I owe quite a bit to Himself’s love of car shows in far-flung parts of the country and his outright refusal to board any type of aircraft. Because of him, I’ve seen states I’d probably never otherwise see. Gorgeous vistas, breathtaking sunrises and sunsets. And peed in gas station bathrooms I’d just as soon forget. He nailed it when he said he can always gauge the cleanliness of the bathrooms by which sex tends the counter. Men: it’s nasty. Women: you could eat off the seat.
As we trekked our way east, we settled into the routine for which Himself is famous. Out the hotel doors by 6 am and a commitment to driving as far as humanly possible while still maintaining some semblance of a good mood and maybe stopping to eat. Well, at least driving as far as humanly possible.
Seth played copilot while Paige and I got our reading on in the backseat.
We finally pulled into Carlisle the afternoon of Thursday, July 13th. The boys quickly abandoned us girls in a parking lot to start hunting up their friends while Paige and I sat and sweated. Isn’t it supposed to be cooler back east? I guess the joke was on us because it was just as hot, if not hotter, than back home.
Paige and I strolled toward downtown and scoped out Whistlestop Bookshop on High Street and found this little bit of history.
I cannot imagine the chaos, the bloodshed, the fear that is war. To walk where you know men have fallen was eerie…and it was hushed. All this gorgeous scenery that hosted so much death.
On the home front, we’d phone my folks who were dog-sitting their granddog for us. My Dad said he’d never known a more neurotic animal than our Ziva. But she found happiness in Gramma’s sewing scraps and settled in to dig her way to dachshund nirvana.