I tend to wince when I hear people puking out garbage about needing to take a vacation after their vacation. Similarly, if you ever tell me that you don’t do Mondays, we can still be friends, but we will never be Friends. Don’t ever say anything to me about a fish needing a bicycle. We’re done with that. I could go on. I won’t go on.
This photo was taken on Thursday morning, less than five minutes after we left our cabin for the long drive home. Our original plan was to get back into St. Louis on Friday night, but we tweaked the plan a bit for many reasons. (We missed Scout and Henry. We were done spending money. I had plans to spend the weekend with a group of friends.)
After driving forever (eight hours is not actually forever, but sometimes it smells like it), we got home at around 8:00 on Thursday night. I unpacked, went to bed, picked up the dogs on Friday morning, went for a quick run, started getting things ready for my second adventure, fell asleep, woke up with a hormonal headache if you know what I’m saying, ate a bunch of cherries and bananas (I don’t know), fell asleep again, and morphed into one of those people who needs a vacation after their vacation. Like a fish who needs a bicycle on a Monday that isn’t done.
All of this to say: I used to be able to begin an adventure immediately after ending an adventure. (I used to be able to wear black eyeliner without looking completely ridiculous.) I now have wrinkly skin under my eyes, and many of my friends from high school are enjoying themselves four hours away from where I’m sitting right now. (I’ve taken two naps today.)
If Rebecca Cable had been born 100 years later, I think she and I could hang out.
Pigeon Forge is filled with neon signs and weird shops and miniature golf and water rides and tattoo parlors and upside down funhouses and huge rafts for sale and airbrushed t-shirts and tacky hotels and pancake dumps and cigarette smoke and beef jerky outlets. After spending three days making our way through the craziness, we spent our final day exploring old churches and cabins and mills at Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Perfect ending. Perfect week.