I'm all about road trips. No set agenda; just get in the car and drive. You can get out at a yard sale, or a ratty old bodega or take a dirt road while following a sign that says Raw Honey. You never know what bizarre things you'll find, and you get to meet the most interesting people. Plus, you get to buy things you wouldn't normally find in your grocer's freezer.
Going to different places brings up unexpected conversation as well. While we were in Michigan, we passed a yard that had llamas in it. Granny said.."Hmmm, I wonder what llama meat tastes like?" That lead to a conversation about all the different delicacies Granny has dined on, from turtle soup to venison to wild boar. She looks forward to a special night once a year called "Wild Game Night" where people bring dishes of food the Flintstones would eat. When she originally said she was going to game night, I assumed she was playing Euchre (pronounced yuker). I had no idea she was dishing out turtle soup with a side of rabbit! While she was talking about what llamas might taste like, I said something stupid like.."I wonder if they raise those llamas for their eggs?" There was an odd silence in the car followed by an outburst of laughter. "Llamas don't lay eggs", someone pointed out. In my mind, I got them confused with ostriches, thus eggs came to mind, and I blurted it out without thinking. The laughter was a bandage for my embarrassment, but people are used to me making these kinds of musings.
When we visit Michigan, Jayne's dad invites us on what he calls his "Cholesterol Tour". It's a road trip that I look forward to because we get to drive through a dozen different Main Streets and go to flea markets. The Cholesterol Tour generally starts with a bacon-laden breakfast, but we skipped that this time. It then heads to a flea market in Armada, which leads to another flea market in a big red barn, but this time, the red barn took a back seat to a road-trip-in-a-road-trip, when we headed off to Cousin Johnny's to buy delicious cookies. One goal of this trip was to buy Italian Sausage. The place where Dad goes is supposedly the place to get sausage. When we got there, I got out of the car to see how they make them, only to find a store-front office that could have doubled for grease-monkey's waiting room room. The next stop is every one's favorite. We head over to Utica to visit Erma's Original Frozen Custard stand to get homemade custard that is absolutely to die for. Jayne's Dad has been going there since it opened in 1942. Having lingered over the most delicious vanilla/chocolate twist, it was time to find some treasures in the big red barn. I saw a bird house I wanted, but it was already sold. Finally, we stopped and had Coney Dogs at a little Greek diner. Stuffed like little cabbages, we drove home and and could truly attest that this was indeed, a cholesterol tour.
The day before the Cholesterol Tour, I asked Jayne what time we'd be leaving in the morning. I wanted to make sure to get my 2-mile walk under my belt before I loaded it up with cholesterol. She said "8:39" and "don't be late because Dad has it planned out so we get to the flea market by 10:00." So, I started planning my morning, thinking I'd get up to walk around 7:00, have my oatmeal by 8:00 (to help move along the cholesterol) and be showered and ready by 8:39. I figured he wanted us out the door by 8:40 so we'd get to Armada by 10:00. I actually pondered the relevance of 8:39 and was thinking..wow, he really has this down to the minute! One of my many endearing habits is to ask the same question several times..just to make sure. So, I asked Jayne again, this time, in front of several family members. "What time, again, in the morning?" And again, she said "8:39". So..without thinking, and in front of everyone, I innocently asked, "what's the significance of 8:39?" Gen, Jayne's sister, who had obviously heard me ask this before, very calmly, as if explaining the concept to one who's entirely developmentally delayed, slowly said..."Nancy, EIGHT-THIRTY, NINE, as in between 8:30 and 9 o'clock. Get it? 8:30, 9:00?" Five us us roared with uncontrollable laughter, worthy of a dozen Depends. All knowing full-well, that I really, really thought I had to be ready at 8:39 on the dot. And, in fact, I did, and was.
