While most of you are thinking I might have dropped off the face of the earth, the rest of you know that I was in West Virginia. What's in West Virginia you ask? Nothing really, other than coal, railroads, poverty and extreme wealth. . . oh, and John's Mom. John and I went to Bramwell, WVa, where his Mom lives to visit and to attend a family reunion. It was so nice. Day one: Thursday, was the drive. The millionaires from the mansion with the boxers let us drive their Infinite Fx, because it had less miles than the Lexus and they were getting ready to trade it in because they don't like the way it looks....(I WISH) So in the most comfortable vehicle ever, we toted ourselves up to Bramwell.

Bramwell is a small (small) town that is known for having more millionaires per capita than any other city in the U.S. at one point in time. Coal, steel, etc. People who had money had their mountain homes there because it was close enough to Bluefield, WVA and VA, where the crossroads for the railroad were located and Dr. John Nash was born. Anyway, the homes in Bramwell are striking in their stature and well preserved state. The last election was a close one for the Mayoral seat, 100-105, after three re-counts in favor of Molly the Mayor. She also teaches flowery at the local community college due to her extensive gardens and owns a victorian shop in town on the main drag down from the post office. There are three churches in Bramwell, the Episcopal Church, which is no longer in use and Molly is trying to save/preserve, the Presbyterian church, which just had a very successful VBS, and the colored church, which is highly preserved and no longer in use. There is a local theatre company that passes through every summer. The library brings a "bookmobile" out every week. There is the most amazing refurbished train depot I have ever seen, that is now a museum and a place of community for events like concerts, receptions and such.

We arrived in Bramwell about six o'clock, too late for dinner, too early for desserts. We stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking and catching up. The next day there were errands to run and chores to do so that was the plan, after sleeping in until ten thirty. Mrs. K baked all day for the reunion. Apparently, the women in her family are known for their cooking (which I believed until I bit into a bacon wrapped oyster and almost threw up over the front porch, luckily, she was right about the rest of the food and the butterscotch pie took the taste away!). She and I started a game of rummie that was to be tested. I kept up with her the first night only to be crushed when we finished the second night. I mean CRUSHED, 1000-725, final score. She kept catching me with aces in my hand.

The reunion was fun. There was an Uncle Herman who is known for his practical jokes. He was about 70 and kept walking behind the old women and letting loose his fart bag. It was quite hysterical, especially when they turned around and smacked him hard in disgust. There was sweet Aunt Faye whose voice was a mouse and who was more kind than I think I have ever been in my entire life and whose temperment was just that all the time. What great fun was to be had by the elders telling stories, children having a sack race and musical chairs, and the food. There was enough food to feed a small third world country. It was amazing. There were six butterscotch pies...six. It was amazing. A storm blew in late afternoon to round up the festivities and say good-day. Perfect timing.

The ride back seemed longer than the ride there. It was as though the seats were no longer comfortable, the cool buttons to push for passenger controled air conditioning lost their cool, and the sun roof had no purpose being open because it rained all the way back. We passed a really bad wreck on 40 that backed traffic up for easily twenty miles. Aweful. Said a little gratitude prayer for going the opposite direction!

I finally came up to my lonely abandoned apartment that I hadn't been in in about a month...

Crash. The bed was still made from a month ago and it felt wonderful. I don't know that I have ever been more grateful for my own bed in my life. My apartment was a wreck and still is. I could hardly think when I got there last night about fiveish. I think I still need to call my Mom and tell her I'm home. And well here I am, back at work, getting ready to clean, unwrap and create for the store that will never open...or at least it feels that way!