By Melia, the tired. My girls and I left for the wedding at 8am on Friday, traveling to a magical land we’ll call Weddingshire. Dr. Nightmare, my navigator, assured me that by driving down a highway instead of an interstate, we would arrive at our dreadful destination 30 minutes earlier than driving via interstate. We weren’t in a hurry, and I fondly remembered that on former trips to Weddingshire as a child, there were all sorts of cute fruit stands, souvenir shops, etc., so it seemed...
