Marooned



Waiting for the fireworks to start.

 It had been several weeks since we'd had some mountain time, so we came up to North Carolina for the weekend. There were no big plans. We picked some blackberries and made a cobbler. We got some chigger bites. I started reading that book The Passage. We waited for rabbits to come out. At night we chatted, played games, or I watched "The Wire." You know I brought those DVD's with me. I also brought my workout DVD with me but I'd rather you didn't mention it.

For one outing we went up on the Blue Ridge Parkway to this place called Graveyard Fields--way less grim than it sounds--and played in the river. Those swimming holes at the bottom of waterfalls are some of my favorite places to observe humanity in all its variety. And I must say, Graveyard Fields attracts a better class of waterfall enthusiast, because I saw not a single disposable diaper or beer can floating in the water. It was a beautiful day. 

Then we piled in the jeep and staked out a spot in Dillsboro for the town's fireworks display. They were being shot off from the quarry on the side of a mountain. We spread out a blanket and waited expectantly with our beer and lemonade. And waited. It grew dark, then darker. In true mountain fashion, the show did not begin until ten o'clock. I mean, what's your dang hurry? They were very respectable fireworks for a little town too.

Then, right after the show, Matt set off for Atlanta. We had brought both our cars up here, and he needed to work on Tuesday morning. But he wasn't far down the road, and we weren't back to the house yet, when he called us to say the car was overheating, despite the fluids being fine, and he was parked at a motel on the side of the highway. We took the kids home, then Dad and I went out find Matt. I gave him our van to drive home, and Dad carefully drove our wagon to a repair place in town. By then it was about midnight, so we parked it there and headed home. Anyway, logistics, blah blah, car trouble.

All of that is say that, the next day, the repair shop called and said that it would cost $914 to fix what is wrong with the car, which may be the radiator fan and/or its control module. When I heard that number, it caused two chocolate-covered graham crackers to fly into my mouth. Just fly straight in there.

Today Matt is in negotiations with the car people. He texted me and said, "They are calling me back, they might be 'getting me a discount.'" And I said, "Good, because I am 'running out of graham crackers.'"

Anymahoodle, the kids and I are installed at the mountain house, waiting for the car to be fixed, but now I think we'll just stay here until Jenni and her crew arrive on Friday. I was coming back up this coming weekend anyway, and luckily this was a week with no appointments and no plans. Oh well. I could be in the steaming Atlanta suburbs, driving Laura to daily swim practice, but instead I'm here at Mom and Dad's, where the scenery is beautiful and they get up with the kids every day. There are worse places to be stranded. Way worse. The only problem is that I have to come to the public library to blog, which is where I'm a' bloggin' from right now.

I'm a' wishin' you a calm week with a pleasant post-holiday glow and no chiggers.