Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Should Auld Stameys Be Forgot...

Today, I woke up and had no idea why I had set an alarm. Then I got dressed and forgot where I worked. Then I got on the Metro and couldn't remember what station I needed.

Mind you, this is what I do every morning. It's not just because I'm back at work after ten days off. But my vacation was lovely. I drove 1300 miles in four days, ate a ton of pork products and biscuits, and heard the three-syllable version of my name at least a hundred times. In the South, I'm Sha-yan-non. I also had to get re-accustomed to hearing my dad addressed as Skeeter.

I drove almost ten hours to Cherokee, where I spent Christmas Eve eating steak and playing slots with my dad and uncle. I was asked the best question ever, "So, which one are you? The divorced one or the lesbian?" I also took a side trip to see the rowdy Hartsville Stameys, where Peanut attempted to take us to breakfast at a restaurant called Carolina Lunch (that only serves breakfast). I also had the best conversation ever with my cousin Donna:

Donna: So, no husband, no kids...
Me: (silence, bracing for biological clock comment)
Donna: ...so you must have the cleanest house! Can I come live with you?

My rental car was a bulbous red Ford Focus, which made me feel like I was driving Rudolph's nose. I eventually remembered how to drive, even though I almost wasn't allowed out of the rental agency parking lot. Apparently if you ask the security guard a bunch of questions on how to find the "clicker thingy" and the "wiper doodads," they won't open the gate.

But driving was fun. I even got back into performing my driving rants. "Who in hell painted these line markings? They're all over the place! Picasso? Am I on a Cubist highway?" Lest you think I'm odd for yelling about Cubism while alone in a car, my sister does the same thing. Except in a goofy French accent.

The only bad part of the trip was driving up I-95 the day after Christmas. I made great time. Until Richmond. Then it took more than four hours to get from Richmond to Catonsville (no, I haven't moved to Baltimore). By the time I arrived, I was a babbling hysterical wreck.

I spent the rest of the vacation lounging and spending as little time in cars as humanly possible.

2 comments:

Monodomo said...

LOL...great post. I would pay money to have been there when u were asked about "lesbian or divorced". I love the south in all its backwards glory

Shannon said...

I don't think of the South as particularly backward. Just adorably quirky.