Coffee Break with Liz and Kate

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One has to ask how often the word “hate” appears in my posts, then go on to deduce that I am a bitter person. Well, you’d be wrong. My job is to bring things to light that you’re already thinking – just not willing to talk about.

Like the drive to my parents – or yours for that matter. As the crow flies, it’s probably 8-10 miles tops. But as the car drives, it’s more like 20 minutes.

While at the parents’ house for dinner tonight, I went as far as to consult my brother, who lives three blocks from me, as to his preferred path to dinner at the parents. He takes about three routes – all three the same as mine.

But here’s the thing. I’ve noticed he often beats me home.

Tonight I was determined that would not occur. I had the upper hand, as a matter of fact, leaving Mom and Dad’s at least three minute before they did.

Until I hit downtown Lexington where the Miley Cyrus concert groupies were coming out of the woodwork, leaving me and my kids stuck in traffic.

Fair play is fair play, though. I told my daughter to call Mom and Dad’s and warn my sister-in-law (who just happened to be driving) that the downtown route was going to be a little crowded. With that I’d done my good deed for the month.

Until 20 minutes later, when after fighting the downtown traffic, we’d finally gotten within blocks of the house. In fact, we were on the road my brother and his family live on, and my daughter asked the question of the day.

“Hey Mom – is that Samantha in front of us?”

It couldn’t be, I assured her. That wasn’t possible, I reasoned. Until the left turn signal blinked just shy of the vehicle reaching their home.

They beat us – again. And so the quest begins to find the shortest route home once more. After all, I’m the oldest and one way or another, if just once, I will beat him home…

-Liz

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