Part of the fun of traveling with family is getting to know your husband on a deeper level, meaning understanding exactly what it is he does that drives you nuts. I have learned that my husband is completely full of shit.

We have begun “Project Relocation” with a circuitous journey up through southern Georgia and down southern Alabama to check out Columbus and Auburn as potential places to plant roots and raise our family. The end destination is Gulf Shores for a week with our extended family. Hubby believed that from northern Florida, a trip to southern Georgia (Columbus) would only be two hours. Let me put that numerically for emphasis…2 hours. I told him he was insane and it should be about four hours minimal. Three hours, two bathroom stops later, including an hour spent in a Chick-Fil-A playground while he fought to get on the internet to secure us a cheap room (because my idea of doing it the night before was considered to “planny” and not “on the fly exciting”) we were in Valdosta.

I couldn’t tell you if Columbus is a viable town for us to relocate because we saw it in the dark. But based on the trip, I’m not sure if I want to raise my kids in an area where the only billboards on the highway say “Jade Massage” or “Strippers….Need I say more?”  Auburn was beautiful. That college must be sending its alumni those strippers because it is an amazing campus.  We gave up on “Project Relocation” and decided to sight see; thankfully Rafael was on Benedryl so she tolerated our detour through Tuskegee to see the Tuskegee Airmen Historic Site.  China Doll was placated with a constant stream of Goldfish and rice cakes.

But, back to my husband being full of shit. As we drove, my husband would observe the same things I saw, but inform me about them as if he had lived there all his life. For example, we drove past a recycling plant. “That’s where they recycle houses and concrete.” I deciphered this myself because I saw a pile of wood and mattresses and an even larger pile of broken concrete blocks. When we passed a peanut elevator, “this is where they bring in the loads of peanuts.” On Auburn’s campus, “these are practice field for the soccer team.” To each of these moments I wanted to respond, “No, shit.” Instead, I rolled my eyes under my dark sunglasses and said, "Oh." But when we passed The Dragon Parlor I couldn't resist, “Honey, this is where the truckers get blow jobs.”