The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry

It's a funny kind of irony when traveling keeps you from writing about said travels on your blog, which is supposed to be about traveling. I now, right? Hysterical!

So since the end of summer is here (I don't care what the calendar says. School starting equals end of summer. Even though I haven't been to school in years, it's hard to miss the packs of kids buying busloads of folders, pencils and cigs at your local superstore.) Pat and I decided to take a quasi-spur-of-the-moment trip back to Oak Island last week. Our last hurrah! for summer. Or some such thing.

We took off late last Wednesday, pulling onto the island with our stinky-breathed dog who, no matter how cold we made the car, insisted on shooting gut-rotting air out of his constant panting mouth. Plus, it was about 115 degrees on the drive down. And we got stopped at a road block heading to the island, only prolonging our 8-hour drive to 8.25 hours and I was about to lose it! When we got there, it was about 2 a.m. and it was about 130 degrees in the house where we begged/bullied/cajoled our way into borrowing from my sister-in-laws parents, who were so accommodating (Thanks, y'all!!!) and we didn't care anyway because we were At The Beach! Again! And their house rocks, so there's that.

Anyway, reverse the sequence of events and there you have us driving back home on Sunday. It was awesome. It was the beach. There was sand and surf. And lots of fried shrimp. What more can I say? And though he nearly found himself running alongside the car on the way to the beach, Sammy redeemed his household standing by training himself to conveniently poop while he was there. As soon as we crossed the dunes via the boardwalk, his paws would hit the sand and he'd walk to the trashcan perched next to the dunes and take a poop. Right there. So close! Blessed be! I meant to take a picture and post it here, but that's pushing the bounds of even this drivel.

All this is a very long intro into introducing you (again, if you're paying attention) to Lindsay and Whit's blog, which is chronicling their trip to Korea via Thailand. I'm not too proud to say I'm jealous. I mean, I got the Lonely Planet guide to Thailand months and months ago, even before they were thinking of going, all in preparation for our three months of travel this summer! That. Didn't. Happen. No Japan. No Thailand. No confusing airports. No backpacks. No nothin'. (Except, see above.) I'm not complaining, really. What can we do? The housing market in Asheville has grown oh-so-slow, and though we've sold our house, we don't close until the end of September if all goes as planned. And there's the other one still sitting there, all stainless-steel appliances and solid-surface countertops and immaculate wood floors and thoughtful layout and awesome backyard all for under market value that makes me want to yell, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT, PEOPLE?" And, well, school's back in session and you know that means.

So I'm very much enjoying their blog, even their pictures of themselves brushing their teeth while sitting on the toilet in a Bangkok bathroom. That looks so great! Have fun, y'all!

Hello, again. Did you miss me?

Sorry for the disappearance. I meant to tell you, but things caught up with me and there I was, Friday morning, rushing out of the house on my very, very long road trip* to the North Carolina coast, to my most beloved Oak Island.

Judging by the long lines of traffic snaking around Wilmington and the truly stunning amount of people at the local Food Lion the night we arrived, I'm not the only one who believes summer isn't summer without enough sand in your bathing suit to build your own Leonardo da Vinci. Why bother with sitting out in the sun and sculpting piles of sand when you can do it in the very own comfort of your very own bathtub? I love the beach. Love it. Really. Love. It.

I took a lot of photos, mostly of my little niece, Acy, so there will be some photos to come. But here's the short story: sand, perfect waves, perfect temperatures, running on flat land (Easy! Watch me go far and fast!), eating so many oysters, clams and crabs that I began to smell like the sea, too many episodes of Drake and Josh and The Dog Whisperer (Which, strangely, always put me to sleep. Even though I really like Cesar Millan! Really! *Snap, sshhhttt!!!*), and gulping down Water for Elephants between never-ending pretend matches with Acy that we were, in turns, mermaids and fairies.

The long story will come, slowly, but not too slowly as we're about to leave again, this time heading north to Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania for a few days. Just wanted to say Hey! I'm home! Want to go to the beach with me?

*OK. So not so long, just about 8.5 hours. On the road tripping scale, I'm sure this really equals a trip to the local grocery store, but still...