Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I Can't Spell Tomorrow...

[siamesa]

Yeah.

Anyway, tomorrow, my family and I drive to Atlanta for our annual Trip To A Major US City.  So far, we've done Boston, Chicago, Savannah, Baltimore, San Antonio, Philledelphia? Philly, and Memphis.  Mostly we fly, but as I suffer from a crippling fear of airplanes, I managed to convince mom that driving this year would be fun.

Spring break!  Yay! 

All the trips have had highlights.  San Antonio had incredible food (and, on the way over, a pilot who talked far, far too much and not generally in a truly reassuring way).  Chicago meant I got to drag my parents to the American Girl Place with my American Girl Dolls (and I am never flying through or near O'Hare again.  Ever.)  In Philly, we got to attend opening day of the Phillies baseball team (they lost, abut my cousin decided to become "Philly Man," who got his powers by eating cheesesteaks).  Both Boston and Baltimore had ducklings.

Memphis had Graceland.  Actually visiting the place where Elvis lived seemed to be the highlight of my little brother's life.  For the next several months, he sang the various songs he had memorized whenever possible.  Also he purchased a light up Elvis sign for his room.  We considered getting one of my uncles who refused to come along an Elvis jumpsuit, but decided against it after seeing the prices and thinking that $200 was a bit much for something he would probably ceremonially burn.

But it was fun.  Vacations are among the times me and my relatives genuinely get along.  A couple of years ago when we spent three weeks in Nova Scotia, we became a united front against the Evil Biting Flies and my siblings actually followed my orders. 

But my family is crazy.  I say this in order to share a fascinating story.  Once upon a time in the late eighteen hundreds, some siblings were orphaned.  One went to live with relatives in Charleston.  Today, his descendants own large amounts of stock in oil companies and one of those houses shown on carriage tours.

The other one stayed on the farm.  He raised cows.

He, of course, was the one who became my great great grandfather.

This interesting tale of fate was discovered, I think, by the same relative who discovered that we're also distantly related to Abe Lincoln.  I have no idea what the myriad Robert Lee *Insert Last Name Here* s in my family think of this, but to be honest I don't care.

Abe Lincoln!  Awesome!