I am driving. Quite literally – I am dictating this to Tom as I drive to Florida. It has gotten dark; up until recently, I was snapping pictures of oddities along the highway. Something about focusing on the journey, not the destination. Too bad I didn’t decide to start taking pictures until after the bizarre and plentiful shack skeletons on the side of the highway in South Carolina. (We finally discovered that they were ALL basket stands – although who needs that many baskets?)

Whoot!! We are in Georgia! Unfortunately the speed limit is lower in Georgia. And why are weigh stations always closed? What are weigh stations? They seem to be some remnent of the past, like boarded up factories in downtowns. Is this one of those things where older people sigh and say “you don’t know what a weigh station is?”

In some ways, this was quite possibly the worst weekend to go on vacation. I have a resident research day next Wednesday for which I am helping 14 residents prepare. In fact, I have a data set sitting in my e-mail awaiting my immediate attention. It will have to wait until Tuesday. Additionally, Harper’s sleep patterns have gone off the deep end this week; apparently 3 am is the perfect time for a 2-3 hour play session. (Aside: What is that smell?) (Aside#2: What kind of mascot is “the Jackets”-The sign said “Go Jackets”) Now what was I saying? Oh yes, yesterday I had a massive panic/stress attack that landed me in the ER(I’m fine now). This afternoon when I came home from work early to make the ten hour drive, I found our bathroom flooded and water literally pouring from the walls and ceilings. Apparently, the toilet upstairs had exploded.

On second thought, this may have been the perfect weekend to go on vacation.

…Or is my little boy becoming a little bit of a red head?

In the middle of April, Tom, Harper and I decided to go strawberry picking. We went to Lewis Farms

in Wilmington.

Rows and rows of green bushes. It was extra helpful that plants were on mounded hillls about a foot high. Harper was dressed in day old, dirt colored clothes, which was one of our better ideas. We plopped him in a row and Tom and I started off picking berries.

Harper busied himself eating the dirt, grabbing the leaves and trying to crawl over the mounds of bushes. Ironically, he loved the dirt, but made the bitterness face whenever I'd hand him a strawberry. Unless of course it had been dropped and covered in dirt. Then it was delicious (apparently).

If you take a gander at my Flickr photos in the sidebar, you'll see the progression of our neat blond little boy being replaced by a muddy, dirty, still beautiful little boy.