Better Late than Never

Well, our trip officially ended over five days ago. I never updated this blog to include our last official day - Tuesday. I've decided to post a belated entry just so that I can say I finished this vacation blog.

Tuesday we headed out for breakfast in Chattanooga and found an almost NJ diner. It was glorious. I love diners. People in NJ do not know how rich they are to be able to locate several diners within ten miles of home. There is nothing like an egg sandwich or matzoh ball soup or cinnamon toast covered with pancake syrup at midnight - all rinsed down with some coffee and some waitress attitude. But we ate our breakfast at breakfast time. Then we headed back in the car to Nashville.

Once in Nashville, we did some last minute shopping for T-shirts. (Despite our true desire to pick up crass cowboy t-shirts, we resisted. Those of you who will or have received a T-shirt can breathe a sigh of relief. You will not have to show up for Thanksgiving dinner in a "Save a horse, ride a cowboy" T-shirt.)

Then we headed back over to the Finneys for some homemade sangria and arepas and ropa vieja. Ropa vieja has a different title in Venezuela. "Ropa Vieja" is the Cuban title. It was delish! And if we're lucky, Mom will make it one day when I'm home. (Hint, Hint. I'll even make it with you, Mom.) We had a great time with Jay, Jennifer, and Jon. Quite frankly, I liked Tennessee so much that I've been bugging Brooke about the possibility of moving there. (Please, do not tell him that it's hotter or more humid there. It is, but that certainly won't help my case.)

The next morning we headed back to the airport. We got there with more than just 15 minutes to spare, unlike our first flight. All was well and good. We had survived the trip ... AND we enjoyed it.

Well, we survived our trip until we set foot back on NJ soil. And that was it. The magic was broken. I was ready to check Terry into the Baggage Check section and send her back. She's small. Terry was ready to never come home again. Mom was ready to drag Terry by force into the car. It was a rough ten minutes until Dad arrived. We saw the car, we saw Dad, and we knew we were going home to Stephen, Renea, Champ, a mess of cats, a garage-in-progress, boyfriends, and friends. And Connecticut. (Hey, NJ is way closer to CT than TN.) And we were happy again.

The End.

On a side note, Brooke and I went to see The Simpsons movie with a couple who just moved to Connecticut from Nashville, Tennessee. Pretty cool, eh?