The Last Day

Yeah, I finally got writer's cramp, I mean bored, no! I mean finished with all the journal entries I made on the trip. You can tell by reading this one that I was a tad bit tired and/or dazed from the traveling. Just hand me the straight jacket, Hitchcock.

"Aug. 19, Day 20:

Today was the twentieth day of travel, that is the twentieth day of the trip, the nineteenth day of the month, the twentieth day of family vacation, one more day spent in the car the nineteenth day since I’ve seen our house, the twentieth day of travel; the last day.

The drive from Calaveras County California to Orange County, for me at least, was spent in the far back seat of the car, which brought back memories of when that was “my seat” and would ride back there most often. The only exciting thing I saw on the drive was a grass fire burning up the yellow fields of Northern CA. My other family members may have seen interesting things out of the windows, but I was looking at my DS all day.

It seems strange to be back, and the only way I can think now how to describe it is different. It seems as though a part of me is missing as I walk the familiar floors and touch the same old walls, and yet inside I feel as though I have gained much from the time outside the home. But I feel a stranger under the roof, not as a burglar, but though someone has robbed me. Perhaps it is the fact that nothing has really changed inside the house, nearly everything is exactly how it was (except maybe dustier) when I left twenty days ago, and am now back twenty days later, nineteen days since I last saw the house, the last day, but I feel different than I did 3 weeks ago. And perhaps it is some strange phenomenon like the scheme of life…One quick, overall glance and nothing seems to have changed, but a better observer would conclude in a very Sherlock Holmes like manner, that much has indeed happened. Though in a couple of days the trip’s blur will dissipate, and life will seem to go on like the objects in the house; the same they were when we left twenty days ago, twenty days of travel and vacation, nineteen days since I last saw the objects in the house, maybe if I watch more closely I will see that things really aren’t always the same, but are different. Suddenly I shall find myself more filled “at home” all the time. I can now look ahead, to the “bear” speck of the future, and have hope that that is indeed what it is.

Well, I’m back. Thank you for your prayers!"

If you think that this is the end of my crazy blabbering about road trips, then you are road kill-wrong! I will continue to blabber about epic awesome travel times until I am too old to travel! Eat that, possum boy!

Still up near Angel's Camp

Aug. 18, Day 19:

Today we skipped up to Lake Alpine. It took quite a bit of skipping considering it was an hour drive away. Let me just say that it took a few more skips than 10 on the hopscotch paved road to the lake. But, to get off that tangent, we had a marvelous time kayaking around Alpine. It was so peaceful paddling up and down the beautiful lake that it hardly seemed like exercise. Although by the third trip out I could really start to tell that it was in fact work. But it was very relaxing nonetheless. And I even completely drenched Zac who was in the seat behind me on my last time out in the open waters after he gave me a quick splash or two. I felt a little bad when the wind really picked up, but I figured it builds character. And what’s feeling a little bad for someone in the scheme of life anyway? Never seemed to help me much, but put myself into a lower state, similar to the individual I felt bad for in the first place. How does that help me?

After the time at the lake, we had dinner and celebrated Christmas and my dad’s birthday with the relatives. It is neither of those days, but the grandparents were anxious, like a certain Zac was to dry off, so we celebrated anyway. No way I would or could turn down pie and ice cream. Following the funny family festivities came grandpa’s book on making mouth sounds. We all looked and sounded so strange, and we laughed a hearty good long time. While I worked on my elephant and choreography, Zac mastered many other sounds in the book, showing us all up. Now I really don’t feel bad for soaking him. Now, if only he could invoke a sound that would dry him off faster, then I’d be impressed. And then perhaps I’d feel bad for him…nah, no I wouldn’t.

Really Green

Continuing my travel journal...

August 17, 2010, Day 18:

We are in Angel’s Camp, Calaveras County, California, which if you’re like me you probably didn’t know is frog country. This amphibias area was popularized by Mark Twain in his book, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” which he published under his true name, Samuel L. Clemens. This toad town is totally tainted by the creature since they really are the only things here. Even the color scheme of the World Mark we are staying at has a froggy after taste; I mean it. And when I say I mean it, I really mean it.

To try to escape the green frog world, we went to Jamestown. No, the one in CA. Which if you’re like me, you didn’t know there was such a place. And this place was sort of an old train yard, housing trains from every western film that ever had a train in it. There was a room where they showed some of the scenes from a few of the shows and movies that were filmed there. When the scenes finish, they start again. I now know by heart one of the last sequences in “Back to the Future 3,” and “High Noon,” and I meant it. Now when I say, I mean it, I really mean it.

After burning up in the heat looking at trains, we went to see some specifically titled “Big Trees.” The trees, namely, were Sequoias and Red Woods. Suddenly the vague name puzzle began to piece itself together. The Big Trees were amazing. And up where the trees were was at least 10 degrees cooler than Angel’s Camp, so we stayed up yonder awhile before returning to Frog Ville. Later in like manner we frog-hopped to the pool, and only ate a few flies on the way.

Next we had another amazing meal and played some Mad Gab. Being with Gramps and Gran is always a barrel of laughs, especially when Mad Gab is involved; and I mean it. And when I say I mean it when Mad Gab is involved, “Hi rell He Me Net!”

Rhubarb

August 16, Day 17:

I haven’t made the time to write for a couple days, but nothing extremely exciting happened until we waved good-bye to the last relative at our Branson Family reunion.

At the reunion were many plagued creatures, growling creatures, creatures that climbed on rocks, and just your average wild and squirrelly creatures, but enough about the relatives. We had many Texas Hold ‘Em and Uno games, with many a smore and snack item (which is code for toothache and cavity). It was one more day after that family reunion and the next, so we stayed at the campground one more night with our family, the Wrights. We had an epic around the campfire story that I will never forget, but also one that I will never fully understand because each person would say a couple of sentences then pass it on to the next helpless victim. Who knew eggplants were eagles, and eagles were rhubarb? I’m still not quite sure.

Today as we were driving on to the Davis reunion, we stopped at a pull out on the side of the road to make sandwiches and leave some deeds. Had we only known a nice rest area was just around the next bend, I wouldn’t have had to slip down the hill just to sneak a leak.

Now we are here at a World Mark with my Grandpa and Grandma, they were the only two that showed up. What, did the others change their plans about coming because they heard we would be there? Or was it that they knew we were coming with two weeks of camping, sweat, dirt, and little cleaning beforehand? Either case, I scrubbed the ash from last week from out between my toes in the shower just now. Take that.