I’m leaving in the morning for a Road Trip With The Girls to Branson for a couple of days of shopping frenzy. And while I realize there are all manner of feisty country music venues in Branson, I think it’s safe to say we’ll not be attending any of them. This trip has a purpose and that purpose is shopping. We’re focused.
Those Tax Stimulus/Rebate checks are burning holes in our handbags.
Picture this: Five or six writing professors in a minivan driving the tornado-decimated back roads of Arkansas en route to the half-price shopping mecca of Branson, Missouri. Look out, roadside yard sales. Clear the doorways, country flea markets. The shopping starts the minute we turn on Hwy 65 and won’t stop until we’re all dead broke. Or Wednesday, because this is only a two-day jaunt. There won’t be a single man in the car, so we can stop every ten minutes if we feel like it.
Outlet malls as far as the eye can see – that’s Branson. Forget the tacky ‘Las Vegas-South’ shows, we don’t have time for choreographed entertainment. We’ve got to spend Dubya’s parting gift.
I plan to come back with photos and fresh Overheard Conversations, so look out.
No Telling 
I love Branson… it embraces its tackiness rather than trying to hide it behind a facade of respectability. It is what it is.
i love that you capitalize the really important stuff.have fun!
Oh Laura, you’re so right. Branson isn’t Vegas or arty Nashville and doesn’t want to be. And thank you, Tim. nothing makes me happier than creating my own punctuation and capitalization rules. I’m simple like that.