swingin'. Listen to me rambling on...I'm not here to drag you all kicking and screaming down memory lane. Nor am I here to mention songs like Rupert Holmes' version of "If You Like Pina Coladas" and as a result you getting stuck the tune stuck in your head all. day. long. There are no signs of Jimmy, the Beach Boys, or even Kenny Chesney here either. Instead I'm listening to the ocean. And that's it. [Except in reality, I'm also listening to South Park because the real testosterone enraged teenage boy is driving the tv remote at the moment. I plan to kill Kenny soon and put an end to that.]
Happy First Day of Fall!
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