one spilled cup of orange juice, 19 pit stops...

I don't have much time to update, as I am sitting in a mall in Minot using the free wifi (no internets at the ole farm..), but I previously typed out a few things in word to paste in here... no pictures.  You'll just have to wait!

06/29/09

Drive to St. Louis.  It went very well.  Little to no traffic, and almost no problems.  Then we got to St. Louis and opted not to take the detour.  We had a map.  So, Patrick navigates me through the lovely city.  We even drive through Ben and Megan’s old neighborhood.  Then we turn onto MLK.  It was ok for a while.  Then we started seeing boarded up windows.  Then throngs of people collecting on street corners.  Then I said, “Patrick, put the map down!”

Eventually, we got to the Embassy Suites in St. Charles, and they informed us of their complimentary cocktails at 5:30.  And day 2 of driving came to a close.

 

06/30/09

We drove to Omaha.  This day has my two favorite stops.  An incredible park in Columbia, MO and a town called Platte City that is probably the windiest place on the planet.  (Other than ND).   We arrived in Omaha uncommonly early, so we got a car wash at Malcolm’s constant insistence.  Then we got to Uncle Darrel’s, where Henry kept calling Shelly (his dog) Millie, and we sat on the porch to watch the kids play in the yard. 

 

07/01/09

Like any red-blooded American, I love to see ferocious animals penned up in cages for my own amusement.  Thus, we visit the Omaha Zoo while at Uncle Darrel’s.  I always look forward to our visit with Uncle Darrel.  I am not alone in this.  Henry adores Uncle Darrel and can’t wait to get to his house.  Omaha has a lot to offer as far as cities go.  A fantastic zoo, a cool train museum, a children’s museum science center thing, a cool downtown that they are working on reviving.  I know, Baltimore, Chattanooga and St. Louis has all or some of these things, and Chicago has way more, but folks, I live in Gainesville.  The big city leaves me in awe.

So while at the zoo, we were roared at by a tiger, rather unexpectedly (but really, when is that ever expected), got to watch the bears eat (this one sat on the tippy top of this tree, I thought for sure he could jump the fence without a problem), and I broke my glasses.  To be fair, they have been on their way out for a while, but I have been too busy to go to the eye doctor for a new rx.  (I know, I know, proper care of one’s eyes is not a luxury, and I should make time to do this as well as visit the dentist, blah, blah, cataracts, macular degeneration, lecture, lecture, broken tooth, root canal, gold crown, should have gone earlier.  I got it.)  So, what was I forced to do?  What does one do when her glasses break while on holiday in a foreign locale.  That’s right.  Hit the mall.  So, we find out which mall has a Lens Crafters, and I embark alone on this misadventure in the big city.  You see, Patrick had to stay at Darrel’s with the kids as we did not want to bring them as it was naptime, and we certainly did not want to leave them all with Uncle D.  We wanted him to invite us back, after all.  So, off I go.  I find the mall.  The parking lot was rather vacant, but there was a Target at the mall, so I assumed it to be safe because what reeks of that suburban false sense of security more than a Target.  I park and enter the mall, noticing on my right a rather large, empty store (I find out later an Old Navy only recently closed).  Luckily, I see the good old LC on my left and wander in.  Before I go further, did I tell you how much I stick out in Omaha.  Observe:

 

1.  I am tan.

2.  I have dark hair.

3.  I am wearing a tank top.  And shorts.

 

I might as well have been wearing a flashing neon sign that read “I don’t live here.”

 

So, I walk in, and the over-eager sales guy who can probably not yet consume alcohol legally comes up almost immediately to determine my optical needs.  I show him the glasses, he clucks about how they are unrepairable and frankly, embarassingly out of fashion (coming from someone in Omaha, no less.  I take this as quite an insult.).  Regardless, since I haven’t had an exam in 3 or 4 years, he refuses to sell me anything unless I see their optician first.  Fantastic.  Soooo, $70 and 40 minutes later, I re-emerge with only a slightly stronger prescription in hand.  Then the hunt begins.  I HATE picking out glasses, especially with no one but Mr. Fashion Maven to give me an opinion.  After texting Patrick 3 different pictures, I decide on a brown pair with a little bling on the sides (as Mr. Fashion Maven put it.)  I shouldn’t give this kid a hard time.  He was actually very sharp and had “Heartland” written all over him.  When I said I lived in Florida, he said something to the effect of, “I could tell by your outfit.”  When I asked him what was up with the scary mall, he said it was a “dead mall” (foreboding), and it was up for sale.  I asked him if it had any stores at all, and he said, “Well, Barnes and Noble, Target, and mostly ghetto clothing stores.”  I opted for Target to kill the hour I had to wait.  I actually only waited 40 minutes.  I went back (wearing my jacket as not to appear conspicuous and Floridian) and got my new spectacles.   I am not sure I like them, but they came with a 30-Day Satisfaction Guarantee.  So, I may be visiting that dead mall again. Next time, I’ll bring the family.

I was relieved to get in the car and head back to Uncle D’s.  Patrick had given me semi-cryptic directions, and he was just a phone call away.  So, I am almost to downtown, I am on the road I need to be on, and suddenly I see a detour.  I can’t figure out what is going on, but I see a sign for 480.  I call Patrick to ask him if I should take it as it was one of the alternate routes he had mentioned earlier.  I was getting flustered while on the phone and driving because I could not figure out how to get on 480, and Patrick seemed to not recall telling me that 480 was an option.  After a few choice words expressing my dissatisfaction with Omaha’s interstate system, I asked him what I was supposed to do.  He asked me what road I was on (30^th) and then he asked Uncle D.  “Well, she needs to get off 30^th because that goes into a part of town she does not want to be in.”  It was St. Louis all over again.  Eventually, I got back onto Dodge St. and we figured it out.