Southern Barbecue is the Best Barbecue

We leave for vacation tomorrow.  I'm neck deep in laundry and lists for packing only two bags small enough for carry on, and only one to send through, consisting primarily of a carseat, and then secured in the seat any toiletries forbidden from being carried onto the aircraft itself.  I have to work tomorrow, and then we have scarcely enough time to drive to Buffalo and catch our flight.  We'll spend six and a half hours in the air, including a layover, and arrive in Texas late tomorrow night.  Over the course of the week we spend in the South, we'll do a twelve hour round trip drive to Louisiana, and then another eight hour flight home, with two layovers on that trip.  We'll land in Buffalo again, which is almost three hours from home.  I'm not sure, honestly, whether I'm excited or dreading the trip!  But all the traveling means we'll get to see both sides of my husband's family in the short week we'll be there, and then arrive back in NY just in time to spend our son's second birthday with mine.  My family makes delicious desserts.  And they read my blog.  (Hint, hint!)

I had the best of intentions to pre-write posts, and then schedule them for every other day or so while I was gone.  Let's hope this trip doesn't turn into the hell to which those intentions have paved the way!  I honestly realized only last week that it was already July and my plans were highly unlikely to pan out, unless I hopped to it.  Which I didn't.  And internet access is a highly prized commodity down there (think taking turns waiting for dial-up), so I'm going to be out of commission for the next week or so.

My husband and I, in our nearly ten years of marriage, have never taken a vacation together, save our honeymoon, that didn't involve as its main objective the visiting of relatives from one of our families.  Sometimes this makes me want to sigh heavily and book a cruise.  Other times I remind myself that when your family lives many states away, this is the trade off you make to see them.  Regardless, I do my very best to turn the family visits into real vacations.  My mother-in-law has a new pool in her large Louisiana yard, so all I have to do this time is walk outside and hop in, and -voila- instant vacation!  Or so I'm hoping.  And my husband's paternal grandparents will get to meet our son for the first time.  So no cruise for us this summer, or any summer soon, if I'm honest with myself.

But I'm hoping for a week of barbecue, air conditioning, lounging poolside, and free babysitting from some of the only people in the world who will be just as happy to give it as I will be to get it!  Except for the part about how my son hates people he's just met, and won't allow anyone to watch him without copious weeping, including my own mother who visits him almost monthly.  Ah well, let's put that out of our minds for now, shall we?  The closer we get to the trip, the more my excitement morphs into dread.  But this happens every time I travel, and once we're off, I almost always find something to enjoy.

I need a mantra.  Something like:

Southern barbecue is the best barbecue.

Yep, that'll do it.  Between spending way too much in planes, airports, and automobiles, I'll be eating more pulled pork than anyone with any sense would ever recommend!  And hopefully cobbling together something resembling a vacation out of all the racing around we've got ahead of us.  Now time to fold and pack more clothes.

Southern barbecue is the best barbecue.  Southern barbecue is the best barbecue.

Say it with me now!