Tuesday, August 30, 2011

On my mind...

Today I did history and algebra, which means today was kind of lousy, which means this post will have nothing to do with education (nothing direct or purposeful, anyway), and it will be about something that I would RATHER have been doing when I was sitting there growing more and more irritated with Julian and Valens, or almost broke down crying because of my incompetence at division.

I was thinking about a book idea I kind of dismissed a little while ago, but came back at me with roaring vengeance while I was trying to concentrate on schoolwork (which is when all great inspiration likes to hit).

It involves....

A Lion (an awesome one...Narnia/Aslan type lion.)

A small, impetuous Frog (if frogs CAN be impetuous)

Certainly a Rose Petal or two...

Maybe Watermelons, but only because they're so darn good (I could probably eat a whole one...)

But most of all, it's about a Girl, who goes into the Forest she's most afraid of to rescue the person she loves the most.

I shall begin work on this idea as soon as possible, because its a) based on a very little-known Grimm Fairy Tale (which I won't bother to tell you because you CAN'T actually find it online anyway because it's an omitted tale, and it gives me this sick sense of satisfaction), b) totally original, and c) well...just darn awesome!

Working Titles range everywhere from just using the name of the original tale to Tabitha (which I considered for the girls name) or something that involves the name of the missing person, her older brother (working name for him was Toby, but all that is subject to change).

So. That's what I'm thinking about to ignore school.


Monday, August 29, 2011

If we never had to say goodbye...

This past week, I experienced a goodbye unlike any of the other goodbyes I've had to make in my life.

It was to my older sister, Anna, who is now far away at college.

She and I haven't had a stellar relationship, pretty much our entire lives. From the day I was born, we kind of decided, "Who is this punk and why are they invading my personal space/life/500-foot-radius!?"

There is no real explanation for it.

At times, I swear we've even really hated each others guts.

And me, being the over-analytical freak-zoid that I am, have always tried to say why we never got along. I need reasons. It annoys a lot of people (especially Anna).

In spite of this, I didn't want her to go. I wanted her to stay forever and never leave. The thought of letting her go was like the thought of losing a limb.

But, as we said goodbye, and I hugged her hard enough to cause her to make dramatic choking noises and made her promise to stay in touch, something started to become clear to me.

I saw it perfectly when we got home a few days later, and I walked out of the bathroom, expecting to see Anna on her bed, posting funny stuff on Tumblr and blaring Bruno Mars....and there was nothing.

Her room is empty.

Her bed has no sheets on it.

All that was left on the floor were a few pennies and strings.

She's gone.

I wanted to cry a lot of Saturday and Sunday, I felt so overwhelmed by loneliness...by the fact that the constant that was always Anna, was gone.

Here's what I realized: I fight with Anna more than any other single person in my life. And she's the person I love more than anyone else. She's the person I miss most when they're gone.

Maybe there is no logical explanation for it, but, sharing this with my good friend Kat, she said, "And this will only make you closer."

I know she's right.

So, I was just thinking; what if we never had to say goodbye? What if we never had to let go of anyone?

If  I hadn't let go, I never would have found this place in my heart that is just bursting with love and loneliness for my older sister, who at times I couldn't stand.

If you never say goodbye, you never really know whether or not you love someone.

And she'll be back, of course, for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and than Spring and Summer break!

I can't wait!

I love you, Anna! Thank you for all you have taught me, shared with me, and done for me. Have an amazing time at college...stay in touch and keep updating your Tumblr (Mom and I might go into withdrawal....). We're all praying for you.

I love you.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

You Have Displaced the Mirth

Today, I had the great pleasure of seeing our local communities 'Shakespeare in the Park' performance of Macbeth.

It. Was. EPIC.

Words can't even begin to describe the epic saga that was experienced in those incredible two hours of sheer dramatic genius. Seriously, the HIGHLIGHT of my summer.

Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, Lady Macbeth admonishing her husband for his doubts about murdering the king.

My FAVORITE line: "You have displaced the mirth!" after only Macbeth can see the gory ghost of Banquo.

Macbeth goes to the three witches, demanded they show him his fate.

The three murderers attacking Macduff's wife and children.

Lady Macbeth in her sleeping anguish over her part in the many murders of Macbeth.

The final face-off between Macduff and Macbeth.

