In celebration of my dad’s 60th birthday, we headed to party in our favorite state with family and friends.
Sick and tired of all of my recent travel, Teddy was bound and determined to make my packing difficult, trying to block the removal of clothes. I almost stuffed him into my suitcase.
Quick Trip. “The Mother of all gas stations,” according to the birthday boy. And yes, that’s one classy model a top the trash can.
Passing the nine hour drive with birthday presents every half hour (along with the Luke Bryan song “Country Girl” on repeat for two hours as a sing-a-l0ng. Yes, I’m serious. And yes, I wanted to rip the speakers out of the car).
Upon visiting cold Northern states, you don’t have to fret if you forget your coat. They sell them at gas stations. Phew.
Beer flight for the birthday boy at Parlor City in Cedar Rapids, IA.
One of the best burgers ever – a Jucy Lucy (American cheese cooked inside a 1/2 lb beef patty. I died of sheer happiness). Accompanied by sweet potato fries and a marshmallow dip. HEAVEN.
Ooey gooey goodness.
60 presents for the 60th birthday boy. We cancelled afternoon plans to fit them all in.
The Iowa Hawkeye mascot, Herky. My homeboy. More preferably my boyfriend but we can’t get our schedules coordinated.
Game day food – a giant pork tenderloin the size of my head. That I had no trouble stuffing into my face.
Hanging with the Iowa Elvis. Major pompadour competition!
Whapsatoolie Time. A family tradition of mixing whatever liquor is available and making a shot for the guest of honor. Birthday boy handled with ease.
Disclaimer: Whapsatoolies lead to dance parties.
Birthday party garbage like this makes for a long nine hours home to Nashville.
And one long week ahead of me…