One of the things I always get a kick out of when I come down to Georgia is that there is always a "plan". There are certain activities planned for each day, sprinkled in with periods of downtime where we're on our own.
These activities aren't what you think; we're not talking family pictures and dinner at a particular restaurant. Here's what I mean:
This time around we are preparing a ham radio antenna for installation. This includes preparing an 80-foot telescoping tower to receive a twenty-foot-long antenna array made up of sections that look like a TIE fighter in profile. Apparently I did this very thing when I was a child. Either the memory has faded in the intervening years or I have blocked it out somehow. If it's the latter, I wonder how many people we lost that day.
My father also wants me to write a custom computer application to control this antenna from his PC. Yep, that's why I take a week's vacation from my job writing computer code. Just kidding, Dad.
We do have some traditions, though. The Thanksgiving meal, for example. The Krystal run. The poker game. Those are the things that make it feel like coming home.
Especially when I take everyone's money.