I went to Virginia. We stayed in the valley. Wine country with a knack for racism and diversity. And ticks. Just a couple of ticks, though. At least that is all that we had to pull out of the children. Needless to write, Virginia was an interesting place. It was hot and muggy, just like Indiana, and had almost as little to do. But I had fun. I had a lot of fun.
I barely looked at my phones or the internet while I was there. I stayed out of reality for a bit to participate in classic reality. I took up fishing on the trip. Behind the temporary mansion that we were staying at was a river. Not really sure the name of the river, but it was clear and full of blue gill. I stood in the river and cast and cast and cast and cast. This is tremendous progress from my Hughes like tendencies. I even began unhooking my own fish.
The trip was bookended in injury. As all good trips are. You may be aware, or may not be, that fingers tend to pop like tomatoes if the correct amount of pressure is applied to them. It’s okay now, as it is mostly healed. There was a circuit trainer in the basement, but it was broken. I was helping my brother-in-law fix it when the weights shifted down onto my hand. I didn’t feel anything but knew something was wrong when I saw blood pouring from my finger. I didn’t look as I knew it had to be somewhat bad, so I asked my sister if we were going to the hospital. We didn’t and I just kept it bandaged and all was fine until I was drying off in the shower mid week and the towel caught the flap of flesh on my finger and ripped it off.
That was the start of the vacation. The end of the vacation ended with a different trauma. Thankfully no where as severe. May be just emotionally. Have you ever banged on a wood floor in a rhythmic pattern. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom! Well, the second boom I saw my 2 year old niece barrel rolling down a flight of hard wood stairs. A gasp. A fuck. A shit. A frantic run to the scene by concerned mothers. A blood curdling scream. A blood curdling scold by a father. A blood curdling discipline by an aunt.
Like I wrote, she turned out to be okay, but this was bed time on the last night that we were there. Certainly eventful. Another eventful moment when I had an anxiety attack twice in the same day within a couple of hours of each other. I do not do well on mountain roads. Worse when no one tells me that we are going on them. I love the mountains. I hate the roads. We took the mountain road to a hike in the national park. Beautiful hike. Does not compare to Colorado, but not much does. Coming down from my attack we took a family portrait of 22 Hansens clad in green and white. Then set off on the easy hike. Easy due to the sister that is due in September and the two kids in strollers. A nice easy hike.
It was probably 97 degrees and 80% humidity when we set off. My niece’s boyfriend quipped with an “Is it raining joke” referring to my soaked shirt. Fat people sweat a lot okay. My other niece that weighs in at a hefty 112 pounds had wet shirt, so there. Any whosel, as we were completing our family hike, everyone stopped to shout out and admire the 350 pound bear cub that was less than a hundred yards away. “Isn’t she cute?” No! No, she’s not fucking cute! Why? Because her mom was no where to be seen and I’m sure our mix of cologne, bubble gum and body odor was more than enough to let her know that a shitton of people were by her precious baby. What does my family do? Stop to admire. I ordered my wife and kids to keep moving, but making sure that some people stayed ahead of them. Darwinism. Smart people over coming there short comings.
My finger is sore. Maya’s head hurt the floor. We caught some fish and got into political tiffs. I hope some of you reading are able to have this kind of interaction with people you don’t loathe and with people who don’t loathe you. As Virginia was not my favorite, I still had fun and rediscovered a childhood passion. Better yet I got to help teach one of my children about it.
Please to enjoy.