I'm in the car on the way back from Wintergreen,

[or I was, while writing this] having survived the all four days of reunioning. It was a close call, though; this morning one of my aunts suggested that the piercingly loud ten year old daughter of my cousin might sleep in the same room with my (twenty-two year old) cousin Anne and I next year. Anne and I exchanged a look that said we'd go back to sleeping on floors and sticky leather couches before we'd ever let any small child who wakes before 8AM near our sleeping area. Particularly not someone who's so obviously growing up into the kind of teenage girl we both hated so much as kids . . . Anne because not only was she saludatorian for her high school, considers Star Wars her favorite movie, and goes to church regularly, but she's also the sort who considers mountain biking down our mountain on an old logging trail in the middle of a thunderstorm with some mullet-sporting guys she'd met earlier in the day who were missing a few teeth to be fun. And though I can't claim to have done anything half so interesting this weekend, my reasons are just as empathetic, if slightly more tame.

Heading through Charlestown now, just a few short miles from Harper's Ferry. Someday I should stop and see what it's like down there; I remember we were supposed to go on a middle school trip there at some point, but we got rained out at the last minute. And I'd be interested to see how they portray John Brown down there, whether they've chosen rational, insane, good-intentioned but fanatical, or some other compromise. It's curious the way Brown gets the bad rap for being insane, when Nat Turner was the one hearing voices and such.

Nice clouds today. Cumulus, mostly, all fluffy and fading into the blue in the distance. It's sunny at last, after four days of rain. I'd been hoping to get some hiking in this weekend, even if I had to escape quietly to do so on my own, but no such luck. And indoor activities at the mountain just aren't my thing, really — I could've gone to the pool, I guess, but that would've involved getting mobbed by the little kids, and tennis, well. Tennis. Heheh. Let's not go into my tennis abilities.

The Shenandoah is running high; no way you'd be able to walk across the rocks today. On the Maryland side of the river, someone's gone and put orange traffic cones on a few of the more dangerous of the half-hidden rocks, presumably for the tubers. No one tubing that I can see, but there are a few kayakers out there. .

In the back, my dog has sat up and is leaning over the back of the seat, panting, his chin nearly hitting the top of my brother's head. Dan doesn't seem to notice, though — either because he's sleeping, or because his hair's grown so long again that what I think is the top of his head is really about two inches above his skull.

Western Maryland is as it's always been: nice farm country, but not that interesting to drive through. Not I-20 boring, but close. Though I can't say I'd like some roadside billboards to liven it up a bit. But something . . . wireless internet, perhaps. At Dan's suggestion, I've got the Airport (Apple's version of WiFi) monitor up and running, just in case we hit a patch of connectivity. Not like we're going to find any broadband just floating around out here, but hey. Now I can say I've gone wardriving.

In less than two weeks I'll be back at Emory. You have no idea how weird that feels, really. It's a good thing, of that I'm almost certain, but it's going to be strange. I suppose I'm lucky that I have bio and a new dorm, both non-affiliated with Jake, but just about everything else in the city is going to feel like something's missing, be it trips to Kroger, movies, lunch at Cox, Book Nook, quizbowl tournaments . . . I envy him, for being the one who gets a clean break from it all.

Ah, well. A few more things to do here before I move on to that and you all get fun stories of me and my three virtually-unknown suitemates. Radiohead, quizbowl questions to write, KC and Clay to see, perhaps some kayak jousting in Jen's pool . . . might as well make the best of being home so long as I'm here, I guess.