Thoughts While Driving to Abilene, Texas to Pack Up the Young ‘Un

Is it going to rain on us? Again? Seriously, again?? What up with all this rain, Jesus?

-      Chill out, mutt. The dog is flitting about in the back of the car, giddy with excitement. And yes, I realize that he probably should be in the crate while we’re traveling, but people . . . he hates the crate. I love the dog. I don’t have the heart. He’ll lay down soon enough.

-      In two miles, turn right on route 87. Thank you, ma’am. My GPS lady has a British accent. I have no idea how that happened, but I love her. I’ve named her Dame Maggie. Lead on, m’lady.

-      The wildflowers are mostly gone. Sigh. We’re making this drive a couple weeks late this year, and the flower show is past its prime.  

    -  The world turned upside do-o-own . . . The eldest is confusing this song with “My Shot”. Wait, what?!? CHILD! Fifteen years ago, I would have taken that as a cue to create a curriculum for her around the show Hamilton. It would have covered Early American History, Theatre, Musical History, Poetic Devices, Character and Biblical Studies . . . man, I miss homeschooling. I wonder if I can talk Crestmont into letting me create an elective course like that.

-        -  Fifteen years ago? Yep – she’d have been ten. Wow.

-      What’s the speed limit here . . . I never know out in the middle of nowhere Texas . . .

-      Can I have this dance . . . can I have this da-a-ance? My favorite song from the High School Musical saga. So sweet.

-      Fredericksburg – love this place. There are two or three sweet little German hill country towns we drive through on this route . . . with adorable downtown shops, courthouses, town squares . . . I could almost live here. Almost.

-      The eldest is digging through my CDs, annoyed that I apparently took out of the van all the ones she likes. Sorry, hon. This is MY vehicle. My music.

-      There’s always going to be another mountain – I’m always gonna wanna make it mo-o-ove . . . Oh, Miley. Years ago, I prayed that you wouldn’t crash and burn and take a whole generation of young girls down with you. Still praying . . .

-      And the sun is out, hallelujah! Forgive my grumbling, Lord. I humbly put the meteorological decisions back in your capable hands where they belong.

-      It’s not one or the other . . . it’s hard truth and ridiculous grace to be known – fully known – and loved by You. YES, Tauren. One of those songs in which I soak my heart on the bad days.

-      Dang, my back hurts already . . .

-      Okay, I love you Dame Maggie, but we’ve got to put a CD in, and that will render your lovely voice mute. We’ll talk again another time. K, my love?

-      75?? When did the speed limit go up to 75? And here I’ve been poking along the highway like a grandma . . .

-      But I’m the only one who’ll walk across a fire for you! . . . Melissa! Sing it, chica!

-      We’re going to see the youngest in Much Ado About Nothing this afternoon. Always love watching my girls on stage. She’s Conrad. Yeah, that’s a male role. Curious how they’re going to do this.

-      And now we’re to a few Whitney songs. Give me one moment in ti-i-ime . . . The eldest comments on how dramatic she is. As if this needed to be noted.

-      DANG IT! I missed that random turn in the middle of nowhere. I KNEW I would! Add fifteen minutes to our drive. Maggie is shaking her head at me in disgust.

-      Oh, there are some wildflowers – finally! Thank you, Lady Bird. This was a lovely legacy you left your state.

-      And moving on to some Celine Dion. I can barely recall, but it’s ALL coming BACK to me NO-O-O-WWW!! NOW we’re talking dramatic, my dear! This is my personal diva collection I’ve burned to a couple CDs. All the voices that I wish were mine.

-      Dude, those theater seats better be comfortable . . . I’m doing a lot of sitting here . . .

-      I think we’re doing dinner at Rosa’s Café. Guac and fresh tortillas, amigos. Things to love about Texas.

-      THE HECK!!?! Suddenly, this is a dirt road??!? What happened?? The GPS still says this is where we’re supposed to be . . . ay-yi-yi . . . this is what I get for missing that turn and having to go off route. Dame Maggie is turning me over her knee – and I deserve the whoopin’.

-      After all the stops and starts, we keep comin’ back to these two hearts . . . Cher and Peter Cetera – and I’m impressed the eldest has even heard the man’s name.

-      She tells me now about a podcast she was listening to where a woman was helping her boyfriend learn to tell the difference between Celine Dion, Cher, and Shakira when he heard them. He finally figured it out. He said, if I feel like I’m in a dream, it’s Celine Dion; if I feel like I’m in Zootopia, it’s Shakira; if I feel like my mother’s yelling at me, it’s Cher. ROFL!! Y’all! I laughed a good ten minutes at that one.

-      So, a play this afternoon. Guac at Rosa’s. Packing this evening. And my ex is going to be there for all that. That’ll be okay. Yeah, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. I have chocolate.

-      Hey, wait. Cruise control! Where is my brain? Why did take it me three stinkin’ hours to remember this wonderful invention . . .  but I’d better wait until I’m off the dirt road to employ that.

-      Which is NOW. Glory -- back on track. Twenty miles from Abilene. And my baby girl on stage. And a quiet hotel room. And guac at Rosa’s.

Only one more year to make this drive. I’m gonna miss it. For reals.