Musing from a road trip laundry room

While waiting for someone else's mom to get their stuff out of the cold dryer in the laundry room of the Homewood Suites in Durham, NC, I started to make notes for this blog.
I had not done any laundry for nearly a week.
My husband and I had been road tripping thru the South.  We had been taking in the change of seasons, the topography and, of course, the food. 
Truthfully, I was skeptical even at this point in the trip that I would still fit into my airplane seat home.

I arrived at Parents' Weekend with full intention of doing all of our son's laundry and that of any family-less student still in town for the festivities.  We were there to spend quality time with our youngest, to meet his friends, celebrate his 20th birthday, and to enjoy some R&R before returning north to the elliptical machine at the fitness center. 

I did in fact start writing this chapter from a pedicure chair where I had motivated Danielle, my nail tech, to resume her journal writing by picking up blogging. I was there killing time while my husband was getting an oil change on what used to be the family SUV. The SUV has been living at school with our son.
We had time to do these normal routine appointments because pre-med boy was in class and playing flag football and we had nothing to do until dinner time because he would not let us do his laundry. 

We travelled 1100 miles to see him. The trip kicked off from my husband's and my hometown -- Philadelphia in Pennsylvania. We were still married after eight states, and the District of Columbia;10 McDonald pit stops, refueling each time with $1 unsweetened iced teas (except on the border of Virginia and Tennessee where they charged $1.75 for the same guilty pleasure), that would eventually lead to more pit stops. 

We made planned stops in Richmond, VA, where we Yankees sought the perspective of the natives on "the war of aggression" at the Confederate War Museum and Jefferson Davis' White House. We kicked off the eating festivities setting the bar high at Richmond's top BBQ joint. Buz & Ned's Real Barbecue, where Bobby Flay lost a "Throwdown" in a brisket challenge. I make a mean brisket. I too would have lost the challenge. Brisket and beef ribs melted like "buttah" in our mouths. 
Later we took advantage of Richmond's  restaurant week for dinner at Tarrants that included a coconut chess pie, which I added to my Pie Hall of Fame, while scraping the plate. The restaurant is in a former main street small town pharmacy. This made it even more appealing to my pharmacist husband/traveling companion.  

The next day we were on the road to Monticello, VA to Thomas Jefferson's estate, where we enjoyed a brilliant tour from a guide who oozed Jeffersonian factoids and loved his job. 

We enjoyed being at Monticello and also loved the southern buffet at the Michie Tavern next door, where the fried chicken and mashed potatoes left no room for dessert. 

Exhausted from battling the GPS and the travel and touring we broke all rules that night and ate at our hotel in Charlottesville, VA. The chef, who is trying to build a notable place to eat in another foodie city, rose to the occasion and served us well. Generally we only eat the free breakfasts at the Hilton properties we stay at. This particular Hilton Garden Inn might be a dinner gem. 

Speaking of GPS battles. We could not really blame our satellite sister as she directed us around and up and down the Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountains on our six-day journey. As we saw signs for Tennessee, on the way to North Carolina from Virginia, I was feeling completely geographically challenged. My husband, who for kicks and giggles and lots of baseball has taken our son on road trips to every Major League ballpark (and some that no longer exist), was pretty confident that we were going the correct route as we passed thru a gorgeous part of the country I doubt I will return to in this lifetime.  The leaves were beginning to change and the distance between Cracker Barrel Restaurants became more spaced out as we headed for Asheville, NC and the Biltmore Estate, nearly six hours from the day's starting point. 

It was worth the trip to gawk at the opulence of this Gilded Age home. It is impossible to wrap your head around how much money this branch of the Vanderbilt family (not Anderson Cooper's line) had, and spent, not to mention the skill and tenacity of the people who built it. 

That drive for perfection was matched that night at a local spot called Tupelo Honey Cafe which has quite the rep for its biscuits, flaky softball-size orbs that require no condiments. This did not stop me from dressing half with Tupelo honey and the other half with a homemade blueberry compote. Because I ordered their vegetable combo plate for dinner (only in the South is Mac n Cheese considered a vegetable), I treated myself to a slice of their chocolate pecan pie. It was the best pecan pie I have ever eaten in a restaurant. Worth the drive, even if you aren't in the area. 

As we waddled out of the cafe I was so glad we had not rented a Prius for the journey. Driving in the safety and comfort of a 2014 Jeep Grand Cherokee, I could barely fathom fitting in a Prius after the pie. Also, I could not fathom what the Civil War soldiers endured traipsing from battlefield to battlefield on this terrain. At both Monticello and Biltmore, guides talked about distance in "how the crow flies" measurements.  

Today we get annoyed if a plane takes off an hour late or if there is no direct flight. It took Jefferson three days by horse to get to DC and often when visitors invited to Monticello arrived, he would host them for three months. Of course he had his own private wing at the place.  

We paced ourselves on the journey to Durham. Even stopped at an outlet mall (like we don't have those at home). Despite the pie, hush puppies and biscuits, I squeezed my way into a new pair of jeans that were a size smaller than the ones I wore into the Chicos. No salespeople were injured during that visit. 

Then we headed into Durham to enjoy Parents' Weekend and more eating. Kicked off the food fest with Dame's chicken and waffles. It was downhill for any dieting from there. The jeans will probably not fit me now for a month or two.
Other than standing for a complete basketball game amongst the Cameron Crazies in the student section, most of the activity we threw ourselves into revolved around food. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you about how we even ate BBQ twice in one day.
We had already been to a few Parents' Weekends between our two children. By now the university's planned activities were not a big part of the visit plan. The most important thing was to spend time with our son, now a sophomore. 

Observation: Friday all the parents arrive full of energy and enthusiasm. Sunday we all are carrying bags from the University Store, empty wallets and weary faces.
Diagnosis: Food comas.

After three days in Durham we were whisked to the airport this morning in the former family car by our son. Cashed in my winning North Carolina Powerball lottery ticket to buy him breakfast as his dad filled up the SUV at the airport gas station. 

We thanked him for a fantastic weekend (he pulled an all-nighter to get us tickets for that exhibition basketball game, scrounged up tickets for a very good acapella concert and hand-picked where we would dine) and mostly for spending time with us.
He thanked us for coming. Priceless.