End of the play . . . "SCOTLAND!"

Cast final bows.

The whole thing was amazing. Start to finish, I was laughing, crying, cheering, terrified, anxious, moved, applauding. They did an incredible job, and we didn't even have to pay to see the fruits of their sweat, blood and tears. They went around with their caps at the end, collecting free will donations for their passion.

They truly did Shakespeare proud. 



Friday, August 19, 2011

Great Expectations

Countless studies have been done to evaluate the impact expectations have on people's performance.

What is expected of us all our lives is probably what we'll do while we're young. If your parents expect you to do your chores and do well in school, you'll probably do it. If they don't care, chances are neither will you. Of course, every instance is different; sometimes we go the exact opposite route than the one expected of us. But that just further proves that expectations have a huge impact on what we do, no matter how they influence our decisions.

In the world today, there has been a definite shift downwards in the expectations we have for one of the most important things in the world; love.

People go to shady places, meet perfect strangers, and go home with them. They live together till it gets hard, than they break up. They have countless affairs and than wonder why their marriage has gone downhill. They go around procreating children, and than are shocked when they actually have children.

Its a lack of greater expectations that results in settling for anything.

*WARNING I AM ABOUT TO STEAL AN EXAMPLE!* If you could have a five star dinner at a glamorous, comfortable restaurant for the rest of your life, why would you go eat scraps out of a rusty, moldy dumpster just because it feels good in the moment and you can see it, touch it, experience it now?

Today, while my mom, who holds great, beautiful standards and expectations for me, was driving me home from work, I heard the song Can't Live Without, by Blake Wise.

The refrain of this song pretty much summed up everything I hold dear to my heart, everything I feel, everything I hope for.

Because it's true.

I'm not looking for someone to live with.

I'm looking for someone I can't live without.

Those are my expectations.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


There are skeletons in the closet.

I never invited them, but hiding them was no good. They only rattle around at night, and stick their heads out when I'm not expecting it. They reach their bony hands out and grab me as I walk past when I've forgotten them. They seem to always want their presence known.

Skeletons aren't like weeds, or pests, or aggravating people. They're already dead, but they never go away. They'll always be there, unless you face them and and come to a place where you aren't afraid of them anymore. And even then, at the darkest parts of the night, you may still hear a little rattling behind your shoes and the dust bunnies and old Barbie collection in the deepest, dustiest corner of the closet.

Skeletons can dictate the way we live. We can go out of our way to avoid them, and hide them from people we want to impress, or people we're afraid won't love us if they know who we really are. Skeletons feed on fear. We're afraid of them, but they're only there because of our fear.

What can defeat a skeleton?

If you ask your skeletons, clearly, they aren't going to tell you. But there's another skeleton...the one inside of you. The one that holds you together and keeps you standing. The one that's alive and fighting, not just wallowing in darkness, feeding on fear.

You are stronger than the skeletons. They don't want you to know that, and sometimes, they're right. It isn't always true.

It takes more than a skeleton within to make a person stand.

It also takes everything the skeleton holds; the heart, the brain, the muscles, the will, the passion, the courage, the soul. No skeleton can stand without these.

And when you take it away from the skeleton in the closet, he won't be able to stand, either.

The song Skeletons, by The Eli Young Band, really expresses the way I feel about my future right now. Everything you will do will in some way be effected by what you have already done.

And you just have to pray you'll always have someone who loves you, and doesn't mind the skeletons in your closet...because they'll probably have some of their own.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

I'll Probably Put You in a Book Someday

I need this shirt. I currently don't have a ton of money for my own personal leisure, but MAN! That's going on my wish list.

I have this weird little quirk about me (that annoys most of my sisters), where I'll see a person and go, "Oh. I have got to put this person in a book someday!!"

Because there are some pretty epic people in the world who would make for fabulous literature.

Three examples (all guys, strangely enough) would be Hank, from our youth group, who has the most expressive face and the most amazing sense of humor. Than there's two of my co-workers, who both have that amazing 'I'm an incredible person whose only working at this grocery store to serve you and make money for my unbelievably awesome dreams' vibe.

And than the random stranger, who has a great beard, an awesome hat, wicked combat boots, or just has this swagger that creates an entire personality for them in your mind!

