Quik Trip

I have cultivated a love for going to the gas station in my children. I'm not sure if it's to prevent them from becoming like me - I literally hate getting gas, maybe out of some backwards wish that I should be showered in chivalry so my delicate hands would n'er touch the greasy dirty nozzle or my dainty lungs should n'er breathe the fumes or because the total I spend every trip could buy an outfit, completely accessorized, but there is hardly a chore I detest as much as getting gas. And now that it takes driving for one hour to find a station with gas and waiting in line almost that long to get it (but rest assured, our governor told us we do not have a supply problem), it's a serious bummer.

From Nashville

But the kids, they'll go anyday. The words "Quik Trip" make them salivate like Pavlov's dogs. Quik Trip has given them the independence that modern era helicopter parenting has snatched from kids. While I feed Great White her stinky expensive formula, they (minus Wally) get to go in the store and pick out a treat (penny, or nickel and dime candy as the case may be for them, and fountain Diet Coke with crushed ice for me), take it to the counter and buy it. The sense of accomplishment they feel far outweighs the nature of the task, but it's really a win-win for all involved.

From Nashville

Now we have added yet another connotation to the term, since we have had our family's shortest vacation ever - a Quik Trip to Nashville.

We still have several good friends in our former city, and two families have added babies this past year. We have stayed clear, not wanting to impose such a rowdy brood with all the burden of having guests upon them. So, we considered going for the baby blessing of the last one, but it fell on a crazy weekend for us. Then, all of a sudden the stars aligned and I remembered how much I regret not making my annual pilgrimage to Washington this summer to see a friend, and we decided if we had to wait for an uncrazy time, we would never go, so we would take the time we had and make it happen.

From Nashville

And that time was 24 hours (and only that long due to the generosity of my sister who offered to work our show by herself for a day)

When we arrived Saturday evening, it was like coming home. Though we hadn't seen these friends in 2 years, it was like putting on your favorite pair of jeans - you just know how they're going to feel even before you slide them up, and they fit snug and groovy showing off the best of your assets without magnifying the size of your trunk.

From Nashville

Oh how I miss my Nashville girlfriends. They make me laugh, inspire me in dressing myself and my nest, stay up with me to talk til the wee morning hours despite having babies to wake them earlier than me. They feed the hollow part of my soul like only a girlfriend can. I love them like sisters. I love their kids like an auntie. I will never let two years pass again, with them or my other girlfriends.

From Nashville

So, now if I mention Quik Trip, I salivate for more than a fountain diet coke. Now I know a quick trip can mean:

24 hours of "catch up"
1,440 minutes of reminiscing
86,400 seconds of gratitude for friends and the sweetness they add to my life

From Nashville

I must give a shout out to the guys - Randy singlehandedly packed us up while pulling chauffeur duty to the softball game and moving someone (and he's one serious catch in his orange tie, don't you think?), Christopher took the pics as I forgot my camera, and Shane made me cry during the blessing on the food

From Nashville