On The Road Again

Greetings from a sleazy motel in Wisconsin! We stopped here to get a little shut eye. Yet, imagine how my peepers popped at the sight of the sign that read, "High-speed Internet".

I pulled my laptop out of its case and immediately got that look from Mr. Lane. "I won't be online all night honey." I fibbed a little.

"We have to be up and out really early."

"I know. Don't worry. Just get some rest."

He was fast asleep in no time. Sucker! He is the fool driving, not me. I can stay up all night if I want because I am the lucky bitch riding shotgun and can sleep all day if I want.

We left the Lane Estate at 5 a.m. and made it to Minnesota by noon for Mr. Lane's work duties. Tomorrow, we are headed for Arkansas. Yee-haw! Unfortunately, this is no pleasure trip. No summer fun. Just four people, who happen to be related, crammed into a truck for what may be up to two weeks. I know I said one week (Mother) but I was given the exciting, good news today that it may take longer to get back to Illinois. Mr. Lane is a sneaky little shit.

So far everything is going according to plan. There was minimal whining and arguing among the children. (Keep your fingers crossed for their good behavior to continue.)

We stopped a few times throughout the day for the basics. Of course that includes taking pictures of a statue of what I think may be the world's largest mouse wearing a cowboy hat, standing atop a hunk of cheese. Lane 2 happily posed with the mouse for a photo.

And just down the road a piece we saw what might possibly be the world's largest chicken statue. Again we stopped. Lane 1 was really mad when I insisted he pose with his sister near the chicken, but like always he got over it pretty quickly.

The Spam Museum, another basic, was closed. All of the Lanes, besides myself of course, breathed a collective sigh of relief. They wouldn't know fun if it ran their asses over.

Because we rushed out of the house in the morning, I did not get the proper amount of caffeine, causing me to get a really bad headache. We stopped for breakfast, where I tried their coffee but it was too much like mud. Within 15 minutes of eating, I felt like I was going to puke or die.

How could I forget that my body rejects eggs? (Thanks Mom for passing that trait down to me.)

Around lunchtime I informed Mr. Lane if he didn't stop for coffee soon, I was jumping out of the truck while it was moving along the freeway. I was on the verge of a migraine. Isn't that terrible to be so addicted to coffee that your body just refuses to go on if you don't comply? He stopped and by the third cup, the pain was subsiding enough to communicate with that man.

"You look a lot better. You okay now?"

"I'm getting there. Thanks for stopping."

"I have an idea to keep this from happening to you again."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"We might be able to get some coffee bean suppositories and just cram 'em and go."

He claimed to be laughing with me rather than at me, but I'm thinking maybe he needs to be bent over for some backdoor bean lovin'.