Thanksgiving, a day which will not live in infamy. Yeah, not really much went on. Breakfast at Denny’s, lunch around the Grandparental condo. Mashing of potatoes, and then Thanksgiving dinner at Mrs. Schenk’s house. There was a wonderful cast of characters. Chris, Mrs. Schenk’s son was the first to arrive. He is a camera operator out in Hollywierd, has a great dry sense of humor, and is a really good person. He is apparently working as a Director of Photography on the second unit of an upcoming Caddyshack-esqe movie starring Big Boi of Outkast. Her other son Scott arrived later. Scott is a computer geek and much geeking was had. Scott went to school with my uncle Michael in St. Louis. Did something with my Uncle Larry and went to Westminster College with my father. I inquired if he’d dated my aunt Leslie at one point because he’d managed to meet the rest of my father’s siblilngs.

You cannot anticipate who my Grandfather will know or have met through his 89 years. Yesterday, he told about meeting the (about) forty-four year old daughter of the Yeunglings. This was just before World War II. She apparently had a great singing voice. Today, at Thanksgiving dinner, he chimes in with an anecdote about living in Michigan. This in and of itself is not wholly remarkable. What was remarkable was his next door neighbor, the wife of Baron Wrangle of the White Russian Army. He and his wife, the Baroness, escaped to the United States. Pop, my grandfather, meeting someone who fought against the communists. Talk about cool.

Then there was Mrs. Ogg whose aunt was my grandfather’s French teacher in high school. It was a very Delaware moment. Also present was Mrs. Berger, the Editor-in-Chief of the Hendersonville (something or other). Lots of other people were there. When I get some more time or a better memory, I will write about them.

With a full stomach, I bid you adieu.

Day Three - Thanksgiving Eve

Lo and there was one day left until Thanksgiving. I hate my back. A lot. I’ve had back problems for about 5 years now. They go away and come back. This must stop. When one is 29 years young and has the mobility of someone nearly three times his age, something’s got to give. Too bad it’s usually my back. The day has been rife with inactivity. Since moving was not on the menu for a while this morning I watched TV. G4 TV blows goat and the Hitlery Channel needs to show more Hitlery Channel, less WildWest Channel. At some point breakfast was eaten and showers were taken.

My erstwhile brother Dr. Geology, PhD arrived this morning around 1140hrs EST with his black cat Barney. Barney is not named after the insipid purple dinosaur of PBS fame, he is named after the bassist of Armored Saint. We went to lunch at Tooley’s. The opportunity to assert my fiscal sovreignty presented itself when we were done and lo, I gladly paid for lunch. Thank goodness my granddad is 89 and starting to slow down. I get to pay like an adult. He paid for dinner though.

I worked a little in photoshop this afternoon, tooling the look I would prefer to give the site.

The evening brings quiet. No phones have rung. No one has asked me about anything more complicated than what I was going to be ordering. I have not been harassed one iota about anything. Thank God. This is my vacation and I will enjoy it! I’ve only received one phone call of note, the other was a fucking telemarketer.(link to the crazy lady) I’m not answering my phone if HMS’ number shows up. Unless your name is in my cellphone, you’re going to voicemail. Even then, unless you are one of about four non-blood related people, you’re going to voicemail.

And with that, I’ll let you know that I beat a couple commies, and a Corsican in iConquer. A version of Risk for OS X. Peace out bitches!

Day Two.
Sleep, the final frontier, these are the voyages of the Starship DamnItsTimeToGetUP. On the road at 0610 hrs EST in the Polar Kraken (link to official page for Lincoln Grand Marquis). Sleepy, showered and packed, we left the Comfort Inn Hotel of Harrisonburg, Virginia. From Harrisonburg, home of my brother’s baccalaureate alma mater, James Madison University, we continued south on Interstate 81. You see, Breakfast awaited in Salem which is about 30 minutes south of Roanoke, the state capital of Virginia.

Denny’s is a great restaurant chain. More so if you appreciate enormous portions and mediocre coffee. One cup of mediocre coffee, one cigarette and a nice waitress whose name I cannot remember really begin the day’s memories. Mainly due to the slow nature of the awakening of my noodle in the morning. By noodle, I mean my brain. Get your minds out of the gutters. The actual meal was a smoked sausage and pepper jack cheese scrambled egg mess with hash browns, two strips of rather salty bacon, basic Denny’s sausage, and three pancakes. The bacon and sausage were left unfinished. It must be said hot pancakes topped with butter and syrup are truly a fabulous thing to masticate in the morning. The dense, leaden and laden pancakes fill one up tremendously well. Their warmth is comforting as only hot pancakes can be. Sadly, due to the order of eating, only half the stack of three pancakes made it down my gullet. The hash browns and scrambled mess were completely eaten however.

Satiated and empty-bladdered mom and I were back on the road. We drove down I-81 to I-26 going into Bristol, Tennessee where a few miles later we stopped at the Tennessee welcome area. The last time I was there a yellow 1999 Z3 2.5 was parked. With great hope and anticipation, we pulled in. There was a lack of Z3 in the parking lot. There was however a blue Chrysler Mini-van with Delaware license plates. The license plate holder said Kirkwood Dodge, which is right up the Kirkwood Highway from Newark, where I grew up.

To make a long story short, we arrived at Hendersonville, North Carolina around 1230 when I realized I did not have a belt packed in my luggage. After a visit to the Creative Needle, an embroidery shop where mom needed to pick up some thread for a very 60s-looking embroidery project she’s working on. Thankfully she is not using the pattern’s chosen colors as they are visually offensive in a way only 60s things can be. After the Creative Needle, we stopped a couple doors down at Tooley’s Cafe where, and this only happens in the South, if you request Iced Tea, Sweet Tea is served. God bless the South, if only for making Sweet Tea. That whole succession thing can be temporarily forgiven on a hot day with a glass of real southern-style sweet tea.

One quick trip to the local mall and belt-purchase later, we’d made our way to Granddad’s place. It’s a condo development for old people and granddad is, well, old. Grandmom was old too, but she passed away back in May of 2005, so only the memory grows old. Mom, Pop (Granddad) and I went to dinner with Mrs. Schenk at the Hendersonville Country Club where we caroused. Laughing in a country club is a strange thing because so many people are quite sedate and apparently “well-mannered”. Shocking, I assure you. Well, we laughed and had a good time in a polite and good way.

That’s all for today.

Good Evening Citizens!
This is not Pierre Robert of WMMR fame, but your Erstwhile Driver, me. After a long and busy day at work, my mom and I drove four hours from Newark, Delaware to Harrisonburg, Virginia. It was fairly uneventful traffic-wise, even for rush hour traffic around Baltimore and its outlying areas. The best part about the drive was stopping briefly at the Lander Road exit to chinese firedrill, switching drivers at a stop sign with no one behind our car. My mom is short so there were knees were touching the dashboard after I entered.

My mother drives a 2000-something Lincoln Town Car. It [is] big. Really, really big. No, bigger than that. It [is] big! Keep in mind, I drive a 1996 BMW Z3. A two-seat roadster. Mom’s car has approximately two times the volume as the Z3 so there was a period of adjustment. The Town Car is a nice ride and very cushy, though not nearly as responsive as a sporty little roadster. Shock. Surprise.

Well, it’s time to sit back and watch “Engineering an Empire: Russia” then go to bed. Das vidanya.