VA-cation :: Leslie:: Fresh Out of Lemons

I am oh-so excited to have one of my first and favorite blogging friends guest posting today. Leslie from Fresh out of Lemons is funny and charming and after reading her posts I sometimes want to live at her house full time. Is that weird?

Anyway... here is the traumatic story of her childhood vacation. I hope mine is going slightly better at this point in my trip. After you are done laughing, check out Leslie's blog here for more fun.


When my husband was a kid, his family traveled all over the country. Two trips to Disney
World, a few west coast tours, and a drive up the east coast into Canada. My experience was
quite different and is probably why I'm a bigger fan of “staycations” rather than vacations.
Aside from a handful of expeditions from Georgia to South Carolina to visit family when I was
really young, the only true "family vacation" occurred the summer before I entered the sixth
grade. My mom, grandmother, sister, and I loaded up in the Ford Aerostar minivan and pointed
north to Virginia, where my aunt and uncle lived. The idea of staying in a hotel would have
been thrilling, but I figured that a week with Ray and Jan would be more familial and hospitable
so I was game. And they promised a neighborhood pool.

I remember very few details of the week that ensued, other than to share with you that my
adventure bubble was burst. Ray and Jan, who worked full time and only had one car, were
thrilled to have another mode of transportation— our minivan— in their driveway. From dawn
to dusk they left us stranded in their house. The only distinct thing that I can recall about being
there was their cat, which spent all day lying in the bathroom floor gnawing at its skin, which
was a surface of bare spots and scabs. To go to the bathroom, you had to step over him. They
assured us that we weren't disturbing him, and they were right. He wouldn't even look up.
Though he did emerge once to throw up on the carpet.

Oh, and the "neighborhood pool" that they told us was in walking distance? Turns out this
mecca was at least a mile away and the route was along a fairly significant and heavily traveled
State road. No sidewalks. Just me, my mom, sister, and almost 70 year old grandmother
pilgrimaging along in the high grass.

My sister and I did get to go to the beach for the first time. On their schedule. Which only
allowed for an hour.

Do I sound bitter? Really, I can laugh about the adventure now. But Ray and Jan weren't
invited to my wedding. ;)

I’m wishing Julie happier travels and wonderful memories (that don’t involve an obsessive
compulsive cat!)