My holidays will be spent in Atlanta with my Father, Brother, Sister-in law and nephews, both boys, ages 7 and 12.
I am thinking copious amounts of sugar, coffee and perhaps vino might be a survival necessity!! 😉
First up: 12, count em 12, hours in the car with my dad. I am considering taking a video camera in effort to make my own Greek version of Driving Miss Daisy…..
Naturally, being the Greeks that we are, work was first priority. After all, a Sunday without Jazz Cafe would be like, well, ya know I am not even sure how blissful what I would do with my Sunday if not slaving away. Oh, yes I do. I think it is called a life. Story books suggest people do grand things on Sundays, such as sleep, go to Church, gather, lunch, rest, relax. Damn Fairytale’s.
Well, my Fairytale Sunday was spent serving, cooking and waiting on the droves of kitchen challenged Fort Worthians.
2:46 seemed like as good as time as any to set off on our 12 hour drive…..
My luggage pile was as follows:
My dressing room however was left a disaster:
For snacks and entertainment, I made sure to plan ahead.
Caffeine? Check. Twilight/New Moon Sndtrk Ipod? Check. Copious amounts of Chocolate (for its calming abilities of course) Check. Check.
I drove, I drove, I drove some more.
My dad, well he slept, he snored, he slept some more.
Dream come true. I love him and as much as I enjoy our chats, I had dreams of daddy benedryl cocktails dancing through my head…
Truth be told, I enjoy the road alone. What’s not to love?
Stop when you want, eat what you want, sing as loud as you like. That my friends is what we Greeks refer to as the American dream.
And all those things I did, belted Jewel, devoured some healthy okra and hummus, ravaged 3 some Cliff bars.. all washed down with a side of my toxic little friend..
Since I am firmly against being lonesome, I let three of his other friends in on the action. 4 Coke zeros later, I felt so toxic even Edward would have been disgusted…
During one of my dads awake stints phone calls, he managed to tell someone “Maria’s driving just like a little truck driver.” Fancy, That is every daughters dream.
As the night progressed we had started our own Greek Idol, James Taylor sang us lullabies and good nights, Red Bull became my new heroine. I started misreading signs that said middle creek, to middle Greek. Yes, that is what a lack of needed therapy will get a middle child of the Greek persuasion.
I will shortly return with the riveting end to this titillating story.
See ya in Atlanta