From Omaha we made our way to St. Louis via Kansas City. Mr. CPQ is a bona fide barbecuer/bbq’er/bar-b-quer so we had to make a pilgrimage to Kansas City to have the real deal Holyfield barbecue from Jack Stack’s downtown.
That is a happy man.
Burnt ends, my friends, burnt ends.
Slap your mama good.
We ambled to St. Louis and when I tweeted that we were pulling into town, Amber tweeted back “Are you going to see the ponies?”
Didn’t know she was a racehorse gambler.
She wasn’t. Turns out she was talking about the Clydesdales at Grant’s Farm, a place I didn’t even know existed. Lucky us, it was only 5 minutes from our hotel.
See, this Twitter thing pays off!
The boys enjoyed riding around in the little car on safari, and the big people enjoyed the fact that it was free.
Those are high dollar store binoculars around Tommy and JJ’s necks.
Ulysses S. Grant’s cabin
This is Eddie, the goat with blue eyes. We fed him milk out of a baby bottle, and Travis almost came undone with laughter. I almost came undone to watch germy goat hoofs all over my human kid, but I took a deep breath and dealt.
And I thought MY feet were big….
We didn’t stay long at Grant’s Farm because Mr. CPQ wanted to make a stop at Volpi on the way to the Gateway Arch. We had seen a Food Network show about Volpi and heard about their incredible Italian meats/prosciutto, and we had to make a stop.
Put this on your list, people. Trust me.
This is Mr. Pasetti. He is a master salumieri and very cute to boot. He was embarrassed for me to take his picture, but he was the heart and soul of the operation, so I had to do it. (He said “When I was young, no girls wanted to look at me. Now that I’m old, everybody wants my picture.”)
Loaded down with pounds of salami and prosciutto, we went to the Arch where I drew the short straw and got to ride to the top with JJ and Tommy. (Note: The Museum is accessible, but the tram ride to the top is not.)
That’s a panicked smile. An “Are we going to make it out of this alive?” smile. The boys were a little nervous about the jerkiness of the ride up, and I was doing my best to keep a brave face on so that the nice couple from Omaha that was smashed in there with us wouldn’t witness a Class A freak out.
We were on deadline to make it to Louisville to have dinner and spend the night with Mr. CPQ’s art-collector aunt (and if that doesn’t strike fear in the heart of every mother with “active” children, I don’t know what will), so we hightailed it out of Missouri and as we drove, we discovered that we were going to get to add a new state to our trek that we didn’t think we’d go through.
Of course, we had to document it.
We managed to make it out of the art collector’s house alive the next morning and with the added bonus of not having shattered anything of value (or anything at all, for that matter) and went to the Louisville Slugger Museum.
Can you tell this is the last day of my vacation and I’m out of clothes and I no longer care one whit about how I look? But look, we’re still smiling!
Tommy played with Babe Ruth’s bat.
I played with Derek Jeter’s.
Because he’s cuter.
Welcome to the shallow end of the blog pool.
We took the tour (no pics allowed, sorry) and absolutely loved it. Mr. CPQ got a personalized bat and the boys picked up souvenier mini-bats that they used to pound the living daylights out of each other all the way home.
And that was our trip.
791 pictures taken.
5,025 miles driven.
More french fries consumed than I care to count.
In closing, I’ve just a few Ranger Rick Road Trip tips to help you if you decide to embark on a similar journey of your own.
1. Don’t arm the terrorists. Choose your souveniers wisely.
2. Fiber, fiber, fiber.
3. The in-room hair dryer, pressed against the mirror while in the “on” position, will overheat and set off the smoke detector.
4. Ethnic food should not be consumed in non-ethnic states.
5. Volumizing hotel shampoo + zero humidity = Texas big hair, even in Nebraska.
Get out there and see America.
Have a nice day.