Ok, for this post, I thought I'd dive into one of the many crazy things that have happened to me and Sean. I'm calling it "The stick incident," and from here on out, I shall refer to all of our family's insane moments as "incidents" of some sort or another!
Enough background drivel... on our May 2006 trip to Alpine Helen, Georgia, Sean and I took a wrong turn... which I conveniently used as a "photo op," since there was this Indian mound-thing out in the middle of the field. (Not a burial mound... just some sort of gathering place, a central-to-the-village-type mound.) At any rate, I hopped back into the car after taking a few pictures, when suddenly we heard a horrific squeaky/screachy/squealing sound. With wide eyes and quizzical eyebrows, we gave each other that, "Oh-great-the-car-is-falling-apart-beneath-us" look as Sean pulled over to the side of the road. Sean got out to check the damage.
I was imagining car parts strewn across the road and dreading a long walk back to Alabama ...when I noticed the silly grin on Sean's face. The cause of the devestating fingernails-on-chalkboard, our-car-is-about-dead sound?
A stick. A big, stupid, long branchy stick!
*Ah, life! Sure is an adventure!
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