Wednesday, July 13, 2011


(Julius Leblanc Stewart, The Goldsmith Ladies in the Bois de Boulogne in a Peugeot "Voiturette", 1897, Bordeaux Museum of Art, France)

Thursday morning arrives much too early for our sleepy head tastes.

But it doesn't matter.

Like zombies, we have to keep pushing ourselves down whatever interstates lie within our destination's pathway.

Bob's chomping at the bit and ready to go.

So I plop my tush on the passenger side of the Malibu, reach for the door and slam it shut.

He points the car in the direction of the interstate and we're off again.

The GPS lady obviously had a restful night.

She wastes no time with early morning niceties.

As usual she is belting out orders.

Always with her soft as velvet voice.




Blah, blah.....


Blah, blah, blah......

"Yes, ma'am!" I reply, "thank you for telling us where to go!"

Tired of listening to her endless directions, my agitated mind thinks:

"Honey, if you don't button up your lips immediately, I'm going to tell you where to go."

I turn to Bob and say, "I think it's time to give the GPS lady a decent name. She definitely has a distinct personality and she's interacting with us all the time."

He stares at the road ahead and says nothing.

I think to myself, "Honestly, this man has no sense of fun whatsoever!"

Several minutes later Bob opens his mouth.

"How about Tilly Fay?" he asks.

"Hey, I like it!," I say excitedly.

Then I add, "I was thinking about Lilly Beth."

"That's good too," Bob replies.

"Which one do you like better?" I ask.

"Come on now, you know which one I'm voting for."

"And I've got to support my dear Lilly Beth!"

A lively discussion ensues for the next 10 minutes as we each volley for our chosen name.



This is what can happen to road warriors who are bored out of their freshly crazed minds.


Realizing it's time to wind this debate down, I say to Bob:

"Let's use both of our names interchangeably for the rest of the day. We'll go with the one that feels right after we hit the hotel tonight."

Bob turns to me and stares.

I know exactly what he's thinking......

"She's finally certifiable."

But wisely, he stays silent.

I wish I could say the same for Tilly Lilly.

She continues to badger us with her directive tongue all morning.

Sometime after lunch - at Subway, of course - I let Bob know that Ms. TL is getting to me.

"I'm tired of listening to that flophouse floozie tell us what to do every minute," I say to him.

"Can't you just turn her off for awhile?" I beg.

Bob keeps his eyes on the interstate.

"No, I can't, because we're getting into some tricky country roads here in just a few minutes," he explains.

"I may need her to help me out."

This - from a man who was born with a Rand McNally Road Atlas tied to his tiny right foot.

"Can't you use the road atlas?" I implore, "I"ll help you figure out where we need to go."

"The GPS is more accurate and definitely quicker," Bob counters.

I realize that I'm fighting a losing battle.

Tilly Lilly has seductively slid into Bob's life.

This bargain-basement Barbie has tickled his fancy.

Stolen his mind.

And stomped all over his heart.

But if she thinks she's gonna push me out the door like a bag of week old trash...... it ain't gonna happen.

I staked my claim a long time ago and no dimestore dolly is going to ride off into the sunset with my man!

Not now.

Not ever.

TL, it's time for you to get the heck out of Dodge.

So pack your bags, darlin'.

Your days are numbered..

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