Cockadoodledoo

You know it's early when you cannot call anyone. As in, it's an ungodly hour here, on central time, so can I call the East Coast? Nope. Still 6am there. Can I call my mom in California? Definitely not. A close mommy-friend in Iowa? Just because things are stirring at their house does not mean she wants me talking her ear off as she half-sleeps with the Cartoon channel blaring in their ears as she wings a half-eaten fruit roll-up to each kid as they climb into with mom and dad!

So I drove home from the airport in complete silence. Do you know how quiet that is?

At first, it was really really nice. I listened to the interstate under the good ol' mini and got into a rhythm with the monotonous tones of the road.

I was rubbing the doodle's head - mentally thinking I needed to call the groomer for her spring shave down - and a little bored.

Stopped at a lone McD's south of Des Moines on a quiet street.

"A number one, no meat, sandwich only."

"Ma'am, it's breakfast only."

"Yes. I'd like the number one, no meat, sandwich only."

"No sandwiches. Just breakfast."

"Okay, I'd like the number one, no meat, McMuffin please."

"Please pull around."

When Drive-Thru lady and I were finally on the same page, I threw in another curve ball.

"May I please add a number two meal with a large coffee and extra hash brown?"

"Huh?"

"May I please add a number two meal with a large coffee and extra hash brown?"

"It'll cost ya." Now, are we talking the going rate of $3.79 plus tax, or something else?

"Yes, I'm prepared to pay for it." Maybe some people get their kicks ordering a lone sandwich and then demanding a large combo platter for their sleeping husband at home, demand it be free, so they not only get a free meal but also rid themselves of the guilt associated with eating McD's at 5am?

Back on the freeway, when I had gulped down the best culinary masterpiece in the world, I was wishing I could eat an Egg & Cheese McMuffin every morning for the rest of my life, thoughts filled my head.

My Life! I'll be thirty in six weeks. T-H-I-R-T-Y. There are some cute song lyrics describing the epiphany you have on your thirtieth birthday, but I haven't had an epiphany. I've had an anxiety attack or two, but no epiphany.

As I plucked McMuffin remants from my molars, drove by myself on the highways outside of Des Moines, I did have an epiphany. Contemplated calling my hubby, but his sweet self isn't so sweet before 8am, two cups of coffee, and a hefty helping of Mike & Mike on the radio, that was out.

Radio! This car has a sound system that with the switch of a button spins music meant for mommy's. Even women! Sometimes Mommy's who also feel like Women!

And music that makes mommy remember Thursdays weren't just exciting TV nights, a size four was when I felt fat, teas were excuses to get drunk with hot frat boys and my sorority sisters - side note, do hot frat boys still wear Gap button downs, sleeves slightly rolled, khaki pants, and Reef sandals? If so, reunion to BGSU, Pi Phi's. I need me some Sig Ep eye candy!

Back to the epiphany. A radio. A sound delightful to my ears that takes me back to dancing with my dad at our wedding, my husband and I's first song, the song my first love and I broke up to in his car, the last song I heard waiting on news that a grandparent had passed... you get the idea. MUSIC. Not Diego, The Letter Factory, or Sesame Street 25th Music Anniversary. MUSIC.

Silence really isn't that golden when you have thirty stations to scan through seeking that one perfect song in the wee hours of the morning!