I bought a coloring book that had stickers for “collecting” license plates on a trip. I’ve always enjoyed this game and I thought maybe the stickers would inspire C to participate. As we were leaving the driveway, I dug the sticker book out and was going to pass it in the back seat when it occurred to me that C wasn’t going to care and I was going to be disappointed if I did not put the stickers in the book. (Even though I have a list in my Palm Pilot of the license plates. It’s not the same.)
So Brent and I have been happily collecting plates and our sticker book is nearly full except for several of those little northeast states and a few southern states. Last night I dreamed we were at a monument of some kind and I began a conversation with a woman who said that she and her husband had met someone from each of the 50 states.
“That’s neat!” I said “We’re collecting license plates. You’re not from South Carolina, are you?”
Well, she was, and in my dream I collected South Carolina. Why it wasn’t Hawaii, Rhode Island or the elusive Washington DC, “Taxation without Representation,” I’ll never know.