I spent two hours this morning looking for the “Nashua Mall,” only to find that google maps had it all wrong.

My trip looked super-easy from internet. Left here, right there, 101a this, Main Street that and viola! The reality was far grimmer. It took me an hour to realize that 101a magically manifests itself as a number of streets, many of which are not clearly labeled and a few of which take convoluted and unexpected turns. Once I finally found the “Canal Street” branch of 101a, I drove by “Nashua” drive (twice) before turning around and pulling into a shabby parking lot that was indicated as belonging to the mall. The lot looked more like a lot adjacent to the border crossing at Juarez than a lot to a classy East Coast mall.
Lampposts on every row bore intimidating “PRIVATE PARKING: ALL OTHERS WILL BE TOWED AT OWNERS EXPENSE” signs. Perplexed, I drove up and down the parking lot looking for “MALL PARKING FOR CLUELESS MIDDLE AGED WOMEN, HAVE A NICE DAY! ” signs. Finally, I located a sign declaring “BAE PERSONEL PARKING ONLY.” I left in disgust.

Disoriented, I naturally took off in wrong direction, winding up in Some Strange Town. Hmmph. During the trip, Tyoma’s complaints reached an aggravating crescendo despite the snacks I gave him. I should have been suspicious when he became suddenly very quiet, but I was too relieved to care. Unsurprisingly, he fell into a deep black sleep, which lasted just long enough to guarantee that he would skip today’s nap.

After arriving home, feeding baby and consulting the internet, I realized that the directions that google gave me were whack. Why it sent me to a parking lot off Nashua drive I’ll never know. (E.T.A. Nashua Mall is off of Nashua Street, not Nashua Drive; google maps confused the two addresses).
After frazzled nerves were mended on both sides of our generations, Tyoma and I took off to find the Pheasant Lane Mall. Big signs abounded. Despite a wrong turn or two, we made it in a half an hour (mapquest says 21 minutes). We celebrated by gorging on Chick Fil-a sandwiches and waffle fries. My bright-eyed baby was clearly impressed by the merry-go-rounds, slides, play yards, miniature train station and row after row of colorful kiosks featuring breakable items. We passed by a bigheaded, slightly creepy Easter Bunny who waved at us. Tyoma looked at me with astonishment, as if to say “You’re freaking, kidding me, right?!”
I came home feeling very satisfied, as if I had just handed in a killer composition to a sniffy professor who did not appreciate my genius. Heh.

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