I ate the Ding Dongs…

Sidecar

Yeah. Posting was pretty sketchy, huh? I’m back and still wearing my happy hit-the-road face.

It’s been a while since I visited my home and native land. I don’t know what happened to me. I can’t explain it. But I rolled through the border waving my passport, jumped out at the first Big Boy I came to and ordered a Diet Pepsi. I can count on one hand — ONE HAND — the number of soft drinks/pops/sodas I’ve had in the last five — maybe ten — years, and I drank the Diet Pepsi. And I kept drinking the Diet Pepsi the entire trip. Okay. Maybe I was drinking a little wine, some margaritas — I have such lovely friends — and gin and tonic, too. Lots of gin and tonic, but we all know that tonic is medicinal.

Not long across the border, we stopped at a Pilot Service Center. Pilot Service Centers, I heart you. While Mr. G, honey was getting gas in gallons instead of litres,  I was making a pit stop and trolling for food. You do not want to travel with us me. I will add an hour — maybe two — to your road trip making these stops.

Do you know why?

I’ll tell you why. I stop everywhere.

This trip, it was all about the Ding Dongs. I admit it. We hit that first Pilot Center, and I saw Ding Dongs. I hadn’t had a Ding Dong in a really long time, and I needed one… baaaad. Every 200 100 50 miles I said, We have to stop. Now.

Mr. G, honey was wise to my pit-stopping ways. Yes, he was. He knew this wasn’t an emergency. He knew this was just me…. making a Ding Dong run.

I ate those chocolaty little cakes across Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee and back.

Now, I’m back in my office Ding Dong detoxing.

Hello Monday. It’s back to work. I wonder how long it will take me to lose my road-trip glow?

What have y’all been doing?

Elen

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