WFRV

It's our last day of fun because tomorrow we're driving 460 miles home.
Mike wants to go to Gettysburg, and Ben decides to join him. Given the
choice between learning about the Battle of Gettysburg and then going to see
all the hills and rocks I just learned about, I decide to stay home and
clean the RV instead. Sam opts to join me. We empty out the fridge, clean
the dishes, bathroom, and kitchen, make all the beds, and put everything
away. By lunchtime we're done, and after a sandwich we take a short hike on
a wooded nature trail that meanders around the mountain behind the
campground. A checkerboard table catches our attention on the way back and
we stop to play a game. Toward the end of the afternoon Ben and Mike
return; they enjoyed what they saw of Gettysburg (the visitor center and
four battle sites) and tell us a bit about it. One of the worst battles is
the rush on Pickett's Field where 12,000 men were sent three quarters of a
mile across an open field into cannon fire; 5,000 were dead, wounded, or
missing before they retreated. I don't think it matters what side.

So naturally we go to Colonel Pickett's Buffet Restaurant for dinner. We're
eating some pretty tasty food and discussing the futility and tragedy of war
when Ben yells out "I blame Sam!" because he enjoys blaming everything from
running out of milk to a change in the weather on Sam. And as he yells this
he accidentally smacks his very large glass of milk, the contents of which
fly into my face, my hair, my shirt and my lap, with a significant portion
of it dripping off the table into my right sneaker. After wiping the milk
out of my stinging eye I get up without a word and go into the bathroom
where I wipe off my arm and leg and try to blot my clothes. I don't want to
return to the table until all evidence of the spill is gone. Luckily the
waiter is very attentive and cleans it all up, removing my ruined salad and
replacing Ben's milk immediately. Ben is wisely extremely apologetic and
Mike and Sam courteously try not to laugh, although they tell me the table
next to us got a huge kick out of the incident and when I return to the
table the man next to me says "Isn't that what moms are for?" "Getting
dumped on?" I ask.

A few sips of a "Mike-a-Rita" (a margarita made with Mike's Hard Lemonade)
later I've almost forgotten about the spill except that my right foot is
soggy. After dinner we're all looking forward to playing the lower course
at Mulligan MacDuffer's Adventure Golf. This "Loch Ness" course is easier
than their "Highlander" course we did yesterday but it's still quite
difficult. Luckily for me and the kids it turns out we're playing
Mike-a-Rita Golf because Mike consumed much more of his drink than I did and
is not shooting well at all. Ben starts saying "Dad's drunk" and I am
laughing at each missed putt. It's not a pretty sight and our ridicule does
not sober him up; he comes in third behind Sam who got the maximum par on
most of the holes. When I want to guarantee a Scrabble win against my
mother I give her a glass of wine before we play. The kids and I decide
that from now on we'll give Mike an alcoholic beverage as a handicap before
he plays mini golf.

When we get back to the RV Sam has a very bad headache and goes to sleep
radically early (9:30pm) so Ben, Mike and I watch The Daily Show (Rob
Corddry's last show, and he will be missed) and then get to bed early as
well. We have another Early Start tomorrow followed by a Long Drive but we
don't care because we will be Home in our Own Beds in our Own House by the
end of the day. Tonight is our Last Night in the RV and I am so happy about
that. Ben says this trip has made him appreciate the way we live. Boy
howdy has it.

# posted by LDW @ 3:46 PM