Spent the morning swimming in Kentucky Lake on the Tennessee River. Mags asks after an hour wading in the roped off swimming area, “Why is it that people think that swimming in lakes is redneck?” I’m not sure how to begin:
After a lunch of sliced cucumbers and Buddig ham, we showered the kids and ventured over to Home Place, a well-done mock vintage village. Maggie reminded the kids freshly returned from Roanoke Island, “We’ve gone from the 1580s to the 1850s”. I had to be talked out of buying Garrett a 4’ long wooden rifle. Maggie was right; he would likely knock Eliza into next week before we made it home. Staying with some friends in Colorado Springs next week, so in appreciation, we bought Blackberry Jam and Chow Chow; you’re welcome.
After chasing sheep and asking why people grow tobacco, we headed to the planetarium, where Garrett used his $2 entry fee into the star chart movie to take a solid snore-filled nap. As we walked the museum to learn the local history, our refreshed son cleared up one of American history’s longest running errors: “Mom, that’s not a bison, that’s a buffalo.” Yet another misinformed generation.
To close it out, upon arrival at dinner, a rather fabulous fried catfish affair, Eliza asked at volume 8.5, “Mom, can we have Appletizers?”
Off to bed…
- the rules about who can wear bikinis is different on lakes,
- the group buffet table consists of white bread, bologna, and Miller Lite,
- there’s no salt in the water to filter the urine,
- the cumulative weight of our 6-person family is well below average.
After a lunch of sliced cucumbers and Buddig ham, we showered the kids and ventured over to Home Place, a well-done mock vintage village. Maggie reminded the kids freshly returned from Roanoke Island, “We’ve gone from the 1580s to the 1850s”. I had to be talked out of buying Garrett a 4’ long wooden rifle. Maggie was right; he would likely knock Eliza into next week before we made it home. Staying with some friends in Colorado Springs next week, so in appreciation, we bought Blackberry Jam and Chow Chow; you’re welcome.
After chasing sheep and asking why people grow tobacco, we headed to the planetarium, where Garrett used his $2 entry fee into the star chart movie to take a solid snore-filled nap. As we walked the museum to learn the local history, our refreshed son cleared up one of American history’s longest running errors: “Mom, that’s not a bison, that’s a buffalo.” Yet another misinformed generation.
To close it out, upon arrival at dinner, a rather fabulous fried catfish affair, Eliza asked at volume 8.5, “Mom, can we have Appletizers?”
Off to bed…