I hate road trips. Nothing about piling five children into the Suburban, driving for literally days on end, staying in less than immaculate accomodations, and subsisting solely on McDonald's appeals to me. (Well, okay, the forced knitting time will be useful. But that's it.) Add in an additional stop, another night in a different town, ten hours round trip from where the journey was to end, and I'm a very cranky Cami. Also, if you are an "inn" in the middle of God's forgotten back pasture, take some decent photos of your rooms, for fucksake. The sorry excuses for "Theme Rooms" are pathetic. I'm going to chance the local Super 8 or whatever passes for travel accomodations in back-asswards Iowa.
This was supposed to be a chance to "show the kids" to their great-grandmas, get a visit in with my cousins and aunt, see the 'rents and siblings, but it's all such a freaking hassle I'm ready to go lay down in front of a train. Husband has thoughtfully suggested just buying packages of t-shirts, socks, and underwear for the chirruns... I just need some air, a light at the end of the tunnel, an easy way out of the packing stress for this family of seven. Oh, right. I forgot. Xanax. And toothbrushes. Whew!
Blogging will be spotty in the upcoming week, though I may grovel successfully enough for Melly to take pity on me and guest-blog. Must go for now, as there is still too much 'activity' awaiting my attention. Latah, knittas. C