Part 2 - "If you learn anything from Jack, it's that you shouldn't go to work early. It can kill you."

My favorite part of the trip was the morning that I spent driving to Lynchburg to see the Jack Daniel's Distillery.

Yes, please.

I've been made fun of in the past for planning everything to death. I am that person who will make a to-do list, and then make a to-do list to make sure everything on my first list gets accomplished.

On this trip, I made it a point to not plan anything. I had my Airbnb reservations set in advance, but that's the only planning I did.

I talked to my Mom when I stayed in Saint Louis on the first night of my trip. She asked me how I was getting to Nashville, and what highways I planned to take.

My answer: "I have no idea. That's tomorrow's problem."

She asked me what I had planned the next day, presumably so she would know where to guide law enforcement if I mysteriously vanished.

My answer: "I have no idea. I'll figure that out tomorrow."

On my first afternoon in Nashville, I went downtown. I was nervous about the parking situation. Actually, that's a lie. I was terrified about parking.

It turns out that parking is not a big deal.

Getting there, on the other hand, is a very big deal.

I've never seen traffic that bad.

When I finally got through traffic and parked, I sat in my car for a really long time (with the AC on). I thought about whether I wanted to get out of the car.

I don't know how to describe it if you haven't been there. There are cars and people and pedal taverns and scooters and did I mention people everywhere?

It's overwhelming.

I wasn't willing to do Broadway two days in a row, so I decided to get up early on my second day there and drive to Lynchburg.

I set my GPS on my phone, but it turns out that I didn't need it. Everyone else who came to Nashville that day who hated the crowds had the same idea I did, and all I had to do was follow the stream of traffic two hours south.

Did I mention how beautiful it was?

Everything is perfect there, from the perfect little roadside fruit stands to the perfect white picket fences to the perfect cows grazing on perfect green grass.

The hay fields looked perfect. The farms had perfect dogs on them.

Literally every little thing is beautiful there.

Fun facts about the distillery:

• Jack's real name was Jasper. (My parents have a dog named Jasper. Go Jasper!)

• Jack died of an infection. He went to work early one day and the person who usually opened the safe wasn't there yet. Jack kicked the safe out of anger, and eventually died because of that incident. Our tour guide: "If you learn anything from Jack, it's that you shouldn't go to work early. It can kill you."

The safe that Jack kicked.

• One barn on the property holds 20,000 barrels of Jack, which is $14 million worth of product. There are 89 barns on the property. If you do the math, you'll learn that I can't even multiply that high.

• The spring they get their water from is 56 degrees. In the Tennessee summer when it's about 100 degrees outside, standing by that spring feels pretty good. I went back and stood by it again after everyone in our tour had left.

• Although Lynchburg is in a dry county, you can buy a "commemorative bottle" at the distillery. That bottle just happens to have whiskey in it. Funny how that works.

• During the tasting portion of our tour, our tour guide had us mix Tennessee Honey and Tennessee Fire together. It was my favorite combination.

I could go on and on, but I'll stop there. I don't know how or when this was placed on my bucket list, but it was and it's something I've proudly crossed off.

I drank Jack Daniel's in the place that it's made.

Life is good.

That dream never goes away, does it?

Last night, in my dream, I could not find my class schedule, I couldn't go to class, and I couldn't graduate.

I am 32 years old. I own my own home. I finished school nine years ago.

That dream never goes away, does it?

Tacos and soup

I have two stories to share today.

I watched the twins at my house last night. I'm pretty sure I've written about this previously, but I can't sleep when they're at my house.

They slept good last night. According to my FitBit, I slept one hour and one minute.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep when they're at my house.

Anyway, because I didn't sleep last night, I spent most of the day today catching up. I had a dream this afternoon that I had to make 400 tacos by tomorrow. If you care, half were ground beef and half were to be chicken.

I was stressed out about it, because that's a shitload of tacos to make.

Here's the real problem, though. Why am I dreaming about tacos?

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Putting the twins to bed last night was a fairly easy process. It was also funny.

We took baths, did nails, watched Doo Doo (Scooby Doo) and then read some stories. We said our prayers, then I tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.

And then the requests came.

I want a drink.

I have to potty.

Where Daddy at?

I have to potty.

Where Mommy at?

I have to potty.

Another story (book).

Where Gamma at?

I'm thirsty.

Where Papa at?

I have to potty.

There was a straw that eventually broke the camel's back and made me leave the room for good, laughing on the way out.

The request came from my curly-haired niece.

I want mader soup.

Maders are tomatoes. My smart, brilliant, funny 2.5-year-old niece asked me for tomato soup at 11 p.m. to put off going to bed.

Well played, kid. Well played. The answer is no, though, but you do get some brownie points for the effort you put into prolonging bedtime.

Night night!

That was my dream.

I'm a big believer that dreams have meaning.

I have stress dreams all the time. I dream about losing my car keys, or losing my car in a parking lot, or trying to find someone in a crowd and not being able to.

And then I have really weird dreams that make absolutely no sense and make me smile.

I had a dream this week that someone I work with (not naming names...) was singing really, really loud in the office. It irritated me, so I called my Mom and she came and picked me up.

I have no idea why I couldn't drive myself in my dream, but whatever.

So my Mom picked me up and we went to Starbucks in town (note: there is no Starbucks in town). There was a dog that worked there, and the dog got paid in french fries.

This upset my Mom greatly, because it's not healthy for the dog to be paid in french fries. She yelled at the manager for it.

And that was my dream.

I'm pretty sure it means I need to play with my dog and drink coffee.

Penny wouldn't mind getting paid in french fries.