Posted by: rocketbride | July 17, 2014

lauraland, prologue

We finally made it to Missouri, and were given back an hour as a reward.

This was our longest day, and I hope the lowest point in personal relationships (nope! – ed.) This is the first road trip with my mom but not my dad since Rodin in Quebec City, and apparently our travelling styles have diverged. I’m used to setting the pace; stopping often for drinks, bathrooms, and sourcing cute local diners. In contrast, my mother’s vision for today was four wheels on the highway, her hands on the wheel. Repeated offers to share the driving were declined, leaving me to plan dinners that we didn’t have. Too bad we didn’t talk about this before we started to squabble about dinner, as in are we stopping for one?

It’s not really worth dwelling on, despite the silent stewing I did on the highway. I got a lot of knitting done, which might not have happened had we been chatting. And dinner, though late, was awesome: we ate in a small but tidy stone building off the highway, a proper barbecue joint specializing in fast, delicious food. The only unfortunate fallout was that, once I had tasted Sweetwater’s barbecue, I couldn’t bring myself to try it elsewhere.

(This is a classic example of selective memory. Later in the month I asked Scherezade if it was like this when we visited her in den Haag, and she reminded me of something I had entirely forgotten, that my mom spent that entire trip on edge because her bank card wouldn’t work and I was the only one who could access funds. Apparently I need a Mememto-style tattoo to prevent future uncomfortable trips from happening.)

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