Where Hast Thou Been?

Last week, Mr. Rock left us behind for some training in Charlotte. Afraid that we might be bored without him, we sought a bit of adventure.

Tuesday we watched hours worth of 4-H pigs at the county fair, waiting for just one 11 year old friend of ours to show hers for 5 minutes. As we left the fair that day, Ella said it best when she said, "Mommy, no more pigs!"

A week ago at this time, I was here...

Yes, yes, those are concrete dinosaurs along with 4 boys and a toddler. Jealous? I probably shouldn't even tell you that my woefully small memory card on my camera was nearly full before we made it to our next destination, Guntown Mountain. I thought my worst decision of the day was allowing our 2 year old ride up in the side of a small mountain (big hill) on the ski lift with me. But, truly, she was safer on the seatbeltless ski lift than she was in the creepy magic show or CanCan Girls show that we witnessed at the top of the mountain like hill. The whole place, while supposedly meant for families, was full of sexual overtures that made you feel certain that actors running the old time village were definitely getting it on backstage every time the curtain closed. Eww! It was most Scooby-Doo like adventure I had ever had. I was just waiting for the guy in charge of the whole joint to rip off his face mask and shout, "And I would have got away with it had it not been for you meddling kids!"

Advertised as we purchased our tickets for Guntown Mountain was a BRAND NEW PETTING ZOO. In reality, it was a few pens built on to side of the hill, with ill-kept farm animals drowning in their own filth. When we observed the pig pen, with fly covered sows barely conscious, E remarked, "Eww mommy! No pigs!" and she ran away.

But, by way of endorsement, I do say that while Dinosaur World and Guntown Mountain might not have been all they were cracked up to be, a trip back to the Cave City/Glasgow/Mammoth Cave area would be worth it, just to stay here....

Unfortunately, we had no reservations and were unable to stay there as planned. But I do believe that the Wigwam Village is my next vacation destination. The Wigwam Village: Where Kitsch meet Campy!

All the while, Pat was being schooled in "The Carolinans", according to his daughter, and was missing every bit of this wacky mis-adventure.

We returned back to our own abode, just in time to make it to this...

What's that, you say? Why, its a TRACTOR PULL. While Daddy's away, the girls...they do play...at the county fair again. We left Pat's family gathering amongst the hilljacks to return to my own family function amongst the rednecks. Ella doth know her roots.

With such a cultural education while he was away, we were more than ready to greet Pat at the airport on Saturday. Much to our amusement, tucked into his carry-on with its head peeking out was a pink, fluffy PIG that Pat had selected as a gift for Ella on his way home. Pigs, pigs, pigs!

We were glad to have him home, in hopes, if nothing else, that his homebody ways would keep us home bound for a couple of days. Us girls, we were tired.