Family is the bee’s knees

Virginia, you're so pretty. #EpicRoadTrip

Skye has gone, possibly forever, but before she left we took one last road trip.

We went down to visit her dad’s family in the mountains of North Carolina.

Entering North Carolina #excitedface! #EpicRoadTrip

Roughly here.

This was quite exciting for me, as I’ve never actually spent any time in what could be considered “the country.”

After my week, I can assure you – where Skye’s family lives is the country.

My dream of becoming a bathroom sign remains plausible. #EpicRoadTrip

While road tripping, always make time to imitate bathroom doors.

(Road tripping, like acid tripping, is about the little moments.)

(Or so I’ve heard.)

(Or just made up because I’ve actually never heard someone describe their experience acid tripping.)

(I need to get out more.)

Stop! It's carrot time. #EpicRoadTrip

It’s equally important to make time for carrots and hummus.

(Only if said carrots are the grown-up variety cut into – rectangular boxes.)

(Baby carrots are from the devil.)


Success! #EpicRoadTrip

One of the best parts of traveling with Skye is that we’re on the same page.

As in, we both wanted to stop the car so we could get out and take official arrival photos when we turned here, onto her family’s drive-way.

(What is an arrival without a photo?)

(We’ll never know because there’ll be no evidence to analyze.)


Skye's Grandma is thrilled to meet me, as you'd imagine. #epicroadtrip

Skye’s Grandma Mary was not on the same page, photo-wise.

I tricked her into happiness with my strawberry joke. #epicroadtrip

Though, in her defense, there were many, many photos taken.

(And she’s really incredibly sweet.)

We went hiking on Skye's family's land. I found a new mushroom friend. #epicroadtrip

We went for walks on the family land.

And, one exciting night, Skye’s uncle drove us around the property while we photographed everything from the back of his pickup truck.

(It was like a country music video.)

(Only with no cowboy hats or bars.)

(Or large groups of young, attractive dancers or spotlights.)

(Or the ocean or mason jars or tractors.)

(So maybe it was nothing like a country music video, now that I think about it.)

Being introduced to the joys of buffet food, southern style. #EpicRoadTrip

Skye’s family introduced me to the exciting eating revolution of buffet restaurants.

My introduction to buffet restaurants continues. #epicroadtrip

Don’t be confused, this is an entirely different buffet restaurant.

They’re everywhere.

(And they do have surprisingly good rolls.)


When not learning that there is a more country version of y’all, we got in some sightseeing.

Exclamation Point #excitedface! #epicroadtrip

Aka, I stood in nature and made an #ExcitedFace.

Chimney Rock #excitedface. #epicroadtrip

Just so many #ExcitedFaces.


Some starring elevation signs.

Tubing time! #epicroadtrip

We also went tubing on a river.

In our two hours of floating we saw not a single other person.

And I got stuck on a rock 4 times.

(Tubing, I’m more incompetent at it than you’d think.)

(Unless you know me.)

(Then I’m probably the same incompetence-level you’d assume.)

I may or may not be on a trolley tour. #epicroadtrip

We ignored Skye’s cousin’s warning of Asheville catering itself to hippies and spent a day taking a trolley tour.

All I remember of Asheville is it’s where Zelda Fitzgerald died in a tragic fire and Nina Simone studied the piano.

And some famous pilot jokingly pretended to fly into city hall after some world war.

(I’m not the best touree.)

Apple pie beignets, I adore you.

And, while visiting the Apple Festival in nearby Hendersonville, I ate these apple beignets.


Apple beignets?

I adore you.

I miss you.

You’re everything I never knew I always wanted.

And then we drove home and stopped at the frontier museum in Southern Virginia and decided we were too cheap to go in so instead spent an hour reading about the creepy building next door which used to be an insane asylum run by the one of the main Americans who argued for eugenics.

And so a quality road trip was had by all,


Road Tripping, From Acid to Insane Asylums


Grandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's Home

Spending a couple of days at my Grandma’s house brought home quite a few lesson.

Lessons like:

1. Jello used to require recipe books.

2. If you’re ever putting away your fifth set of dishes, you might want to reconsider your place setting requirements.

3. Finding VHS tapes of my childhood is both sweet and incredibly frustrating.

4. There must have, at some point in time, been a run on suitcase locks. Or my Grandma, who didn’t fly until her 60s and only ever then for her yearly visit, had no valid explanation for the thirty locks and keys she owned.

5. If you have a clock that chimes every 15 minutes and a clock that chimes every hour, you should make those two clocks tell the same time.

6. Some clocks can be stopped from chiming by removing their battery.

7. Just because an appliance is adorable and old doesn’t mean it works well.

8. It does, however, mean I’ll want to own it. (I’m looking at you, Waring blender.)

9. And then my mom will talk me out of bringing home the standing Edison fan.

10. And I will be sad. And self-regulated breeze-less.

If only my new place

Came with a standing fan closet

I could have won that argument



10 Lessons from My Grandma’s House


Grandma's Home

I hate packing.

This often manifests itself in the not-quite-a-good-plan situation of my frantically throwing things in a suitcase the morning I’m leaving for a trip.

(What, you pack the night before?)

(Amateur laziness.)

Yet, despite my dislike, packing has seemed to become an every day part of my life.

Grandma's Home

First there was my paint-filled move.

Then I discovered my dad doesn’t plan to let me store countless boxes of junk throughout his home forever.

(But who’s going to care for my Pogs?!)

So now I also spend a couple of nights a week at his place, going through my things and then carting them off to my place.

Grandma's Home

And then, this past weekend, my mom and I flew to St. Louis.

To pack up and move my Grandma’s home.

Grandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's HomeGrandma's Home

And for the life of me, I can’t come up with more to write about it.

So here are some photos I took.

Of all the little details I want to remember.

And if you have need.

Of a comically over-sized phone.

I just might be able to hook you up.

If you didn’t notice

My grandparents

Were all about the radio,


Please Ignore How Much Make-Up I Wore In High School