As I get better and better at writing, I search more and more outside of myself for my characters. The plot can come straight from the depths of my soul, but if every character in my books come from me, they're all going to be cripplingly similar.

If you want to write, be observant. Notice random things about people that reveal their depth. Like the guy who locks his keys in his truck, and doesn't hesitate to climb in the back window and use a broom to hit the switch to unlock the door. Or the little old lady whose practicing giving a hard time on you for when her daughter gets home. Or the girl who holds an oven mitt with a teddy bear on it up to her face and asks if you see the resemblance.

People are amazing creatures. We all have the most obnoxiously delightful little quirks. There's only so much you can come up with on your own. For instance, in one of my books, the female main character, Georgie, is pretty much straight out of my brain and even crazier than I am. Her best friend, Cody, has little things about him from all of  my best friends, like his sarcasm his sense of adventure and his concern for Georgie. He is a much more complex and well-developed character than he would have been if I had just scrounged up a stereo-typical guy from my imagination.

I love character development. You get to write down all these little things about your character until you know everything about them, and half that stuff won't even end up in the book! And all those little things come from people...maybe even YOU.  Because I'll probably put you in a book someday.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

i don't deserve this love

Does someone ever go completely, ridiculously out of their way, just for you, so that you can be happy?

Oh, man...I pray everyone has that, at least once. It's the most amazing, convicting feeling in the world.

Earlier this week, my mom and the mom of my best friend in the whole wide world each drove completely out of their way, six hours total, so that my best friend and I could see each other for three hours.

I met my bestest friend ever nine years ago. When we were ten, she and her family moved about four states away, and we went from seeing each other as frequently as twice a month to once a year. Its been really hard, and sometimes I feel like we're losing touch entirely.

But every single time we get back together, it's like we were never apart. We scream. We hug. We make a hysterical scene (usually in public...sometimes we even run in front of buses!). And than we move on and talk each other's ears off and do random stuff and just be together. When you love somebody so much for so long, just their presence is like having a twelve hour party with root beer floats and pinatas!

Living four states away, these get-togethers can be unreasonably scarce.

Enter the Moms.

They love us so much. I mean, really. Who in their right mind drives six hours so their daughter can wander around a mall with her best friend for three hours?

People who love you.

I don't deserve this much love. If love was something that had to be earned, most of us would be sad, lonely, and wholly loathed by our parents and acquaintances.

But love is not a reward; its a gift.

Once, a very awesome guy (hi, Bob!) said something that struck me very much; "You can never repay love. You can only give it away."

Love transcends value. It transcends reality. You would (or...should) never give someone a million dollars every time they cleaned their room just because you liked them. But for no reason whatsoever, my parents will hug me or kiss me, remind me how much they love me and how proud they are of me.

Me, the person who can't seem to get anything together in her life! Me, the emotional red-haired fruitcake with communication issues! Me. They love me. Not for what I can do, or what I can produce, or how I can repay them for the ridiculous things they do for me (like driving those six hours).

That's priceless. And they're giving it away.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Digging for Gold

Lately, I've been having an identity crisis, and digging for gold.

I tell myself I only want the truth, but I know better. Inside, I'd settle for a beautiful lie so no one would have to be hurt. Which is maybe the worst thing of all.

But still, in spite of my fear that the truth will hurt me, or someone I love, I want to know it. I seek it out, maybe subconsciously.

I want to know what love really is. I want to know who can be trusted. I want to know how many seeds are in the average pomegranate. I want to know how a digital camera really works. I want to know who invented hot glue guns. I want to pretend I don't know that a chocolate covered cherry isn't really injected with the gooey syrup...stupid reactionary science in food. I want to know that everything will be OK. I want to know that someone I love will never, ever leave me. I want to know that if they do leave, it's for a good reason, and something even better is just out of sight.

Most of all...I want to know who I am.

It's become an obsession of mine recently to discover why I am the way I am, what I want, who I want to be with, what I want to do, and what I want to become. I want to know why I get so afraid of things all the time. I want to find the gold hiding at the bottom of the stream of my heart. I want to pull it out and polish it and show the world that I really do have worth!

It's like I have this unrealistic idea that if I know myself, I'll be worth something. I'll have proof of what I am and what I can do.

