"Daddy's Itchy"

I shall now tell the tale of when my father accidentally taped himself for an entire day in his BMW, as told, over and over again, by my little brother, and then everyone we know. It had been a pleasant weekend in North Carolina. A few years ago my little brother Vinnie and my friend Slavomir had been down to visit, and driven together. They'd taken the car my father was currently leasing. On their return trip to D.C. Sunday evening they searched the vehicle for something good to listen to and picked up an unlabeled tape.

"Let's try this," my brother said.

They put it in and heard nothing much but the faint noises indicating that the tape wasn't blank, exactly, but wasn't music or a great novel or anything else purposely recorded. They waited, the air thick with their expectation.

And then, "Ohhhhhhhh Daddy's tired."

What the boys had stumbled upon was a tape my father had recorded - of himself - during an entire day while riding around the city in his car. The car, for whatever reason, had a feature so that one could tape him or herself if he or she wanted to. My father had discovered this feature accidentally and proceeded to use it all day without knowing it.

What followed was a series of comments, mock conversations, and explanations, the favorites, of course, the typical "Daddy's tired," and "Daddy's itchy," remarks our father uses on a regular basis. It was just surprisingly delightful to learn he uses them when when alone in his car, too.

There was a practice telephone conversation with a colleague, a "What the fuck are you doing?!" to a another driver, and an "I knew that!" that we think came after a glance at the day's newspaper, due to the rustling sounds in the background.

Vinnie made sure we all knew about his find and the story soon became common knowledge among family and friends. Guests would arrive at my parent's house to ask, "Fred, you taped yourself in the car all day?"

To which he would reply in his typical, and now semi-famous fashion, "How the hell should I know how the fucking thing works?!"

Old Siler City Rd. and Hwy. 64

MVC-003L Originally uploaded by caramaria.

This weekend we head to the Bay! This is exciting to me for a variety of reasons, including the chance to see friends and family without the stressed of any planned agenda.

But mostly I get excited because that part of the world is so relaxing to me. Over the Fourth of July last year a select group gathered at the house with dangerous fireworks and risky ideas. One of these ideas was to travel directly through the sea grass and swampy ground and later, as we found out, water moccasins, to the neighbor's house where there were no a) hot girls, to the boys' dismay and surprise ("I bet there are TONS OF hot girls over there," was one of the prompts for this lunatic adventure) or b) celebratory beers shared and raised in honor of our heroic journey all in the name of good friends, peace and love.

Instead we got blank stares except from a few semi-drunken good sports and the recommendation to take the clearly-marked path back to our house for the return route.

The next day, however, this was a great story, made even more wondrous when my mother informed us we could have been brutally killed by poisonous snakes.

It's not in every day life that you come upon these relaxing scenes and unstructured moments, especially where you work. I've grown tired with the rural life and view my daily travels here not as a break from the busier life, but as an obligation. And an obligation I never wanted to explore. I wanted bustling streets and strangers.

However, every once in a while I turn a corner and see a long road or field full of some unidentifiable crop and remember it's beautiful. And that both the places you love because no responsibility comes with the territory and the places you become responsible for offer equally peaceful moments.