You Know It's Bad...

You know you're over...
with the vacation gig...
when you have to resort...
to shooting a pig.

I hate to grumble,
I hate to whine...
but I had to resort...
to taking a swine on a sign.

The locals cried out...
"Look at that Michigan dork.
He's shooting the pig...
he's shooting our pork!"

Where else but the state of Georgia can you pick up some homemade sausage AND fireworks at the same stop? Huh? Huh? Huh? (We did get sausage and bacon...but no fireworks.)

We left at 8:15 a.m., and stopped at 10:15 p.m. We drove 725 miles, and are spending the night in Clinton, Tennessee. Tired bodies, tired butts. Night night.