After loading up our car for the road trip to Zion National Park for my family reunion, I took a cursory inventory: four suitcases, a sleeping bag, a cooler stocked with Gatorade and root beer, golf clubs, granola bars, peanut m&m’s, a DVD player, movies, Nintendo DS’s, CD’s, chips, and a 72-hour kit from 1989 with toilet paper so old you could throw it off a balcony and say, “Look Ma! It’s snowing!” I stood back, surveyed our goods to make sure we didn’t “forget anything”, crossed my arms and did a quick nod of the head and declared, “Yep, my pioneer ancestors would be proud.”
We saw a lot of signs along our way; “NEXT SERVICES 100 MILES”, “VIEW AREA NEXT RIGHT”, “6% GRADE, TRUCKERS GO SLOW. SLOWER. HEY, I SAID SLOWER!!”, or “DANGEROUS CLIFF, SHEER DROP, PLEASE DO NOT CROUCH DOWN AND LOOK OVER THE EDGE LIKE THAT YOU FREAK!” Okay, so maybe that last one wasn’t really a sign, but it should have been. I kid you not, there were several moments where I had to look away because I was afraid of witnessing someone losing their footing and being hurled to their death. (And by someone, Stephen, yes, I mean you – Mr. Front Row Far Right)
In addition to the signs along the road, I noticed a few signs of my own that weren’t necessarily spelled out on bright, yellow posts. Like one time when we were driving and the car was really quiet until Cory spit out, “Have you noticed that all vampires are rich?” I took that as a sign that we had been driving too long. Or like when Drew said, “I feel like a giant termite,” I took it as a sign that I should give him corn on the cob more often. A few more hours into our ride Samantha debated, “I want to go to sleep but I’m afraid you guys will eat all the chips,” a sign that she and I are more alike than I once acknowledged. Here’s a sign that sending a two year old down a zip line should be prefaced by the employee with clearer instructions to, “HOLD ON little boy!”
Let’s just say he took it better than his mom did.
One night we sat around eating enchiladas when Cory bit into a savory bite of green chile; as one of his favorite foods, he launched into a What About Bob moment and began “MMMMmmmm”-ing his way through the next few minutes. Drew rolled his eyes, exhaled a heavy sigh, cocked his head and said, “Turn on the music, Dad’s having a love scene.” I’m taking this as a sign that either I need to pay closer attention to what Drew’s been watching on the Disney Channel, or I have neglected the power of the green chile.
Hey honey, my sisters and I have decided to take a cruise to the Bahamas for a week. Can you get off work to watch the kids?
WHAT?!
There’s 17 grilled green chiles in the fridge for you if you say ‘yes’.
Well then, ‘YES’ it is!
Another quote from my sister-in-law: “He’s not mad, he’s just Danish.” The sign: She really knows her Danish people. Drew asked at one point, “Hey, wanna see my constipated cat imitation?” The sign: I don’t think we’ve been paying enough attention to him lately. Finally, my SIL earned the prize for BEST QUOTE OF THE WEEK when, as we were packing up to leave she announced, “I don’t want to get ANY underwear in the mail.” The sign: My mom doesn’t like it when we lose things. Finally, speaking of my parents, I have to pay homage to them who heavily subsidized this gathering and without whom we would not have played nearly as much paintball, ridden as many horses, or shared as many laughs. They are the reason that all of us are so freakin’ cool. Here’s the sign:
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