Today I’m writing from the lovely state of West Virginia. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up here, I mean, I know I was shoved into the car for a good long while with my partner, children, and mother in law (fussing, whining, and hot because the A/C is busted in our vehicle) to speed along the scenic Pennsylvania Turnpike south. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, by all accounts. I didn’t plan the trip. I’ve just been laboring under the mistaken idea for the last several years that my partner’s sister lived in Virginia. (Oops.) We’re in that small little sticky outy part of West Virginia that is layered between Maryland and Virginia, a cute little state sandwich. I travelled from New York yesterday, through Pennsylvania, and south, so that I was actually in five different states. That’s something of a record for me because I don’t normally tend to get very far from my beach in Erie during the summer.
So far, I’m enjoying our hotel stay because I’m a people watcher, although at the ungodly hour I tend to rise most of the people aren’t guests. Due to the area the staff’s dialectic ranges between a charming southern drawl and a decidedly northern cadence. Everything is lovely and clean and we only found one Popsicle stick hiding under our bed to remind us a million other people could have been sleeping on our sheets. This trip has been good for me work wise because the book I’m working on right now has a lot of travel in it, and part of the story actually takes place in a hotel.
The trip hasn’t been exceptionally exciting yet, though today we’re scheduled to take part in a rubber ducky race (I’m still not sure what that entails, exactly.) as well as doing any other thing we can think to do to entertain our kids while we visit family. We did figure out my eldest daughter gets car sick on long rides yesterday, and that was one of those good to know, bad to find out things. It always sticks your feet to the ground when you find yourself cupping your hands under a kid’s face so they can upchuck sort of into there instead of all over the car because you literally have nothing, NOTHING, they can yark into. I blame the beautiful, gently rolling mountains of southern Pennsylvania/Maryland. Hopefully, we’ll figure out how to stop a repeat performance on the way home.
While I’m having my quasi vacation, I hope you all have a lovely weekend!
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