driving mrs. cameron

It is my 30th birthday weekend, and I'm actually taking a vacation. Don't everyone fall out of their chairs at once.

Mom and Steve came all the way from Australia for my birthday. We drove up to Ohio today in a white mini-van. We were supposed to get a regular car, but due to the Preakness weekend, the rental place was out of the cars we had reserved. This reminds me of the Seinfeld episode in which Jerry is puzzled as to why the car he reserved isn't at the rental place - I now fully understand his sentiments.

We had a good time driving up. I did most of the driving, though I felt alarmingly like a soccer mom in the mini-van. We were toting two birthday cakes, one of which is gluten-free, so that I can eat it and not regret it later. Mom and Steve are fun to travel with, if nothing else than to listen to their banter. Mom tends to call Steve "Mr. Cameron" like in Jane Austen novels.

The trip up to Ohio doesn't seem as long as I remember from our summer trips when I was a kid (sometimes in an un-air conditioned green station wagon with plastic seats). It used to take eight hours, and now it takes about six, which I suppose can be attributed to road construction and increased speed limits and fewer bathroom breaks. I love driving through the mountains in Pennsylvania. Being a suburbs girl, I don't often get to see that kind of as-far-as-the-eye-can-see picturesque scenery of trees and towns tucked in valleys and open space.

So I will be 30 in two days - a prospect I find only slightly alarming, as opposed to downright terrifying. I think I have accomplished a fair amount, though I have a bit of a nagging feeling that "I should have done more by now." I just have no idea what "more" is yet.