Letter to a GPS

Dear GPS (a.k.a. Bitch),

This relationship isn't working. Today you had me running around in circles. I knew the path I was on was right, yet I doubted my own judgment and followed your direction. I can't help but feel disappointed.

It's not just that. Every time I go my own way -- and you don't agree with what I'm doing -- I feel like you mock me. You scream the same thing over and over, trying to get me to turn around and follow you. Can I never do anything right in your eyes?

Tonight was the last straw. I just don't understand why you would tell me to go the wrong way down a one-way-street. I listened to you. I followed you. You led me astray.

I'm afraid you're trying to kill me.

I hate to tell you this way, but I'm leaving you for Map. We've been sneaking around behind your back for a while now. I think we're made for each other. Map makes me feel more confident, and has NEVER let me down like you have. I'm taking the girls with me, but am sure they'll want to see you again soon.

I won't lie -- I still have feelings for you. Maybe down the road we can work things out. But you need to get your shit together. I'm not putting up with this nonsense anymore.

Yours truly,


Amy

Packing ... Unpacking ... Packing

A brief post to demonstrate the ridiculousness of the load we're carrying. It's in cupcake format as a tribute to the deliciousness at Hey, Cupcake in Austin.

Step One ... The wrapper, otherwise known as a Toyota Rav4:















Step Two ... The Cake, red velvet in honor of Texas:














Step Three ... The frosting, but just so you know -- there's nothing SWEET about carrying this crap back and forth from car to hotel every day! I won't even mention the stuff in the back seat.














Now that we're packed, a look at the weather report from aforementioned Hey, Cupcake: