Hola Gorgonzola. The first two hours of spring break find me loafing around my kitchen eating ice cream and dreaming about my upcoming vacation. Tomorrow morning at an undetermined time, my dad (the aforementioned God-awful driver who fashions closets for a living), Llama (a somewhat less intelligent sub-species of baboon that my parents seem to believe is my brother), and myself are all going to pile in the car for yet another thrilling road trip, this time to the mountains of Montana and Colorado. Now some (possibly both) of you may be wondering, spring break? Mountains? Snow? Where did I leave my lucky hobo's foot? Yes, I'm one of those people that clings to icicles and hides in dark, air-conditioned corners when the temperature rises above 25 degrees. As the weather here in Minnesota threatens to become hospitable, I gather my monkey lantern and flee to the mountains, my unwilling father and brother in tow. Mom, Hannah and Ellen have elected to stay behind and take advantage of our extended absence by indulging in pizza rolls and Omni films. I, on the other hand, will be dining on almonds and sparkling water as we make our way west. But there is hope! I've hoarded muffins for the ride. I'm not fat. Don't look at me like that.
In related news, I recently (and by recently, I mean about 6 months ago) acquired my permit. About time, considering I'm turning 18 in August. My picture is spectacular. The photographer lady at the DMV pressed the button seconds after a massive sneeze. I look flying high. But, on the plus side, I lied about my height to make myself seem an inch and a half taller than I actually am. Perhaps the natives in Bozeman can't read numbers, and will mistakenly let me into an 18+ club reserved for people over 6 feet tall. I might even get a virgin daiquiri out of the deal.
That being said, I'm going to try to make an effort to post on a somewhat regular basis over the course of my trip. Who knows, with a little luck and a formidable flock of chocolate puffins, the habit might even carry on after I get home, too.
My washing machine just dinged. I can tell you with a reasonable degree of certainty that I left a red crayon in the pocket of my jeans that I neglected to remove before washing. Off I go to survey the damage.
Til (hopefully) tomorrow!
Emmo ♥
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