For instance, recently I did a post on Lovers/Fighters. After that post, my friend sent me a 7-question quiz to see if you're a lover or a fighter, and when I took it, it said I was a fighter. After all my talk about how I was more of a lover, I laughed at it and said, "NOPE!"

But later, my mom and sisters laughed at me and said I was totally a fighter. So I pondered this. You know what? It's completely true. But, in my search for self-discovery, I was actually OK with that.

 If you don't know who you are, someone else will tell you. I'm desperately reaching out and holding onto my identity as a girl, as a Christian, as a human being. Because the thing about your identity, is that if you don't have it, you'll be taken by anyone. If you have it, than no one can take it away.

So often, I'm desperately searching for who I am...usually outside of myself, maybe because I know that where I really ought to go to find me, is inside of me. And I'm afraid to go there.

I get so hung up on a superficial 'identity', on learning new things about myself, on becoming perfect and all that I can be. I focus so much on the 'work', that I never bear any fruit. I go so crazy to get what I want, that I never actually get it.

What I too frequently let myself forget, is that I already have an identity.

Ever since I was little, my parents told me who I was. They told me, "You are a gift from God."

They told me I was a priceless treasure that they wouldn't trade for anything.

And I think they were telling me that God felt the same way, too.

"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys." Song of Songs 2:1

I'm still seeking out for myself and who I am, because I know that this is a great strength. But I also know that no matter what I know about myself, I don't need to worry that I have no identity. I'll keep asking myself new questions and doing new things and becoming more and more myself. I am a little piece of gold, hiding beneath rocks and rushing river.

All along, God is searching for me. He will never give up until he finds me, and makes me into something beautiful. 

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Childhood Fuzzies

Do you have any special, particularly fuzzy material goods from your childhood?

I sure do.

There is a funny story about my Blankie (which, yes, was creatively named Blankie). My mom was making it for my baby cousin, Zach. She had it all cut out and pinned together, but before she could sew it, I took it out of her sewing box and cuddled up with it, pins and all.

She took it away and stuck it back in the sewing box.

I took it back out and cuddled it some more.

So, finally, she said, "Ok, you can have it, but let me sew it first!"

So, I have had for about 13 years of my life, a boy-themed, small square blankie that was meant for my cousin.

(If you're wondering, Zach still got one. Mom made him a knew one.)

And let's just say...its a little LOVED.


THE BLANKIE. I took it out to look fondly at it (I do this every once in a while), and was amazed at how many rips and worn spots there are on this poor little quilt!

And than, there is, of course, the Teddy Bear.

Every child should have a teddy bear. It should be a law.

My beloved bear, Oatmeal, has been with me since I was two. And he's quite loved himself!

Naaaawww...isn't he cute?

He has a permanent place on my bedside table, where he can be grabbed and randomly hugged whenever necessary. I love him very much.

Both of these things will be with me till they crumble to dust. I love them both. They are the two things I loved most as a little girl, and I will never lose the peace and happiness that comes with the memory of being small enough to curl up on (or under) my Blankie, with Oatmeal tucked under my arm.

I love childhood fuzzies. 

Friday, August 5, 2011


Last night three of my younger siblings begged me to join them for an impromptu game of CLUE. I reluctantly agreed, expecting boredom and ultimate humiliation. In order to fend off as much of this as I could, I brought my camera along, in case something amusing should happen.

This is what followed:

In the Ballroom...

Ms. Scarlet's had enough of Mrs. Peacock...

In the Library...

"That's it. I'm never speaking to you again. I thought I meant something to you, but I was wrong!!"

In the Dining Room...

"Clear the room, you two! This is between me and Ms. Scarlet!"

"You wouldn't kill a lady!"

Oh, dear...

In the Kitchen...

"Professor, you broke Mrs. White's heart!?"

"Oh, come now..."

Back in the Ballroom...

Mr. Green tries to talk a desperate Ms. Scarlet out of an act of desperation.

Back in the Library...

"That Professor Plum. He left me. It's over." *tears*

And, back in the Dining Room...

All alone. In the dining room. With the revolver...

I lost miserably, if you were wondering. I've never seen a shorter game of CLUE...Joe won in like, fifteen minutes! What a shame....just imagine what would have happened if we'd played even longer?
The moral of the story is to play board games with your siblings. I think....

