Disclaimer:  You will see no pictures of Joey in this post.  But he was there…he was just taking the pictures.

After what can only be termed “the worst and most horrible drive ever to get to a vacation spot”, Joey and I made it to Branson.

Suffice it to say, on the front end of the trip it took us 2 hours to go 30 miles due to rain, and on the back end of the trip, the address our resort had given us was INCORRECT…and we wound up being lost for an hour (from 11:00 to 12:00) in the pitch dark, wandering around Branson trying to find our hotel.

But then we made it.

We got there.

And while still bitter at both Google Maps and the hotel’s website, we decided to get over it.

Sister and Stephen showed up on Saturday night and, to avoid them getting lost like we did, Pops and Joey met them at the freeway and led them to the resort.  It was probably a good plan.  I don’t really know, though, because I stayed back at the condo with Mom.

Once they arrived, Sister broke out her camera and began showing pictures to Pops.

Judging from the look on her face, I think she’s showing pictures of Will, the little 3 year old she nannies for back in Chicago.

Then, because it was late, we all went to bed.

The next morning, we hopped ourselves up on Pepsi and grapefruit (unrelated: the morning before Joey had barfed up his vitamins because I had him take them with orange juice – OOPS) and planned our day.

Mom was pleased to have 50% of her offspring together in one place and walked about all morning looking happy.

The first order of business, once breakfast was consumed, was going to be the Shepherd of the Hills Fish Hatchery, which was free.

Stephen misheard the name of the hatchery and thought it was a “snatchery”.  So, of course, that’s what we called it for the rest of the trip.  The van was out of gas, so we stopped at a fill’erup type place.

(This may be the only picture of Dad’s face for the entire day.  Somehow he managed to stay out of Joey’s camera lens.  So…while it’s not that great, I had to post it.)

We drove up along the ridge overlooking Branson and stopped at a scenic overlook.  The view was really pretty.

There were six or eight fishermen down in the river, fishing for trout.  There was a tournament that weekend, so there were fishermen everywhere.  The hatchery we were about to tour stocked the lakes in the area, so I guess that’s why there was so much fishing.

I don’t fish well, though.  So I don’t know.

Stephen kept spitting off the ledge until we all got grossed out.  I think he was counting how long it took until it hit the ground.  Uncertain.  Anyway, I like this picture because Pops looks like he’s presiding over us.

He was.

Mom, Me and Sister really liked the view…it didn’t even make my feet hurt.

Soon we were at the Snatchery and the bays were full of little baby trouts, swimming in schools.  The water was rippling with trout hopping in and out.  Since no one was watching me, I leaned down and reached my hand into the pool.

Then, just as a trout slimed its way past my hand, I realized that Joey WAS watching me.  Not only was he watching me, HE WAS TAKING MY PICTURE.

“I wish I could jump in there and feel all the trouts squiggling around,” said Sister, leaning over one of the pools.

“You can stick your hand in,” I said.  “I did.”

“But the sign says not to,” Sister said.

It’s true, it did say that.  But since when has that stopped me?

Sister, Mom and I read about the nasty way that they do the, um….spawning.  We even watched a video about it, which made me feel like I needed to wash my brain out with soap, so I will not detail the particulars here.  Suffice it to say, it’s not natural.

(Also, I seemed to have missed the “wear red” memo for the day, eh?)

The hatchery was kind of blah looking, until you looked into the pools.  At first I thought it was going to be suuuuuuuper boring, but no way.

It was one of the best parts, I think.

Especially once Sister and I decided to scare the fish and see what they did.

We counted to three, and began to dash toward the pool.

As we grew closer, we prepared our vocal chords for the inevitable…

“RAWR!!!!” we yelled, and held our hands up like bears.

See the stirred up waters?  The trout didn’t like us to scare them, but it sure gave us jollies.

Then, Stephen came running over and informed us that we could go glean leftover fish food from the feeders, the stuff the people who had actually paid for it had left behind.

I had already asked Dad, he didn’t have any quarters for me to squander, and I didn’t have my purse. Nor am I above scrounging, because I TOTALLY wanted to feed the fish.

So we all scraped up a good handful, then picked a fish pool.

Stephen, Mom and Sister threw their food in to one of the big fish pools, and we were disappointed that the fish didn’t thrash more than we had been expecting.  We had wanted to see fishy violence, man.  Violence.

Once our hands smelled like fish food and our skin was pink from the sun, we headed home.

I got to walk back to the car with my Pops, which was one of the things I loved most about this vacation…time to spend with Mommy and Pops.  They’re rockstars and we don’t get to see them as much as I’d like.

Anyway, it’s 9:45 and I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.  Well, let’s be honest; I already have turned into a pumpkin.

More tomorrow.