Our Own Southern Strategery

Last week was a week full of fun, family, friends, frivolity and lots of driving.
Brad has already admirably covered our brief stint in Norf Caruhlienuh, so I will decline to comment upon it except to note that I look far more like John Belushi as “Samurai Delicatessen” samurai than the prototypical Westernized depiction of Jesus.
So wife, child and I bundled ourselves into our Folks Vaagen Wagon Of Misery two Saturdays ago and made our way towards the shores of northern South Carolina. We stopped overnight at my aunt’s place in Richmond, VA and set off towards North Myrtle Beach somewhat refreshed and reinvigorated on Sunday morning (as refreshed, etc. as one can be when sharing a room with a 20-month-old in unfamiliar circumstances, that is).
My brother’s in-laws own a series of 4 condos in NMB and so they graciously allowed us to use all four for the week. We arrived in North Myrtle Beach and spent the better part of the next four days trundling ourselves between our condo and the beach, accompanied by 25 of my relatives — parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and even a great aunt. We slathered on great amounts of 30+ SPF sunscreen, thus I returned no tanner than I had left, which is to say: I am visible at out to 1800 yards with the unaided eye. I reflect more light than three Moby Dicks and roughly 103.5 reams of 20-weight copier paper.
I golfed with my brothers and father on Wednesday afternoon and scored (and I am not making this up) a 133. The course is a regulation one, meaning that par is 72 strokes per 18 holes. That’s right: I scored 61 over par. With cheating. Hooyeah!
We dined out at a seafood buffet on Wednesday night to celebrate my grandfather’s 80th birthday and managed to make an already loud restaurant that much louder. A good time was had by all.
After our two day foray into NC, we headed northwards again. We stayed at my aunt’s again Friday evening and then trekked our way back towards Philly, detouring from I-95 briefly around Frodericksburg (“Eyegor!”), VA to visit a Sonic Drive-In, a culinary treat that is prolific in the South but sadly lacking in the Yankee hinterlands. That, plus the Krispy Kreme run I made and the hushpuppies consumed at the seafood buffet almost made for a Southern fast-food delicacy trifecta; unfortunately, I was unable to obtain any SC mustard-based BBQ, thus I think the trifecta was more like a 2.5/3.0-fecta. Ahhh well, there’s always the next time.
In all, ’twas fun-but-draining. As so often is the case, I need a vacation after my vacation…
(Left undiscussed due to space constraints are GPS devices, Women of the Night, drug deals, manta rays and a rousing game of twilight beach bocce.)


You got a crock pot? I can send you the wifes recipe for southern BBQ as well as a few bottles of the good stuff.

Glad to see you are a mere 5 strokes from my golfing ability. You need to work on your lie. And by lie, I don’t mean where you hit the ball, I mean where you say the ball landed after you kick it out of the woods.