Beautiful sister who lost 22 pounds before I came out. She's very selfish like that.
Jake, aka 'gentleman kitty', after feasting on a wild pig in butter sauce. This is actually a very flattering picture, believe it or not.
The Biltmore estate. Nothing more to say.
Nick and Brad riding a Spyder. Who knew those words went together?
Oh, people. People, people, people. Where to begin? Do I start with the farting passengers in the rows just in front of us as we rode a radio controlled model airplane into Columbia? Or how HEAD CHEERLEADER AND FOOTBALL CAPTAIN POPULAR we were on the roads of North Carolina, riding our Can-Am Spyders? Or the story of how the child in charge while we were gone, left his 10 year old sister home alone until 2:30 AM, while he and his younger brother ("I was just following Chris!") enjoyed a festive Lord of the Rings marathon? So much to tell, so little time to blog. And so we begin...eenie, meenie, miny...
Let's go with that whole Lord of the Rings marathon, shall we? Okay, so I get a call from my narc, who informs me that the fresh milk delivery from the previous morning is 18 hours warmed by the noonday sun, and the boys are just now rousing, all zit faced and greasy hair, from the previous night's activities. Seems they tucked Jules in nice ... and tight ... and safe as a 10 year old has any right to be, by CALLING and telling HER to make sure the doors are locked and garage closed, as they'll likely be late getting home.
And why not in person? Oh, that would be because they hadn't actually BEEN home, per se, the entire day preceding this tucking in, as any Lord of the Rings fan knows, the shows are as long winded as a February freeze. And it was a marathon, remember? With break time only for the necessities~ie., Mountain Dew replenishment, sword fighting and urinating out the window wells. No time for house calls or welfare checks. Duh.
Now, lest ye cast full blame upon them, it was really our fault. First, we bred a younger sister. Second, we went to South Carolina. And last, we told them all, "No friends over while we're gone." Which translates through their I-pod filter into, "Leave home immediately and only come back to sleep it off." So see? The finger goes this way, too.
Thus, in the end, we gave them a good phone screaming, mentioning things like: shut the hell up with your lame excuses, X-box grounding for the calendar year, DCFS and the foster care system and warm milk on cereal for eternity. One or all of them seemed to do the trick, as we returned home to a clean kitchen and a partial vacuuming job. They managed to suck up everything but a dried out carrot in the middle of the floor. (shoulder shrug)
Now for the sake of time, all the rest gets the Readers Digest version~a three day headache~and don't tell me it had anything to do with excessive caffeinated beverages every time we passed by a restaurant/convenience store/the fridge~because I won't believe you. I think it's just a curse God has chosen to give me, in order to keep me low.
Next, Jake, the fattest southern kitty in the world, who only hunts and eats pigs feet and deep fried mice, gets high centered while walking and has rubbed all the fur off his underbelly.
A couple of new favorite southern expressions, compliments of Brad and Carly~"Makes yer butt pucker," in referring to something that makes you cringe and recoil. And, "No, seriously, he's a tick," in regards to a lazy, rotund man who is a suck and drain on society. Now really, who tells it better than the SOUTH? Nobody, that's who!
In the end, I'm back home, better for having been with my beautiful southern belle sister and niece, hospitable brother-in-law and oo-ing and ah-ing over The Biltmore estate, fall leaves on country roads and just how close one can come to hurling on an airplane full of farty passengers, without actually filling the bag.
Plus, now I'm even more charming than ever, so WATCH OUT, PEOPLE! I CAN ANNIHILATE YOUR CHARACTER WITHOUT YOU EVEN KNOWING I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU!
Cuz that's the southern way.
Bless yoe hawts.