“Aside from the wind in the ear, we should be fine, so long as it doesn’t rain,” Mallory told Scott, referencing the ever precarious tiny car situation, in which the straps to their car topper pull back the doors in such as a way to receive a direct punch in the ear by the wind on the 70 mph highways through Arkansas and Oklahoma.
One hour later they found themselves scrambling for an invisible roll of paper towels somewhere under a guitar case and Butter’s squeaky toy squirrel (named Screwy Squirrel: pronounced in Elmer Fudd fashion, “Skwewy Skwoul”). There’s a hole in our car door, dear Liza, dear Liza!
Ever the innovators, and ever the best-car-buds-ever-no-holds-barred, Mallory seamlessly unraveled her last few feminine products and promptly attached them directly next to Scott’s horrified-but-understanding-and-somehow-why-God-does-it-have-to-be-me face as he drove the treacherous strait between impolite rigs and thunder clouds big enough to fill a Chevy Cobalt plus some. So ultra absorbent!
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The Rodeo Opry exceeded expectations– and we had big expectations. We were received with pleas to return, and we are not the kind to deny an eager invitation. We heard yodelers, famous songwriters, and folks genuinely happy to be happy, which makes us very happy. Only one show in, and we have had the warmest hearts and most successful smiles yet.
Now, so long as the supply lasts, bring on the rain. To the max.