We took an actual family vacation last week... the first, I believe, of our marriage. One that lasted more than two days and didn't involve a command appearance for a funeral, hospitalization, conference, wedding or otherwise non-vacation like event. It was lovely.
That lens flare is all camera (no PhotoShop at all)... a total accident, I must admit.

My stepson, The KnaveofHearts, came out for a visit and we decided to forgo dragging him downtown and forcing him to tour national landmarks in a pathetic attempt at an experiential education for once. Also to avoid the question he always asks, "Dad, is it always so moist here?" Spoken like a kid who grew up in the non-humid West. Instead, we decided to go camping near Luray, Virginia and maybe stop by and see the caverns there.

You may notice that this is not a photo of the Luray Caverns. See explanation below.

Over the course of our vacation, the following things happened:
  • ended up realizing during the drive there, that cabin the KoH rented was actually 110 miles away from Luray
  • made mental note to not let KoH make travel plans in future if we really needed to arrive at planned destination
  • spontaneously re-planned our trip and went to where we had lodging instead
  • KnaveofHearts good-naturedly packed himself in between two car seats for three hours and countless shorter trips in our impossibly tiny back seat
  • had my car licked by a band of ravenous llamas
  • thought for a moment that we killed a pot belly pig
  • The Dormouse and Caterpillar were attacked by a group of hungry birds
  • forced Dormouse to stay and feed the birds one more time to avoid a lifelong fear or birds
  • felt like a heel
  • could not give away food to other campers
  • planned to bring work with me but could not get a wireless signal
  • had to use mobile phone to read email
  • car charger broke -- could not charge mobile phone after first day
  • did no work whatsoever -- loved it
  • went to a haunted house/dinosaur park -- marveled at the appropriate pairing
  • were interviewed for an article in the local paper
  • visited an authentic Native American village and talked to an authentic Native American woman farming the land with authentic Native American tools who pointed out that her traditional dress was made from a deer actually killed, skinned and tanned in the Virginia mountains... she did not however, offer the origin of her Nike tennis shoes
  • spoke to a man dressed as a traditional fur trapper from the eighteenth century who was making arrow heads in the traditional way... out of porcelain from a broken toilet
  • Dormouse asked to purchase a baby goat as a pet
  • when told no, we would not be buying a goat, Dormouse tried to bring home a pet in the form of a tick on the back of her ear
  • spent next two days requiring "tick checks" of all children
  • finally "got" the reason they are called the Blue Ridge Mountains


Over the next few days, I hope to sort through the six hundred photos I took and maybe post some of the better ones, but I'm gonna try and spare you most of them. Because really, I think I might have developed an itchy trigger finger and gone overboard in the photo taking activities of the week.

See what I mean?