Oh Tennessee, My Tennessee
Day two of our impromptu vacation got off to a bad start. The promised continental breakfast offered by our less than stellar motel consisted of luke warm coffee, no cream, three pre-packaged pastries, cereals with room temperature milk, and apple juice. My Sweetie, who is a patient and mild-tempered man unless he is forced to start his day with out coffee sweetened with a hint of French vanilla creamer, growled as he came back to the room where I stood in my underwear trying to dry my hair. As I fiddled with the hairdryer that made a strange whistling sound and blew not quite hot hair, Sweetie headed to the gas station/food mart across the parking lot from said Inn for some potable caffeine. The way to make that man of mine overcome the meanies is to give him food. Luckily a Huddle House restaurant sat in near proximity. We left Suze in the room and followed the scent of bacon and eggs and extra strong coffee wafting through the air and across the parking lot. When ...