June 22nd, 2001

Currently, I am riding in my mothers 1999 Camry, an experience which is humorous and irritating in the extreme. It's only nice because I'm not driving (Aeren is) and the 'rents are being relatively tranquil. My dad spazzed earlier about the A/C because the "jets were turned the wrong way." My mom is making constant allusions to the fact that, sincs I have a cold, I'm sniffling. She keeps jabbing me in the back with a Kleenex box. Fleetwood Mac is playing cheerily, and I'm starting to be optomistic about the whole venue. Granted, it's a little more trampin' and campin' than I bargained for, but hey, what can you do?

A startling revelation: Mom doesn't trust my driving. Shocking. If I saw myself driving, I'd probably be filled with self-loathing. No matter.

6:04 pm
I think another hour of endlessly identical scenery will be the end of me. All the names on the road signs are beginning to sound the same, and I've had all the twangy guitar music that I can stand. We've hit farm country! And a lovely sewage treatment plant just reeked by. Consequently, I feel, the local vegetation looks a little sparse.

6:35 pm
We pulled over at Marysville for food, gas, and limbstretching. Also, my eyeballs recieved a well-needed respite from the corrosive and entirely offensive A/C. My eyes, for some reason are very sensitive. I ordered a fettucine alfredo, a small green salad, and a monumental piece of coconut meringue pie that was about the size of my head. I feel quite fat, but also fulfilled.

June 23rd, 2001

8:01 am
The family-traveling portion is over. Thank the lord. Much to my dismay, my headphones have bit the proverbial dust. Baggage: Three heavy pieces of luggage and one caffeine-saturated sister. She's currently talking at around 500 words per minute and vibrating in her seat. Although the flight is nearly empty, the airlines are trying to maintain a sort of "get-to-know-your-neighbor" environment by lumping us together. Shoulder-to-shoulder together. "So-crowded-if-you-move-you-cause-an-avalanche" sort of cozy. They threw in an obligatory "squirmin'-screamin'-baby" in front of me and a disgruntled, overly-interested father to my near left. The kid is cute, though, and his name is "Spencer."

10:01
Am currently sitting in the Sandspit airport. My sister was so incredibly strung out on her little caffeine fix, she reprimanded me for speaking German, asked me something in French, and is now intensely drawing a tree in her sketch book. All over the course of about 12 seconds. Where is my uncle?