I Want to Go to There.

Preach it, Liz Lemon.

Last weekend was, on the whole, wonderfully relaxing.

It was a surprise weekend (that I figured out, thanks to an embarrassing large number of years as an avid Nancy Drew fan) which started off rather inauspiciously when the entire city of Tuscaloosa closed down due to threat of tornadoes (understandable, with what happened last year) that never actually came, but caused us to postpone the trip and instead grocery shop and “watch” Moneyball.


I’ve heard that this movie is great, but as just hearing the word “baseball” makes me yawn uncontrollably (unless followed quickly by “hotdog,” “cheesy fries,” and “beer”), I fell asleep 5 minutes into the movie and woke up just in time for the end.

The next morning we headed up to North Alabama, armed with a playlist I compiled when at work (which for me entails watching a bunch of computers to make sure they don’t walk away. I had some extra time.):

After a slight detour which landed us at this interesting farmer’s market (that title might be a slight stretch, but their onlyslightlyexpired vitamins and Tim McGraw lamps certainly looked ever-so-appealing).

We arrived and had a picnic of homemade bread and chicken salad on the porch, with a delicious view:

View from the front.

Then off to rock-hop in Little River Canyon! Rock-hopping is one of the most relaxing activities (my third favorite exercise behind bar dancing and lake swimming). Until, that is, you fall into the frigid March waters. Not that that would happen to me, just a hypothetical.

Soon after this little accident, we hopped in the car and headed out in search of stunning views and waterfalls; we found ample amounts of both.

Ice, ice, baby.

After more food, a Mexican-inspired feast this time, we relaxed by the fire (as close to the fire as possible, actually, since the heat was out. I had to restrain myself from actually sticking my feet IN the fire. It seemed like a better idea at the time.) then fell asleep, because the outdoors make me delightfully exhausted.

The next day I wielded a fire-arm, though not before vocalizing my views on the lack of gun control in the U.S. which is ATROCIOUS, but boy are they fun to shoot. I felt a bit like a very b.a. Annie Oakley, and who doesn’t like that feeling?

And thus the weekend came to an end, though not without copious amounts of the most delicious road trip snack ever:

All of the mango and banana chips mysteriously disappeared, and then we threw raisins out the window (to help the birds, of course).

Nothing beats a good road trip.


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