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Lovers who Fight For

You always hear people saying, "Are you a lover or a fighter?" Well, that's a complex question, when you get down to it. Here's some research on the subject:

Listed below are some characteristics of Lovers:
  • They hug you when you see them
  • They say sweet things like: “you look handsome/beautiful”
  • They are calm and relaxed: they enjoy making others feel happy
  • They are not easily upset: they do not like confrontation
  • They are happy most of the time: they do not let discouragement show
Listed below are some characteristics of Fighters:
  • They are usually grouchy: they snap back easily
  • They are easily excitable: they are anxious
  • They find it difficult to compliment: they do not readily recognize beauty
  • They do not like being touched: they keep their distance
  • They fuss and complain the most: they cannot wait to tell someone off
Both these individuals were born with purpose, and possess within themselves the power to be the best they can be. Each of us has strengths and weaknesses. Let us capitalize on our strengths no matter who we are.  Source

Definition of LOVER

a: a person in love; especially: a man in love with a woman bplural: two persons in love with each other
: an affectionate or benevolent friend

Definition of FIGHTER

: one that fights: as a (1): warrior, soldier (2): a pugnacious or game individual (3): 1boxer 1 b: an airplane of high speed and maneuverability with armament designed to destroy enemy aircraft 
Well, from THAT, I can conclude that the lover/fighter thing is about whether you are a good-natured, caring person, or a pugnacious, spirited person who is less interested in physical affection.
But such a sweeping generalization needs a large grain (or 1,000) of salt.
To begin with, I am more of a lover than a fighter. (Those who know me are loudly going, "DUH!") But I also frequently exhibit the 'characteristics' of a fighter. For instance, I do often snap back at people, I can be very excitable and I am often worried, and I am fussy. I'm sure there are people out there who are almost entirely a lover or a fighter, but I'm just not one of them.
(I am now mentally deducing who is a lover and who is a fighter amongst my friends and family...mwahahaha....)
But anyway, the point of this post with neither to bare my soul or semi-evilly label friends and family. I try to discourage such things on my blog (...usually...).
The point is that the world needs people who aren't only lovers or only fighters...the world needs lovers who fight. Just look at people like Martin Luther King Jr. and Mother Teresa, who both did amazing things for people in desperate need for help. They could never have done those things if they had not fought for them, and yet they fought with great love. They fought for what they wanted to see by being what they wanted to see.
In the worlds of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 'Nothing was ever achieved without enthusiasm.'
Lovers are enthusiastic, but fighters have stamina.
So, lovers and fighters alike, and all of us somewhere in between...let us love to fight, and fight to love.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Ponderings on a Disney Princess, Part 1*

Snow White

Snow White is a cool Disney princess, but also a sadly under-developed one. Because she was the very first Disney princess (not to mention the first animated film for crying out loud), I feel she didn't get to rise to her full potential. She gets kind of lost in a sea of childlike singing with animals and little old men. However, in the original fairy tale (by which, YES, I judge all Disney Princesses and their movies), she IS only a nine year old girl when she moves in with the dwarfs.

Personality rating:
Its really hard to rate a princess with such a small window of personal traits, but I'd say, on a scale of one to ten (one being 'I can't stand this grating female' and ten being 'I WISH I COULD BE HER!!!'), she gets a 4.5. She's just too sweet at times, but she has this great maternal, almost bossy side.

Movie overall:
For the first animated film ever, Snow White is incredible. The plot is impressive and well-developed.

Supporting characters:
The dwarfs NEVER fail to make me roll around on the floor laughing.

The queen is just creepy, but she truly is evil, which is most refreshing. She's not really too amazing as far as villains go, but she totally became the stereotype of sorts, paving the way for future villains.

Alas, Snow White's prince not only has no personality, no lines (other than a random song here or there)...he did not even get a name. Very sad. On the scale of prince-ness (one being 'no comment' and ten being 'WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL SO I CAN MARRY HIM!?!?'), he gets...maybe a 3? He does have a nice cape.

I am in the process of re-writing the story of Snow White, and because the movie is so iconic, I admit a lot of themes automatically slip in from there while I'm writing. But my main goal in re-writing it is to give Snow White a true, authentic personality. I love the fairy tale so much, and I don't think that Disney ruined the story or didn't give it justice. I just wish that Snow White could have been retold on screen a little later in history, where she could have had far more speaking parts and far more fun! Disney has never even made another short animated story about Snow White, which seems to indicate to me that Snow White was such a glorious crown for Disney, they felt her story was complete. That's not bad, its just very final. I think Snow White is so much bigger than that...so much more.

