The Franks family had a random roadtrip last night because fall is in the air and Scottie got the urge to explore mountains. Now that we have two children in two different schools with two different release times, we can't get away until much later (bummer.) But we took off anyway.
And we got lost. Of course. But not before we found the Curl Up and Dye beauty salon. You can get some good Georgia har in thar.
GPS? Scott don't need no stinkin' GPS. This is a Montana boy we are talking about here, and he can sense mountains and trout with his fabulous nose.
Luckily for the girls and me, I can sense Sonic with my fabulous Okie brain. At least the girls and I had a brown bag special to tide us over.
We turn around, stop, consult useless maps, then Scott opens up a book on North Georgia Trout Fishing. Darby's astute and ironic comment was, "You're getting our directions from a novel?" Yes people, we were looking for a fishing hole mentioned in Scott's book where the specifics included: turn left on main street and follow the road straight until it turns to gravel. No street names, no road side markers, no comment about how there never was, nor never will be a straight road in all of Georgia.
We figure out that we have actually driven in a scenic circle, so forged ahead and found our fishing spot. It looks pretty good, so I think we will fish there sometime when the sun is up, because at this point it was gone. We attempted to skip stones - I am hopeless at this skill and the girls have never learned it either, but we do enjoy looking for rocks. It is at this part of the evening that Darby mentions that something stinks.
It was worse than a stink, as a matter of fact. When we got to the car, it was the worst aroma possible. After everyone looking at everyone else, I shout out, "Check the shoes!" And the award went to Darby, who managed to plant her all-terrain shoes in something unimaginable. I must say, it was very dark and damp and there is no telling what possessed her to step where she did. We are still dealing with her shoe of poo, but hopefully after getting soaked in the creek and left out on the porch in the pouring rain, all scent will be gone.
And so the roadtrip ended. Don't you wish you had been there?
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