Favorite line:
"Soon she'll be tying your beards up with pink ribbons and spraying you with...PERFOOM!"

* This post and all similar posts may be classified as pointless ramblings. I feel very strongly about Disney Princesses in general, and as this is my blog, I would like to share those strong feelings. Feel free to ignore them, or even deign to agree with me.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Summer Vacation: Cut short...sort of...


So. My dad's side of the family was planning to have this week-long bash at a wonderful lake resort to celebrate Grampa and Gramma's 50th anniversary!

*short round of applause*

And we were indeed having a blast!

Meg made a cake...

I discovered the chair of my DREAMS (seriously...I wish I could buy that thing from the resort!!!)...

We swam in the lake, having a great time on all the awesome inflatables and rafts, eating delicious meals, and enjoying our time together, since we hadn't seen each other in a while.

And for that one moment, everything was perfect.

And than that moment ended.

On the third day of our vacation, I awoke at about 7:15 a. m. to what sounded like the air conditioning having a stroke (roaring like a monster). Than I realized it was the wind, so I peeked out the window and was like, "Wow....that's strong wind. Ah well. Back to sleep."

About 0.5 seconds later, I was jolted awake by my younger brother shouting, "WE HAVE TO GO TO THE BASEMENT! THERE'S A TORNADO COMING!!"

Say wha?

I fully admit this was ALL my fault. After taking one peek at that creepy basement, I declared I would not set foot in it unless a tornado was coming. I apologize, family and fellow vacationers.

Well, tornado or no tornado, I really needed my glasses, some shoes, and to go to the bathroom.

A small child was shoved at me and I went straight to the basement with no glasses, no shoes, and still needing to use the bathroom.

Aw, well.

The basement wouldn't have been so bad...if there hadn't been a GAPING HOLE IN THE FLOOR. Don't ask me what its purpose was...some water pipes drained into it, but I don't know why it looked like a crater. Weird.

It was a dark and blustery morning, indeed.

Grampa opted to stay in bed. Fortunately, Gramma and the Aunts insisted he come down.

We were down there at least fifteen, twenty minutes, joking and making light of it, while my meteorologist father stood by the window going, "WOW! That's gotta be 80 mile-per-hour wind! Wow! Look at that lightning!"

Oh...did I mention the power was out? No? Go figure.

So, when we FINALLY went back upstairs, anticipating cold bagels with cream cheese (not bad, but we were anticipating egg muffins *shniff*), we were all pretty stunned.

We had no idea from the basement how BAD it was.

When we took a walk later, the damage was incredible:

From the window...grass and bits of leaves were ripped up and plastered onto houses!

On the path...why did only the FLOWERS stay put??

Holy buckets...the floating mat blew up into someones yard!

Tree uprooted right by our house...thank You God it wasn't big enough to hit us/cause damage!

The deck stuff all scattered../

That same uprooted pine from outside

Some poor people's cars...

A badly flooded yard.

The Saturn floaty blown into shrubs far from the beach!

One of the flooded paths.

The water trampoline, popped and blown up over a fallen electrical pole.

A wagon fell into the hole caused by this uprooted tree (see below)


The ONE thing I was sure would be out of the water was still there....the slippery mat.

Ripped up path...see the uprooted tree there?

Ok...CRAZY! This line of debris shows how high the waves washed up on the shore!!

Beach chairs...part of a dock...

There used to be a dock there. I jumped off of it less than 12 hours before...

A wooden dock...what was left of it :(

Flooding...our cars were all spared!

More ripped up dock.

An up-side-down pontoon....not something you see everyday.

Ripped up docks...oy.

With no electricity and a heat advisory on the way, not to mention the mournful word from the manager that he had no idea when he'll be able to reopen, we could either rough it or leave.

But where?

Well, the closest place was....


So, aside from one aunt and uncle who decided to go home (since they were close, too), we all made the two hour drive to our place, where we'll be continuing our family vacation till next Saturday.

And how was YOUR summer vacation?